City of swagger and
feral cats crying and
city of steep streets and
matchstick houses leaning;
city of cigarettes
and hungry dogs howling,
city, city of stone;
foundations crumbling.
The first things that made me realize that I was in Istanbul after my return from Rome were the taxi driver offering me a cigarette (or perhaps he was asking whether I’d mind if he smoked, I couldn't be sure) and the razor-thin moon, which mimicked the moon on the country flag, hanging low in the 2 a.m. sky.
As we sped along the rocky coast of the Bosphorus – wide river of water separating the continents of Europe and Asia - I was happy to finally be in the city I’ve chosen as my home for the next year.
On either side of the cab we passed shadowy mosques, their minarets standing to stiff attention in the pre-dawn darkness. In just over two hours, even before sunrise, a man would climb to the loudspeaker of each mosque and, broadcasting across the city, sing a wailing song to call the other men to prayer.
Waiting for me were my friends Matt and Glory, who, coincidentally, were also teaching in Cambodia around the time I was there. We would all be working together at a private high school in the suburbs of Istanbul, and we were keen to get some rest, as we had to be at work by 9 a.m. the following morning.
My first week in Istanbul they were kind enough to put me up in their extra bedroom as I worked all day and wandered through neighborhood after neighborhood in Istanbul each night trying to find an apartment. In the end, I moved in with one of my fellow teachers from the U.K. and her Turkish roommate very close to Taksim square where I had landed the first night.
Work progressed as well, with the first few weeks spent planning lessons and attending teacher training (unfortunately much of it in Turkish with no translator), and the last few days consisting of doing everything we hadn’t actually done the few weeks previous.
Finally, the second week of September we steadied ourselves for the arrival of the students. I was warned that these weren’t just any kids. In a country where the average per capita income is under $10,000, our students are paying about $16,000 to attend. Indeed, it is not just a school, but also a foundation, which owns and runs a shopping mall.
Suffice to say that nothing has prepared me quite so well for teaching there as working in corporate America. I feel as though everything I've learned, I learned in previous cubicles: image is everything (when in doubt, use the hair straightener), it’s more important that people like you than whether you do great work (people will forget what you said and did, but never forget how you made them feel), and keep your head down and smile. Also, don't slip up because apparently they sue the school if they get bad grades here.
As we led up to the first day of school, I was inundated by warnings from second-year teachers who knew the ropes: “just be strict and mean for a while,” they recommended. “They’ll eat you alive if you don’t suppress them first.” Well Toto, I thought, we’re not in Cambodia anymore.
Now, four weeks later and coming up for air, I can safely say that it has been worse than some past situations and better than others. For example, I’d prefer to train the freight-brokers I used to train (even if they made too many comments about football or strippers, at least I could understand their comments and put the smack down) but it’s waaaaay better than teaching in the situation I had in Japan (here, there are other foreign teachers, we have a curriculum and materials, the classes are half the size at 20 and all the Turkish teacher of English can actually speak English – I had to speak Japanese with some of the Japanese teachers of English). Also, each day one of my favorite students does something that makes it all worth it just as the dull roar of students chatting through class makes me question my own sanity. The other day, when I yelled at one of the kids to get him to shut up. He answered, "as you wish." Ah, the straightforward yet oft-hidden way into my heart - Princess Bride quotes - found out by a 15-year-old.
So, I’m relaxing into working again and trying to do deep breathing when I start getting stressed. I’m practicing sufficiently compartmentalizing my personality so I can be stern, strict and demanding when needed and kind, caring and supportive when it’s safe to do so without fearing complete anarchy in the classroom. Good practice for something else in my future, I'm sure.
The best part about my new life here is the beautiful and melancholy crumbling city of Istanbul, which never ceases to inspire, and the friends I’ve made, both foreign and Turkish. On weeks when I have the energy, there is always something to do. Cultural events, gatherings at bars and tea and hookah street cafes abound. I’ve joined the poshest gym I’ve ever been to (complete with sauna, steam room and nap -!?- room), and I love to amuse myself on the cross-trainer as I watch the young men preening in front of the long mirrors and swaggering across the bouncy plastic floors. This is great stress relief after yelling and punishing pubescents all day.
On the weekends, I make it a point to explore the city, which rises magnificently on either side of the waterway connecting the Black Sea to the Mediterranean.
Turks are an interesting people. Passionate, proud, quick-tempered and helpful, I learn more day by day as I slooooooowwwwly learn little bits of Turkish and begin to better understand my role here as a foreigner (yabanci).
Overall, the best part about being here, is just BEING here. Despite a stressful, albeit fun, week-long visa run back to Thailand (yes, I had to go pick up my TURKISH visa in THAILAND – long story) I have been able to settle in and be in one place for longer than a week. I have a big room with wood floors and a balcony that overlooks a courtyard with a feral cat colony and squatting circles of old women knitting. I've been told it's hell in the Spring when they go into heat (the cats, not the old women), but it's endearingly quaint in the middle of the hustle and bustle for now. Sweet consistency.
I grow my hair long here and wait for life to take me in her arms.
