Things I Don't Understand

*backing up on a freeway
*pulling a right-hand U-turn to drive backwards up an on-ramp
*driving a school bus filled with children down the highway with all the doors wide open
*running a red light with a school bus filled with children
*picnicking on the median strip of a freeway
*passing on the right shoulder of a highway going 100 kph
*jaywalking on a 6-lane divided highway 10 feet to the left of a painted crosswalk
*grabbing a ride on the cables of a crane with each foot in separate cables and the wind pushing your legs wide apart like a triangle while hanging on for dear life and not wearing a hard hat.(I guess the hard hat wouldn't be much help if you lost your grip at 15 meters above the ground.)
*leaving picnic garbage (bags, bottles, food scraps) on the grass at the park for the City workers to clean up the next day
*paving a new road, then digging it up one week later to install sewer lines, fiber optic cables, or water mains, and then never repaving the road
*driving at night with the flashers blinking
*driving at night with the flashers blinking and no headlights
*feeding a vicious stray dog (docile "maybe", but vicious "no")
*left hand turns from the right lane of a 4 lane road
*on-line bill pay that is unavailable from 5:00 pm until 9:00 am.
*school bus stops that are 15 feet away from each other...maybe there could be one compromise stop in the middle of the two.

I'm wondering if I could find a similar list back home if I were to look objectively...hum....

Moving into Summer

I had a weekend that makes me understand why everyone loves Izmir. Longer days, warmer temperatures, gentle lapping waves, fresh fish, farmers markets, lively bazaars, hot cappuccinos and fresh fruit tarts, cold beers and crisp white wines, pink sunrises and orange sunsets were all part of the last 48 hours.

This was one of those weekends where I want to bottle up the fun and save it for a rainy day. I started with an afternoon bike ride to the 5:15 ferry. I was met on the opposite shore by an acquaintance with a car who threw my bike in the back and drove us to Urla where we met up with several more friends for dinner on the bay. (This was an international crowd: German, Turkish and me) Later we sipped wine at a friend's villa on the beach until the waves lulled us to sleep. I woke to birds chirping and an ocean that was so still it was hard to tell where water ended and sky began. A slow, peaceful walk into town yielded a new, Parisian style cafe where I sipped delicious coffee at a table perfectly situated for watching the early morning fishermen in their gently-bobbing blue, red and white wooden boats.

On the walk home I stopped in at a bakery and loaded up on warm bread, rolls and Turkish bagels to share with my host and the other guests. After a slow, lazy breakfast the hot sun prodded us to head to the market in Alacati where we took in the sights and smells of fresh produce: bulbs of garlic, mounds of ripe strawberries, fresh farmer's cheese, grilling donars... Winding down further cobblestone streets led us to boutique, artsy shops filled with dresses, leather shoes and handbags, and bright colored accessories. Stepping out of the sun and into one lovely shop yielded a beautiful-perfect-for-an-upcoming-event dress.

After meeting another group of Turkish friends for coffee and pastries, we headed to the white sand, aquamarine beach of Cesme for a swim and a nap. As the sun began to set, the winds picked up telling us it was time to head back to my friend's villa. We arrived into her town of Urla just before the dinner crowd and were lucky enough to sit at a table where we could enjoy food, people watching, and live music without actually being part of the wedding and business grand opening for which the crowds had gathered.

After another great night's sleep of not being wakened from the 5:00 am prayer call (yippee), I headed home about 6:30 am on my bike into the pinkish-blue sunrise. I was about 30 minutes early for the ferry, just enough time to enjoy a coffee at the marina before heading back to my apartment. It's now 11:00 am on Sunday morning. I've had enough time to start my laundry and get ready for a required Sunday afternoon appearance at school where we will be leading English games and activities for the 2000 or so students and family who are expected to attend. Even though temperatures are expected to reach 86 degrees and the high humidity is making my fingers stick to the keyboard, I think I'm in the "right frame of mind" for noise and crowds after having been blessed with such a beautiful weekend.

Turkish Tailor/Seamstress

Finding clothes and shoes that fit me has been a constant problem for the past almost-two years. The clothes are generally too tight or cut for a different body type, and the shoes are too small with 7 1/2 often being the largest size. I'd thought  I was the only yabanci (foreigner) trying to fit into a Turkish body type. But, lo and behold, when my German friend, unfamiliar with my clothing woes, asked if I'd like to join her on a trip to her tailor  (she said she had trouble finding clothes that fit) of course, I said yes. Heck, the closest I'd been to a tailor in the States was a watching a man at Men's Warehouse, hem my husband's or son's trousers or take in a suit jacket. This would be "Project Runway" Turkish style.

After driving up and down cobblestone streets we 20 minutes, we finally parking in front of a neighborhood townhouse where a woman was watering her garden. We climbed the steep stairs to her house, exchanged introductions and walked into what appeared to be a framed-in balcony turned sewing room. Two large, industrial sewing machines bearing names I'd never heard of were stationed in front of the garden windows facing the street. Bolts of fabric lined the walls. Industrial sized spools of thread lines shelved above the machines. Burda magazines for inspiration and ideas were stacked on a nearby shelf.

Today's meeting was a "fitting" of some garments tacked together by thread. My friend had bought an assortment of fabrics like men's shirting, lightweight silks and chiffons, ham man towels, and upholstery fabric, and then drawn little designs on fake "Post-it Notes" with dress ideas, blouses, pockets, collars, etc. These two Turkish women had taken those ideas and made them realities..no patterns, just imagination and excellent tailoring skills. During the fitting, we suggested a snip here, and tuck there, and we thought one of the dresses would look good with a "boat neck" collar. My German friend was trying to explain what she wanted. I provided the English term, and the Turkish tailor (seamstress is probably more accurate) used a word like "deniz" which means sea and we all knew we were talking about the same thing.

During the fittings of about 7 pieces, I was thinking to myself that there are actually three universal languages - math, music, and sewing. It was amazing to see how well the three of us communicated about collars, buttons, hem lines, darts, seams, and trim in spite of the actual language difference. Not only that, I was so impressed my friend had solved her "clothes" problem by hiring a tailor. I would never have thought of that.