The Dark Side

Note to the readers: I wrote this entry initially on Wednesday, and reading it over, almost decided not to post it. I'd prefer this blog to be more positive, but then I thought that it'd be unfair of me to mask the negative aspects of this experience, especially for those of you who are reading about my adventures who are potentially planning on coming here. Another thought was that I didn't want to get too personal; some of you who read this blog know me better than others. But again, I like to be honest, and I think it's important to record what's going on in my head, good or bad.

Second note to the readers: Important names you should know - Russ (my boyfriend, my other half, the love of my life, etc. We've been together 5 years and he is at home in California holding down the fort while I'm off gallivanting in Istanbul); Stephanie (my best friend of 18 years; she lives in VA, happily married to Karl, one son, Caleb, and expecting her daughter any day now)

That being said...

Today marks my three week anniversary of arriving in Istanbul. It's a bit hard for me to believe now how scared and anxious I was 21 days ago, touching down in Ataturk Airport, not quite ready to face this exciting new country and culture, and yet here I am. I've navigated the ins and outs of the Istanbul public transportation system, have heartily sampled Turkish cuisine, have tried rakı, have smoked the nargile, played a game of backgammon, and have even visited a mosque. Time both feels like it's standing still at times, and other times it just flies. This is in many ways just like a four month-long vacation - just with work.

Still I think that I'm beginning to hit that wall. You know, when the novelty of "whee, I'm in a foreign country!" starts to wear off, when loneliness kicks in, and you start missing strange silly little things that you can't find where you are/don't have readily available and took for granted at home, like peanut butter and maple syrup and a hair dryer and a comfortable bed. I keep company with lots of other Americans and Europeans, and they are fine people and I'm making friends with the Turks too, but I miss people I know, my friends and family. I have talked with Russ a few times on Skype but because there's ten hours between Istanbul and California, we don't get to talk as often as I'd like. I've only been able to speak a few times with Stephanie and Karl, but no one else. I haven't spoken with my family since I left too. My cell phone doesn't work here because Verizon doesn't have networks in Turkey. I'm so spoiled because at home I can pick up my cell any old time and call people I love.

It's lovely here, please don't get me wrong. I'm having fun, and learning so much, and seeing all kinds of neat places and meeting all kinds of cool people, but I miss home. I miss decent Mexican food and being able to bake cookies in my own kitchen. I miss curling up on the couch and watching tv and movies with Russ. I miss tv. I miss movies. I miss pancakes and Sunday brunch with scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, and the works. I miss my car, and being able to drive to stores to buy familiar food, to be able to see and read and *understand* signs and billboards in English, to be able to talk to people I see out and about in my everyday life. I miss being able to go to an ATM and withdraw cash without having to a $5 fee on top of a 1% fee just for the privilege of being able to get *my own money*. I miss kisses. And hugs. I miss reaching out in the darkness and touching Russ's warm back as he sleeps in bed next to me. I miss Russ. A lot.

I feel like I'm missing out too. Stephanie is waiting, any day now, for her daughter to be born, and I won't be there to see her arrive. By the time I see her, the baby will be almost four months old. I want to be there with her when the baby comes. I'll miss the baby coming, I missed saying good-bye to Shadow. All these cats, these strays on the streets that I want to take home, but none of them my Shadow.

Sometimes I just want to block out Turkey. Beautiful city, beautiful people, beautiful food, but sometimes it's just too much Turkey. I find myself now beginning to long for distinctly American things: pb&j sandwiches, classic rock & roll songs, American slang and accents. Turkish is a lovely language, and I do want to learn it, but it's not easy. It's the fourth language that I've undertaken to learn, and despite the many cognates that I've come across, it bears little resemblance to the English, French and German that I already know. Part of my brain rebels against that. "The sentences are backwards." "How can you have a sentence without a verb?" "Why do they say things like 'five apple or many student' and not 'five apples or many students'?" Turkish doesn't fit the patterns that I already have in my established language knowledge in my brain. It's like trying to put that old square peg in a round hole. It doesn't want to fit. It doesn't want to compute. Yet I have to learn it if I want to get anywhere and communicate with people who don't speak Ingilizce.

I miss mail. Every day I check the box here hoping that something will have arrived with my name on it but nothing so far. Granted, I haven't sent any out either, but I have a bunch of postcards that are ready to go to a bunch of people but I have to *find* a post office first, and figure out how much they cost to mail to the US, and hope that I can communicate with the person behind the counter. I miss *English*. It is so agonizingly frustrating not being able to talk with people. Yes, the teachers and students here speak English, but nearly everyone else on the campus doesn't - the office staff, the infirmary staff, the guy at the information booth on the main campus, even the front desk people here in the dorm where nearly *all* of the international students live - none of them speak English. If you have a problem, you have to find a Turkish student to translate for you, or muddle through with a phrase book and dictionary. The sweet ladies who come almost every day to clean up our dorm rooms, Katie and I struggle to talk to them. They are so nice, so patient, but every encounter just leaves me so frustrated. One thing is for sure - I will completely be able to understand the frustration and irritation that my students go through trying to learn English and get around in a country that really only speaks English because now I can say that I've "been there, done that". So for that, I am thankful. But still, I'm lonely and alone.

I'm sure that things will get better. I keep busy, and I have plenty to do and see, and I'm sure that before I know it, June 12 will be here and I'll be leaving and then I won't want to go. But still, in these wee dark hours of the night, I feel very alone.

I'll get over it. I'm not trying to guilt trip anyone or ask for sympathy. I just need to get this off my chest else I lash out at some poor hapless Turk and cause an international crisis. I'm sorry for being random and rambly. It'll get better, I know, I know.