Banana is an unnamed age today...:) I will drink 4 glasses of Efes Pilsner in your honor this evening good brother!
P.S. I will also have two for myself.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
An interesting offer and a curious development...
Well! I am now officially working the longest and easiest hours in human history. My day is comprised of getting up, walking 7 minutes to work (I time it with songs on my ipod, so give or take 30 seconds either way), serving breakfast by 8:00, getting people on their respective tours between 8:30-10:00, and then...reading, listening to music, drinking coffee...sometimes napping...
Granted, there is no real money in this sort of work, though I did get my first tip yesterday. Apparently, I am supposed to put it in the "tip box." I said, uh, I am the only one that works here, other than my boss's mom & brother, and I'll share if they help me. But otherwise...no! It is for service, and that's how you make money! Yar. Anyway.
So, I have made buddies with two local police chiefs. Police chief #1 is my best buddy of the two, as the other one has renamed me "Asya (pronounced "awsh-ya")" after his first love which seems a little suspicious to me...regardless, he's quite funny and gives me a bit of a crack-up. They apparently are powerful fellas, and everyone tells me I'm very lucky to have them as my new buddies. The point here? Chief #2 has asked if I would be willing to teach an English program 3 nights a week to the police department. He told me I would be famous, at least in Selcuk. I am pretty ok with not being famous. There is enough fame already (hey, you're the American!) for my taste, so my only real concern was...is it a paying gig? Chief #2 is going to consult with Chief #1 to see what, if anything, would be possible. They told me I could consider a public service, and then I wouldn't have to get paid. What kind of a girl do they take me for? Flighty, I suspect. And then I thought...hardly anyone in America can understand my English, I talk so ridiculously fast. What's going to happen when I get nervous in front of a bunch of Turks? People would come to Selcuk and need an English speaking police officer, and instead, they'd get officers speaking KirSpanol. Oi. Maybe not such a good idea after all...
The other news: my name has officially been Turked into Kris. I get introduced to everyone as such, so I no longer tell anyone my name. It's fairly depressing, on one hand, but on the other hand, it's sort of fun to have a secret identity. Dutch Martin and Denise could say my name (they worked at my hotel), but they said it would just be easier to go with it, don't worry. No one, they said, would get it right. It's true. So, Kirsten, plain American, has transformed into Kris, glamorous expat. Well, if you can call a faux-mullet glamorous. Ha!
Granted, there is no real money in this sort of work, though I did get my first tip yesterday. Apparently, I am supposed to put it in the "tip box." I said, uh, I am the only one that works here, other than my boss's mom & brother, and I'll share if they help me. But otherwise...no! It is for service, and that's how you make money! Yar. Anyway.
So, I have made buddies with two local police chiefs. Police chief #1 is my best buddy of the two, as the other one has renamed me "Asya (pronounced "awsh-ya")" after his first love which seems a little suspicious to me...regardless, he's quite funny and gives me a bit of a crack-up. They apparently are powerful fellas, and everyone tells me I'm very lucky to have them as my new buddies. The point here? Chief #2 has asked if I would be willing to teach an English program 3 nights a week to the police department. He told me I would be famous, at least in Selcuk. I am pretty ok with not being famous. There is enough fame already (hey, you're the American!) for my taste, so my only real concern was...is it a paying gig? Chief #2 is going to consult with Chief #1 to see what, if anything, would be possible. They told me I could consider a public service, and then I wouldn't have to get paid. What kind of a girl do they take me for? Flighty, I suspect. And then I thought...hardly anyone in America can understand my English, I talk so ridiculously fast. What's going to happen when I get nervous in front of a bunch of Turks? People would come to Selcuk and need an English speaking police officer, and instead, they'd get officers speaking KirSpanol. Oi. Maybe not such a good idea after all...
The other news: my name has officially been Turked into Kris. I get introduced to everyone as such, so I no longer tell anyone my name. It's fairly depressing, on one hand, but on the other hand, it's sort of fun to have a secret identity. Dutch Martin and Denise could say my name (they worked at my hotel), but they said it would just be easier to go with it, don't worry. No one, they said, would get it right. It's true. So, Kirsten, plain American, has transformed into Kris, glamorous expat. Well, if you can call a faux-mullet glamorous. Ha!
Friday, April 18, 2008
What scares me...
A short list, really. In fact, I can't think of anything, except this:
A seemingly 15 year old boy dying (not highlighting) my hair and cutting it into a Marcia Brady shag (in the back) meets Gwyneth Paltrow super-straight (in the front).
Do you know what this means? I HAVE BAD HAIR. That's what I get for having my Dutch friend translate English into Turkish. Have you ever known anyone with a faux-mullet? No? Well, no worries. Take that one off your plate, kids, because now you do. :)
A seemingly 15 year old boy dying (not highlighting) my hair and cutting it into a Marcia Brady shag (in the back) meets Gwyneth Paltrow super-straight (in the front).
Do you know what this means? I HAVE BAD HAIR. That's what I get for having my Dutch friend translate English into Turkish. Have you ever known anyone with a faux-mullet? No? Well, no worries. Take that one off your plate, kids, because now you do. :)
Monday, April 14, 2008
I was born in a small town...
Well, I was born in a fairly small town. I lived in the rural zip code of a very small town. I understand both the positives (safety, everyone knows you) and the negatives (always being safe, everyone knowing your business) that are associated with that.
Selçuk is a city of 23,000 people, according to wikipedia. The locals say around 30,000. I feel like it's more like 1000. Of course there is more than that, but it sure doesn't feel that way. Ivana, who I will be working for, and Denise, the wife of the "main guy" that works here, have been absolute loves, bringing me around town, showing me where the cheap corner stores are, where the supermarket is, and introducing me to people so I will get treated like a local and not a tourist. That being said, I have met a ton of people, including market owners, bar workers, police officers, travel agents, tour guides...and everyone knows everyone.
What does this all mean? It means that when a tall and handsome fella asks a girl and says the word "date" and it is overheard...it means that everyone in town (and especially in the hotel!) knows about it. And talks about it. And teases us both about it. And tortures me about it. And, and, and...my hair got done, my wardrobe got changed, I had my tan lines (on my face, still there from Greece) covered by makeup, I had dinner suggestions, concerned employees wondering if he was a Turk (he was not!). Wow. All I could say was this:
IT IS JUST DINNER!!!! DINNER!!! JUST DINNER!!!!
Bless the sweet fella, he was a good sport, declaring our betrothel, our 50 years of marriage, and 4 kids that all happened within 12 minutes. It was the horrifying moment from 80's teen angst films, when the cute new boy meets the obnoxious father, the moment Elizabeth Bennett realizes her family is a total embarrassment. We snuck out of the hotel and then snuck back. I should say this: he was a guest here, so it isn't as scandalous as it sounds. In the morning, during breakfast, people were playing fake violins near us, asking us all sorts of embarrassing questions (did you stay in his room? Oh, in her room? WHAT????????? You were BY YOURSELVES??????????...and things I will not post, as I love my family and have blushed enough).
When I said "enough!" I was told in a loving manner by all of the married girls they couldn't help themselves, he was such a good boy and so NOT Turkish. They just wanted things to go well because he was such a gentleman, and did they mention how he was not Turkish? And how he is such a good boy? Denise may get a tattoo on her shoulder of an angel with the name "David" inscribed below it. I love these girls, I really do.
But...
It was just dinner.
I do, however, appreciate the support. And my hair did look fabulous, as did my skin, without being overdone. So, thanks Ivana for glamming me up a bit.
It was just dinner. But as far as dinners go, it was one of the best I've had in a long time. :)
Selçuk is a city of 23,000 people, according to wikipedia. The locals say around 30,000. I feel like it's more like 1000. Of course there is more than that, but it sure doesn't feel that way. Ivana, who I will be working for, and Denise, the wife of the "main guy" that works here, have been absolute loves, bringing me around town, showing me where the cheap corner stores are, where the supermarket is, and introducing me to people so I will get treated like a local and not a tourist. That being said, I have met a ton of people, including market owners, bar workers, police officers, travel agents, tour guides...and everyone knows everyone.
What does this all mean? It means that when a tall and handsome fella asks a girl and says the word "date" and it is overheard...it means that everyone in town (and especially in the hotel!) knows about it. And talks about it. And teases us both about it. And tortures me about it. And, and, and...my hair got done, my wardrobe got changed, I had my tan lines (on my face, still there from Greece) covered by makeup, I had dinner suggestions, concerned employees wondering if he was a Turk (he was not!). Wow. All I could say was this:
IT IS JUST DINNER!!!! DINNER!!! JUST DINNER!!!!
Bless the sweet fella, he was a good sport, declaring our betrothel, our 50 years of marriage, and 4 kids that all happened within 12 minutes. It was the horrifying moment from 80's teen angst films, when the cute new boy meets the obnoxious father, the moment Elizabeth Bennett realizes her family is a total embarrassment. We snuck out of the hotel and then snuck back. I should say this: he was a guest here, so it isn't as scandalous as it sounds. In the morning, during breakfast, people were playing fake violins near us, asking us all sorts of embarrassing questions (did you stay in his room? Oh, in her room? WHAT????????? You were BY YOURSELVES??????????...and things I will not post, as I love my family and have blushed enough).
When I said "enough!" I was told in a loving manner by all of the married girls they couldn't help themselves, he was such a good boy and so NOT Turkish. They just wanted things to go well because he was such a gentleman, and did they mention how he was not Turkish? And how he is such a good boy? Denise may get a tattoo on her shoulder of an angel with the name "David" inscribed below it. I love these girls, I really do.
But...
It was just dinner.
I do, however, appreciate the support. And my hair did look fabulous, as did my skin, without being overdone. So, thanks Ivana for glamming me up a bit.
It was just dinner. But as far as dinners go, it was one of the best I've had in a long time. :)
For Paul Simon, wherever I may find him*
Here are two quick pieces of information to share:
1. The Turks don't seem to share my love of folk music. Tragic! Do I have to start listening to Turkish pop to blend in? Sean Paul is terribly popular. Is this what my life will be for the next few months? Yikes.
2. It is believed here, in my limited experience, that the eyes are truly the windows to the soul. Who is making fun of my giant sunglasses now?
So, I am sorry, Paul Simon. It seems the locals prefer the New York of Jay-Z to you, an accost my soul, and its blue windows, will not easily forgive. I am trying very hard to keep my eyes closed. I promise to play classic tunes and personal favorites whenever I get the chance. Turkish pop is just a summer fling, fun for only a short while, forgotten soon enough. You are mine, like it or not, for a lifetime. Words are burned in my brain, and no amount of extra sunshine can vanquish this. Just in case, Paul Simon, that you were worried...
*I realize that Art Garfunkel actually wrote/performed the song "For Emily, wherever I may find her." I don't want anyone to doubt my Paul Simon catalog knowledge. But it was performed during the glory days of Simon & Garfunkel, making it, for me, an acceptable working title. :)
1. The Turks don't seem to share my love of folk music. Tragic! Do I have to start listening to Turkish pop to blend in? Sean Paul is terribly popular. Is this what my life will be for the next few months? Yikes.
2. It is believed here, in my limited experience, that the eyes are truly the windows to the soul. Who is making fun of my giant sunglasses now?
So, I am sorry, Paul Simon. It seems the locals prefer the New York of Jay-Z to you, an accost my soul, and its blue windows, will not easily forgive. I am trying very hard to keep my eyes closed. I promise to play classic tunes and personal favorites whenever I get the chance. Turkish pop is just a summer fling, fun for only a short while, forgotten soon enough. You are mine, like it or not, for a lifetime. Words are burned in my brain, and no amount of extra sunshine can vanquish this. Just in case, Paul Simon, that you were worried...
*I realize that Art Garfunkel actually wrote/performed the song "For Emily, wherever I may find her." I don't want anyone to doubt my Paul Simon catalog knowledge. But it was performed during the glory days of Simon & Garfunkel, making it, for me, an acceptable working title. :)
Friday, April 11, 2008
A map!
Greetings from sunny Selcuk (sell-chook), my new, albeit temporary, home. I thought I would put a link for a map here, so if anyone wants to see where I am living...well, then you will be able!
http://www.mapofturkey.info/c/1.asp
The little space on big Turkey that is flashing is the "detail" location, and you can zoom in to see Selcuk. It is right below the grid line, near Kusadasi. You will see that I can't properly spell the city names, due to my keyboard! I could use the Turkish computer, but Lappy* and I have good times together. :)
*my little Toshiba laptop
http://www.mapofturkey.info/c/1.asp
The little space on big Turkey that is flashing is the "detail" location, and you can zoom in to see Selcuk. It is right below the grid line, near Kusadasi. You will see that I can't properly spell the city names, due to my keyboard! I could use the Turkish computer, but Lappy* and I have good times together. :)
*my little Toshiba laptop
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
To Maine, With Love
Well, all of my North Dakota brethren, I have some big news to share. Let me preface the news with a little background story:
Random person: Where are you from?
Kirsten on a shoestring: The States...America.
Random person: AMERICA?!?!? Oh...which part?
KOAS(ha!): North Dakota.
Random person: ...
KOAS: North central plains, right in the middle, by Canada.
Random person: ...Canadian?
KOAS: ummm...sure.
Another example:
Fellow American Backpacker: Which state are you from?
KOAS: North Dakota.
FAB: WHAT? You guys never leave the plains!
KOAS: ...
FAB: I mean, no disrespect or anything, I've just never met anyone from North Dakota. Is that where Mt. Rushmore is?
KOAS: ...
FAB: ...
KOAS: That would be South Dakota.
FAB: Sorry, you know, I've never been there before.
KOAS: No worries, but you should go sometime.It's actually quite lovely.
FAB: Right. North Dakota...Fargo, like the movie, right?
KOAS: ...
Anyway, you get the idea here. North Dakota is not a frequent stop on the travel express, though I, as my New Jersey brethren (and anyone I have met on the road) know, strongly feel it should be. I love the grasslands, and the open beauty of the plains. I hadn't seen western ND until last year, on our family trip to Wyoming, and it seemed every blade of grass was more beautiful than the next.
Imagine my surprise on the bus two nights ago, sleepily talking to my seat neighbors, to find a fellow from Maine who has been to (twice!) and loved North Dakota. Loved it! Maine, being full of natural beauty, is a favorite state of mine. I think it is a favorite of many for just the same reason. Hearing a compliment on North Dakota's natural beauty, from a native Mainer...well, I think it's just tops.
Here's to our friend in Maine, who has been to all 50 states and loves ours more than others. Cheers to you, and we love you for more than just your lobster aprons.
P.S. I also met a man from Queensland, Australia, who passed through ND on a train. How famous are we? Pretty soon, people will be able to find us on a map. :)
Random person: Where are you from?
Kirsten on a shoestring: The States...America.
Random person: AMERICA?!?!? Oh...which part?
KOAS(ha!): North Dakota.
Random person: ...
KOAS: North central plains, right in the middle, by Canada.
Random person: ...Canadian?
KOAS: ummm...sure.
Another example:
Fellow American Backpacker: Which state are you from?
KOAS: North Dakota.
FAB: WHAT? You guys never leave the plains!
KOAS: ...
FAB: I mean, no disrespect or anything, I've just never met anyone from North Dakota. Is that where Mt. Rushmore is?
KOAS: ...
FAB: ...
KOAS: That would be South Dakota.
FAB: Sorry, you know, I've never been there before.
KOAS: No worries, but you should go sometime.It's actually quite lovely.
FAB: Right. North Dakota...Fargo, like the movie, right?
KOAS: ...
Anyway, you get the idea here. North Dakota is not a frequent stop on the travel express, though I, as my New Jersey brethren (and anyone I have met on the road) know, strongly feel it should be. I love the grasslands, and the open beauty of the plains. I hadn't seen western ND until last year, on our family trip to Wyoming, and it seemed every blade of grass was more beautiful than the next.
Imagine my surprise on the bus two nights ago, sleepily talking to my seat neighbors, to find a fellow from Maine who has been to (twice!) and loved North Dakota. Loved it! Maine, being full of natural beauty, is a favorite state of mine. I think it is a favorite of many for just the same reason. Hearing a compliment on North Dakota's natural beauty, from a native Mainer...well, I think it's just tops.
Here's to our friend in Maine, who has been to all 50 states and loves ours more than others. Cheers to you, and we love you for more than just your lobster aprons.
P.S. I also met a man from Queensland, Australia, who passed through ND on a train. How famous are we? Pretty soon, people will be able to find us on a map. :)
Thursday, April 3, 2008
random Bulgarian news
Hi kids!
So, I was taking the train from Sofia, Bulgaria (hi from Bulgaria!) to Veliko Turnovo (also Bulgaria) today. I was with this American that I met in Sofia, and we weren't really enjoying it so we decided to leave. Anyway, we had a transfer in some random town, and used the toilets there. I was going to take a picture, but I was desperate to get out as soon as possible. There weren't really any doors. Well, there were doors, but they were built for hobbits. Hobbits!! I had to see my travel companion piddle, and I'm pretty sure he had to witness the same for me. The best part? The man who charged us at the door (yes, you have to pay for the service, even in squalor) not only had a spider web tattoo on his shaved head, but he had matching ones on his wrist. I thought about a picture of that, too...except I thought I might get killed. Or followed. And then killed. Oh yeah, the bathrooms. Oh no. I have never been so grateful for squatty toilets. Had that been a western toilet I would have certainly been covered in vomit. I just ate, but Amy, you would have died and preferred incontinence, and everyone else, well...I don't even know what to say. The toilets were all a very dark color (not natural)...and smelly...and mostly doorless...
Luckily Veliko Turnovo is just beautiful, and his made it all worthwhile. And they have a good local brew that I am currently enjoying. :) Oh, and very clean western toilets at my hostel, at which I would like to live for the rest of my beer drinking days. A fellow staying here told me that an alcoholic he knew came here to drink himself to death. The view is lovely, the hostel is perfect, and the beer is cheap. It's so depressing, but you have to give the guy some credit for being dedicated to his own cause. He found the cheapest place in the world to live/drink beer/die. I didn't ask what happened to him. I just wanted a few beers and didn't want to be sad. When I say "a few beers," I mean Kirtie-sized home brews. A few of you know what I am talking about...
Anyway, I will write more from Turkey, when I go back. :) I have a whole bundle of pictures, so I will work on posting those, too. I promise!!
So, I was taking the train from Sofia, Bulgaria (hi from Bulgaria!) to Veliko Turnovo (also Bulgaria) today. I was with this American that I met in Sofia, and we weren't really enjoying it so we decided to leave. Anyway, we had a transfer in some random town, and used the toilets there. I was going to take a picture, but I was desperate to get out as soon as possible. There weren't really any doors. Well, there were doors, but they were built for hobbits. Hobbits!! I had to see my travel companion piddle, and I'm pretty sure he had to witness the same for me. The best part? The man who charged us at the door (yes, you have to pay for the service, even in squalor) not only had a spider web tattoo on his shaved head, but he had matching ones on his wrist. I thought about a picture of that, too...except I thought I might get killed. Or followed. And then killed. Oh yeah, the bathrooms. Oh no. I have never been so grateful for squatty toilets. Had that been a western toilet I would have certainly been covered in vomit. I just ate, but Amy, you would have died and preferred incontinence, and everyone else, well...I don't even know what to say. The toilets were all a very dark color (not natural)...and smelly...and mostly doorless...
Luckily Veliko Turnovo is just beautiful, and his made it all worthwhile. And they have a good local brew that I am currently enjoying. :) Oh, and very clean western toilets at my hostel, at which I would like to live for the rest of my beer drinking days. A fellow staying here told me that an alcoholic he knew came here to drink himself to death. The view is lovely, the hostel is perfect, and the beer is cheap. It's so depressing, but you have to give the guy some credit for being dedicated to his own cause. He found the cheapest place in the world to live/drink beer/die. I didn't ask what happened to him. I just wanted a few beers and didn't want to be sad. When I say "a few beers," I mean Kirtie-sized home brews. A few of you know what I am talking about...
Anyway, I will write more from Turkey, when I go back. :) I have a whole bundle of pictures, so I will work on posting those, too. I promise!!
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
For the Jersey crew... :)
A lovely seaside cafe...doesn't it look like Pier 1 outdoor wicker from last year? Well, minus the cushions. I had 2 double Greek coffees there...:)
My backpack, and the delightful Rodos (Greece) airport.
My shoe and the Turkish carpet on my bus. For the last 4 hours (to Marmaris) it was just me and the bus crew. They bought me breakfast! I love Turkey.
A very lonely bus...the first leg of this 15 hour trip was jam-packed so I was grateful for the quiet.
The view of Rodos, Rhodes Island, Greece, from my ferry (tugboat).
Me. Sunburned. Pack weighing in at 48 pounds. Ouch. :) Laptop, cords, Ipod, cord, camera, cord, batteries and charger...it all adds up quickly, you know?
The express catamaran I was supposed to take...with a martini on the top deck, hair blowing in the sea breeze. The dream of my Aussie travel companion, actually-but it sounded good to me!
Umm, our actual (tug)boat. It had 12 seats on top, 30 downstairs, and no tea/coffee/martini service. Sad. Oh, and it took them 2.5 hours to load the cargo, and it took an extra 1.75 hours to get to Rhodes. Scheduled arrival time? 9:50am. Actual arrival time? 1:30pm. And I missed breakfast so I wouldn't be late! Buggers.
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