Him: Mary Wilson is one of The Supremes and will be in Izmir tonight. Wanna go?
Me: Well..........Yes!
Fast-forward to 7:05 that evening. I led a group of friends in a frenzied power walk to a local theater in IZMIR to see a free show featuring my childhood hero. (I know that the title "hero" seems to be a bit of a jump seeing as how I didn't know her name earlier in the day. But stop being judgmental.)
This is me with my other Michigan friend here in Turkey, pre-show.
She didn't let her crazy show as much as I did but trust me,
on the inside she felt the same way that my face looked on the outside.
My group of friends and I took up most of a row in a tightly packed auditorium -- and we sang and clapped along righteously to every beat that Mary produced. We laughed when Mary got really diva-licious (talking about her man-friends and whatnot) and I'm pretty sure that a few of us got a bit teary eyed during some of her more sentimental tunes. I just want to say that I really appreciate a 69 and a half year old woman who is still wearing glitter and flaunting her sexual prowess. I also want to mention that the interpreter was so uncomfortable with what she was saying that he intentionally mis-translated.
About eight songs into it, my Michigan friend (Rachael) gave me a fairly forceful shove and told me to get up. Just a few short moments later, this happened:
I wasn't really sure what was going on. But on my 30th birthday (I won't mention which year that happened) I promised myself that I would "do more stuff" without thinking too deeply about it beforehand. For better or worse. And that's how I ended up on stage with a Motown Legend last week.
People have given me a lot of stuff in my days here on planet earth. One thing I got A LOT of last week were personal requests to watch this ice skating routine to Ginuwine. Why does everyone I know need me to watch this? I'm not sure. But just in case you've never been on Facebook before, here it is:
Now if you were in high school during the second half of the 90's like I was, you were probably singing along to "Pony" up until moment 1:43 in this clip. But I'll tell you something: What homey did right around that time actually shocked me out of my sing-along. And I've been known to sing straight through things like unexpected flash mobs and even the occasional car accident. So hat's off to you weird man in the muscle costume, you were able to shut me up.
There are so many things that people feel I need.
Right before I moved to Izmir one of my besties gave me these:
they are sparkly - like vampires when they are exposed to sunshine
She didn't explain a thing, she just handed them to me and carried on with her conversation about the high temps in Albuquerque, New Mexico in July. I wear the socks regularly and yell at people if they don't comment on them when I intentionally pull up a pant leg to show them off.
Because that's what gangsta's do. Yell. I think.
I had another friend send me a package with this magnet in it.
In case it's hard to tell, several naked people are holding up a disfigured, bloody woman. In the upper left hand corner it simply says, "Home."
She made the magnet herself. You just can't find this kind of stuff in Turkey so I'm glad that I have it now.
Here are a few things that my sisters sent me.
Highlights include a pen shaped like a dagger that makes a stabbing noise when used, a felt wool heart blessed by a traveling Indian that gives hugs (Amma), a beer koozie that says, "My therapist thinks I'm cool" and a bag of organic herbs that, to the untrained eye, appear to be drugs.
But the HIGHLIGHT of my life was a gift that was left for me in my classroom. I was surprised to receive it, and I'm still unsure of who the benevolent gift giver was.
The gift was the tooth. I already had the pen.
I found it on accident, but I'm positive that it was left intentionally. It was in one of my classroom drawers. Due to a strange series of events, the contents of my drawer were spilled and amongst all of the normal school supplies that were suddenly littered on my floor I found this tooth. I wrapped it up in a piece of paper and I'm waiting to pass it on to someone special.
Please don't tell anyone, I want it to be a surprise.
I just got back from two weeks in India and when I got dressed for work this morning I felt surprised that my clothes didn't fit. So I did the math and calculated that I ate approximately nine meals worth of food each day while I was away. Basically, I ate India.
Never ending thali plates.
I don't regret my choices because Indian food is delicious/nonexistent in Turkey. I needed to get in as much as I could in my limited amount of time. It didn't help that the clothing that I wore throughout my Indian travels were more like pajamas then anything else -- so I didn't recognize the damage until I was home. But I'm OK with my decisions to eat each meal as if it were my last as a prisoner on death row. Indian food delights me.
Also, I feel like I really blend in India.
blending
I want you to take these things into account:
#1 The food agrees with me (obvi)
#2 I love being barefoot
#3 Coconut oil works wonders on my hair
Unfortunately, the folks that actually live in India may not agree with me, in terms of my blendability that is. I mean they liked me, don't get me wrong. Everywhere I went people stopped and asked for photos with me and my friends. I felt SUPER popular. It is probably the closest I'll ever get to being famous, minus being famous, plus being pale.
and
and
and
You can hardly tell from the photo, but Krishna really liked me.
All of this notoriety made me want to dig into pop culture a little bit so I bought a couple posters -- one of Ganesha, one of Vijay.
Ganesha is a god, Vijay is a movie star. I had a lot of BK (BK = Background Knowledge for everyone out there who is not an elementary school student or teacher) on Ganesha already but Vijay is still a bit of a mystery. I'm not sure if there is any connection, but in my research (i.e. asking my friend Charlotte) I did come across a music video that stars a guy that resembles him. It even COULD be him. I have no idea, but the video is really good.
That's as far as I got in my quest for Vijay knowledge.
Overall, my trip to Kerala was perfect. Delish food, amazingly kind people, fab travel companions and utter beauty everywhere I looked.
Until we meet again, fair India
PS: As a side note, I didn't find anything to be really strange/random/wtf-y while I was on my Indian holiday. I mean having folks follow me around with cameras is not something that I experience on a regular basis, but I'm not going to kid anyone -- I loved the attention.
I did however, immediately notice upon my arrival to Istanbul three airport employees pulling a large plastic bonsai tree on a cart around the Duty Free shopping area. In circles. They passed me four times within the span of 20 minutes, each time with a look of sheer determination upon their faces. And with a small inward chuckle, I noted to myself that it felt good to be home.
The other day I was sitting in my office when all of a sudden I felt inexplicably pumped up. Then I realized that "Eye of the Tiger" was being blasted through the school wide P.A. system and my inspiration to go out and win a boxing match made complete sense. Unfortunately, the song was cut off almost as soon as I realized that it was being played. Which made me feel a bit let down because I had been excited about this surprising musical interlude in the middle of my day. Luckily, just a few short moments later the song "Don't Worry Be Happy" came on which immediately made me feel better. But this song was also discontinued after about 35 seconds and was quickly replaced with "All That She Wants" by Ace of Base. At this point, I felt mildly confused about this midday mash-up.
Allow me to lay out my thought process:
1) "Eye of the Tiger" makes the students feel like they can conquer the last week before break. (sensible)
2) "Don't Worry, Be Happy" allows them to know that everything will always turn out fine. (also sensible)
3) "All That She Wants" is about a psycho that is trying to get illegitimately knocked up -- which I feel is sending the wrong message to middle school students on a Friday afternoon.
I probably didn't need to explain all that.
So as I tried to work out the sense in all of this nonsense during the middle of my workday, I realized that I didn't actually care. Because whomever was DJ-ing began to play song after terrible song of music from the 1980's that I had never heard before in my life.
And if you can't sing along to the sing-along that is be played from the loud speaker of your school on a random afternoon for no apparent reason then what, may I ask, is the point?
A different musically driven event that recently happened to me here in Turkey was Camel Wrestling. I went to this:
I'm not sure if you can tell by the video, but essentially Camel Wrestling is an affair that closely resembles a crossbreed NASCAR race and music festival. With camels. It's probably the most redneck thing one can do in the Middle East. So obviously I loved it.
About fifteen of my friends and I set up a picnic spot, grilled an exorbitant amount of meat and made ourselves right at home amidst the madness. We became best friends with our neighbors, one of which continuously tried to get me to drink his pickle juice that came out of a pre-manufactured pickle juice bag. I was all, "Stop trying to roofie me with your 'pickle juice'." But he didn't stop. Probably because he didn't speak English and therefore didn't realize I was accusing him of roofie-ing me. Then our neighbor-best-friends busted out their instruments and yelled at us through clarinets and drums for a couple (five) hours.
My friends trying to act natural.
Several old men attempted to teach me how to dance by hopping dramatically on one foot to a rhythm that I couldn't hear. At least I think they were trying to teach me something. I could have misread them. Everyone had been drinkin'.
It was an interpretive type of dance.
Also, I don't really know how camel wrestling works. It looked to me that the camels kind of hugged each other around the neck (choked each other?) until one fell to it's front knees and then it was all over. One camel decided to run away. A lot of men chased after it.
It was really hard to pay attention to the camels because all the musicians and dancers were fighting for the limelight.
There were about 700 "Hoşgeldiniz" mat sellers there. (Welcome mats) I think that all 700 sellers got into the camel ring at once at a certain point to yell about mats together for awhile. People love to yell in Turkey. It's very loud here.
And then at the end of the day, some random guy gave me his orange camel wrestling scarf -- which was a major bonus. I'm not exactly clear on the details of why he wanted me to have it, but he did reference me as the sister of my friend Mark and then his friends took several pictures of the two of us standing together, me wearing his scarf, him looking stoically off into the distance.
My friends here told me that all the weird shit about Turkey would eventually become "normal" and that I would stop noticing it as much. So I guess that has begun. I went to a pool last weekend (it was a heated pool which kind of gave me the sensation of swimming in water warmed by urine but I knew that wasn't true so I tried to ignore that nagging part of my brain) and people are required to wear swim caps there. It took me a good 25 minutes of wearing the thing before I remembered that it's fucking weird to have to wear a swim cap at the pool.
But on the flip side, hair is really gross. Not as gross as teeth and nails, but it's definitely up there. I myself lose an extraordinary amount of hair everyday. I am always surprised that I'm not bald. I lose a good handful, if not more, seven days a week.
It's like tumbleweed from the wild wild west blowing across my home if I don't keep up with it.
I like winter swimming. It's fun. You know what else I like? A good symphony every once in awhile. Vivaldi -- now that guy knew what was up. I checked out a symphony last weekend and it was glorious. I love listening to the different layers of rhythm and harmonies allocated throughout an orchestra. I love seeing the bows of the string instruments coordinating perfectly. I love watching all the "first chair" solos -- you know that they feel bad ass when all the other folks in their section drop out and they are the last player playing. It reminds me of my good old days in band. (Even though I never had the glory of being first chair because I was a terrible student and got by entirely on natural ability which eventually led me to dropping out of band because I never had a huge amount of God-given musical talent.)
But anyway, what I like the BEST about watching an orchestra is the conductor. Every time I have ever been to a symphony the conductor has had the same kind of hair. The floppy kind. So when they start doing their syncopated dance routine, baton flailing towards this section then that section, their hair puts on a show of it's own. It's muppet like. A little creepy and a little endearing all at once.
See what I mean? They're all the same.
Side note: During the introductions it was announced that the wife of the conductor was pregnant -- and the crowd went batshit. There was a chorus of oohs and ahhs that far surpassed the volume of appreciation that was given to the music at the end of the performance. Seriously. Turks LOVE babies. Turkey is hands down the best place in the world for a baby.
I wish I were a baby in Turkey.
Lastly, on a completely unrelated note, I walked out of my classroom the other day and found this outside of my door. I'm not exactly sure why it's there (or what the hell it's purpose is) but the kids love it.
First the children hoist each other up in the seat. Then they drop each other. I'm pretty convinced that these actions will result in bloodshed in the near future. It seems like a reasonable natural consequence.
I was sharing my fondest memories of childhood with someone the other day and here was my list:
Playing "Chocolate Milk Factory" in the big mud puddle in the driveway. Everyday. Sometimes with my sister but mostly by myself.
Singing the soundtrack of Annie at top volume to lure the family's runaway cats back home. I was convinced that they would be drawn back home by the sweet sound of my voice. Turns out they were dead.
Playing with my imaginary friend, Juicy.
Rollerskating around the basement to old Beatles records wearing only one skate because the other belonged to my sister.
Taking all of my books outside and playing "Orphanage."
Positioning all of my stuffed animals around me and pretending that I was ET.
And as I continued on with this list I was just like, what the fuck. Statement, not question.
Following my brief mental breakdown I was led to wonder, "Did I have a weird childhood? Or was I just a weird kid?"
Because kids are weird and spooky all around. Even kids that are being raised in COMPLETELY normal households are still weird as hell.
Kids are always talking about spooky things like seeing invisible dead people sitting at the ends of their beds and shit. And it's like, I don't have time for that. You terrify me.
I mean, I can't criticize too harshly because I'm haunted. And I'm not really going to get into that because I don't want you to judge me. (I know that I've written a few things before this that might be judgment worthy but I don't care about that stuff.) Allow me to get to the point: When I was younger I thought that it was my lot in life to randomly find myself in a continuous circuit of haunted places. But then I got to thinkin' that maybe it's not always the PLACE that's haunted. Maybe a person can be haunted too. And maybe (probably) I am one of those persons.
Also, I'm pretty sure that haunted people suffer from a large number of nosebleeds. I'm not positive that there is a direct correlation between regularly bleeding from the face and seeing dead people, but it seems likely.
Back to my childhood for a second. I think that my imaginary friend, Juicy, was a dead person. Also, I think a portion of my fear of octopi stems from a past life experience of being killed by one. Which in effect means that my prior self is haunting my current self.
And that's OK because whatever doesn't kill me (this time) will only make me stronger. Wow!! I had no idea that this post was going to end with such an empowering sentiment. Go me.
It's January now, so I guess winter is over. There were a few days when it got pretty cold here in Izmir during December. Sometimes I had to button my jacket and wear a hat. But it's been in the 60's (Fahrenheit) for the last few weeks now so I feel like the worst has passed. I saw someone mowing the grass yesterday. Wussup Turkish Spring, it's nice of you to meet me.
When I think of winter passing in America, I visualize a soggy ground and salt smeared cars. In Izmir there is really no indication whatsoever that winter ever happened other than the coal stained street animals.
(Side note: street animals in Izmir are so nice but a lot of them are fugly. Especially when they are coal-dirty.)
I love you. Nevertheless, don't touch me with your syphilis eye.
But listen up, my friends, because I want you to know something. There are MANY other things that winter has left in her wake (for me) aside from just the dirty creatures that rub lovingly against my legs. I am ready to share with you a few choice examples --
I got to see lots of pretty mannies like this one:
I like your hat, sir
I am now the proud owner of a flourishing Turkish Chia Pet that appears to be wearing a Mexican wrestling mask:
Christmas gift
I also now own a small statue of Michael:
Christmas gift
Additionally, I've experienced more than one awkward moment that resulted in this face (and these are kind of my favorite moments):
Christmas gift that I thought was for me until I found out later that it wasn't actually for me
