Step one: admiting you have a problem

My last post was really rather depressive. But I've found that, this feeling is really quite normal. While I was in Izmir last week, I discovered surge of energy, totally ready to really take hold of this new situation and come at it full force, hoping that some of the energy I felt on my first visit would return. Unfortunately these feelings were fleeting and disappeared almost as soon as they appeared. At least I can find comfort in knowing that many new expatriates find the transition hard, and even depressing. Although I have to admit, I don't really find it all that comforting to hear that, for many, these feelings can last for several months. As one expat said, the first step is admitting that you have a problem. Sort of like having an addiction. Unfortunately I'd really rather not admit to having a problem to certain parties. For one, Emre's parents are very supportive and eager to see us succeed. I don't have to worry about feeding myself, or buying everyday necessities. Sometimes I joke and say I'm living like a queen. Then there are my own parents, who are already depressed themselves, as they can't understand why I'd want to move abroad, and are really have a tough time with my absence (they honestly think I'm never coming back). And of course there's Emre, who has somewhat of an idea of what I'm going through (he did move to the US when he was 16, and it was really as tough as it gets. You'll just have to take my word on that, the story is far too involved to get into). Yet, he doesn't really quite understand.

Ok so step one: I've admitted these feelings to one person. Good it's a start. But, as I sit here, I think about my brother and how much I miss him and the relationship we once had. My moving has nothing to do with the change in our relationship. I'm not really sure what happened. Sometimes I think it was just getting older and we invested much more of our personal thoughts into our significant others. Distance didn't used to be a problem. Or maybe the distance just took time. I can't really be sure. But regardless of how much we lost touch or lost our ability to really talk about things, he never lost his ability to read my emotions and overall state of mind. It would bring me to tears when he would say things that were so spot on, it was like he could read me like a book. I thought I was doing all right, and that no one really knew how depressed I was feeling, or how hard it was to handle the situation at home before I left, but he always knew. I don't know how he even had time to notice anything. He worked three jobs and was always exhausted.

I think the hardest part is wondering who my support system is. Most people would first list their families. My parents certainly don't support my move, and really don't want to try to understand it. At least my brother and sister were somewhat supportive, even if they didn't quite understand it.


So in light of my current mood, here is a picture of the mindset I wish I had at the moment, a carefree, and beautiful spirit:

hüzün

I know I should turn this loneliness into hüzün, the kind that Orhan Pamuk speaks of. A kind of melancholy that revels in loneliness, or rather, oneness. It is an alone that is not so lonely. It seems I lost myself so long ago. It's been a hard and painful process to find my way back. And that's just it. I've been lost for so long, I somehow lost the way to find my way back. Logic dictates that I create a new path to a new self. It is my inability to let go of the past that inhibits me from doing this. And then I find myself asking myself, "how can I find a new self when I can't really remember my old self in the first place? Was I ever really a self? Or just a chameleon, blending in where I could? Or a fox scavenging on whatever I could find, the leftovers from everyone else?"

It embarrasses me and pains me to find myself so hopeless.

While I was staying at my parents house I found myself falling deep into depression, the same kind of depression that I see so many of me fellow graduates sinking into. I fell so deep I couldn't emerge even after I made the voyage to reunite with my love to the city that I have fallen in love with, much in the same fashion that I fell in love with my lover. I could see the opening to the hole I had dug myself into, but I still couldn't seem to even cling to the edge, still stuck ten feet below, looking up into the fresh air.

It has become increasingly more and more important that I be able to take care of myself, or what I mean is to stand on my own, to really exude strength, especially as I've grown older. Somehow I feel more frail than ever, so unsure of myself. Perhaps it's the language barrier that is what has the true hold on me. I can't really be sure. Instead I will play pretend and show (almost) everyone that everything is great and that this is really such a great experience. I am more than positive that this is really going to prove to be one of  (I hope one of many) the best experiences of my life, but perhaps the first transition is the hardest. It also helps to have a network of friends and family to reach out to when you feel lonely and just need someone to talk to. I've certainly been neglecting my own network, afraid to burden them. But a good friend has answered my call in the best way she can. Sometimes, all you need is to know there's someone out there who understands you, and knows that what you're doing is hard and painful, but it's what makes you who you are, and that you will come out stronger and a better person, and after all, this is what makes you you. She would never tell me to walk away because it's hard, or out of selfishness, to call me back to where I was, where it is easier to maintain a relationship, or where it might feel more real. Which is exactly the reason she is one of the so very few close friends that I have.

Stupid Cats

There are 9 cats in the garden. NINE. Really it's too much. There are 2 more that come and go as well, which brings our tally up to 11 if you decide that they count. If you missed how there came to be 9 cats in the garden, you can read the whole cat story within my arrival post. Otherwise, onward.

To start with, I am too much of an animal lover for my own good. This is little problematic in a city that is overrun with stray dogs and cats. I wish I could scoop them all up, give them a proper washing and proper meal, and relief from the horrible lives they lead. As this is impractical and can never actually happen, I can only give my love and care to the garden cats, and really 9 is still too much and impractical, but I'm not about to shoo any of them away.

 I always thought that cats were very smart. Since I am such a sucker, I can never walk into the flat without feeding them if I know they are all waiting by the front door, hoping that I will come out with food. This was the case the other night, and they were all very hungry and began meowing at my feet as soon as I opened the door. The kittens have taken to scooting inside as soon as the door cracks open, and since there are four of them and there is usually a bag of food in my hand, I have given up trying to bring them back out before feeding them. I found that they usually just follow when they realize that everyone has run back out into the garden to eat. Right on cue, they all scooted inside when I opened the door, and I left it open as I went into the garden. Well, they obviously were not quite as hungry as I thought, although the two mothers began to chow down as soon as I had set down some food (honestly they are always hungry, which doesn't surprise me as they are both still nursing). The kittens were still interested in the entrance way, and, as it was, so was Tek Göz. By the time I realized this, she was already making her way up the stairs. Now this is really unusual, since only the kittens come inside. I thought she would come out on her own, so i didn't panic, until I realized she had gone all the way up to the attic and began to meow because she must have felt trapped. I went up several times to try to convince her to come down, and to show the way. She must have felt stuck, or maybe afraid of me, I'm not really sure. She doesn't quite trust me yet (although we have graduated to the occasional pet as she is eating). Anyway, I wasn't about to follow her into the attic, out of fear that she would go deeper and then really lose her way, or that she might be so scared and attack me. I should also mention that it was at least 12:45 at night, and I was really afraid that someone might wake up from this noise, especially since Galip had to be awake at 5am to catch a flight to Trabzon!

Finally I decided that she would come out on her own when she felt it was safe enough, and I waited in the garden, but the kittens were too curious and kept going inside since the door was open. If they made it up to the attic, I knew I would never sleep that night, so I scooped up the two who are most mischievous and locked them in the flat with me, leaving the front door wide open and my eyes fixed on the entrance way from the window. Boncuk ventured in to coax Tek Göz back into the garden (she at least is the only smart cat in the garden). I began to wonder what was taking so long, and began to panic that they were both stuck up there, but when I opened the door to my flat, they all went scurrying out the front door. Clearly they were just worried about the two kittens I was holding hostage. I shut the door behind them and hurried back into the flat, letting the kittens out through the window. I wasn't about to take any more chances in the entrance way. As I began to pull down the exterior shades, Kikirik jumped up onto the window sill and stood on his hind legs, pushing his head between the shades and the glass, as if to stay, "no, no don't leave me, I want to come and sleep with you." He always does this, often scurrying after me as I attempt to come inside. It breaks my heart every time.

even when I'm outside he wants to go in.

foreign foreinger

I generally like being mistaken for something that I'm not, granted that I'm not being mistaken for a stereotype, or something super trendy or expected. It's exciting when I discover that I have unintentionally fooled someone.

The other day while I was walking in the old city, a man called out to Ayten and me, attempting to lure us to the restaurant, a common occurrence in the touristy areas. He says, "Excusez-moi..." but that was as far as he got, as neither of us turned our heads. He was really calling out to me, Ayten can not be confused with a foreigner. They just know here. My ego swelled a bit when I heard him calling out in French. Not because I want to be French, but it's always a compliment to be thought of as a French woman. They are so strong and confident in themselves and have an air of stability and control.

Today I met someone new while visiting some friends of the family. He introduced himself in Turkish and said it was nice to meet me (in Turkish). I replied in Turkish since I have at least mastered the introductions. Later as I was helping prepare dinner in the kitchen, the woman we were visiting asked me to do something (in English, of course). My new acquaintance happened to overhear, and he asked, "why are you speaking in English?" Ah, but of course, because I am from America! He obviously didn't realize that I was a yabancı (foreigner). Later he said that I didn't seem American at all, but maybe German or Polish. Honestly I don't really know what makes someone seem American, or Polish, French, German, Russian, other than accent. I just get some small entertainment from accidentally misleading people in this sense.

sigh of relief

Today we took Karamük to the vet. Luckily there are vets that will see the street dogs and cats for free. She had this lump on her neck that looked like it was the size of a small walnut. I saw it had been weeping every now and again, but it started to turn a dark purple color so we finally brought her in. (I was really hoping it would go away on its own) It turned out to be nothing to worry about, just some kind of infection. The vet said it would have cleared up, he just made it faster by draining it. By draining it, he really just popped it like a pimple. I can't erase the image from my mind.....Then he gave her some shots (antibiotics and vitamins). She was so happy to be back in the garden.

she's the black one that is nursing

Misadventures with Banking

I am really almost convinced that I should just withdraw all of my money and find a safe place to keep it. Even if I have to put it in my underpants. I can just keep it in really large bills until I need to access it. Seriously. Banks are just far too complicated and always trying to steal your money. I first realized this when my new bank (last year) decided that even though they told me my banking would be free from fees, they would start charging me $10 a month. $10 a month? That is really just outrageous. Who pays $10 a month to bank? What happened to free banking. I was told that they could only reverse half of these fees, even though they told me there would be no fees, and there was also no notice that I would be receiving such fees. Ok so it was dealt with and I moved on. It was a relatively easy fix, even if it was slightly annoying. Who ever heard of having to transfer $75 from savings to checking and back again monthly just to avoid a $10 "service" charge. The only service they seem to be doing me is to cause annoyance.

It should also be noted that when you pay your bills online through their online "bill pay service" it takes at least 3-5 business days for the transaction to be complete, despite the fact that the transaction is from account to account (therefore it should really be immediate). Don't be fooled. What they are really doing is taking your money, placing it in their own account and making interest before they finally surrender it to the place you intended it to go.

When I decided to move out of the country, I realized that it would really be impossible to avoid this dreaded $10 monthly "service" fee. So the logical course of action is to find a bank with no fees. Easier said than done.

Ok. I finally found a bank. A small credit union through my dad's work. Easy enough. Except that now I find that the account I thought I closed two weeks ago is $-4. How can this be? Wells Fargo tells me that there was some transactions "pending" at the time when I closed the account. This may be true, but the money had already been taken from my account, so I don't see how there is any problem. All this means is that the bank hadn't made the final transaction (they were really just still holding on to my money before giving it up to where it was due), and also the banker who closed my account miscalculated by $4.

I don't know if you've ever tried to argue with a bank before but it's really impossible. At least it is only over four dollars and easily fixed. I still hate banks and think we should all resort to the old piggy bank. At least it is more reliable, even if it is more susceptible to theft.

My story about my loans with Citibank will have to wait for another night. It's too late to go into detail about that. Bottom line, the banks don't care about how much money you have, they just want your money.

Istanbul, I have arrived.

Ten days have passed since my arrival in Istanbul. In some ways it feels as if no time has passed, in some ways it feels so much longer than that. I have to admit I was not particularly prepared for such a difficult transition. I expected difficulty and hardship, but I thought the excitement would seriously outweigh those thoughts. Every task seems to take much longer than I had expected. For example, I still do not have a cell phone. I have a usable SIM card with plenty of minutes and texts, but no actual phone to insert the SIM into. I brought a phone from the states, but apparently you can't just insert and move on. There are PINs and passwords and unlock codes. Nobody seems to be able to tell me what a SIM password is, or where it came from. Samsung, AT&T and Turkcell are all flabbergasted by this.

In addition to the phone issue, obtaining a long-term visa is a long and extremely drawn out process, and requires many color copies of several documents, you know, just in case they lose four copies.

To add to my woes, UArts decided to conveniently drop me from the network connect, meaning that I can no longer access their really awesome softwares such as Photoshop and Indesign and Illustrator. Perfect, just in time for me to finish those photos that I have to send home for that job I did before I left. But not to worry I found a way to get Photoshop. This explains why there are no images to accompany my post. :(

My living situation is extremely convenient, yet inconvenient. It is convenient in that we are staying with Emre's family, so there is always someone to call on if I need help (and they speak English), and his mother is a really wonderul cook and always makes very fresh, delicious, healthy meals. All of the traditional Turkish foods that I love. Unfortunately they live on the Asian side, a little removed from everything. I guess you could say it's the suburbs, but nothing like the American idea of suburbs. This really just means that there is quite a bit of transportation involved to get anywhere, including a cafe. So any outing is at least a 3 hour round trip, unless I stay on the Asian side.

BUT there are 9 kittens living in the garden. Yes, 9. There is the mother from last summer (her name is Boncuk, bohn-juhk meaning bead, a common cat name here) and her 3 kittens (which are now grown since they were kittens last summer). Two of them are girls. There is Nazlı, nahz-luh meaning coy, and Tek Göz, meaning single eye. She had an eye infection as a kitten, and consequently is blind in one eye. The last one is a boy, but we don't see him very often, as he is constantly on the prowl for new girl cats. His name is Cingöz, ging-guhz, which means clever. He really only comes around when he is really hungry, so I don't really count him in with the 9. None of them are friendly enough to allow us to pet them, but Cingöz will rub against my legs. Both of the girls had their first litter about two months ago, but Tek Göz abandoned her kittens. She was successfully caught and spayed. Boncuk and Nazlı  both gave birth to four kittens a piece. So there were eight kittens, but one from Nazlı's litter disappeared and another one was killed. So the experienced mom still has all four kittens. They are a bit scrawnier than the others because they are all sharing milk. Also Nazlı is much healthier than Boncuk, so I am assuming her milk is better. We feed them every day, it's always a treat when they get chicken liver. Otherwise it's usually just cookies (that's our joke, what we call the dry cat food).

Now on to studying Turkish an preparing for my first assignment!