Happy Anniversary

Last weekend was my wedding anniversary.  It has been 12 years. Wow.  As we all know, time flies.  I am lucky I have such a great husband and such a great, sometimes stranger-than-fiction life with him.

I think it all started with our first dance at our wedding…or maybe before.  We did live together a few years before that.  Me, not intending to marry.  He, thinking it was the right thing to do.  It just did not seem right to refuse his proposal when I had already moved across the world with him and we had been  shackin’ up for the previous two years.

I wanted the short and sweet wedding. He wanted a “Big Texas Wedding”.  Knowing that planning a wedding abroad would be insane in a country where you have to reserve everything at least one year in advance; and in an attempt to con our friends into visiting one of the coolest places on earth, we agreed to have the BIG party in Istanbul.  This was actually in July, the summer after we were legally married in September, but that’s another story.

In retrospect, it was a great celebration and I am glad we did it.  We were also so pleased that 30 or so guests travelled to join us.  It was a week of a wedding - so much that I had no voice at vow time.

We chose a great song for our first dance.  What a Wonderful World.  When we met the dj and he inquired about our preferred version, we told him we were okay with either.  After all, such a beautiful song would be great in any arrangement.  Right?

Come show time the music began…. “Don’t know much about history… Don’t know much biology…”  WTH?!   Where were our “trees of green” and “red roses too?”  At that moment, we learned there were two songs with this name.  While we anticipated the Louis Armstrong version, or at least that song and lyrics, we ended up with the 1958 Sam Cooke song by the same name!  A song about a guy trying to win the love of a girl!  A moment that I am quite sure we passed long before our wedding.

Our first dance

One of my bridesmaids who knew what the song was supposed to be leaned over to me and whispered “That’s what makes it memorable”.  Not wanting to make a scene, we rolled with it - or should I say Sarper encouraged me to keep dancing.  So, just as we have two wedding anniversaries, we have two wedding songs.  Well, sort of. 

Fast track 12 years later.  Last week I started a local photography class.  Session One: drive into the desert to shoot night and sunrise images.   I had not met the instructor before, but he was the only local photographer I could find offering more than a beginner class.   He calls me the day before to see if I am ready to go.  Eagerly hoping to meet more people into photography I ask “How many other students?”.  None.  Just me.  

I am scheduled to meet a stranger at 1:00am and get in his car and drive into the desert with him for photography.  I am sure the guy is legit, and nice (and he is), but where I grew up you just don’t typically get in the car with strangers and if you do, you do not want to drive into the middle of nowhere.  When I learn this, I ask my husband if he would mind coming.  Without thinking twice about it, he is on board.

That night, after a local charity dinner, we run home to throw on something more appropriate for camping and head out to our agreed meeting place.  The instructor arrives late.  Unbeknown to us, his car is having some problems, so he asks if we can drive.  Of course we can.

Which direction?  Take the Al Ain road.  After about 30 or so minutes into the desert, my husband asks which exit he should take.  Keep going straight, we are going to Al Ain.  What??!!  Al Ain is a two hour drive from Dubai, near the Oman border.

It is beautiful and known for Jebel Hafeet, a mountain that is perfect to watch the sunrise.  Apparently this was a minor detail that was left out of the class agenda.

We arrive around 3:30am or so and my class began.  Sarper proceeded to roll out the yoga mat and take a nap.  The class and sunrise were great, but I did not sleep at all.  Sarper slept on the hard ground for only about two hours and then as soon as the sun was up, we proceeded to head back to Dubai because we had a full day ahead.

It was definitely not the night we expected, and our guy friends who have heard this story have all confirmed my husband must be crazy as there is absolutely no way they would do such a thing for their wives.

So thank you canim for being such a trooper.   I am forever grateful for your never-ending love and support.   How we find ourselves in these crazy situations I will never know, but I guess that is just what makes it memorable.

Sunrise at Jebel Hafeet, Al Ain

Beware of Pide!!!!

Wow.  It’s hard to believe I’ve been back less than a week now.  Work this week is full on.

I miss Istanbul.  I miss Turkey.  I miss walking through the city.  I miss the countryside, the weather and, and… and my gosh the food, dare I say.

Much to my surprise someone came up to me at work today and said “Girl, you’ve lost a lot of weight.  What did you do?”.  My response: “I went to Turkey and ate everything in sight”.  I also walked through the city every day.  No need for a car.  This is the difference in Dubai unfortunately.  But back to the food…

The food in Turkey is amazing. There are no words to describe it because you have to taste it for yourself.  I am not kidding – lick your plate worthy and get seconds. Technically, you don’t even need a plate because the produce is so amazing who needs to cook it!  - But that is another blog post.

Despite all that amazing rawness, there is a huge danger that I must warn you about if you ever visit Turkey during Ramadan.  It is a force much more powerful than you or me – it is called Pide.  Do not even try to conquer it.  It is impossible.

Fresh from the oven!

Be afraid.  Be very afraid.  Pide shows up around sunset and it is irresistible.  Pide is fresh bread that is only served at Ramadan with the Iftar meal at sunset for those who are breaking their fast.  I have yet to see it make any appearances at Dubai iftars.

Years ago I ruled out most carbs.  I am not training for anything, so I do not need all that bread.  But give me a fresh pide from the oven – bread fast is over as we know it.

We did not indulge too much when in the city (because we were too busy eating other things!) but be sure… at my mother-in-law’s we ate it every day.  You either go to the bakery, or firin, and stand in line with everyone else and wait.  Or, in the case of Şarköy, everyone would pick one up for everyone else.  As a result of all that neighborhood hospitality we were never without and even ended up with three fresh, hot pides one night.  One whole one for each of us!  I still do not know how people that are fasting are able to stand in line and smell that amazing bread, then walk home with it hot in their hands.  Yes, it is only the strength that can come from a much higher power.

The local firin in Şarköy

And you don’t just cut it and eat it.  If you are hard core, and as in our case (and not fasting) you break out the butter immediately as soon as you get home.  Forget about waiting for dinner because you will not be able to.  I would bet money on it.  After eating some of the best bread you will ever have in your life - hot, butter melted just right - you can then enjoy some more with dinner.

If you do not finish it off for dinner, then you can heat it up in the toaster for breakfast. It is amazing with all those great cheeses and homemade jams! One of my foreign friends I met in Turkey used to make homemade pizzas out of it. The possibilities are endless.

Everyday we would try to cut back, but really it is impossible. It is the wrath of pide. Fear it, but enjoy it as it is only around one month out of the year.

I Heart Şarköy

I am in a village.  In most summers that we come to Istanbul, if long enough, we try to head out to my mother-in-law’s summer place in Şarköy. (pronounced Sharkoy).  There are no sharks     We have come here for many summers and after the modernisms of Dubai, it is a welcome break.  

While many Turks like to holiday for the summer in Bodrum or Çeşme, sometimes we enjoy the downtime here. Don’t get me wrong, those places are incredibly awesome, and we also enjoy them, but Şarköy is still simple and not crowded. It is not the posh Riviera that the other places have become as Istanbul flocks to the latest and greatest. At the end of the day, it is a village. I look to my left and see the Marmara Sea, to my right a field of sunflowers. The occasional shepard passes by. There is nowhere to go and be seen, no need to dress up. Everything is natural.

Şarköy has been around for a while. Like many cities in Turkey, it has some ancient history connections. I know Wikipedia is not a real reference, but I’ll invest faith in that statement that there have been discoveries in this land that date back to 1200 BC. With Troy not that far away, it is no surprise.

In Ottoman times it was a source of produce and wine to Istanbul. Wine is still produced here today as well as some of the most amazing produce. (Note to wine drinkers, there is a fall wine festival.) Much to my surprise it has the longest beach in Turkey and the 12th longest beach in the world.

It is about a 3-hour drive from Istanbul toward Gallipoli. I call this “Where the sunflowers meet the sea”. After you exit the main road, you must drive about 30 kilometers (about 18 miles) through rolling hills of farmland - grapes, olive trees and sunflowers. The landscape is very Tuscanesque, and it really is a village. The local farmers all come by and sell their goods, or have roadside stands. If you need more you can walk or ride your bike to the nearest market. When necessary, go into town, or go once a week for the Tuesday open market.

The view on the way to Şarköy

The last time we were here it was only for 3 days, but we felt so rested we realized we needed more. So this year we were here for a week. And, in our quest to ensure that Erin does not grow up thinking that everything is shiny, modern, new and easy like Dubai, it is a good place to just be.

My mother-in-law’s home is in one of the sites, or neighborhoods by the sea where the same people have come every year for many summers. They bought this place when their children were small - all are now grown and come with their children. There are maybe 20 homes here. Neighbors are always incredibly friendly offering to bring something from the market for each other. Passing the time drinking tea or Turkish coffee, playing card games. Everyone here has a story. They are the most interesting characters!

Typical highlights of the week for us included:

• Eating the amazing, local fresh fruit and vegetables 
• My mother-in-law’s cooking that included many amazing olive oil dishes with that fresh produce 
• Sitting in the hammock (which I did not get to do much – perhaps had something to do with me working remotely from here) 
• We got my son his first bike. It’s a perfect place for it. 
• Taking trips into town to go to the local market 
• A visit to one of the neighbor’s properties. He has collected over 99 different types of grapes from all over the world and grows them in his garden. A lovely afternoon. 
• Walking to the local “café” for tea. Or in Erin’s case for ice cream. On our last day he decided he could stay here because they have chocolate ice cream, his latest food interest. 
• The night time carnival in town 
• The day trip to Guneyli, another nearby seaside holiday town. The water is so cold and clear, and it is not that crowded. It is as clear as Oludeniz, but without the crowd. 
• The trip to the local barber. 
• A day trip to the local wineries and a seaside drive that led us to the most secluded village. 

It was pretty busy for a week in a village! I am tired and think I need one more week!

Mısrcı (the guy that sells corn) on the beach in Guneyli - really some of the best corn I've ever tasted!

Midnight Express

Two nights ago while my husband was channel surfing he saw that Midnight Express was on TV.  “Are they still showing this?" he said.  Since it had just started, I said let’s watch! Released in 1978, Oliver Stone wrote the screenplay that Alan Parker directed.  It is based on a true story that is no longer in print.

I have always wanted to watch this film, as it has often been so legendary in discussions about Turkey.  Not so much in Turkey, but more in the US.  If you haven’t seen the movie, the main character tries to smuggle a few kilos of hashish into Istanbul and gets caught.  He then goes to prison and the movie is about his time there and his great escape.

I had high expectations of the controversy because I had heard many Turks complain about the huge conspiracy to use this movie to deface Turks in the West.  I heard two times as many references from Americans who would advise people to not get in trouble on their travels to Turkey because they did not want to end up in Turkish prison.  Enter sarcasm here: Because if you tried to smuggle drugs into any other country in the world you would be welcome with open arms.

Honestly, I find both camps a bit over reactive.   I say this without having read the book or knowing much about the real account of what happened to Billy Hayes during his time in prison.  I am sure being in prison in a foreign country for smuggling drugs is beyond awful, but I don’t think that the movie intended to say Turks are bad.  The Turkish prison guards in the movie were bad, but I do not think that is worth a generalization of an entire country.  Prison guards aren’t universally known for their hospitality, regardless of origin.

There were some Turks who said that the cast was intentionally Greek because the Turkish accent was incorrect.  I think the issue was that the Turkish characters in the film were all played by actors with names like Paul Smith.  They did not know Turkish and just had really bad accents.  Even though the languages are different, a Greek accent would have been more convincing.  

I am also surprised at the raving reviews this film still continues to get as well as the controversy around it.  For example, many things I read on the Internet have noted it as highly accurate and documentary-like.  Even though it won several awards, including an Oscar for best screenplay, a few say Oliver Stone’s account is not accurate.  It was not clear if they were referring to the adaptation of the book, or their own personal experience in Turkish prison.

In some parts that I am sure were not intended to be comic relief, we laughed out loud. The film is intense and supposed to be about Billy’s pain and suffering, but suddenly two men doing sun salutations naked in prison followed by a Broke Back Mountainesque shower scene changed the tone.  This was taken to the next level when Billy’s girlfriend came to visit him and smashed her naked breasts against the divider.  How could anyone have taken this so serious?

I was very interested in my Turkish husband's reaction to the film.  He had never really watched the whole film - only bits and pieces when it was on TV in the past.  Its reputation for depicting Turks in bad light was so strong he never really sat down to watch it from beginning to end.  After it finished, he was also left wondering why the big deal?

It caused him to further question the American reaction to the film.  When he first went to the US in 1989, he received a lot of “So what about Midnight Express.”  He never really knew how to answer that.

What I think the film should be noted for is its great job of creating cultural misunderstanding.  There were also many things happening at that time that helped contribute to these conclusions.  For example, in the 1970s people did not have as much information as they do now, nor did they travel as much.  Such a film probably created some fear of the unknown.  The recollection of a Turkish-Greek conflict over Cyprus in the same decade this movie was made – of course Turks would be sensitive to something that they thought made them look bad in the West.

The moral of the story:  Don’t do drugs, don’t smuggle drugs.   Hollywood production does not equal reality.  Do not over react to label a country or take defense as the result of one film.

Yes, I Forget Birthdays

This morning at breakfast my husband told me “Oh, we missed a birthday on Saturday.”  What?!!  He was just in Istanbul last weekend, so did he not know?  Yes, he knew and saw his niece on Friday before his flight so got to say Happy Birthday in person.  Well why didn’t he remind me of this important fact on his return?

Which raises the more important question, why didn’t I remember.  I am unfortunately notorious for this.  I just do not really remember birthdays - or any dates for that matter. I do not write them down or use an automatic program to remind me.  Maybe I should, but then it doesn’t seem natural.  It becomes too much like the way I have to follow up with people at work and it just doesn’t seem right.

For sure I remember my son’s birthday.  In all fairness, if another human being comes out of you, be sure - you tend not to forget that experience.  And it is in the mommy job description.   Even though I remember the day very vividly, if I am brutally honest, there have been a couple of times where I have had to think about it or do the math to remember the year.  Maybe I can blame it on age, everything just kind of blends together after a while?  That, and the years really do fly by sometimes.

I am sure I would probably forget my own birthday if my husband’s was not the day before mine!  There is always an event or dinner or something to remind me.  It’s not that I mind getting older, in many ways it is just another day.  Technically, every day should be celebrated.  At the risk of sounding too cliché, everyday is a gift.

So for all my dear family and friends if I have ever forgotten your birthday, please do not take it personally.  While I do not remember dates, I think of you on more than one occasion throughout the year.  In fact, several days a year, and not just one out of 365.  If I only thought of you on this one day a year, that is only 0.27% of the year!  Be sure it is much more frequent than that.