Tavla, Mildew, Community

During the last few days I have visited downtown Izmir, tried (in vain) to figure out the bus system, and spent some time trying to renegotiate my housing. Today I have about 16 hours before I sleep again to plan develop the curriculum and write up the syllabi for the four college courses I will be teaching starting Monday.

First, the fun stuff: Ahmet took me on a city tour on Friday after work. We went down to the main downtown area along the sea. There is one main walking mall with no cars. There are lots of stores, bars, and cafes along the pedestrian mall. The narrow alleyways that lead to it are often narrow and dotted with cafes where people sip strong tea or Turkish coffee and play backgammon, known here as tavla. Ahmet taught me how to play Tavla and was very patient as I picked my way around the game board.

I played again last night when a group of six of us gathered around Esin's table for dinner. Okan wasn't as patient with my speed. His friends laughed from the sidelines and supplied me with the words for Turkish equivalent of "be patient". Whether it be pool in the U.S. or tavla in Turkey, there is a certain type of guy that feels that it is his duty to show you (women particularly) the errors you made, and what would have been a better strategy. During the game Mustafa told me not to worry, that, "everybody who plays Okan wins".

The day before I had asked Ferayal if she could intervene and get me a room that was farther from the street (and the very noisy buses). She talked to the manager but warned me the one remaining room was very dirty and would need cleaning. She wasn't kidding. Every surface was filthy. Okan, Esin, and Adim , the manager, all helped me scrub everything in the room. While I was at the market, Esin attcked the bathroom with a vigor rivaling that of a German mother. Despite our work and copious amounts of bleach the smell of mildew is still overpowering two days later.

I retired to my room yesterday afternoon feeling overwhelmed with my inability to communicate or use the bus system, missing my family, frustrated that I can't figure out how to solve the simplest problems myself because of the language barrier, and upset about the disgusting mildew. Okan came by to invite me to dinner, and he could tell that I had been crying. Minutes later his mother came down. Although she can only count to ten in English, and my Turkish skills are lesser still, I could understand very clearly what she was saying. She saw that I had been upset, and then started crying herself. Although she was speaking only Turkish, her message transcended language. She wanted to know why I was spending time alone when I was unhappy and that I should always come knock on her door, anytime. She made it clear that I was to come with her where she could keep an eye on me while she cooked dinner.

Later during dinner, their friends came by one by one until there were six of us around the small table. We ate more good food, though I don't know what it was and, of course, drank tea. My colleague, Ferayal called to see if I needed anything or for her to take me anywhere. The funny thing is that she called Esin and Okan's room. Evidently she had called the manager who knew I was up in that room, and he forwarded the call. Small world.