Ah young love...
Fatih's cousin decided to drop the bachelor part of his life and ask a young nurse to marry him.
There's going to be a wedding!
However there is a catch....Turkish traditional weddings combined with the Muslim traditions are somewhat different and more complicated then i'm used to..there are about 4 different stages to go through before the happy couple can say they are actually married.
Luckily for me i'm coming in at a perfect time, the beginning of the process is going to be tomorrow for Fatih's cousin (Firat) and i'm invited...which by default means you are also invited dear reader because i will tell you every detail.
However, i will give you a brief overview of the stages right now...partially because i'm bored and have nothing to do, and partially because i have been so very neglectful this month with my blogging...for which i sincerely apologize :)
Tomorrow Firat, his father, mother, Fatih and other family members...and me...will go visit the young nurses home to ask her father and mother and i quote "Our son, Firat, is in love with your daughter and we wish to take her into our lives and our family with love". [this is a translated version of what Fatih told me would happen...however as any woman knows...men pay minimal attention to the matter of weddings and things like this...so i am very flexible with his rendition]
The young nurses parents can answer however they like, and if they accept there is much happiness and drinking of tea and talking happily about the future and beginning to plan the next stages.
The next stage is to find the Imam and have him bless and marry the couple. This is the woman's oppurtunity to make stipultations...such as, if she will be a housewife and fears divorce then she may ask for the house in case of a divorce or ask that the husband pay for food and livelihood for her until she can find other arrangements...kind of like a church led prenup. at this point they are officially Fiance-ed
Then there is a "bachlorette party" but not in the American sense of the word. The women from both sides of the newly united family gather together and give the bride henna tatoos and jewlery and other girly things...and i'm sure they discuss men and give advice.
The next stage is a dance party. I honestly cannot think of another way to explain it except that all of the family members from both sides gather together and dance, and eat etc. here the couple continue to receive gifts and nice trinkets.
The final stage is the wedding and the official paper signing and all of the good stuff that makes the couple actual legally husband and wife.
This can take years or it can take months...depends on how eager the groom is to "put his neck in the noose"...{and that is also Fatih's rendition}
Ah young love...you have to appreciate a couple willing to go through this long process at 23 years of age...many chances for embarrassment...but then that is what families are for!
Ciao!
Monday, November 23, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
the love of a parent on a foggy day
It's amazing...the love of a parent- they can work 12 hour days on their feet with barely enough energy for the drive home and yet given the choice they would do it all again for you...for their child....but let me start this story where it belongs....from the beginning.
Suprise suprise, i wake up in the morning and the sky is clouded over and the entire city of Istanbul looks like one giant gloom town. I shuffle out of bed and into the shower with barely enough energy to open my eyes. but somehow, perhaps divine intervention i make it through the monotony of my early morning readiness ritual and find a seat in the front lobby of my dorm.
The plan: to meet up at noon and go with Fatih to meet his cousin and tour the Asian side of Istanbul.
The Catch: Fatih does not show up for 20 minutes
The problem: I am impatient
The Result: I call my friend Maja and decide to visit the Christmas Bazar with her at the German School on Istiklal street
I set off with Maja, cursing Fatih's name for making me get up before noon only to stand me up, and we make our way to the German School for our own pre-glimpse of Christmas.
The first sight we see is hot dogs and some manner of potato salad...not appetizing and not what i was expecting.
However this is traditional German Christmas food so we dig up Maja's German friend Sabrina and she gives us a tour of the festival while feeding up delicious german Christmas treats. I actualy find myself getting cheerier as i walk through room after room of mistletoe, wreaths and gingerbread cookies. It was fantastic, not to mention the hot Apple-cider wine was just what i needed to get into the spirit.
I leave Maja to go check on my friend Sara who has been ill...and we cruise Istiklal for a while to find food but we only find a budding protest with the police gearing up and ready to follow cautiously and make sure nothing gets out of hand. We decide that nothin's doing and we split.
I rush back down to my dorm to find my friend Nuri and inform him that i cannot go to Pendik in the Asian side of Istanbul with him because he has recently been ill with what i possibly deem as Swine Flu and i dont want to be sick.
However i have a real soft spot for patient people because i am so so very far from patient. Nuri has been waiting for me for about an hour with his little brother and i quickly agree to go to Pendik with him
Yes, i am glad that i made that decision
Pendik is this town that has very few tourists and very friendly open people. I find myself sitting in Nuri's father's shop that sells Borek and Pasta(cake) and other baked goods, including Baklava. When i think of hosiptality, from now on i will think of my time here in Turkey because they would not let me lift a finger to do anything while i was in the shop. They brought me tray's full of food and they kept my tea cup filled and they brought me napkins because i inevitably spill like an infant, all over myself. Not to mention they turn on the tv to keep me entertained when customers enter. And ever person who stops by seems to be a friend and they introduce me and i am greeted with shy smiles and cute attempts at english speaking.
A little boy who works at the shop next door visits frequently during my stay and he is definatly a womanizer in the making, but he has a winning smile and the most adorable lisp...and when he mimicks my words... his english pronunciation is perfect, despite the fact that he speaks no english at all.
All day i sit at the shop with Nuri, his brother and his mom and dad, who are in the back of the shop cooking and cleaning up a storm. By the time i leave at 10 pm.. they are obviously exhausted, so much that they merely wave feebly before climbing into the car and driving home.
A full day of baking and cooking, to send 4 kids to college and make sure they don't have to work another job on the side. These are parents that will give their every last breath to make sure that their kids will succeed and not have to work so labouriously. I can admire parents like that because i see the same actions in the U.S. and proves to me that parenting....the kind that smothers the kids until they feel like they can't even breath anymore, but in reality is just simple love...is also universal.
A word on the Asian side of Istanbul...newer...cleaner...more friendly....calmer....IN short, it felt like an actual town and not a massive city...it felt like the Colorado as opposed to New York. Each has its high points, but when it comes down to it, i like friendly people that will say hi to you and ask your name when they meet you...i like the people who treat you like family and ask you to sit down and have tea and who force you to eat until you think you might burst. That was my impression of the Asian side, but i'm sure i'll get more information on it as i continue to explore it in my last few weeks.
On the late drive home it becomes apparent that those clouds that were hovering gloomily in the sky in the morning, have now lost their energy and are sitting heavily and drearily directly on the city...in the form of fog.
Now i hear that the drive over the Bogazi bridge is breathtakingly beautiful and on a sunny day the gleaming water gives the illusion of flight, but i was lucky to see the taillights of the car in front of us as we crept along the rode back to Tophane. The fog had set so heavily on the city that even the lights of the bridge were extinguished from 10 feet away. but i didn't mind in reality, because i was sitting in a car with two Turkish guys who were listening eagerly to their football team winning an important match. they were shouting and whooping and stuffing chocolate into their mouths like they didn't have a care in the world. And suddenly, neither did i...
Suprise suprise, i wake up in the morning and the sky is clouded over and the entire city of Istanbul looks like one giant gloom town. I shuffle out of bed and into the shower with barely enough energy to open my eyes. but somehow, perhaps divine intervention i make it through the monotony of my early morning readiness ritual and find a seat in the front lobby of my dorm.
The plan: to meet up at noon and go with Fatih to meet his cousin and tour the Asian side of Istanbul.
The Catch: Fatih does not show up for 20 minutes
The problem: I am impatient
The Result: I call my friend Maja and decide to visit the Christmas Bazar with her at the German School on Istiklal street
I set off with Maja, cursing Fatih's name for making me get up before noon only to stand me up, and we make our way to the German School for our own pre-glimpse of Christmas.
The first sight we see is hot dogs and some manner of potato salad...not appetizing and not what i was expecting.
However this is traditional German Christmas food so we dig up Maja's German friend Sabrina and she gives us a tour of the festival while feeding up delicious german Christmas treats. I actualy find myself getting cheerier as i walk through room after room of mistletoe, wreaths and gingerbread cookies. It was fantastic, not to mention the hot Apple-cider wine was just what i needed to get into the spirit.
I leave Maja to go check on my friend Sara who has been ill...and we cruise Istiklal for a while to find food but we only find a budding protest with the police gearing up and ready to follow cautiously and make sure nothing gets out of hand. We decide that nothin's doing and we split.
I rush back down to my dorm to find my friend Nuri and inform him that i cannot go to Pendik in the Asian side of Istanbul with him because he has recently been ill with what i possibly deem as Swine Flu and i dont want to be sick.
However i have a real soft spot for patient people because i am so so very far from patient. Nuri has been waiting for me for about an hour with his little brother and i quickly agree to go to Pendik with him
Yes, i am glad that i made that decision
Pendik is this town that has very few tourists and very friendly open people. I find myself sitting in Nuri's father's shop that sells Borek and Pasta(cake) and other baked goods, including Baklava. When i think of hosiptality, from now on i will think of my time here in Turkey because they would not let me lift a finger to do anything while i was in the shop. They brought me tray's full of food and they kept my tea cup filled and they brought me napkins because i inevitably spill like an infant, all over myself. Not to mention they turn on the tv to keep me entertained when customers enter. And ever person who stops by seems to be a friend and they introduce me and i am greeted with shy smiles and cute attempts at english speaking.
A little boy who works at the shop next door visits frequently during my stay and he is definatly a womanizer in the making, but he has a winning smile and the most adorable lisp...and when he mimicks my words... his english pronunciation is perfect, despite the fact that he speaks no english at all.
All day i sit at the shop with Nuri, his brother and his mom and dad, who are in the back of the shop cooking and cleaning up a storm. By the time i leave at 10 pm.. they are obviously exhausted, so much that they merely wave feebly before climbing into the car and driving home.
A full day of baking and cooking, to send 4 kids to college and make sure they don't have to work another job on the side. These are parents that will give their every last breath to make sure that their kids will succeed and not have to work so labouriously. I can admire parents like that because i see the same actions in the U.S. and proves to me that parenting....the kind that smothers the kids until they feel like they can't even breath anymore, but in reality is just simple love...is also universal.
A word on the Asian side of Istanbul...newer...cleaner...more friendly....calmer....IN short, it felt like an actual town and not a massive city...it felt like the Colorado as opposed to New York. Each has its high points, but when it comes down to it, i like friendly people that will say hi to you and ask your name when they meet you...i like the people who treat you like family and ask you to sit down and have tea and who force you to eat until you think you might burst. That was my impression of the Asian side, but i'm sure i'll get more information on it as i continue to explore it in my last few weeks.
On the late drive home it becomes apparent that those clouds that were hovering gloomily in the sky in the morning, have now lost their energy and are sitting heavily and drearily directly on the city...in the form of fog.
Now i hear that the drive over the Bogazi bridge is breathtakingly beautiful and on a sunny day the gleaming water gives the illusion of flight, but i was lucky to see the taillights of the car in front of us as we crept along the rode back to Tophane. The fog had set so heavily on the city that even the lights of the bridge were extinguished from 10 feet away. but i didn't mind in reality, because i was sitting in a car with two Turkish guys who were listening eagerly to their football team winning an important match. they were shouting and whooping and stuffing chocolate into their mouths like they didn't have a care in the world. And suddenly, neither did i...
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
try it, i dare you
Nov 10 1938, at the age of 57 Ataturk the father of the Turkish republic died.
71 years later i'm standing in Taksim square just a mile or so away from Dolmabache Palace where he died.
At 9:05, precisely the time Ataturk died, most traffic stops moving except for a few motorcycles trying to make a timely delivery and most Turkish citizens stop moving and bear 1 minute of silence in rememberance of the legendary Turkish leader
Of course i'm slightly confused and stumbling around my room in the early rays of morning light at this time, because i'm not a morning person by any grand stretch of the imagination, i wasn't for the 12 years of life when my mother had to bribe me to get out of bed in the morning untill now where it is rough going to get up for a 11 o clock class
As i step out of the shower to start my busy day...one of the few i've had while here...a loud siren goes off..so loud that i am transported in time back to WWII and the bomb raids....that kind of siren. It throws off my foggy concentration and i slip and fall, but no one hears thankfully since the sirens are echoing across Turkey.
At the statue of Ataturk, of which many are situated around the city, police barricades have been placed and a fully dressed guard stands patiently in front of the flowered wreaths respectfully placed in front of every statue of him.
It's beautiful, the respect and honor the place on their beloved leader, and whether you like the man or not, you can understand and admire the way that his people respect him.
Of course, i am on a mission on this particular day, so i dont have time to take pictures and bask in the mourning. I have to guide a DU worker who has arrived in Turkey for a conference around Istanbul.
Feeling particularly like an expert, as Sara and I take Carol (the visitor) around i tell her what knowledge i have picked up and suprise myself with the extent of it. It suprising what you learn when you immerse yourself
At this time i must take a moment and tell all travelers- past and future- dont ever think you know anything...ever. When you go some place and you know alot about it, or live there and learn alot about it, i guarantee you have barely tapped the vastness of knowledge that exists for you. Dont ever be satisfied with what you know and what you have learned...just take it it, swallow and let it settle before going back for more and more.
Granted their are times i feel so overstimulated i'm sure i'll pop like a lightbulb when a power surge shoots through. which is why you must take you time, and take deep breaths...take time for yourself to process all you have taken in...then go back out there and give it another shot.
Carols visit was a great oppuurtunity for me to process all that i have taken in and see where the holes in my knowledge exist and where i need to reach out and try harder. For instance she mentioned that some students study abroad and have a hard time because it doesn't meet their expectations...here is my solution to that problem: have none...just take all your ideas of how it will be and throw them out the window...start from scratch! then you will get a more accurate drawing :)
Next item on the list...my day with Carol and Sara ended at 5 in a migraine and me hiding pitifully under my covers after taking a tour of Blue Mosque.
Moral of this story...drink lots of water and be sure to eat 3 square meals a day...or you will feel like death walking as evening hits.
2nd Moral of this story- get out of your box...seriously. what do you need a box for anyway! its dark and its boring and not very much room. you can't fit anyone else in their with you and it doesn't give you much room to grow, and familiarity breeds contempt anyways....so get out of that stuffy, stifling, uninteresting box and try something new...really new...beyond a new type of alcohol or a new route to work/school...i can't guarantee anything except that you have one life...and maybe, just maybe you should use it to live? i'm just sayin' :)
71 years later i'm standing in Taksim square just a mile or so away from Dolmabache Palace where he died.
At 9:05, precisely the time Ataturk died, most traffic stops moving except for a few motorcycles trying to make a timely delivery and most Turkish citizens stop moving and bear 1 minute of silence in rememberance of the legendary Turkish leader
Of course i'm slightly confused and stumbling around my room in the early rays of morning light at this time, because i'm not a morning person by any grand stretch of the imagination, i wasn't for the 12 years of life when my mother had to bribe me to get out of bed in the morning untill now where it is rough going to get up for a 11 o clock class
As i step out of the shower to start my busy day...one of the few i've had while here...a loud siren goes off..so loud that i am transported in time back to WWII and the bomb raids....that kind of siren. It throws off my foggy concentration and i slip and fall, but no one hears thankfully since the sirens are echoing across Turkey.
At the statue of Ataturk, of which many are situated around the city, police barricades have been placed and a fully dressed guard stands patiently in front of the flowered wreaths respectfully placed in front of every statue of him.
It's beautiful, the respect and honor the place on their beloved leader, and whether you like the man or not, you can understand and admire the way that his people respect him.
Of course, i am on a mission on this particular day, so i dont have time to take pictures and bask in the mourning. I have to guide a DU worker who has arrived in Turkey for a conference around Istanbul.
Feeling particularly like an expert, as Sara and I take Carol (the visitor) around i tell her what knowledge i have picked up and suprise myself with the extent of it. It suprising what you learn when you immerse yourself
At this time i must take a moment and tell all travelers- past and future- dont ever think you know anything...ever. When you go some place and you know alot about it, or live there and learn alot about it, i guarantee you have barely tapped the vastness of knowledge that exists for you. Dont ever be satisfied with what you know and what you have learned...just take it it, swallow and let it settle before going back for more and more.
Granted their are times i feel so overstimulated i'm sure i'll pop like a lightbulb when a power surge shoots through. which is why you must take you time, and take deep breaths...take time for yourself to process all you have taken in...then go back out there and give it another shot.
Carols visit was a great oppuurtunity for me to process all that i have taken in and see where the holes in my knowledge exist and where i need to reach out and try harder. For instance she mentioned that some students study abroad and have a hard time because it doesn't meet their expectations...here is my solution to that problem: have none...just take all your ideas of how it will be and throw them out the window...start from scratch! then you will get a more accurate drawing :)
Next item on the list...my day with Carol and Sara ended at 5 in a migraine and me hiding pitifully under my covers after taking a tour of Blue Mosque.
Moral of this story...drink lots of water and be sure to eat 3 square meals a day...or you will feel like death walking as evening hits.
2nd Moral of this story- get out of your box...seriously. what do you need a box for anyway! its dark and its boring and not very much room. you can't fit anyone else in their with you and it doesn't give you much room to grow, and familiarity breeds contempt anyways....so get out of that stuffy, stifling, uninteresting box and try something new...really new...beyond a new type of alcohol or a new route to work/school...i can't guarantee anything except that you have one life...and maybe, just maybe you should use it to live? i'm just sayin' :)
Saturday, November 7, 2009
prayer time....mosque style
"you look really good in a head scarf"
I wasn't sure whether this was to be taken as a compliment, or a comment on the state of my fuzzy untamed mane that was now completely covered by a modest black headscarf i had recently donned in order to attend evening prayer at the Kilic Ali Pasa mosque.
Last night my friend Nuri invites me to attend mosque with him and with usual gusto that i almost always later regret i smiled and said "of course"
Thankfully my terrific friend Sara is very knowledgeable about Islam and speaks Turkish so i invite her to come with us and she agrees.
The process before you go to mosque includes washing...your hands, feet, face, mouth, and nose. You must be clean before you go into Gods mosque. And even if you break wind after washing...you have to go and do it all again.
It makes sense respect yourself and God enough to be clean...you don't go eating at your mothers table with mud all over...you wash your hands!
So we are walking to the mosque and Nuri tells me that i look good in a head scarf...and my first instinct is to be flattered at the compliment, but my second and more American instinct tells me i should be offended that he is saying i look good when he can see less of me. Now lets take a moment and try to think of why this is...why should i be offended that even with my head all covered, wearing a loose baggy sweater someone tells me i look good? The answer: I shouldn't be offended, it is my delicate American perception that tells me i should be uncovered to be beautiful.
So while we are walking to the mosque i am considering all the women i have seen who are covered....and it is true, even with a limited perspective of what they look like they have a glowing beauty about them, and an aire of pure confidence that you cannot find even from a woman wearing clothes that bare all. It is confidence that comes from within, and that is a beauty that everyone can see no matter how covered or uncovered you are!
The mosque and prayer were beautiful, when you step into a mosque it is like stepping into someones home. There is a peace and quiet and love about the place that makes you feel comfortable. It helps that the whole place is carpeted so your bare feet are nice and cushioned every place you step.
I take my shoes off and we all step into the mosque and Nuri, like the good host he is, shows me around the mosque and tells me about the Muezzin which is the man who calls out the prayer for the ezan; and the Imam calls out the prayer for the actual prayer time. Then he shows Sara and I to the womens section of the mosque for prayer.
Again my spidey sense is tingling and telling me that i should again be offended that i am seperated from the men like i am something less...is it my fault if a man cant concentrate during prayer, why doesn't he have the responsiblity to control himself...why do i have to go to the balcony section so that he can pray more comfortably? But once i push that initial knee jerk reaction away i feel much better. I actually can understand that the men inside the mosque are not trying to make me feel inferior, they are simply there to pray to God and if i am there also to pray then what does it matter where i am...i could be six feet under and God will still hear me.
Therefore i climb up the stairs to the balcony where some kind ladies show me how to correctly prostrate myself before God and pray...and since i do not understand the words of the Imam i simply think to myself about God and what i have learned about him through my church and i concentrate on being earnest and praying for myself, family and friends....which granted is slightly difficult when i had to watch the lady next to me out of the corner of my eye so i knew when to stand and when to kneel and touch my head to the floor.
I felt a sense of connection, coming out of the mosque...it is a meditation, a communion with God that people find when they pray and that is what really matters...if you really believe in God then he knows what is in your heart and in your head so all the gestures and cleansing actions you make are for show it seems, and to show respect for the religion and its traditions....In reality i doubt very much whether God cares if you are a clean person or a dirty person....as long as you are a good person.
However, a mosque to me, is much like a church...if you need somewhere to go where people will be quiet and respectful and clean and worshipping....it is the perfect place to be! No matter what religion you are...
I wasn't sure whether this was to be taken as a compliment, or a comment on the state of my fuzzy untamed mane that was now completely covered by a modest black headscarf i had recently donned in order to attend evening prayer at the Kilic Ali Pasa mosque.
Last night my friend Nuri invites me to attend mosque with him and with usual gusto that i almost always later regret i smiled and said "of course"
Thankfully my terrific friend Sara is very knowledgeable about Islam and speaks Turkish so i invite her to come with us and she agrees.
The process before you go to mosque includes washing...your hands, feet, face, mouth, and nose. You must be clean before you go into Gods mosque. And even if you break wind after washing...you have to go and do it all again.
It makes sense respect yourself and God enough to be clean...you don't go eating at your mothers table with mud all over...you wash your hands!
So we are walking to the mosque and Nuri tells me that i look good in a head scarf...and my first instinct is to be flattered at the compliment, but my second and more American instinct tells me i should be offended that he is saying i look good when he can see less of me. Now lets take a moment and try to think of why this is...why should i be offended that even with my head all covered, wearing a loose baggy sweater someone tells me i look good? The answer: I shouldn't be offended, it is my delicate American perception that tells me i should be uncovered to be beautiful.
So while we are walking to the mosque i am considering all the women i have seen who are covered....and it is true, even with a limited perspective of what they look like they have a glowing beauty about them, and an aire of pure confidence that you cannot find even from a woman wearing clothes that bare all. It is confidence that comes from within, and that is a beauty that everyone can see no matter how covered or uncovered you are!
The mosque and prayer were beautiful, when you step into a mosque it is like stepping into someones home. There is a peace and quiet and love about the place that makes you feel comfortable. It helps that the whole place is carpeted so your bare feet are nice and cushioned every place you step.
I take my shoes off and we all step into the mosque and Nuri, like the good host he is, shows me around the mosque and tells me about the Muezzin which is the man who calls out the prayer for the ezan; and the Imam calls out the prayer for the actual prayer time. Then he shows Sara and I to the womens section of the mosque for prayer.
Again my spidey sense is tingling and telling me that i should again be offended that i am seperated from the men like i am something less...is it my fault if a man cant concentrate during prayer, why doesn't he have the responsiblity to control himself...why do i have to go to the balcony section so that he can pray more comfortably? But once i push that initial knee jerk reaction away i feel much better. I actually can understand that the men inside the mosque are not trying to make me feel inferior, they are simply there to pray to God and if i am there also to pray then what does it matter where i am...i could be six feet under and God will still hear me.
Therefore i climb up the stairs to the balcony where some kind ladies show me how to correctly prostrate myself before God and pray...and since i do not understand the words of the Imam i simply think to myself about God and what i have learned about him through my church and i concentrate on being earnest and praying for myself, family and friends....which granted is slightly difficult when i had to watch the lady next to me out of the corner of my eye so i knew when to stand and when to kneel and touch my head to the floor.
I felt a sense of connection, coming out of the mosque...it is a meditation, a communion with God that people find when they pray and that is what really matters...if you really believe in God then he knows what is in your heart and in your head so all the gestures and cleansing actions you make are for show it seems, and to show respect for the religion and its traditions....In reality i doubt very much whether God cares if you are a clean person or a dirty person....as long as you are a good person.
However, a mosque to me, is much like a church...if you need somewhere to go where people will be quiet and respectful and clean and worshipping....it is the perfect place to be! No matter what religion you are...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
