Two weeks into my exchange.
The week leading up to my departure was interesting. I hung around my house and basically did nothing except arrange my departure date. Sunday was the set date for me to leave, but either Hurricane Irene didn’t want me to go, or she wanted me to leave sooner. I left a day earlier, on Saturday, Chelsea Holmes with me all the way. It was nice that we were able to arrange to travel together.
I thought I wasn’t nervous when I got to the airport in Jacksonville, but apparently I was because I got sick in the garage parking lot. All I could do was laugh at myself. Saying goodbye to my parents was weird. It didn’t seem like I was leaving them, so I decided I better just fess up, right there. I told my mom I never walked the dog that week like I was suppose to, and I told my brother I stole his back-up iPod and that it was packed away in my checked luggage. I ended up going through security twice because my Rotary club came to say farewell after I was at the gate with Chelsea. I got some exercise running around the airport, but I was so happy that my Rotary Club came to say goodbye. Thanks guys!
Our flights went well. I don’t have any scary stories to tell. We flew from Jacksonville to Atlanta to Amsterdam and everything was easy and quick. The airport in Amsterdam was crazy, and things just got crazier from there. Chelsea and I went though security again and then realized we couldn’t go back out to go to the bathroom. The 3-hour flight from Amsterdam to Istanbul was agonizing. Seeing Turkey for the first time was definitely one of the most thrilling and exciting moments of my life.
I made a big deal of setting my first foot in Turkey when I took a leap off the jetway. My first landing on another continent, in another time zone, in another country (Canada doesn’t count :-) ). Chelsea thought I was crazy.
My host brother picked me up from the airport and our private driver took us home. My first observation: people drive like crazy, but somehow I always find it thrilling, especially when my host dad drives the Mercedes.
We had about a 20 minute drive home from the airport and the one thing I couldn’t keep my eyes away from the car window, as I expected. My host brother showed me the house. My bedroom is on the fifth floor and from the balcony on the top floor, you can see the neighborhood and the city.
I wasn’t even in Istanbul for 24 hours before I was back on a plane, at 7am the next morning, for Bodrum, a wonderful little summer vacation town. There, I met my host parents and they are truly the most wonderful people. The first thing my host dad told me in his broken English was that I was not a guest; I was part of their family. Just like that. And not once this whole time have they treated me like anything else.
My host mother speaks a few words of English. It pains me to not be able to tell her how thankful for the patience she has, day after day, for my extremely slow learning and understanding. I want to tell my host dad how much I love being a part of his family. I want to talk about Rotary with him and tell him how much I love watching basketball too.
I tell my host brother how much he is like my brother in Florida. They are alike in so many ways. He takes me places and always tries to explain things. He answers my many questions and he covers for me when we get in trouble.
I want so badly for my host family to know that I wish I was born into their family, I wish I had grown up as the third child, the daughter, one they love as much as their sons. I know I can have someone who speaks English and Turkish fluently tell them all this for me, but I know that it has to come from me alone, at a time when I can I speak the language with ease.
I spent the next 8 days in Bodrum, swimming in the Mediterranean Sea (I don’t think it’s possible to drown, it’s incredibly easy to float), sitting by the pool (the water level is level with ground, interestingly), eating out every night except one (something I’m definitely not use to), and walking around the town (the streets are crowded even at midnight).
I told my parents I would skype them that weekend, but I ended up staying in Bodrum for three more days with my host parents while my host brother went back to Istanbul to study for an English exam. I was curious as to how I would get along without him (he was my lifeline), but it’s amazing how much you can communicate with people even if you don’t speak the same language. It was a concept that Rotary taught us that I never quite understood, and now, I do. I also never realized how much you can communicate just by smiling.
Everyone that I come in contact with, whether they be family friends, waiters at restaurants, or people on the street, don’t know that I’m American. Even if I just smile all the time at them, they don’t realize it until they hear me speak English or someone tells them that I’m not Turkish. I happily take this to my advantage, as sooner or later, I will have no problem telling them myself that I am indeed Turkish.
We left Bodrum on the morning of the 6th and I was anxious to see how my life would be like in Istanbul. In the mornings, I come downstairs, eat breakfast with my family, and then I usually just hang around until the afternoon. I don’t mind it. Sometimes I just sit for hours, but somehow I’m not bored. Then, usually we do something, my brother takes me somewhere, we visit the city, we visit friends, etc. I never know what goes on until someone tells me. I’m always out of my comfort zone, everywhere I go. But like so many people told me before I left, that’s what I have to do to be an exchange student.
I hear the calls to prayer all the time. I’m interested as to when my first experience with the religion will take place. School starts in a week.
Everything I’ve eaten is yummy (except I wasn’t a big fan of Ayran, salty milk-ish yogurt). I feel bad when I can’t finish my meal. Everyone eats more than me here. I always have to tell them doydum (I’m full!). My host family feels the need to buy my food that I usually eat (like pork…), but they need to know that I will eat whatever they have to offer and that I love to try new things. I have this funny relationship with watermelon, and it’s been a joke in my family for a while. All because I ordered it at a restaurant one night and that the first word I learned in Turkish was…karpuz :-) way back in December.
I thought it would be really hard having everyone speak a language all the time that I don’t understand, but it’s not. I just sit patiently, listen and try to catch a few words. And sometimes, I just want to burst out laughing so badly at things that aren’t even funny. What’s hard is that when people laugh, I usually don’t understand, and it makes me want to cry.
Every time I think something horrible is going to happen. Like I’ll fall off the back of my host brother’s ATV, or my host mom will get mad at me for jumping in the pool with my clothes on (or riding on that ATV…), or making a horrible mistake in front of a bunch of people, it never happens. And usually, the things I fear the most turn out to be the most fun.
Some things to take note of:
Smoking is not discouraged here as much as it is in the USA
Pop music = sucky American pop music
There are random dogs and cats everywhere
When one sees a cat you “Tsss!” at it, while in America most people go “Aww, a kitty.” This makes me laugh every time.
In my family it is OK to put your elbows on the table and start eating even if everyone does not have their meal (I’m still getting use to this)
The most common car models I see are VW, Fiat, and some model with rhombus shaped symbol
People are amazed that I can drive and I have a car in Florida
Turkish television is really dramatic
Random people try to sell stuff along the highway
People wear everything and anything
Everyone is very friendly and people appreciate the effort when a foreigner tries to speak Turkish
Turkey is a beautiful country, no doubt about that
Most impressions that Turks have of Americans are true
Turkish flags are EVERYWHERE. Every time I see one I smile, if not on the outside, definitely on the inside.
All the time, I feel myself becoming less and less American and more and more Turkish. I feel as though I was born here and I’m finally being brought home. Istanbul amazes me all the time and I would much rather live here than anywhere else in the United States. Is that a bad thing?
For all you people who think negatively of Turkey, you should be ashamed. This country is seriously misjudged and at the time when I told people that I was going to Turkey and some of them said “Oh…Turkey, hmm…” I didn’t think much of it. But now, it makes me so angry that some people would think so negatively of a country that they don’t even know the capital city of. I question being an American, because here I am, falling in love with a country that’s not mine and defending it. And I’ve only been here two weeks.
I constantly have to remind myself that this is my exchange. It is my year and I shouldn’t be comparing it to ROTEXs, Rebounds, or current Outbounds exchanges. It’s like the expression about the elephant…one bite at a time. I might be taking nibbles for the first month. Every exchange is different and personal, so if it takes me longer to do certain things than it does for other people, SO BE IT.
To all you Rotarians (Districts 6970 and 2420): Thank you/Teşekkür ederim for giving me this amazing opportunity. It’s a dream that only a few (when you think about all the teenagers in the world) get to experience. It will change my life and I will always remember this amazing adventure.
Görüşürüz!