Studying Abroad is Just That...Studying

Studying abroad isn't, actually, all fun and games. Even if you might think so by going through my pictures. There's also, well, studying. And while classes are pretty interesting, it does mean that I have spent a good chunk of the past week and a half doing just that - studying. Two weeks ago, two of my professors moved midterms so that the history students in the class didn't have 3 exams in one week.

Nice, right? Well, it would have been if they didn't both move them to this week and add to my other 2 exams and a paper due. So here I am, instead of enjoying the nice weather (read cold and windy, but it is sunny at last) I'm spending my money at Starbucks buying coffee, reading and poring over notes for hours on end. And of course, with 2 exams and a paper down and 2 to go, I'm here updating for all you lovely folks back at home. What can I say, I know you're all procrastinating on studying too :)

It's hard to belive that I'm finishing up midterms now, but in less than 6 weeks I'll be back in the States starting spring semester classes again. And for those of you who have missed me saying it nearly every 5 minutes...sad day

Giving Thanks

Today is the American holiday of Thanksgiving, a day during which we stuff our faces with turkey, pumpkin pie and sweet potatoes and mumble something about how thankful we are for our families before watching the American football game and falling asleep on the couch. And really, isn't that how it's supposed to be done?

Well, today I won't be eating any turkey or pumpkin pie (but there will probably be some falling asleep on the couch), but even without all the fixings, I certainly have plenty to be thankful for this year ...

I am thankful for my family, all of who supported me during the last few months as I moved to Istanbul. I'm sure there was some nail biting on the parts of my parents at the prospect of Turkey -- "But Turkey is SO FAR AWAY!"


(sorry mom, dad, and amy - all the pictures on my computer are from this semester [ and what I can steal from facebook albums])

I am thankful for my friends back at home, all of you who have made my day in one way or other – letters, random IMs or Skype calls just to say hello and see how I’m doing over here (and inquire as to when I’m going to come to my senses and come home).



I am thankful for my friends here in Istanbul, both Turkish and other exchange students, for having made my semester so memorable. From road trips to Bulgaria to randomly getting lost and exploring parts of Istanbul to cooking a huge Thanksgiving dinner together to share tonight.



I am thankful for my Turkish family – Resa and Mehmet (Anne ve Baba) – for all their help in getting me here, finding my lost luggage (and making sure it found me), recommending Turkish medicines and taking care of me when I was sick. I promise I'll stop jinxing myself on this blog and causing you trouble at some point before I return to the states in January.



I am thankful for the generosity of the Turkish people. These people truly are selfless and kind and giving, more so than any other people I have ever met.

And I am thankful that this world is a good place to be, for all the reminders of how fortunate I am, and that there are adventures galore to last me a lifetime and wonderful people to share them with.

Iyi Sukran gunleri!
Happy Thanksgiving!

Turkish 101

Learning a new language is not as easy as simply translating verbatim sentences into English. It requires a little bit more finesse, a little more savvy, to memorize not just words, but culture and, dare I say it, a different way of thinking.

Thus my annoyance when some of the students in my Turkish class constantly question WHY Turkish grammar is THIS way or THAT way.

For example, Turks say, “open the light” and “close the light” to mean “turn off” and “turn on” the light. It’s just a different way of thinking about how you use electricity. No big deal, right?

Wrong. One guy always has to ask, WHY does it have to be this way? Why do Turks say, “I hate from mice” instead of just “I hate mice”? Why do Turks use a different verb to say “enter the room” versus “get on the bus”? In English we use two different verbs. WHAT’S SO STRANGE ABOUT THAT?

Then someone else sits there and says, Ah, bu çok zor, hocam (“This is so hard, teacher”) in a pouty, childish voice. Sure, it’s difficult. This is surely not rocket science, but it does take more than a few brain cells to memorize new vocabulary and string together sentences in a completely foreign structure.

The important thing, I think, when learning a new language, especially one that is so completely different from your own (like learning Turkish or Japanese when your first language is English, or learning Spanish or English when your first language is Turkish), is to suspend temporarily the way you look at the world.

Understanding that a chair” is also a sandalye and not having to translate the Turkish word EVERY time you read or hear it is important. Learning a language is more about absorbing new ideas than memorizing vocab lists that have been translated from English into Turkish.

It’s about reading a sentence or a paragraph and intrinsically knowing what it means without having to read it back to yourself in English. It’s about picking up hand gestures and facial expressions that change the meaning of words in a way that your language does not allow. It’s about seeing the world differently, from a perspective that allows for different meanings.

One of the guidance counselors at my high school had a sign outside her door that said something to the affect of, “The breadth of a man’s vocabulary greatly affects how he sees the world.” That is to say, the more words and therefore ideas you know, the more you can comprehend and explain and describe the world around you. Learning a new language is not unlike expanding your vocabulary.

Sunshine at Last

I went to Israel this past weekend to visit Andrew and had a great time. I saw a lot of places, took a lot of pictures, ate a lot of good food. As the starting place of the 3 major religions (Islam, Christianity, and Judaism) as well as the home of the Baha’i Gardens and Akko, 2 major sites for the Baha’i religion, there was a lot to see. I saw Tel Aviv, Haifa, Jerusalem, the Dead Sea, and more. If I had to decide on my favorite place/thing I did this weekend I’d be torn between 3 things:





The Baha’i Gardens in Haifa











The Kotel (Wailing Wall) Tunnel tour in Jerusalem









Exploring Yaffo (Jaffa – the old Muslim port of Tel Aviv)





I also did a lot of thinking this weekend. Thinking about Israel; thinking about Turkey; thinking about the Unites States.

One thing I noticed, in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, wherever, is that the past and history simply doesn't matter. There are some places and subjects that one hears about and thinks they sound interesting, but then any research you take involves the words "The definitive study of _____ is still waiting to be written." Israel is not one of those places. Any further historiography is just going to be written for one side to show why they are Right, and the other side is just going to ignore it as propaganda, right?

The actual factual history of when Jews lived in the area, the actual prominence of King David's empire/kingdom/bunch of hovels isn't relevant to any current problems. The ultra-revolutionaries aren't going to lay down their Molotov cocktails when they hear that yeah, the First Temple Period is absolute, incontrovertible, fact. And the ultra-reactionaries aren't going to decide to give up the ghost if they learn that there never even was a First Temple Period. The current conflicts are beyond history. They're beyond analysis. Any sort of hope for that place is going to rely on folks looking towards a future, not back into their own half-forgotten shared memory of a distant past.

So why this bit on the hopelessness of history? Because it isn’t like that everywhere. Here in Turkey, history breaks very sharply in 1923. And historical problems with nationalism and what defines a nationality is still grappled with just about every day, mostly in newspapers and in questionable-defined scrapes in the Southeast. People still make up their own “national histories” to explain why they deserve autonomous land in the Balkans and in the Caucasus. History is used to explain why I belong here and you don’t. History is used to destroy bridges, sometimes figuratively, sometimes literally.

The reason the United States is so great (in my opinion) is that we are, for the most part, totally okay with other people being around. We really do embrace diversity in the States, even if we’re not always comfortable brushing shoulders with each other. And really each other, not just some Pan-Turkic or Pan-Aryan ideal of who each other should be.

Yes, we’ve made some mistakes and some really tragic mistakes. But there’s a reason why people are trying really hard to get into our country. And in a lot of ways, Turkey or Israel is a lot like America because of this; there are a lot of people trying to get in, because they know that they have a shot there. Sure, the people trying to get in are a lot more mono-ethnic in both of those examples, but still, there’s hope in Israel or Turkey that there isn’t in places like Ethiopia or Turkmenistan. And hope, if you weren’t aware, is a good thing. And a good thing never dies.

If you're curious about this entry's title, let me fill you in. The weather here in Istanbul has been cold and rainy for quite some time, so it was a wonderful thing to get to Israel where it was sunny and upwards of 75 F all weekend. While I was glad to get back to Istanbul last night, to a place where I (sort of) speak the language and the places are (somewhat) familiar, I was sad to leave behind the lovely weather that I know I won't see again until at least April.

Pictures from this weekend soon to come, I promise.

10 Kasim

Because you asked so nicely at dinner Resa, this one’s for you.

There is perhaps nothing else so distinctive of the condition and character of a people as the method in which they treat their dead.
- William Tegg, 1876

Throughout the history of human civilization, different cultures mourn and treat the dead differently. Some, like Tibetan Buddhists, have no use for burials as they dispose the dead by feeding corpses to vultures or by burning them in funeral pyres. Most cultures, however, show their respect by burying the dead, sometimes in complex and ornate tombs, crypts, and catacombs. The following is a compilation of the ‘15 most interesting tombs in the world’ (just for fun, or for those of you who actually like history enough to find this intriguing):

1. Newgrange, Ireland
2. Tana Toraja, Indonesia
3. Westminster Abbey, England
4. Giza Necropolis, Egypt
5. Valley of the Kings, Egypt
6. Catacombs of Paris, France
7. Anitkabir, Turkey
8. Terracotta Army, China
9. Capuchin Catacombs of Palmero, Italy
10. Sedlec Ossuary, Czech Republic
11. Taj Mahal, India
12. City of the Dead - Ossetia, Russia
13. Monte Alban, Mexico
14. Petra, Jordan
15. USS Arizona, United States

While I thought it would be interesting to share with you the above list, the focus for this post falls to number 7 – Anitkabir – Atatürk’s Mausoleum. Anitkabir literally means ‘memorial tomb’ and is the final resting place of the leader of the Turkish War of Independence, the founder and first President of the Republic of Turkey, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk.

Mustafa Kemal Atatürk was a great man and a great leader, who turned Turkey into member of modern civilization, with all institutions. To build a mausoleum that would represent his eminence, and thoughts about principles, revolutions and modernization, emerged as a common idea of the Turkish nation, during the great sadness following the death of Atatürk.

Anitkabir houses both Atatürk and Inonu (2nd President of Turkey). When you visit the mausoleum you not only see and remember Atatürk, you also see and remember Inonu. Above and beyond those two, you see in statues and other presentations, the children, the men and the women that joined together to defend their lands against other groups of people that wanted to tear it apart. When you walk through rooms with battlefield sounds and sights, or you read the articles and look at photos of various Turks (regardless of ethnic backgrounds) in various parts of Anatolia who joined the movement of protecting their lands, you see what Anitkabir is about.

You see what Ataturk is about. It is about remembering the blood, sweat and the tears that went into creating the Republic of Turkey. It is about feeling gratitude that all of those people did come together for a common goal.

It has been a week since I visited Anitkabir; a week since I returned to the real world of Istanbul. While this whole week has given me a chance to think about what I saw and figure out how best to write this post, today has been a very thought-provoking day. It is true that today is the 69th anniversary of Atatürk's death, but it is striking still to think of the current circumstances that this country finds itself in. There have been so many deaths, from before the creation of the Turkish Republic until this very day today.

This one intelligent and hard-working man, this leader, is remembered on this day because he represented what the citizens of this country wanted, and what they still want. “Peace at home, and peace in the world.”


Arslan Yol (The Lions Road). The approach to Anitkabir is a 262 meters long pedestrian walkway that is lined on both sides by 12 pairs of lions carved in a style similar to Hittite archaeological finds. The lions represent Anatolia and are sitting to simultaneously represent both power peace. There is a 5 cm. gap between the paving stones on the street to ensure that visitors take their time and observe respectful behavior on their way to Atatürk's tomb. It is also said that this path is used to prepare oneself for the greatness of the tomb and the proper respect that should be shown.


Atatürk's mausoleum itself is the central point of Anitkabir. Housed inside the building is his tomb, and the walls are decorated with passages from some of his speeches and famous quotes.


Inonu's tomb faces opposite Atatürk's across the ceremonial grounds. He was buried at Anitkabir in 1973 following his death.


The Turkish flag flies high keeping watch over both Atatürk and Inonu's tombs. In the relief at the base of the flag post, the torch symbolizes the Turkish civilization, the sword is the offensive power, the helmet is defense power, the oak branch is the victory, and the olive branch is the symbol of peace.

Bad Luck and Bumbershoots

Istanbul is rainy, very rainy. I’m not just talking a few sprinkles here and there or the ever enjoyable “singin’ in the rain” weather. I’m talking about a never-ending, can barely see three feet in front of your face, ‘there’s no way I’m walking from Hinton James to class in this weather’ rain. It was pouring when I returned to Istanbul last night after a lovely weekend in Ankara – thanks Mehmet and Resa!! – and has not stopped since.

When my alarm clock went off this morning it was accompanied with thunder booming in the distance and the constant pitter-patter of the rain on the lobby roof just below my window. Not the way I planned to wake up at all. To make matters worse, the torrents of rain didn’t stop for my walk to class which is equally comparable (for all my fellow Tarheels) to walking from Hinton James to Dey Hall both in distance and tiring-ness. Despite having an umbrella I managed to get quite wet, no thanks to the numerous cars who so thoughtfully flung entire puddles of water at me as they sped by. At this point, I would have been better off with a raincoat or perhaps a tarp. Note to self…next time packing to leave home for 4 ½ months, make room in the suitcase for such things.

In the words of Chad Martin, “Gene Kelly, Mary Poppins and The Penguin are among the few people in this world who are worthy of using umbrellas. Their coordinating style and use of them as practical devices - dancing props, flying mechanisms and hidden weapons - has made them appropriate owners of this otherwise useless apparatus. So, to the rest of the world, I ask that you leave your umbrella in the tacky, oversized vase by the front door.”

Here’s the question that’s been bugging me all day though: Why is it considered back luck to open an umbrella indoors?

The most common reason stems from the days when umbrellas were used mainly as protection against the sun. To open one indoors would be to insult the local sun god (especially Ra) and invite his wrath on everyone in your household. Good rationale I must admit, although it seems that the Turks were never let in on this little secret.

Sure this wasn’t the first day since I’ve been here that it has rained, but it’s the first day where EVERYONE had umbrellas with them, and definitely the first day where EVERYONE minus myself left them open when they entered the building. Here, unlike at home, opening an umbrella inside isn’t considered bad luck. Instead, it’s considered normal. But seriously, what’s the point of leaving them open in the classroom to dry if they’re only going to get wet the minute you exit the building?

Sure, Gene Kelly used his umbrella in the rain, but don't let that fool you…he still got wet! He proved the uselessness of the umbrella and flaunted its failures as a rain repellant while acknowledging its benefits as a replacement for a cane in choreography. But unless all of you umbrella users are theater majors, I'm afraid the lesson of our most celebrated alumnus has gone unheard.

Let's Play Guess My Nationality

So I'm walking around the Spice Bazaar and I was approached by several different vendors wondering where I am from. Sometimes they think I'm a Turk and dive right into a whirlwind of Turkish which, if I'm lucky, I can catch half a dozen words out of. Most of which have no relevance to each other, and I'm left with a look on my face somewhere between "efendim (huh?)" and bursting out laughing. This typically turns into an awkward chuckle and a guessing game at where I'm from.

I love being mistaken for European ; it happens all the time here and I attribute it to my lovely poise and grace. Or the Pashminas I've been buying left and right.

Yesterday, while walking past a spice seller, he called out after me, "Bonjour." I looked at him, didn't say anything and kept walking. "Hola," he called out, trying another language. "Allo?"

Still I said nothing. "Which one?" he asked, meaning "Which language, you beautiful lady, shall I speak to you in?"

"Merhaba," I replied with a smile.

His eyes widened and he turned away. "Vay bey!" he said, which roughly translates to, "Oh my god!"

Another spice merchant went through German, Dutch, and Spanish before I told him I was American. For some reason, he raised his eyebrows.

But I can understand why. American tourists are some of the worst-dressed tourists in the world. Seriously, we could win prizes. Americans are the people you see wearing white tube socks pulled up to their knees, flip flops, khaki shorts, a t-shirt, a nylon fanny pack and sun visor while holding an ice cream cone and trying to unravel a behemoth map of Istanbul while they say loudly to their spouses, "It says here the big red building used to be a mosque AND a church!" (cringe)