Starbucks is better in Turkey

It's felt like ages since I got here (six months to be exact), but with 26 days or so, I'm finally nearing the end of my time in Turkey. And I have to say, one of my favorite places is turning out to be the local Starbucks, located in the neighborhood of Etiler. My University is located in a bit of an odd place, at the conflux of some lower rent neighborhoods and some extremely high rent ones. A short walk from dorm up Nisbetiye Caddesi towards Akmerkez, the only mall ever to be awarded both the "best mall in Europe" and "best mall in the world," is a nice stretch of upscale shopping that includes a TGI Friday's, a Ralph Lauren Home store, a McDonald's with table service, and best of all Starbucks. Every time I walk up it, I think I'm in Walnut Creek.

I can't say that I frequent Starbucks in the US. Sometimes when I'm in the mood for something sweet, I'll grab a frappucino, but that's about the extent of my interaction. Yet the lack of coffee outside of the instant variety (which is available everywhere for some befuddling reason), has left me quite appreciative of a decent cup, even though Starbucks is a tad expensive (5 lira for a cup). Yet what is more appealing about the local Starbucks than the possibility of decent coffee is the environment it provides. I've never been in a Starbucks that I'd call unwelcoming, but those in the US don't quite provide the community atmosphere you'd find at other coffeeshops and while I can attest that the Starbucks in the Columbia University area fill up during exam time, it's usually with the solitary individual typing away at his lap-top (more the mold for the American cafe experience anyway). The Etiler Starbucks is different: its two stories (including a patio out front) are always filled with bourgeois Turks, young and old, chatting away or reading the newspaper. And really that's not something I've seen in America. While Etiler certainly resembles an upscale strip-mall, the locals don't treat the Starbucks as such. It's still seen as the center of a community, where people go to spend their free time and not just a store you stop in to get your sugary-drink before driving away in your SUV (though a good amount of the customers probably arrive in SUVs here, befitting the social class of the clientele). It certainly looks like America, down to the red Christmas-y but not explicitly Christmas themed cups (a nice treat for this time of the year), but in the end is something distinctly different. I might be drinking a Caffe Americano, but I'm most definitely in Turkey.

35 hours in Bulgaria

I got back this morning from my quick trip to Bulgaria. The reason behind the trip, as I mentioned in the last post, was my visa. Because the program I did this summer and the exchange program I'm doing now are unconnected, I couldn't get a student visa for the entire period of time. That means I'm here on tourist visas, which last three months each and can be purchased at the borders. My first tourist visa was voided when I left the country in August to go to Vienna and Budapest. This weekend marked about ninety days since that trip, meaning it was time to leave the country to get a new one. While I could have left the country a bit earlier, during my break for example, I decided I'd rather spend the time travelling Turkey, being both a good use of my Turkish and because I wanted to see the rest of the country. For that reason I pushed the visa-run back until the end of the ninety days. The timing was a bit unfortunate, however. A week later would have been much more ideal. Some of my friends had student visas and couldn't leave the country until next week due, when they got residence permits (Turkish bureaucracy moves slow) or were too busy these weekend and were planning on going later to renew their visas. The result was I had to go alone.

I settled on Bulgaria because it was cheaper than the other option, Greece. Luckily a classmate from England had gone to Bulgaria the week before for exactly the same reason and offered a few pointers (along with some Bulgarian phrase books). Train was the best method and there was a night train once a day in both directions. Take the evening train, arrive in the morning, take the evening train back. He had gone to Bulgaria's second city, Plovdiv, and said he was bored out of his mind while he was there. No one spoke English and nor was there much to do, so he just waited around until the train came. Sofia, Bulgaria's largest city, offered far more, and being farther west, I would have less time there that I'd have to waste than at Plovdiv. So on Friday I headed to down to Sirkeci Train Station near the Golden Horn, once the eastern end of the Orient Express.

Boarding at 10 PM, I was one of only 4 passengers it seemed heading to Bulgaria. While this meant that I got a got a sleeper cabin to myself, it lent also a spooky air to the train, not helped by the fact that the train seemed to be a relic of the Soviet era (maybe just due to the Cyrillic) or that the light in my room was partially broken casting everything in an dark olive drab. The other travelers were a couple, one German, the other French, and another American exchange student at my university, whom I had never met, but was travelling for the exact same reason for me. The other passengers confirmed my suspicion that train travel had fallen out normal use and was generally reserved for youthful travelers, seeking an adventure, or train aficionados. While the train is generally quite comfortable and I passed the 14 hours far better than I would have on a bus, several things did detract from the trip. First, the track itself did not seem to be in good repair and several bumps even led me to think we'd jumped off course. Secondly, the Bulgarian/Turkish border crossings comes at the most inconvenient time of 2 or 3 am. Normally the border guards enter the train to stamp your visa and cast a cursory glance at your belongings (cigarette smuggling is a problem), leaving you quite comfortably sitting in the coach. Turkey likes to run things differently, however, and you must disembark to get your visa stamped at a rather dismal border station. Thus, if you're lucky enough to fall asleep, every stop until the border (and there seemed to be a quite a few) jars you to awake, making you think it is time to get off. And when the time finally does come and you get off, bleary eyed and feeling terrible, you get your passport stamped after a miserable wait and then crawl back into bed only to be bothered by another Turkish border guard who comes down the train to make sure everyone's gotten their passports stamped. The ordeal doesn't end there, though: 20 minutes later, in Bulgaria soil, customs comes by again to give you a entry stamp. Thankfully the train was late (they typically are) I had plenty of time in the morning to doze off to recover the missed sleep before arriving in Sofia at around 1:30.

Buying my ticket for the return trip, I headed out to explore the town, in the direction a cursory glance at a online map had indicated where all the stuff was. A fellow traveler (in Southwest Turkey, actually) had alerted me several weeks before that Sofia followed a standard pattern of revitalization for post-Communist cities: while the area around train tracks is bleak, farther in town is nice. This pattern proved to be true (and if you think about it applies to American cities as well). While the train station was an impressive albeit cheerless building, and nowhere near as frightening as the one I'd encountered in Romania, the town changed as I walked towards the center. Though many of the new apartment buildings and older row houses had a battered look to them, there was a distinct feeling of grand boulevards, despite the not so pretty urban infrastructure. New modern buildings could also been seen, peaking around corners. After about a kilometer or so, I reached another large parallel street and saw down it what I am told by Wikipedia is the old headquarters of the Communist party (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Former_Party_House_Sofia_2.jpg). Murky past aside, it was a beautiful building and I decided to head towards it. This seemed to be the correct decision as as I found out that most of the sights laid in that direction. Immediately to the building's left was the Sheraton, a medieval church and a very nice shopping avenue. Getting a map from a Sheraton, I proceeded to go a self-tour of some the sights. I decided to set as my destination points churches, given my limited time and their lack of admission charges (ignoring donations). Highlights included the Church of St. George, a 4th Century Church which includes the runs of the ancient Roman city around it, and the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, a magnificent neo-Byzantine Cathedral, painted from floor to ceiling with frescoes (some of which, painted towards the more recent side, happen to be a bit tacky). The Cathedral also housed a museum of religious icons, which I very much liked. The area where I wandered too was quite nice, housing what I took to be some of the important buildings of the Bulgarian government, along with some other museums. It also seemed to be very much revived--I got a cup of coffee at a distinctly hip looking cafe--and rather affluent. Near the open space by the Cathedral, there was also an open-air market selling standard souvenir fare and in addition six or seven vendors selling icons, which appeared to be some of the more popular items for tourists to buy. Ranging in size from small to enormous, they were hand painted in Bulgaria, and were made mostly as copies, the vendors said, of more famous icons. They were truly exquisite and I decided to get several to bring back to the US. The vendors were also pretty impressive--the two whom I dealt with spoke good English and were quite capable salesmen (magnifying glass in hand to show me the fine craftsmanship). They also affixed little certificates to the back of the icons, with some of the information on the original and the vendor's contact info, so I guess they weren't fly by night operations. Capitalism seems to have a future in this country.

As it started to get dark, I headed back to the train station, picking up a sandwich on the way there--with everything in Cyrillic, the only restaurants I trusted were ones where I could point to the food. I got to the train station a little early and sat around. The other Bogazici student, who had went her separate way earlier, emerged and we chatted about how our days went. We narrowly avoided missing our train because of the confusing platform numbering system and found it more crowded than the way there. I shared my cabin with Nao, a nice Japanese guy who was travelling around Europe, with Istanbul as his next stop. He was getting a Masters in the Netherlands and gotten his undergraduate degree at Brigham Young University of all places, which he said he went to because they offered him as a foreign student cheaper tuition than any public school. He was well aware of the peculiar view of America he had seen in Utah, and was not a Mormon (apparently his friends at BYU had been other foreign students who had come for the same reason--cheap tuition--as him). Getting up for the border crossing was just as hellish as the night before (perhaps more so because of my lack of sleep the night before), but I got a new visa without a problem and was able to eventually return to sleep. We arrived back in Istanbul about 35 hours after we'd left. I gave Nao directions how to get to where the hostels were and returned home, very excited at the prospect of a shower.

All in all, it was quite the successful trip and I did enjoy what I saw of Bulgaria. I think I've had enough of trains though in post-Communist countries for a while (earlier this summer I traveled from Budapest to Istanbul with my parents). I'll try to post pictures of Bulgaria and also my trip to the Southeast soon.

updates!

I'm having a rather active November.

A few weeks ago, I went with my friends Galen and Sam to Southeastern Turkey for our week-long break during Kurban Bayramı ("Holiday of Sacrifice"). We flew into the city of Diyarbakır and traveled around the area via bus going to Urfa, Mardin and Hasankeyf. It was quite the journey. The region is very different from Istanbul, socially, geographically and historically. It was an amazing opportunity to see another side of Turkey and also experience something that was completely new to me.

Yesterday was Thanksgiving and a few American friends of mine organized a dinner in one of their apartments.They labored to create a traditional meal and we had all the standards: turkey (surprisingly hard to come by, despite the name of this country), mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, cranberry jelly, and pumpkin and apple pie. The food was delicious and I think everyone had a great time. There were about 12 of us in total and we even got to share the holiday with some of our European (actually Dutch and Belgian) friends. It was all really very nice.

In a few hours I'm going to be getting on the train to Bulgaria. My visa is expiring so I have to leave the country and come back again to get a new one. I'm taking a night train there, will arrive in Sofia by noon, then will take a night train back tomorrow to Istanbul. Hopefully all will go well and I'll get to see a bit of Bulgaria too. Oh and Monday's my 20th birthday. We're going to a Chinese Restaurant to celebrate. That's all for now--I'll try to post pictures after I get back.

finally met someone from the East Bay here...

After class today I went with a friend to get student transit passes. We took our time on the way there, stopping first to get dürüm--Turkish wraps--and then have tea with the owner of a store, that primarily produced awards or medals for order, but also sold Turkish flag pins on the side, of which we bought a couple. Ah, Turkish hospitality. Upon arrival at the transit authority, we found the building crowded with people and learned shortly that, despite it being open for another hour and half, they were no longer giving out numbers for the line. Deciding that tea with the owner more than made up for the lack of a transit pass, we decided to take a winding route back to the metro, passing a beautiful English church, apparently built as a memorial to the Crimean War and promised to ourselves to come back to visit (the Chaplain was apparently out at the moment).

Outside the metro, I was handed a pamphlet explaining that the world was going to end on May 21 (in Turkish of course). Flipping to the back I realized that the pamphlet was being handed out by a certain Family Radio based in...wait for it...Oakland, CA. I decided to go back to the woman handing them out and inquire if she was from Oakland. As it turns out, she was from Alameda (a town next to Oakland, for my non-Bay Area readers). We chatted for a minute, but not really knowing what to say to someone who thought the world was going to end, cut the conversation short and headed towards the Metro. Way to go Bay Area, sending your crazies all over the world!

catch-up

I apologize for not having posted for over a month. After classes began, it seems I was absorbed back into a normal school routine and my mind drifted a bit from the blog. So now I'll let you know my daily life, so enthralling that I haven't written anything.

I'm taking five classes this semester: Introduction to European Integration (a political science class about the EU), Epistemology (a philosophy class), Phonology (a linguistics class), Advanced Turkish Reading for Foreigners and Advanced Turkish Grammar for Foreigners. The non-Turkish language classes are in English (as are most classes at the University). While it was odd at first being the only native English speaker in the classes--it almost felt like they were doing it just for me--I've adjusted to it. While 95% of the discussion is in English, sometimes a Turkish student, for better clarification, will ask a question in Turkish, and the class will drift into Turkish for a minute or so before the Turkish continues again in English. Thankfully, I know enough Turkish that I can usually understand what the question is about, though not typically the content of the question or the answer. Also professors will sometimes say commands ("everyone come forward") or jokes in Turkish.

The classes are definitely easier than the ones in the States, but this seems to be more due to language than anything else. The students here are definitely intelligent, though, as shown by the questions asked in class. It just isn't feasible, however, to assign 100 pages of reading to a class full of non-native English speakers, so the readings are lighter, and usually a lot gets repeated in class. While perhaps the students are learning less (or perhaps learning less information more thoroughly), this is moot in my view because the university serves a slightly different goal than those in the US: it exists (at least on the undergraduate level) to prepare Turkish students to pursue graduate studies in the English speaking world, which happens to have the best universities in the world. And at that, it does a good job, much better than if, for four years, the students were instructed in Turkish.

While the English-language classes haven't been so hard, the Turkish classes are a very different situation. The Turkish grammar class has maybe 40 students, when everyone shows up, by far the most of any language class I've ever taken. In addition to being large, the students come from vastly different backgrounds. Some are like myself, learning Turkish as a second language and are taking the class as part of a natural progression in their studies. Others come from Turkish families who have migrated elsewhere and speak fluent Turkish but can't read or write. Still others come from Turkic Republics in Central Asian, where the language is arguably the same, or where the language is extremely similar (think the difference between French and Spanish) and second language instruction in Turkish is extremely common. There are also reportedly one or two Turks in the class, born and raised in Turkey, for reasons that no one quite knows. Anyways, because of this variation in level, putting together a coherent curriculum seems to be a bit difficult. Thus, what we've learned so far has been a little bit jumpy--for example, from the correct use of punctuation to passive suffixes. Unfortunately, as of now, I don't if I've learned too much in the class, but I guess it's always good to have to listen to Turkish for three hours a week.

The situation in my reading class is again a bit different. While the class make-up is the same--students from Europe and Central Asia and few unexplained Turks--everyone is at a much higher level than me. While I have found the readings extremely interesting (always a 5 to 10 page short story), I have trouble keeping up with the fast paced discussion and especially the teacher's habit of beginning a new story in class by speed reading it aloud. I should have probably taken the Intermediate Reading Class (actually probably a little bit below my level), but by the time I realized that, it was already too late to switch around the classes. The class is registered in my scheduel as "non-credit," which hopefully means it won't matter how poorly I do, and the professor seemed understanding of my lower level, but I might end up dropping the class anyway. We'll see.

I've found a good group of exchange student friends, from both America (mostly from schools in the Northeast), and Europe (mostly Dutch for some reason). I'm still working on making Turkish friends, though, partially due to my own laziness, partially due to the fact that most of the Turkish students already have friends, and partially due to how much I enjoy spending time with the other exchange students that I've met. Excuses, excuses, I know.

I'll try to keep the blog updated a bit more than I have and will try to post pictures from my trip this past weekend to Edirne,

college life

Today was my first day of classes at Bogazici University. The university, considered Turkey's best, is located on the hills above the Bosphorous, near the ancient Rumeli Hisari fortress, built by Mehmet the Conquerer during his conquest of Constantinople, and is above one of the richest neighborhoods in Turkey, Bebek. While the University is public and the vast majority of students and professors are Turkish, the classes are all conducted in English (with only a few exceptions). I moved into the dorms about a week and a half ago and have spent the time getting to know the other exchange students and the campus. I've met students from all over the US and much of Europe (especially from the Netherlands for inexplicable reasons). I have yet to met very many Turks, because most have only moved in the last few days. Because very few of the exchange students speak Turkish or have been to Turkey before, I've been often acting as guide and translator. It's a little funny (and a little nice) because three months ago, newly arrived, I was in the exact opposite position.

I'm currently living in a dorm on campus--the Superdorm. It is set up in apartment style suites, with two, three, or four singles set up with a shared kitchen, common room and bathroom. While the facilities are nice, and it's always good to get your own room, there's a bit of an enforced sterility to it. Putting decorations up in the common areas is banned and the Superdorm seems like it was built to echo any sound. My room also faces an interior courtyard, so when I have the window open I can see into any of the other rooms on the interior courtyard. While this is convenient--if you want to talk to someone you can just yell at their window--it also limits the privacy significantly. Anyone could be looking into your room at any time, especially annoying because most of the room can be seen from the window. As of now, I have one suitemate, Ross. He's from Arizona and is studying history. There is one unoccupied room, which might end up being filled by a Turk. But with each passing day, that gets more unlikely.

I've heard that Superdorm is one of the nicest dorms in Turkey and one of the most progressive--the buildings are all co-ed. It is, however, very expensive and a bit draconian. No overnight guests, for example (despite the ample room on the couches in the common room). I've also heard horror stories about the manager of the dorm. After her heart was broken by an American lover, it is said, she eternally seeks to make the lives of Americans terrible. All of this has given Superdorm (humorous enough anyway), the name of Superprison. It makes you wonder what the worst dorms are like.

We'll see how this week of classes go. I've had two today and I'll post again after I've had them all.

the last of the vacation photos

Bulgarian countryside

train station in Romania

view of Budapest

St. Stephen's Basilica, Budapest