Zooming Into A Brand New Year

......where was I?  Oh yes, walking amongst the inebriated, loud, and celebratory crowds moving up and down Dolmabahce Caddesi (Avenue/Street).  It's about 1:30 AM and not all that cold for the first day in January 2013.  I've had a number of glasses of wine, and a sip or two of champagne and have decided that I can walk the 5 or so kilometers home.  The brisk air will do me good, and because traffic is bumper to bumper, I will get home quicker than any taxi can take me.

The sidewalks at this point in the road are wide and roomy enough for plenty of people.  Many are either couples or groups of friends who have greeted the new year together.  I am able to move among them almost unnoticed.  That ability to be hidden allows me a feeling of both safety and the ability to observe people... a pastime I love.  Some are embracing still, some dancing down the avenue, some whooping and hollering joyfully.  Parties in cars call out greetings and wishes to any and everyone who will listen, music pumping from inside... people hanging out of windows and of course the flower sellers skilfully weaving in between the cars with their bunches of roses looking for men ready to drop a few lira on a whim for the lover next to them.  I love this city.

After walking about five blocks it begins to occur to me that this walk may not be as easy as it first seemed in theory.  I do have jeans on and boots, but I still have a long ways to go, and that steep hill to climb before I can be at home.  For some reason, a thought... barely perceptible to my consciousness ... develops at some level in my brain.  There might be an easier way to do this.  I look to my left at the crawling traffic and catch the eye of a young man on a motorcycle.  He smiles at me and lifts his head then dips it as if to ask if I want a ride.  Yep.  I sure do.  Now honestly, if I hadn't had some wine beforehand, my courage (some might call it stupidity - it can be a fine line between the two) would never had been at the kind of surge that would allow me to hop on a motorcycle with a complete stranger at 1:45 in the morning in one of the largest cities in the world in the middle of a six, five, four, three, then two lane road.

However... alcohol does impair reason, and so... I get on the bike with this guy (here is where I realized how happy I was that I had made the right decision regarding my New Year's Eve attire!) and away we go.  YEE HA!!!

I had a motorcycle when I was a teenager.  My dad bought us a little Honda 100 to race on the prairie with.  I loved that bike and had many fun years on it!  But I don't think I've been on a motorcycle since.  I tuck my coat and my purse securely behind me and grab on to this guy as he starts zipping down the road.  So there aren't really many traffic rules in Istanbul.  It's kind of like whoever gets there first and most confidently, gets to go, and my young "chauffeur" is both fast and confident.  We are weaving in and out of cars, between them, behind them over to the center lane and back to the right side again at a really good speed.  At one point he finds an opening and lets out the throttle and we are flying.  I feel NO FEAR.  Ok, so I do send up a prayer, but I am having ecstatic fun!  People look on from their cars and buses... jealous of our ability to zoom when and where we want.  The open air and blur of people in my peripheral vision are exhilarating.  The people and the scenes play out in a way that is so different from riding inside a vehicle, or walking along a sidewalk.  The sound of the motorcycle engine and the wind are calming.  I am inside of another world.   I am almost sad to see the outskirts of my neighborhood.  As he asks me directions to my destination, I remember that Marie Pierre, my French friend and colleague is hosting a party.  Having been to one of her soiree's before, I am pretty sure it's probably still going on, but I don't want to roar up to her apartment with this guy, so I ask him to drop me off on a side street about 4 blocks away from her place.   He wants my phone number and is absolutely insistent.  I don't know why I give him the right number...an error in judgement I suppose but I figured if I do, he will be satisfied and ride off into the night.

Now here's where it gets weird.  This guy is about 28 I am guessing.  Age means NOTHING in Turkey when it comes to relationships.  I am so grateful to him for this once in a lifetime experience... I mean I won't tell him my age, but for me at this point in my life - to have just had this amazingly fun ride with this guy was such a joyful thing, but I can't tell him because he doesn't speak more than 5 words of English.  He's talking to me really fast in Turkish and I can't really pick up much except I can now tell there is clearly another misunderstanding because he is ready to come with me to anywhere I am going.  Anywhere.  Thinking that perhaps if I offer him gas money that will satisfy my obligation, I try and hand him ten lira.  "Yok, yok!" he doesn't want my money.  He wants me.  Hmmmmmmm.  Well he doesn't really, but he thinks he does.  No matter what I try and communicate to him, he continues unabated with a desire to follow me presumably to the ends of the earth.  Well now this is a predicament.

A handsome well dressed man who is much closer to my age happens to be walking down this cobble stoned side street.   I ask him in Turkish if he speaks English.  He does!  I ask him to help me and I tell him about my ride and ask him to thank this young man, Ridvan, (by now we are on a first name basis) and to tell him he is a really great driver and I had great fun, please take my ten lira and go away.  The older gentleman laughs and he proceeds to have a conversation in Turkish with my friend.  Oh how I wish I could understand what they were saying.  I get a little glimpse soon enough.  "He wants you to give him more money."  I am informed.  I know this Ridvan has told another version of this story to my interpreter, but if it will send him off happy, I am willing.  I reach in my wallet and hand him another ten lira.  He takes it, says something else to the older gentleman and prepares to leave.  "Now you see how it is with these things." The translator says to me sagely.  Yeah I see..... I think to myself, wanting very much to be able to explain the real story to him, but knowing it will never come out correctly so I simply say "Evet, bilyiorum." and thank him for his help.  Thinking that I am done with this chapter, I head down the shiny wet streets towards the back alleys of Ortakoy and the next stop on this epic new year's eve adventure.

The street cats look at me and scatter or meow as I head up the narrow passage by the old seminary.  I've only been to Marie Pierre's place once before and I am not exactly sure if I can find it again, but the name of a side street seems very familiar so I turn left down another cobbled road.  "Coney!  Coney!"  I hear an accented voice calling my name.  I am dumbstruck.  Ridvan has followed me!  So here I am in a dark neighborhood I am unfamiliar with, no secure idea of the address where I'm heading, and motorcycle boy is still following me.  Fortunately and thank GOD, at this exact moment Caitlin emerges with some people I do not know from the entrance to an apartment building.  They have come from the party I am headed to.  I do NOT want M.B aka Ridvan to know where this party is.  I quickly explain (extremely abbreviated version) to Caitlin and she says to me.."Ah don't worry.  We'll just take your new friend for a walk and she and her buddies steer him off my trail down the street and away from the sight of me entering the building.  She will later tell me that he was quite concerned about me.

I climb the winding narrow marble stairway in the dark following the sound of music and laughter.  Indeed, the party is still going on with relatively quiet conversation and some early January 1 snacks being served.  It is nice to visit with my friends and share stories about our evening.  There is some dancing and some laughing and a much too sweet cocktail offered to me, which I cannot drink.  At last, at 4 AM I hitch a walk home with Matt and Connie.  Matt is a teacher at the high school and Connie is his gracious and lovely wife.  Matt assures me that if my "boyfriend" is still lurking outside, he can handle it.  I am pretty certain this is true.  Matt stands at about 6' 7" and is no beanpole.  (That's an inside joke only for MEFers).  We bid our last "Happy New Year's!!" and head back down the stairs, on to the very empty streets of Ortokoy.  This place is so magnificently beautiful at night.  Matt and Connie are both very fit so there will be no taxi ride.  We talk and laugh as we head up the hill to our homes.  It has been a good entrance into the new year.  No sorrow.  No harm.  No drama (well at least none of the bad kind).  Life is good.  I think I might like this 2013.  There is an old saying that how you spend your New Year's Eve is an indicator of how your year to come might be.  I kind of doubt that.  But if it were true....... if it were.... then I would say some adventure and courage and new experiences are on the horizon.  Maybe even a motorcycle ride.  wink wink.

I had a lot of people ask me when this post was coming and why was I delaying it ... why so silent for the past 30 days.  If you will give me just a few more minutes to explain.  I had a ton of fun on NYE.  To say it any other way would be a lie.  I enjoyed it to no end and the motorcycle ride will stand out in my memory -
I have said before, as one of my most exciting adventures.  However, ever the daughter of a good Calvinist father....(you should have met his mother!).. I felt a ping of guilt and conviction over having had such a jolly wonderful time.  I vowed to avoid wine for a month and to tone down my social activities for a while.  A bit of contemplation and sobriety never hurt anyone.  I've spent my month in some serious self reflection.  Reconnecting to my faith walk, finding renewal and atonement.... learning again that nothing I ever do or say or am can ever earn the most wonderful adventure of all.... living in endless grace of God's immense love.  That isn't to tout cheap grace that Bonhoeffer wrote so eloquently and bravely about.  No I am talking the kind of Grace that puts self satisfaction to cinders.  That Grace is where I want to live.  I got pretty sick this past week.  I am a very healthy person and rarely succumb to illness.  I can beat most things inside of a couple days, but this flu laid me out.  I had no choice.  I had to be still.  In that stillness I came back to genuine appreciation for this magnificent life that we are given.  I don't want to waste a moment of it.  Let us be full of joy and dancing and singing and serving.  Let us regard one another with dignity... even those we disagree with.  Let us love full on, engines roaring, power surging, throttle off zooooooooooooooming down this path we are on, staving off the sorrows of this world with our love.

One month down.  11 to go.  What adventures await your acceptance?

Erasing Panic

January 1, 2013

Dear Diary,  I am glad to report that I survived all of the fears and trepidations that threatened me in 2012, thanks to God.  I am still here in Istanbul, still happy about it, still discovering new things, still glad for my decision.  New Year's Eve was almost everything I have ever imagined it should be (I didn't get the romantic kiss... but had lots and lots of kisses Turkish style from many new friends) .  I chose to sail on a party boat with  Expat Events of Istanbul... to watch the city celebrate at midnight.  One of my fears about making the trip was that I had no one to go with and only knew the hostess.  Right away I ingratiated myself at a table with a woman who looked to be around my age.  She kindly allowed me to join and I was NOT disappointed with the company that began arriving from the various boarding stops.  Teachers, attorneys, performing art center directors, marketing specialists, and Clint Eastwood.  (Pics to follow)

By the end of the evening, I had several new friends, a glass of Moet, a wild motorcycle ride, and one of the best times I've ever had in my life... and I've had some pretty great celebrations;  Not one but two weddings in the wild unknown parts of New Mexico, a cast party on the faux Japanese castle movie set of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III,  New Year's eve in Sevilla with 3 of my sons, a family reunion in Salida with four generations present, and now I can add yesterday and part of today to my list.  People keep commenting that there's a book and movie in my blog.  Everyone says that, I imagine, to everyone who has a blog because anyone can publish to the world now days.  I have my doubts that this humble little bit of sometimes vanity writing will ever be discovered by the masses, but just in case... I am going to narrate the slide from 2012 into 2013 as if it were indeed a movie scene.  So close your eyes and listen to the plaintive azan ring out from the loudspeakers on the two mosques near my apartment, stereo calls to evening prayer... as I ready myself for the festivities.

Three outfits.  It's not cold, but we have been told that heels are okay and sparkle is de rigueur .  I don't want to wear heels.  Not that I don't have great legs now that I am walking everywhere... but I'm just not in the mood for a dress or a skirt... later on I will be very glad I made that decision.  That throws out two options, so the new skinny jeans it is, tucked in with black boots that I will polish.  Turks are very fashion conscious and they do NOT like dirty shoes.  Mine will shine.  And my sparkle... a little flashy purple/red tee... and some magenta eye shadow to match.  Curl the hair.  Lots of big curl.  Mulberry lipstick.  Shiny nail polish.... maroon.  Funny, I just looked up synonyms for maroon because it was turning into a definite maroon themed night, and one of the obscure little definitions is the bursting flower a firework makes.  Perfect.  Some jangly rhinestones, a black velvet coat given to me many years ago by a friend who inherited it from her aunt.  I am hot... smokin'.  I haven't felt this good looking in a long time.

Not wanting to take a bus dressed like I am, and not sure of the NYE traffic, I hop in a taxi and have a lot of fun trying to explain where in Kabatas I want to go.  I tell him "ferry" because I think surely he will know this word, but when he tries to drop me off at the swank Feriye Lokanta... I clearly realize we have a language barrier.  In the end, via sign language and the inspiration to mention the Petrol station near the ferry docks, I arrive, ready to party.

A comedy of errors ensues trying to meet up with the right boat, given there are about 5 party boats lined up at the Kabatas ferry landing.  I make it on board though after some frantic texts..  A cozy little group of beautiful 30 somethings people quickly stake out a table in the rear of the boat wanting very little to do with me.  At this moment I have a choice, I can simmer, cry, or get off the boat.... oh yeah, a new year.... I am tossing off fear so after sadly fidgeting at an empty table, I get up the nerve to ask the lady standing at a nearby spot if she minds if I sit with her.  She obliges kindly, and we make polite conversation which is quickly warmed with a glass of hot mulled wine.  We shove off, after waiting for another group of 20 somethings who DIDN'T listen to my advise not to wander off, wandered off anyway, gotten lost,then eventually board.  One of them says to me, out of earshot from her smart and snotty friends..."We should have listened to you".  I feel smugly vindicated.  Age has its perks on occasion.  I smile magnanimously.  We are off to the last pick up spot amid a black strait dotted with many many boats full of celebrants.  As we pull away, we note the large boat next to us is filled with women in headscarves and full length dress, accompanied by many children.  The tables are loaded with plastic bottles of Orange Fanta, Ginger Ale, Cola, and Water.  I am glad I did not board this boat by mistake.

Happily, Hope, my new friend and table mate is joined at the next stop by a person I have met before, Betty the English teacher, an adventurous spirit who entered the world of international teaching at the age of 67 to teach English at University!  She is sharply dressed in a sparkly little see through blouse and she looks stunning.  Her face is happy and glowing.  I am so glad to see her again.  She is with 2 other people I do not know... who are developing a new performing arts center here in Istanbul.  We make introductions all around and the mezes come out, cheese and crackers, dolmas, spinach pies, dips.  This stirs the crowd and everyone is on their feet for the first round of hour d'oeuvres.

Last stop is way up the Bophorous, I recognize the shores of Bebek.  The coast road is packed with glittering cars traveling to their destinations, the clubs are also crowded and it seems all of Istanbul is in a festive mood.   We stop at Arnavutkoy to pick up the last of our party.  A couple joins our table, two attorneys who are soon moving to Spain.  They are charming, interesting, and friendly.  I am happy to be with these people, and grateful that they have included me in their party.  We head up for a bit toward  the Black Sea.  We won't go all the way, but it is a clear lovely evening and the fireworks are a couple hours away.

There is a table of women near us who are clearly out to have a great time together this new year's eve.  They are all dressed in little black outfits and have had no shortage of spirits.  I am surprised when they approach our table and ask one of the men sitting with us if they can have their picture taken with him.  He obliges and his wife happily snaps away as he is surrounded by the bevy of beauties.  I ask her if this happens often, and she replies, "Oh yes, everywhere we go, all the time."  I am puzzled, and ask why.  "Because everyone thinks he's Clint Eastwood."  I can sort of see the resemblance, so I snap my own photo.  A great memory from an epic night.

 Later when we head up top to watch fireworks together, Hope hands me a bottle of Moet to open.  Now I really am feeling lucky.  I strip the wire sheath and notice "Clint" has been cornered by a rather drunk and aggressive woman who is fawning all over him.  His wife joins me as I begin to work the cork.  "I could shoot her in the butt with this if you like..." I offer.  She chuckles but declines.  The cork pops at midnight and I am suddenly very popular with people who have not spoken to me all evening long.  Interesting how that happens,  "Just tell them no and walk away!" Hope chides me as I pour her a glass, it is after all her champagne!  I do end up protecting the bottle and everyone in our party gets a glass for our toast.  The fireworks pop, the boat horns blow, sparklers are lit, and suddenly everyone is kissing each other Turkish style with a kind buss on both cheeks and a "Happy New Year!".

We chat some more back down below where it is warm and there is more food.  Business cards are passed around so we can keep in touch.  One by one, my new friends are deposited at various drop off points with promises to contact one another.  Hope is still on board and not ready to call it a night.  She invites me to a club after the boat docks.  I think about it a while.  Not knowing where the club is... or how on earth I will get home afterwards, I decline.  I am about 7 km from my apartment.  Traffic is bumper to bumper and inching along down the coast road at about .5 km an hour.  Really.  Revelers are flooding the sidewalks.  It might be fun to walk home I decide, and I bid farewell to Hope and head off, thinking New Year's Eve is over with for the most part.  Never imagining one of the most exciting parts of my evening was yet to come.

Next post........  The wild trip to the second party!

Before I sign off, I have some thoughts I would like to share.   It is actually January 8th as I post this.  Snow is flying sideways and blanketing lovely Istanbul.  School was canceled for today, and I am hoping the same for tomorrow.  I've had some quiet time today to ponder my life, my future, and my place in this world.  New Year's Eve was quite truly, a lot of fun for me.  It's been a long time since I honestly enjoyed this day.  But there is more to it than the parties, the wine, the food.... even the company.  I thought a lot about my experiences since starting this blog... I actually had some panic last night when I was unable to sleep and remembering all I had left behind.  I started thinking perhaps I had made a mistake in coming here.  Though it has been incredibly exciting and new, that alone is not enough to sustain me.  If I lose my connection with my creator, the GOD whom I have loved for so long, the Jesus who has kept me near and loved, the Holy Spirit who has chided, encouraged, counseled and directed me throughout my life... well no experience on this planet can replace this connection.  So the streets of Istanbul, the taxi rides, the exotic people, the flavors, the scents, the Hagia Sophia, the balloon rides, the handsome men, the fantastic people I have met.... are only icing on my cake.  Lovely icing to be sure, but I do count them all as loss in comparison to what I hold most dear.  So as I took this sudden fear to the place of prayer last night, I was, as I have always been, comforted by the still small voice telling me to trust in His grace.  That we are loved and cherished and that I remain sheltered in the crevice of faith, imperfect to be sure, but safe nevertheless.

As my son once wrote on the banner of my cell phone, because he knows me so well...

DON'T PANIC

A New Year.... not the same old....

It is approaching... that evening of madness and mayhem that we in the world officially recognize as the end of one cycle and the beginning of another.  Perhaps I will actually finish this posting in one sitting and this will be the last of 2012 posts and not the first of 2013.

Just did some research on why exactly this day is the chosen one....Julius Ceaser declared it so based on the Julian calender.   Prior to that, a number of other dates were celebrated as the turn of the year, including the first new moon after the vernal equinox.... which would put it just past Spring with it's new life and re-emergence from winter.  Regardless of when it is celebrated and what traditions one holds to... it typically is a time of taking stock of the old year, letting go, and making some decisions and plans for the new year.  We get to start anew.  So we make promises to ourselves about the things we plan to do and accomplish, and we bid goodby to both the joys and the
                                                                heartaches of the past year.

I thought it might be interesting to compile a list first of things I am glad to let go of from 2012:

Idaho education politics
US politics and US politicians
School shootings
Bad renters
Sad goodbys
A house that is way too large for one person
Snow that lasts into April and sub zero temperatures
New Years Eve spent alone with a bottle of wine and three sparklers

And  .... the things I hope to say "Greetings and come on in !" to in 2013:

Self control -  food, wine, exercise
Closer walk with Christ -  Real
More travel to new lands and new adventures - Greece, Israel, Italy, Bulgaria, Croatia
A kinder me, a more genuine and focused human being that loves others well
Visits from friends and family
A deep rich kiss for New Years Eve 2013 -
(they always say be specific, so I want it to be with a man that I am not related to and that I like a lot.  Incidentally, he likes me too.)
Just sayin'... this is the year.
Contentment... utter and complete regardless of the accomplishments of any of the above

 The funny thing about writing things down and visiting them regularly is, they are much more likely to come to pass.  Are you paying attention Career Pathways alumni???  I wrote some intentions down last year and look where it got me....  You too can dream big and reach for those things you always thought should belong to you but were too afraid to go for.   Look,  here is some end of the year advise.  I haven't always lived my life well.  I've made some egregious and destructive choices that I had to repent of.  The thing is, my choices culminated in results.  (funny how that happens) The choices I made rarely ended with the results I desired.  That in turn led me to think about how I was making choices, and finally..... (I can be a little slow and am also a late bloomer) I figured out that between GOD's good will and my willingness to intelligently seek harmony with that will by paying attention... well, good things happen. 

Please, I am NOT advocating some hocus pocus "creative visualization" NLP like snake oil product, but thought does posses energy.  It does have power and you can use it to get to where you believe you ought to be... but I have observed and experienced that you have to wield that thought carefully and with some divine guidance otherwise you may end up with something you can't even handle.  Father knows best. 

Last bit of information from the world of me, take it for what it's worth..... This is the year to slay fear.

F = Falsehood
E = Experienced
A = As
R = Reality

 New Years Eve has for me, this past 20 years been fraught with extreme emotions of one kind or another.  It was a twice repeated anniversary for a love of my life which has since been exiled to memory and regret.... but that's another story.  This year I am hoping for NO TEARS and
NO FEARS.  I will board a boat bound for a trip up and down the shores of the beautiful Bosphorous and I will eat and drink and allow my heart to be merry.  I will watch the fireworks with new acquaintances and celebrate the turn of time.  The next day, New Year's Day... I will rest and think and maybe write some more.  I will read and walk and be alone.... and I will say a grateful prayer of thanksgiving for 2012 and for all I have learned, and all I have been given... by grace, to accomplish. 


"Perfect love casts out fear"
                                            Happy New Year!!!!!!!!!!

Advent 3 & 4 - Approaching

I have 5 children.  All but one resides in the US...though 3 of them have lived and worked internationally, the youngest is still an international adventurer and now living in Italy, and will make his way to Australia soon.... or so I hear.

I remember what it was like to bring each one of these precious human beings into this world.  I remember the long journey from that first tinge of other worldliness... there's just something about the beginning of carrying the seeds of another human being within... to the moment of birth and separation. Those were the sweetest of times.  I crawl into those spaces in my memory on occasion and yearn for closeness with my children again.  Alas, one of the curses of living on this earth in my cultural space and place is that most families no longer live and love in the same community over the years.  Only now that I am closer to the end of my run on this earth than the beginning, can I mourn for that loss.

It is of course the Christmas season and naturally I am thinking about Christmases past.  We call it the "winter holiday" at the international school I work at.  Ostensibly because there are so many different belief systems represented, that to call it "Christmas" really would for the majority of our students, be a misrepresentation.  I love however the way the children at the school are intrigued by all things Christmas.  Of course some of them are familiar with the holiday, as they do study celebrations and belief systems of the world, so they also understand intellectually what Christmas is.  I had fun helping some second graders write their essays about what they would do over holiday.  I even got to explain to several children why it's called "Christmas, and why it is capitalized. 

So our holiday has begun, the children are off to various places in the world, staff are flying out today to either visit new places or to go home to see family.  Some of us will remain here.  I chose to stay because I was told that the first year overseas, it is difficult to visit home, then have to leave to return.  I think it was a wise choice.   My kids used to flock to our home in North Idaho for Christmas celebrations.  We had so much fun together back then, and if I close my eyes I can still hear the sounds of brothers joking with one another, grand kids squealing with delight, my daughter laughing, my two chef sons clacking around in the kitchen. There will be none of that this year.



However...

My lovely granddaughter has come for a visit.  Isabel arrived two days ago, and I think so far she is enamored of this city.  Of course she brought snow with her.... yes it snowed here yesterday in Istanbul, enough for the ministry of education to call for a school holiday on Friday... so we are free today. 

 She and I took advantage of that freedom to put up the fake tree that the last tenant left behind.  I wasn't going to have a tree this year... but I have NEVER not had a tree, so we put it together, strung some lights and decorated with the sweet little homemade ornaments sent to me from Isabel's siblings.   I played some Christmas music, we ate leftover Indian food, and planned for the rest of the day, which included marathon shopping, dinner, and watching The Hobbit in the local theater.


I love the Peter Jackson films interpreting Tokien's stories.  He manages to embody the whole of the works... including the emotional depths of the character's journeys, which are spiritual allegories.  J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis were great friends, and much of both their fictional works characterize the enormous task of a life adventure, particularly the Christian walk.  (Though Lewis' stories are much more simplistic and lack the intricately descriptive narration of Tolkien.)  Last night as I watched the scene where Bilbo Baggins leaves Rivendell to join the dwarfs on their very dangerous journey, and again when the dwarf king is attacked and he comes to the rescue in spite of his great and seeming insignificance I found myself weeping over his struggles and turned to see that Isabel too was wiping away tears. Bilbo is anything but a warrior, 

yet he attacks evil with absolute and utter lack of fear or consideration for personal safety when it comes to defending others.  I identify keenly with Bilbo precisely because he is weak flawed and insignificant.  Yes, there is much in the Rings trilogies that strike a cord with those of us who have suffered loss, yet continue to battle daily for place and peace in this world. 

I have left my home, my friends, my family to strike out on an adventure.  It isn't always easy, and while it hasn't been physically dangerous (other than walking in Istanbul traffic and riding in Turkish taxis), I have had to fight some wicked and destructive personal monsters.  I long so dearly to rest in my own Rivendell.  To be at peace in my home, to sit with sweet loved ones knowing that evil is vanquished, and neither destruction nor death can ever steal innocence and life away again.  I long to be courageous now, to battle injustice and hatred and to be a part of building a better place to reside.  In the meantime, I sit with my first grandchild after a day of shopping for gifts, grateful for the presence of at least one of my kin. 

Christmas day approaches as I finish this post.  Today we will visit holy places... The Blue Mosque, The Hagia Sophia, and The Chora Church.  I imagine this too will bring a flood of emotion for me.  The Christmas journey is a story of impossibility, danger, labor, fear, joy, sacrifice and ultimately triumph.  I read a story today that said on  Christmas eve in medieval Scotland, the bells tolled a long and heavy dirge... to announce the death of the devil.  With so many of humanity's children these days, a dirge also does play.  Our world is still veiled in darkness, but Christmas will arrive... and with it a promise of victory and joy and celebration.

In the meantime... I will see you on the road!

"So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazereth in Galilee to Judea to Bethlehem the town of David... because he belonged to the house and line of David."  Luke 2:4

Advent - The Waiting

Taken Dec. 2012 in Sandpoint Idaho by Gary Lirrette

Still recovering from Friday flu... and opted to take a Monday to recover and rest.  The still of the day settles into my body, mind, soul.  I always worry about calling in sick to work... it is an angst ridden decision for me even when I am most certainly ill... but a dream just before waking this morning convinced me that it would be a mistake to try to be effective with kids today, so I made the early morning call, and went back to sleep for 4 more hours.

I have a morning routine that I have kept for years.... something about routine grounds me.  I do break it every once in a while, but for the most part... it remains the same as it was in Idaho for the 16 years I resided there.  I wake, make coffee and a small breakfast then sit quietly reading morning devotions and saying my prayers for the day.  If I am late rising, or sick... or some other interruption occurs... it throws my day off... spinning often into directions I would rather avoid.

As I began my readings today, I realized that the day would be best spent quietly preparing for the Christmas season.  Advent is 2 Sundays gone, and the day we arbitrarily choose to celebrate the coming to our mean world, the King of Heaven and Earth... is fast approaching.  I am not ready.

I mistakenly decided, back in August when I was packing for my move to Istanbul, that it would be better to leave all reminders of Christmas' past behind.  I miss these simple things terribly now.  Surprised by the depth of my yearning for some of the sweet ornaments made by my children, cards from old and dear friends that I store to read again and again, a tree fresh from the woods, my favorite Christmas cd's,  lights and candles and the smell of Christmas cookies baking in the oven.  Thinking of these brings on a flood of emotion, and I DO miss them.  So I started streaming Christmas music from you tube yesterday, and I wrapped the packages for my mother and sister that I have been shopping for since I arrived here.  I must have stood and stared at this pile of gifts for several minutes.  Something about it was comforting.

I know enough about psychology and the brain to understand that over the years I've encoded and stored similar images about 55 times and that they directly stimulate the pleasure center of my brain because of their association with happy experiences.  But there are some things quite outside of the brain... hope and faith and love... these aren't so clinical and though I've questioned at times the validity of my beliefs.. they continue to stand rock solid and UN-changeable in my heart and mind.  I read an interesting side story, or maybe it was just a comment under a you tube rendition of "Oh Come, O Come Emmanuel", that said the writer's mother told her that she had wept while listening to the song at even the young age of 2.  How is that possible when there are no memories yet stored?  False memory?  I don't think so.  There is something in the words and the perfection of notes in that particular hymn that stirs the heart.  It is my favorite Christmas hymn because it so perfectly expresses the desire for the beloved to return to us, to rescue and comfort and disperse the gloom of night...
                                               Oh come again       Emmanuel.........yes. I too weep.

  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iO7ySn-Swwc

I don't understand how it all works... the religion thing.  I don't know why so many different kinds of faiths exist on this earth, and why we hurt and kill each other because of it.  I don't know.   It all seems so tragic.

I do know that this season, Christmas, means more to me than pine trees and cookies and gifts.  It means more than family gatherings and white elephant staff parties, it even means more to me than religion... it is the anticipation of something impossible, something pure and clean.  Divine and human goodness embodied in a baby who will grow to change the world....Kindness and Love that does not disappoint but challenges and encourages and walks with me daily.  Oh what manner of sacrifice did the creator bestow!? 

And yet, I am living in a country that is 98% Muslim.  I love the bittersweet call to prayer.  I love the fact that grown men still prostrate themselves before their maker.  I love the fact that humility and modesty are still much desired character traits in this faith.  I don't love the growing sense of foreboding,  that anything outside of this format must capitulate or be extinguished. Very very few of my current neighbors know this Jesus of whom angels sing and before whom wise men kneel.  Instead they know only of an orgy of consumption, a distinct lack of kindness & understanding, and a history of behavior, much of which was markedly Un-Christlike.

So it's hard being here at Christmastime in some ways... no Christmas cards, no carols, no manger scenes.  But it's easier in others.  No orgy of commercial X-mas blanketing my every waking moment.  It must become... in the purest sense... the REAL thing this year.  It either resides in my heart, or not.  The trappings, decorations, scents, lights, glitter and shimmer....stripped away.
It is still the same mean world... but I am anticipating....something MUCH greater.

Season's Greetings.

Turkish Anomolies - Or Strange Things I've Pondered Since Arriving.

My last post was a rather somber reminder that things are not equal in this world of ours.  As a German friend (& countless others)  said once to me when I was grieving the sorrows of this journey... "Life is not fair".  Terrible things happen to innocent people and terrible people seem sometimes to skate through life unscathed.  I for one believe in imminent judgement and sometimes instant karma, but also I am eternally grateful for GRACE. 

 Eye also think, it helps not to take one's self, or one's existentialist ruminations too seriously.  While I will fight for justice and mercy to the last ounce of my puny existence,  I also know I will never make it without a sense of humor or appreciation for the absurd.  This particular post will celebrate the curious, the ironic, the anomalies that make life so interesting currently.  If you have things to add... please do comment.  I need a chuckle every now and then.

This was a shop that I just happened up on while touring with the Travel Junkies through Eminounou.  No kidding... it was an "eye shop".  Every permutation (color and size and expression - wise) of the large plastic eye was  available in bulk bagged quantities.  Mind you this wasn't a warehouse.  It was a store on a side street in the tourist district surrounding the Egyptian spice market area.  The door was wide open and there were papers and a calculator on the desk as if a brisk business had been had all day.  Why or What or even Who.........  I leave such questions to minds greater than my own.

 Same walk about... now here's the weird little thing about his picture...we were exploring "hans" or shops of the back alleys.  This was an open area in back of a thoroughfare.  No traffic back here, just some storage and private spots for laborers to go have some tea.  I spied this sort of vine like tree behind a wall and was surprised at the brilliant blue flowers blooming in late November.  Sure enough, someone had taken the time to duct tape plastic flowers to the living tree, all over.  I have no idea who else will ever see this tree given its location, but at least I appreciated the artistry that went into it.  A bright spot in a grey, wet chilly day.

If this were a fish pond, it would make sense that there were so many of these silvery creatures swimming around in here.  The funny thing is, it isn't a fish pond.  It is a deserted hamam and there aren't supposed to be fish in here at all.  This magnificent

bathhouse is maintained by someone who must feed and care for the creatures.  My ocd friend
(who is an irony in and of himself) counted to 37 while he was waiting for me to explore the recesses of the building that went very deep into stunning rooms that most likely could tell many many tales.  Why are there fish in a hamam?  I don't know, but while I was standing there, a young kid, about 13 I think, came by and "herded" the fish by waving his hand expertly over the surface of the water.  I could tell he'd spent considerable time amusing himself thus.  I smiled at him as I watched his skill determine the course of the school.  He grinned back shyly.  It's amazing how one smile can open up worlds of understanding.  I don't know his back story, but I imagine he too could tell some stories, particularly about this magnificent building that now houses boxes and secrets and fish.

I wanted these two pictures side by side.  Both are identified as "Angels".  One is a naturally occurring (if I read the Turkish sign correctly) image within a stone cut found in the famed Hagia Sofia..  The other is a painted icon in a primitive cave church in Cappadocia.  I am intrigued by their similarities.  I think it's a bit spine tingling. 

Ok,... back to earth.  We went out one lovely late summer night to a Fasil... a traditional Turkish feast followed by music and dancing.  It was a pleasant evening and we took a taxi home.  We'd had a bit to drink and were all of us in high spirits careening down our road the way only Turkish taxi drivers careen, taking pleasure in how well they can navigate curves and blind corners at breakneck speeds.  We were oh so close to home on one of those little side streets that branch off into Ortakoy, having directed the taxi driver to take a short cut when suddenly he slammed on the brakes.  Why?  Because an earth mover was digging up the road we were on.  We had a pissing match for a bit, no idea why or where the taxi man thought the excavator was going to yield to but the lesser vehicle (us)  eventually backed out. I LOVE Turkish taxi rides!!!

When I saw a large crowd quietly gathering in Taksim, I could tell something different was going on.  Street musicians are a dime a dozen (and sometimes extremely good) on Istiklal Ave..  I was really astounded though at this guy.  A Turkish hippie.  And his instrument... he said that only 4 or 5 people in the world know how to create it.  He played it with his fingers and it sounded like music of heaven.  So sweet and gentle, as was he.

I tried to download the short video I took, but I am unable to get it linked.  You will just have to come to Istanbul and see if you can find him yourself.







Journeyed to the Grand Bazaar on Saturday.  It's a good thing there are no bars in there... some people might not ever come out.  The bazaar is a true oddity in that hundreds of shops sell EXACTLY the same Chinese made Turkish look alike brands of Kitsch.  I argued with one guy who told me his Ukelele's were made "right here in Turkey miss..."  I pointed out the PRC label glued to the inside of the uke... but he persisted.  Oh well.  There are 5,000 shops in this covered area which has been in operation since 1461.  http://www.grandbazaaristanbul.org/Grand_Bazaar_Istanbul.html
One man offered my companion some money or a trade for me.  One, about 28 years old made a marriage proposal, and one would not let go of my hand.  His neighbor, about 70, asked me "can I have you now?"  I am not sure what he had in mind, but I had a great time at the bazaar and I will return before Christmas.  As we found an exit out into dark open air (time ceases in the bazaar) we made our way down an unfamiliar avenue of even cheaper shops, many of which were selling bridal array, o\Ottoman era wear, and shoes.  A weird combo I know, but it got weirder. 

Yes these are little Turkish "man/boys".  Small boy size mannequins used to display children's suits, but obviously... they needed some Turkish facial hair... so someone obliged.  This was not the only shop with man/boy mannequins.  Why do they do this?  I just don't know.

There are many other things on the list of Turkish anomalies.  Here is a bulleted sample:

• They take this special plant... and put bits of glass and aluminum and kitsch all over it 
• They complain a lot about everything
• Food is packaged, injected, altered, supersized, chemicalized, mistreated and generally taken for granted as an entitlement
• They raise billions of dollars for cancer research but refuse to change what they breathe, eat, smoke, put on or into their bodies
• They have this piece of cloth that they almost place in a position of worship even though most of them are against idol worship.  
• They think they are the most fantastic place on the face of the planet, without having visited any other place for any significant length of time.

Ok, by now most of you get it.  Yeah, so this place(Turkey)  is odd and different and people don't do things the same way they do them in other parts of the world.  Time is really relative here, people are hard to figure out (shaking your head left to right might mean yes, I am in complete agreement)  and they drive like maniacs who understand exactly where each other is headed.  Sometimes I don't get it, sometimes I do, and most of the time........  I love it. 

Hey.... you in the burka, don't look at me like that again ok..........?

PEACE.
 & Laughter.

Plateaus & Valleys & Thanksgiving

Today was an interesting day in Istanbul.  I was invited to go to a conference at Maltepe University with my co-worker Prags, the high school counselor Dave, and my principal Yann.  The conference had to do with street children of the world and the effective interventions that make a difference in their lives.  I will simplify what I learned into one sentence... Human beings who have been through life traumas are broken, the only way to fix them is through loving relationship.

I have an interest in the lives of these children.  They break my heart and they are everywhere in this world. Istanbul does a good job of keeping them out of sight for the most part.  There are still the gypsy children.  Like the ones pictured above.  It was a Sunday afternoon in late October and I was waiting for the bus when this group of kids wandered by.  There were three of them without shoes.  Remember it's October...and it's Taksim Square.   Anyway... this trio sauntered past and I just covertly snapped a photo of their feet.  Right after I took the picture, a beggar came by asking for money... I pointed to the children's bare feet and told him no.  He looked at me and understood immediately what I was saying.  Maybe they were related, who knows. I see kids working everytime I go to Taksim, selling water or flowers, or playing a plastic flute.  I once saw a young boy, it was mid day in August, he was sleeping on the concrete doorstep of a side alleyway.  Maybe he was 7 or 8.  Nearby there were some older men having tea.  I hate this with a passion.  One night there was a group of us drinking at "the local" (our neighborhood Cheers) and this little girl, (about 10 I would judge) came by the bar to sell roses... no one buys me roses anymore, and everyone at our table either declined or ignored her.  She smiled kindly at me, shyly, and sprinkled rose petals on my head.  That will stand out for me the rest of my life as a holy moment.  It was about 1 AM and she was working.  I saved some of the petals.

It's Thanksgiving time as I write this.  Thursday marks the day of traditional feasting and harvest thanksgiving to GOD who made all things.  I came home tonight and thought about my children and holidays past when we all gathered to eat and drink and laugh over card games and board games and inside family jokes.  I will miss that so very much this year.  I cried a bit thinking about it and how my family really no longer will circle around my house for the holidays.  It made me quite sad until I remembered this blog I had begun drafting a couple weeks back. 

While I have a passion for serving the lost and the poor of this world... I can also become lost in my own way... inside of my own pity party... feeling regret and sorrow over small things.   I thought about this blog topic - I had really been trying to get back into writing about the homeless kids, but just wasn't feeling inspired.  Until tonight... and you know what inspired me?  My own self pity.  No family around, living in a foreign land, no Thanksgiving holiday, and just for fun, the man I felt I had a bit of connection with and was looking forward to seeing at an event... well he stopped talking to me last week and was a no-show at a Sunday get together.  Yes, I've been feeling very sorry for myself.  Poor, poor me.

This young boy is about 15 years old.  He was working in Sultanahment, picking through the trash for recyclables.  That's what a lot of the gypsy folks do for work.  And they all do something.  You can see by the shirt that he is wearing that this is not easy or pleasant.  He will drag that bin until it is full when he will then take it to a truck somewhere, empty it, and get back to work filling it again.  I don't take pictures of their faces, though they do know how to smile for a camera.  I do not want to invade their pride or their sorrow.  For him, I think it was just another day.






So yeah, I feel sorry for myself because I won't get to eat a plateful of turkey this Thursday, and I dont' have a boyfriend to buy me roses, and I won't get to play apples to apples with my daughter and sons this holiday.  My bank account is empty thanks to some rummy renters, and I will probably eat kofte and have too much wine Thursday after work, and then I will go back in then next day to finish my week.  Poor poor me.

Two teenage girls who dig through the trash in Ortokoy to fill a bin that is taken to the recylcable truck.  Some people leave stuff on the side of the road in the bushes for them.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING