Friday, May 30

This morning we discussed our readings over cay (tea) and homemade cookies (delicious - almond and cinnamon) in our medrese. First, Prof. Shields wanted to hear our take of Istanbul after being in the city for 10 days. I brought up how I felt about appropriate dress. Now, when I see a woman wearing a dress above the knee I'm appalled by her lack of clothing. Many times, the clothing that I would think of as inappropriate here could be considered fairly conservative dress in the States. I even notice myself feeling weird going up to our terrace to get my laundry in just athletic shorts and a t-shirt, something I would regularly wear around town at home. I wonder if this is because I don't want to offend anyone or if I have truly began to internalize this idea.

We kept the discussion fairly brief because we were headed to Bursa for the weekend. The prof had planned on taking us there with her, but when Murat, our Turkish friend from Bursa who lives on the third floor, invited us to stay with him, she decided that it would be better if we went alone. So after several conversations of broken English and broken Turkish, we somehow formed some semblance of a plan of getting to Bursa. It was quite a complicated plan, as Murat was not traveling with us but was coming later, so we were being picked up at the bus station by his friends who we had never met before. So after packing up our communal toiletries, blankets, pillows, and towels, we headed down Istiklal, feeling very "college." I was feeling like a hardcore backpacker too, until the boys assured me that my bag was too stylish to be a backpacker's (Thanks Mark and Marybeth!)

After frantically searching for the station in order to make our bus, we finally found it - although it was too full for us, so we had to wait an hour until the next bus. We finally got on, and Mama Yekta bid us goodbye like we were her kids heading off to our first day of school, saying "Call me when you get there!"

And we were off. With barely any Turkish, having no idea who this mystic friend of Murat's actually was, and with generally no idea bout Bursa. An adventure was definitely in store for us. I sit here now at the back of the bus, squished between Clayton and a Turk, getting my first taste of outside of Istanbul.

Turkish Traffic

I must insert here a small blurb about Turkish drivers/traffic. I don't think I have provided a good enough description of Turkish drivers. Up until now, I could only speak as a pedestrian forced to dodge cars every day, which is terrifying enough. But speaking from the back of an otobus, I can make a few observations. 1) these bus drivers drive the buses like mopeds, weaving in and out of traffic and 2) street lines are barely a suggestion and probably more of an invitation for drivers to ignore every traffic law.

The bus ride to Bursa was punctuated by several interesting things: a Turkish au pere who had been sent to Denver, getting told not to use a cell phone on the bus because it would interfere with the brakes, foreign car companies like Saangyong, American cars but weird makes (Ford Fiesta?), a Turkish version if the Oreo (America wins on this one), and a bus attendant who was not amused with the seven Americans sitting in the middle of his bus.

So 3.5 hours of travel time and we just passed Sibanci University, which took 1.5 hours yesterday. Then the random Turk sitting next to Amanda told Kelly that her face looked like George Bush, then told us that the maps of Bursa that David had to piece together from our 1978 guidebook were used by Marco Polo.

And the hilarity of the bus ride continues. We go around this curve in the mountainous road we had been driving on and we are at the end of the road at the edge of the sea. We all were wondering what the heck would happen - are we taking a ferry?!? Our entire group erupted into laughter as we imagined that all the announcements that the bus driver had been making (in Turkish, of course) went along the lines of "Ok folks, remember that we WILL be getting on the ferry here in a few minutes."

So we got on and walked around the boat for awhile, got some cay and then Amanda and I decided to try a Turkish phenomenon called "Corn in Cup." Which, in fact, is corn in a cup. We saw this Turkish guy get his before us, and he got pomegranate syrup in his, so we decided this was the Turkish thing to do and asked for pomegranate in ours. And lemon. It was ok, but not something I would get again.

After getting back on the bus and on dry land, we only had about an hour until Bursa. I made friends with the woman sitting on the bus behind me, who was a Muslim Turk living in Germany. Our friendship began when I dropped my hairclip and she made it her personal mission to find it for me. Kevin was able to actually able to converse with them in Turkish (that's how we found out about where they were from). I got out some chocolate and offered it to her and showed her that it was German chocolate, but she declined, laughing and patting me on the back. I offered it to the Turk that was sitting next to Amanda, and he took it but had a terrible look on his face when he bit into it. Prof. Shields had told us that there is basically no dark chocolate in Turkey, and this happened 70% cocoa, so I assumed that he thought it was bitter and asked him. He said yes, and then said that it was as sweet as my face. Great, I thought, my face is as sweet as really bitter chocolate. But then, using Kevin's handy Turkish-English dictionary, he clarified, explaining that what he meant to say was the sweetness of my face made him believe that the chocolate would be sweet. Much better.

We finally arrived at the bus station, wondering how in the world we would find Murat's friends. Luckily, they were right there waiting for us, asking us "Americans?" "EVET!" we replied joyfully (evet = yes in Turkish). Another bus ride and a slight walk, we arrived at
Eyup's house. We were ushered into the room where we would be sleeping - 12 x 12 rhombus. Amanda accurately quipped, "When do you ever use that shape?" She was right - this was the first I've ever seen a rhombus in action. The Turks brought the party to us with a mixed drink of sarap (wine) and Gazoz, a soda that kind of tastes like Sprite. Surprisingly, it tasted pretty good. Funny thing - the boys all got Efes and the girls got the fruity wine drink. Typical.

After some of that, some music, and about 3 packs of chainsmoking cigarettes for each Turk, we finally got to bed. We finally had figured out sleeping arrangements between the long skinny futon, the short fat futon, the twin bed, and the floor, when Selmon came in and announced that the three Turks would be spending the night in the room also. So now ten of us were sleeping in one 12 x 12 rhombus. Adventure.