Week 2: Reunited

The ferry landing on the big island of the Princes' Island

Rebecca, one of my friends from NSLI-y in Adana, was just finishing up a  CLS stint in Ankara  and came to stay with me in Istanbul for a few days before continuing her travels. From Istanbul it's a quick hour ferry ride to the furthest, but largest of the Princes' Islands off the coast of Istanbul. Since neither of us have had a chance to do that we grabbed a bus to Kabatas and hopped on the walk-on ferryboats for only $1.50. During the Byzantine time, princes and other royalty were exiled to the islands, later Ottoman sultans shared the same fate, hence the name. Until about 1950 the islands also have a history of being a haven for minorities but that is more of cultural than demographic importance now as most the tourists and residents are Turkish. However, my Armenian friend still goes to church on the smallest island during the summer months. I was really just excited that motorized vehicles aren't allowed on the island because I am sick of honking. Horns are ridiculously overused here. There is no reason to honk in bumper to bumper traffic, or at people crossing the street, or at animals, or at red lights, or just for kicks. In other places pedestrians have some power, but I am well aware that it is completely on me to avoid being hit by a car. I also think learning to avoid this traffic is a skill just like learning a language; you may be able learn later in life but it will never be as fluent or comfortable as the locals. Seriously, they seem to have some extra sense that I awkwardly and flailing-ly attempt to follow. It's like playing frogger. So anyway, I was excited about this car-less island, but much to my dismay, in lieu of cars there are horse carriages,  lots of horse carriages and THEY HAVE HORNS TOO. Fortunately, we rented bikes to get out of the main town and everything got much, much better. Our map didn't show topography so when we decided to go up to the church we didn't know we were in for a 45 minute, steep, cobblestone climb with our heavy bikes.  It was so worth it though, and the ride down was pretty fun. 

Ata-gar
("Otogar" means bus station and "at" means horse. It's a Turkish pun! Get it?) 

The view from the top

 Rebecca is larger than life

I love ferryboats

After returning from the island, Rebecca's friend Colleen arrived in Turkey via Azerbaijan and instead of sticking to their original travel plans of Kyrgyzstan they decided on Greece. So as they headed off to Athens, I went to join my Adana host family in the village. This was my third time in the village to celebrate Ramazan Byramı, the holiday at the end of Ramadan. The first time was about a week after I had arrived in Turkey in 2009 and I knew barely a word of Turkish, then I went back last summer after my stay in Izmir and had a much easier time communicating. However, my host family is Circassian (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Circassians) so even as I feel almost competent in Turkish they often switch into Circassian and I am lost again. My village visits are defined by the following: going house to house where we are offered Turkish coffee, tea, chocolates, baklava or some combination thereof, kissing hands and pressing them to your forehead as a sign of respect, the smell of cologne  and awkward silences as people try to figure out who I am and how I speak Turkish.  At the end of the day I usually wind up on a sugar/caffeine high but the dinners and breakfasts more than make up for it. As a college exchange student, the thing that's often missing is the link a host family provides in connecting a student to the country and developing language skills. Though I also LOVE living in an apartment with young people I feel fortune to still be really close with my host family. This year my wonderful host sister Dilşad is going to school in Istanbul so I will get to see her and my host mom often! I feel very close to my community in the San Juan Islands, and it is always a challenge to pull myself away from my little island paradise. However, at some point in the past four years there was a shift, and while Turkey is not my first home and my roots are not here, it is undoubtedly a second home. And my host family in Adana is a big part of that connection.

Back to the food! Circassian food is heavily dough based so making it requires a lot of kneading,  rolling and then boiling or frying. Do not underestimate the power of boiled dough soaked in an oily meat broth. It is fantastic. For breakfast, squares of dough are fried so they pocket up and become the perfect vehicle for jam, yogurt or kaymak (the process of making it has been explained to me as scraping the cream off the top of boiled cream) and honey. Kaymak and honey is a thing of legend. I’m a savory-breakfast person, I mean, I always pass up the waffle bar at Portage Bay, but homemade Kaymak and honey with the comb still in it on top of fried dough or fresh bread is incredible. *Just wait till I get started on next week's meals* I returned to Istanbul Sunday extremely full and happy.