other life

Today, after I tried to get lunch in between my grammar class and coordinators' meeting, but failed because the line was too long and I only had 15 minutes, after I felt my students' attention slip for the hundredth time, after I once again questioned my ability to teach, after I tried to explain the percentage breakdown in Engrade to the best of my ability, after all of that, I went to the bathroom. As I approached the bathroom, a voice sang out from within, loud and clear, just for a few seconds. Then it corralled itself back up into a loud, wavering hum. In the bathroom, I found one of the cleaning ladies. She was wiping down the mirrors, humming to her heart's content, and smiling at my reflection with a slightly embarrassed grin as I darted into the stall. She never stopped humming. For quite a while afterward, during the meeting, during my last lesson, during my rush to gather my things and catch the bus, I kept hearing her voice. Seeing her smile. I think I envy her. Her contentedness. Her humming on the job. Her other life.  

my normal size

If I miss anything from Flagstaff, other than people, it's the sky. Especially on a clear night in the dead of winter. Leaving a friend's house or a bar or the PIE a tad too late, fearing what's on the other side of the door, knowing that the cold will sink through my two jackets and paralyze my breath in midair, but not caring once I remembered that sky. I would walk all the way home with my eyes glued straight above if I could. I felt huge underneath that sky. Growing bigger and bigger with each step, soaking up all those tiny spotlights, absorbing the worlds that orbit them. Luckily, no one was ever around to see how big those stars made me. If I went on for too long, I had to duck underneath airplanes and hop over telephone wires and shoo away the ravens nipping at my clothes. It was beautiful up there. I could rearrange the clouds and strum a tune on Lyra and steal a feather from Cygnus and play tag with Orion and chew on the Milky Way until it was time to fish out my speck of a key and unlock my coin sized door and push my way in till I was back to my normal size. I'm always my normal size here. The spotlights have burnt out and Lyra's strings have all broke and Cygnus has taken to feather-plucking and Orion has lost his sword. The Milky Way has melted and the clouds have pushed everything away. And I am always my normal size.    

Additional SUP DATES

Because I'm a little bit bored and giddy and feel like communicating into the abyss.

1. Over the summer, I rated speaking tests for a certain ESL proficiency exam. One of the tasks was for the test taker to describe a picture for a minute. Before each rating session, I had to go through a calibration process where I rated past speaking tests. Every time I did the calibration, the picture described was of a banana stand where people were buying bananas. There were huge stacks of big, yellow bananas and lots of people standing around weighing them, judging them, peeling them, and eating them. Listening to people describe the picture over and over, saying things like "the bananas are so good", "people want the bananas for a snack", "bananas are very good for you", "the best fruit in the world is the banana", I would inevitably really want a banana by the end of the calibration process. I started buying bananas again because of this picture and sometimes I'd eat two after listening to how great bananas are. I just ate a banana and I think of that picture every time I have one. In a small way, it changed my life.

2. I've taken aerobics classes in the U.S.A., Romania, China, and now Turkey. No offense to the other places, but America sure knows how to work up a good sweat and I am convinced that I'll never find a replacement for Freestyle Martial Arts Kickboxing. I know my country is one of the most overweight, which makes it weird that we have, in my opinion, the best workouts. I challenge the world to make me change my mind.

3. I've also had haircuts in all of those previously mentioned countries. My first haircut in Turkey was by far my favorite. It was from a man with long dread locks folded back into a thick pony tail. His scissors changed color depending on the way the light hit them and he had to hoist up a huge wall mirror each time he wanted me to see the back of my hair. All I could do was smile and nod with sincerity.

4. There's a symphony here that plays classical music concerts every Friday for 5 lira (about $2.50). I've gone twice and it is now my preferred Friday evening activity. I've decided that I'm too old and quiet for loud bars. At least that's how I feel most days.

5. I'm surrounded by wonderful people who are deeply interested (and thoroughly knowledgeable) in language, art, literature, and history. Things that, like most things, I am only superficially interested in. I have to remind myself regularly that I'm not dumb in all ways. Just some ways.  

UP. DATE.

Before launching into the second 8 week module of the school year here at AIU's English language prep program, I thought I'd run through a little synopsis of the life and times of me as of late.

1. I taught intermediate listening and speaking to two classes of about 15 students. One class loved me and my lessons and everything about life. The other class did not love me nor my lessons, and I don't know how they felt about life. Each lesson felt awesome with one group and horrible with the other. I've never experienced that kind of extreme class personality difference before and it made for a roller coaster-ish module. Here's a picture of me with one of my classes on the last day of class. My hair is much shorter now, but not as short as it has been in the past.

2. I've been deemed (without merit) the intermediate level coordinator. I'm not sure yet if I enjoy the added stress, but I do enjoy trying new things. Mostly, I pass on information and agonize over group emails and think about how I would want a level coordinator to treat me. And wake up with a racing heart at 3am with no real reason.

3. A Turkish friend who is sweet and kind and gentle invited me and a few of my colleagues to her sister's wedding in the tiny village where she grew up. We stayed with her aunt and ate some of the best food I've had while here. People can be indescribably hospitable.

4. A friend and I took a trip to Izmir. We met up with some of my old grad school buddies who are also teaching in different cities in Turkey. Reconnecting with them made me miss the grad school chapter of my life quite a bit.

   There were beautiful ruins (Ephesus) combined with stunning cats.

There was also plenty of this:

 5. Another friend and I went to Cyprus for a couple of days. The northern half is occupied by Turkey and speaks only Turkish and uses Turkish Lyra. The southern half is Cyprus and speaks Greek and uses Euros. Between the two is a block wide division of abandoned buildings and fields, armored guards, and barbed wire.

I can't explain the history very well, but an interesting documentary on Cyprus could help and is found here:

Despite the division, it's a very nice place to visit. The highlights were amazing frozen yogurt, a bar with delightful and open minded young owners and sweet, delicious wine, cool graffiti, orthodox churches that reminded me of Romania so much it kinda hurt, and this:

Cool graffiti sample (just so you'd believe me):

Sweet wine bar + travel buddy (cause I like the lighting):

6. It's 10:30pm and I need to get up at 6am tomorrow for the start of our second 8 week module. But real quick:

I've also taken weekend trips to Olympos and Phaselis. They're both about an hour from Antalya and combine ancient Roman ruins with Mediterranean beaches in a really pleasing way (see the cover photo of this blog).

I'm trying to learn Turkish, but am not doing very well at it. One of the gifts of the Peace Corps is the language training, I now realize. Turkish classes started last week at our university and I'm hoping the 2 hours a week plus my random Turkish apps will help me get somewhere.

I bought a keyboard and am tickled pink that I'm painstakingly coming up with a new song. One lesson I've learned recently - I should not go for too long without playing the piano. I'm also trying to learn this little ditty. Betcha a Lyra you'll recognize it if you were born within ten years of me. Who knew it was originally a Russian folk song?

I am planning on planning a trip to Romania and possibly Croatia over the two week break we have between the second and third module. The thought of visiting Romania again is both thrilling and nerve wracking. More on that later; time for a book and a sleep.

And with that, I complete this UP. DATE. Thanks for reading and iyi geceler.

 

Future Plans

It's official. I've decided. When I'm a ghost, I'm going to haunt the Brewery Arts Center in Carson City. I'm going to sweep the stage clean when the crew leaves a light on for me and chew holes in the costumes when they don't. Darn moths, they'll say. I'm going to whisper the lines into the ears of the shy kids, like a ghost once did for me, and leave ectoplasm in the lunch boxes of the brats. When the wind blows just right, I'll play Moonlight Sonata on the old piano in the attic and wait for the night watchman to come and yell at the air and at the creaking of this old building and in his old bones. Later, feeling lonely and a little guilty, I'll watch re-runs of Ozzie and Harriet over his shoulder and try to keep his coffee warm. On opening night, I'll keep the cast company in the green room, feeding their jitters and pestering them with props that never stay in one place when left unattended. No one is off the hook with me as a ghost and I'll have to make sure to blow a fuse on at least one performance, sending the stage manager and light board operator into a delicious tizzy full of furious whispers. It is simply part of my duty, as a ghost, and must be done. I'll make it up to them, though, through several performances with lights that fade just right and clever, witty insights whispered over the headsets. I'll run along the rafters and I just might accidentally get tangled up in one of the scrims, just as it's about to drop, making it catch about halfway down, leaving the stage looking like half of Never Never Land and half of Wendy's bedroom. Sorry about that, it will be an accident. The fly operator will panic. The stage manager will whisper vicious yells at him over the headset. Not knowing what else to do, the curtain will come down about 20 minutes too early in the first act and the audience will feel uncomfortable, but a little bit excited about witnessing the magic of a play breaking down. I will untangle myself as quickly as possible and all will resume as normal. After that, I will help the fly operator, whose hands will now be shaking, lift the heavy loads, and feel a tad baffled at his ability to so swiftly fly scenes on and off of the stage. On closing night, I'll sit in the audience. In an empty seat high up in the mezzanine. I might throw some popcorn at the audience, but mostly I'm just going to watch and feel satisfied, and a little bit sad. I know that one day, they'll look back on my mischief with longing. I'll still be there, though, re-writing lines behind actors' backs and leaving lint in the coffee pot, waiting for opening night to return.                

Create

A friend on the bus this afternoon told me that we are our happiest whenever we are creating something. I had never thought of that before, but I want to remember it forever. Cookies, pictures, scarves, stories, and songs. I bought an electronic keyboard over the weekend and I could play the same song one hundred times in a row just to keep the warmth in my chest whirring. Somebody's whistling a pretty tune outside my window and the song will be stuck in my head all night and it just might wind up in my keys tomorrow.

Worth

Eyes that once charted their surroundings with curiosity had been drained of their glow. A lonesome ache existed where there once were words, stories, creativity. Ash covered moths hung from the chords of long lost beating organs. No longer worth knowing, dissolving into dust.