A New Spelling of My Name

It is not surprising that the people I encounter daily have problems pronouncing my name.  In America people have the same problem.  “ON DREE TAHHHH” I hear my self repeating over and over each day only to hear in response "ON DRETTA?"  Having given up the fight, I now answer to anything including the calls of "Anjolina" that I hear from the neighborhood children.  Michael, who gets quite a kick out of this, has decided that if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.  So now, I even hear “Aundretta” at home. 

 

There is a restaurant right around the corner from our apartment in the city center called Beyaz Saray.  Our friends at Beyaz Saray decided to forego wrestling with the pronunciation of my name, all together.  When I walk in the door, I am greeted in the customary way “hoş geldiniz!!” which is Turkish for welcome and I then hear “nasılsınız, Ayşe?” which means “how are you, Ayşe?”  You see, my friends at Beyaz Saray have decided to completely rename me. 

 

As a lover of Turkish carpets, I was truly grateful for this mini version given to me by a class at Meram Anadoğlu Lisesi, a high school where I volunteered some of my time.  Even though it says Aundretta instead of Aundreta, I will cherish this gift and the memory of the children that I met there for many, many years.

Deprem

There must have been quite a row between summer and fall this year because summer left without as much as another walk around the room before taking her leave and fall’s ungraceful entry was accompanied by quite a bit of grumbling before she plopped down on us without thinking to smooth down the back of her dress. In any case, I didn’t see fall coming and today was a bit chilly especially compared to this time last year. Last year at this time we also had not experienced six earthquakes!! I think if we had we might be back in South Carolina right now! Yes, fall came grumbling in, indeed! According to Michael, there was another small earthquake today as I napped on the sofa. He said it was a 2.9 and there was a 2.9 yesterday, as well. I was awake for the one yesterday but I didn’t feel it at all. I was in the kitchen cooking when Michael ran from his corner in the living room (we’ve carved out a little office space for him) to ask me if I’d felt the floor shake. I honestly thought that it was a little post-traumatic stress from our harrowing night of earthquakes 11 days ago on September 11.

The night of the earthquakes, Michael and I were both asleep in the living room when we were literally shaken awake. Coming from South Carolina, I’m not a stranger to powerful acts of nature. The major difference is, I’m used to nature showing herself in a grand majestic manner from a lofty place above. I had never felt her shaking from below. We didn’t know what to think. I remember us standing in the foyer in the dark for a few seconds looking at each other trying to make sense of what was happening “could this be…an earthquake?” The crazy thing about an earthquake is that it reverberates up your whole body and even after the earth appears to be still your legs continue shaking. At least this was my experience. Apparently, Michael was a better boy scout than I was a girl scout because all of my ideals about “being prepared” went out the window. He told me to go down stairs and out of the building and that he would follow quickly behind. I wobbled out of our front door on bare feet and tried to descend our three flights of stairs in total darkness. It was terrifying because I had no idea if the earthquake was finished or not as I lowered one foot at a time to the cold cement floor and slid to the edge of each step before attempting another. Fortunately, when I got to the first landing two of our neighbors burst through their door with a flashlight and a gun! They are soldiers so I guess they wanted to be prepared for whatever had happened. I was in no position to judge anyone’s ideas of how to handle this situation. So I shuffled to the side and allowed them to pass that I might benefit from their preparedness. Michael joined me just as I was making it to the bottom floor. Looking back I must say that I am forever grateful to the sweet old man who lives on the first floor for always making sure that the steps and the hallway are always mopped and clean but at the time of the earthquake, dirty feet were the last of my worries! The crazy thing about being shoeless is that in Turkey people always take their shoes off before entering a house. In every apartment building there are always racks of shoes outside each family’s door. Although Michael and I do not leave our shoes outside the door, all of our shoes are lined up in the foyer near the door! I probably stepped on shoes while walking out!

Well, my boy scout came down the stairs prepared! In his hands he held two pairs of shoes…HIS SHOES!! As I stood on the cold brick street I was too rattled to be worried about how I was going to walk around with my size 7 1/2 feet literally swimming in Michael’s size 13 shoes. And as I watched my neighbors spilling from their apartment building onto the street in various stages of undress, I didn’t have the mind to be embarrassed. Because we live in a little cul-de-sac, Michael and I decided to follow the crowd to a more open area. It seemed that everyone thought it best to leave the house because I’ve never seen so many people out at one time. Men in their gym shorts, women feverishly tying on their headscarves while calming the fears of small children met us as we walked by. When we made it to the corner grocery we saw our friends the grocer, the vegetable seller and the usual collection of personalities who daily congregate around a backgammon board and glasses of tea up and walking around in all the confusion. "Merhaba" I greeted the grocer, "merhaba" he answered and then added "deprem!" while shaking his hands, palms down, indicating the situation that we had all experienced a few minutes earlier. Michael and I continued to the usually busy intersection just beyond the grocer's corner to find that the streets were full of people! I don't know about most people, but the last place I think I would like to be during an earthquake is a car! Like all of the other people on the street, Michael was feverishly trying to use his mobile phone to no avail. There were no lights on the street other than the headlights from the traffic jam that quickly developed in the madness. We just didn't know what to do or where to go.

Soon after walking to the busy sidewalk we ran into the manager of the dondurma (ice cream) shop across the street standing with a young women. "Merhaba" he said in his usual jovial manner. "Merhaba" I answered, "nasılsiniz?" (how are you?). "Deprem!" he exclaimed while making the same hand motions as the grocer had a few moments before. "Pardon, anlamadım" I said, I'm sorry, I don't understand. I wanted to make sure I got the pronunciation of the word correct. "De-prem." Michael wanted to ask what we should be doing but in the rush he had left the house without the dictionary. We thought we were in luck because the young women who was standing with our ice cream shop friend asked "what is your name?" Oh, "çok şükür!" I thought (I sometimes think in Turkish) thank God, someone who speaks English!! Michael and I both introduced ourselves and Michael asked her what we should do. Unfortunately for us, she had already used the extent of her English in greeting us and asking our names! It wasn't long before the lights in the city were on again at which point our ice cream friend invited us to his shop, across the street, for coffee "ikram" or coffee on the house. We decided that that coffee sounded like a good idea so we followed him across the busy street-me clopping in Michael's shoes while he walked with purpose. When we got to the shop, we chose a nice table out on the sidewalk. It was around 10:30 PM and the night was cool and crisp. As we sipped our coffee we decided that ice cream was also a good idea. So as to not have to clumsily walk to the counter, I gave Michael my order of one scoop of caramel, one pistachio and one coffee. While Michael went to the counter, I took the time to observe our other earthquake friends. There was a table of older men beside us smoking cigarettes while rhythmically clicking their prayer beads, a family of women behind us who were shortly joined by a man with a scarf crushed in his hand. As I watched the recipient of the scarf carefully cover her head and regain her public personae, I heard Michael's voice calling to me. "There's no coffee or caramel. Come and choose what you want." Suddenly, I felt my abandoned vanity return "I'm wearing your shoes!! I can't go in there now!" Michael's look made me realize that I was being really silly so I got up from my seat and made my ice cream selection like a big girl. I must say that the mild natural occurrence did not in any way change the level of service that we received that night. Our ice cream friend insisted that he bring our glasses of ice cream to our table and serve us-business as usual. When I returned to my chair ready to dig into the pistachio, sade (or plain) and date ice cream (a special flavor to commemorate the month of Ramadan) I noticed one of the older gentlemen looking curiously at my feet. He studied my feet for quite some time before I decided that it was time to reveal just how the surprise of the deprem had affected me. I looked at him and gingerly lifted the leg of my jeans to a roar of laughter. As I laughed with him, feeling my body shake, I knew that this shaking came from genuine relief. Michael and I were safe, not only from the earthquake but safe within a community of people who could still have a good laugh in the midst of such a harrowing experience.

The next earthquake came eight hours later and was more fierce than the first. The first was 4.5 and the second was 4.7. For the second earthquake we went to a pastry shop that is open 24 hours. Over çay (tea) we met some people who called us their deprem arkadaşlar (earthquake friends). After watching the sunrise together over many glasses of çay, Michael and I, again, went home only to be awakened by the third and weakest earthquake of the 24 hours (3.0). We went outside only long enough to meet some neighbors on our street. Who knew that an earthquake was a good way to get to know the people in your neighborhood? For more information about seismic activity in Turkey visit http://www.koeri.boun.edu.tr/sismo/map/en/index.html

Memories Like Lightning Bugs...

There is a new American teacher, an ELF (English Language Fellow) who has recently joined me here in Konya and I must say that showing her around the city is partly responsible for my inspiration to finally begin this blog. As I took her to the places that I know, I couldn't help recalling the excitement I felt when I saw these places for the first time. I was reliving the "newness" vicariously through her eyes. As we rode the dolmus (mini-bus), I looked at the places that I've seen each day for the past year as though I was seeing them for the first time. I watched the hills of Konya rise as we neared the campus and I looked at the people of Konya going about their day from a whole new perspective. It is impossible to remember the texture of those first experiences but each day I am experiencing something completely different from the life that I lived before arriving here. Even the most banal moments in my day progress before a backdrop of sounds and smells that in no way resemble my life before coming to Turkey.

At some point during our tour around the city, the new teacher, Franny, and I sat and chatted over cay (tea). Since she is also a Southerner, from Louisiana, we talked about life in the South and I went on and on about how different summer in Konya is from the sticky, humid summers in South Carolina. Soon our conversation drifted to the plight of the lightning bugs and how spraying for mosquitoes every summer has come with the loss of these bugs that provided me with many hours of entertainment in my youth. Lightning bugs along with watermelon, okra, peaches and the smell of gardenias defined summer for me and they still do. Fortunately, watermelon, peaches and okra are as popular in Turkey as they are in the South. I still miss the lightning bugs, although I have seen a few lighting the skies of Konya.

Sometimes it’s hard to be in the moment and collect it. I think of those evenings I spent catching lightning bugs and running after butterflies. There is so much time needed for the capture; time that could have been better spent simply enjoying the beauty. So much of my time here in Konya has been spent merely drinking in every moment. Even the time given to picture taking is time that the expanse of the scene is, if only for a brief moment, diminished to the tiny camera viewfinder. I sometimes get bored with taking photos because of the certainty that the moment can not be accurately captured. I think I take photos more for the sake of memory. Sometimes memory needs a catalyst.

There are times for the faithful to pray and there are times for the grateful to reflect. Even the days that are particularly challenging are days to be cherished. Now, I have resolved that cherishing these days and truly showing how grateful I am means that I should share these moments with the people who helped to make this all possible. Maybe taking a moment to reflect with the help of this keyboard will not be like capturing a lightning bug, after all. Instead it will be like saving something that will not suffocate in a jar but continue to live and remind me.