RIDE THAT WAVE

I feel like Carrie in 'Sex and the City', Turkish style. I am sitting in my dim lit lounge, feeling philosophically connected to my flat faced friend... my laptop. However, i am not wearing lace underwear and a wife beater singlet like Carrie, nor am thinking about why women are so unsatisfied with their complex/not so complex sexual conquests whilst sipping campari with touch of lime. In this episode i am wearing trackies, drinking beer and listening to turkish love songs..... whilst contemplating my complex/not so complex cultural conquests.

Im not sure if you can really call them conquests though. A conquest is something you have done, defeated, won. I have no conquests, and i don't think i ever will. However, i take things on like i am a conqueror. My mental metal shield and I stand in the front line, ready for the onslaught....

So drama aside..... I have began a life in Turkey. It is an interesting one and deserves my own objective attention. Although, now on my third beer and thirty-third turkish love song my objectiveness is shifting rather swiftly to sentimentality. Ok focus.....
I wish i could scan my brain and then cut and paste it onto this email page. It would be so much easier to see the compassion and confusion in the cultivation of my new found life.
I guess to give it a structure i should start from where i left.

The language was the first focus. I did a 2 week intensive which opened the happiness doors allot. It wasn't just that i was learning to communicate, it was introducing me to the lives of those other expats who chose to settle in the 'City of Lust and Fate' for whatever reason. A young politically-idealistic french couple, a swiss musician who tuned an old turkish ladies piano once a month, a sweed who had been working in Istanbul for 2yrs without knowing the language, a cuban ex-model who fell in love with a turkish tourist while on holiday in Havana, and a handful of german students curious about the turkish-german crossroads they have grown up with, and me. The classes proved to be as intense as their title and usually finished with a couple of beers in the nearby Taksim to ease the brain.
While id like to say that i am now so fluent that i can report on all political matters in turkish, im not (i cant even do it in english). But i can get my self mouthing something along the lines of 'no, lover turkish not want i' (i already have one so fuck off you sleezy bastard). So this period not only gave me the confidence to divert those prying eyes and to impress the local market with my extensive vocab of elma (apples), ekmek (bread) beyaz peynir (feta), it also gave me an intro to a life that i would develop solely on my own. Which was a trivial turning point.
A week after that, uni started. That was excitement central. I forgot what it felt like to walk into uni in its first week. The different societies doing their organic social sign-ups, turkish folk singers bustin a tune on the grass in front of a group of black sea folk dancers, spanish theatre, and friends gathering to tell their tales of their summer adventures. After feeling my fly on the wall status shift to sticking out like a sore thumb, i slipped into the international office where i was babysat for at least 5 minutes. There i see the small selection of international students, similar to a seasonal fruit platter. An assortment of students, some seasonal but a bit too firm for consumption, and others ripe and ready for an all consuming experience (eg- nectarine in peak season from northern queensland). I think i was one of the unseasonals, a mandarin that would peel away a piece of skin only to quickly put it back into place for some more ripening.

I took my time in the social department. I didn't want to rush into friendships desperately. I was more concerned about my study load (double than what i did in aus) and the incredible standard of academia around me. Bosphorus University takes the top 10% of students in Turkey and has a fantastic reputation, especially from humanities and social sciences. So you can imagine me waltzing into class on my first day with my aussie head held high expecting to be advantaged in class with my mother tongue, only to hear things like "but doesn't the Leviathan theory demonstrate that galilean physics provides a human model of psychology that lays the foundation of a genuine science of politics?" from my non-native english speaking fellow students.

Yes i thought i was up-shit creek without a paddle in the amazon for while there and enjoyed a lovely series of panic attacks. Now, after nuzzling my wet nose into the source of their geniusness and absorbing anything and everything in a spunge-like fashion, i have found a dignified place in my classes. All stuff Im really enjoying too, identity and culture, Turkish modern literature (in english translation), History of modern turkey, the play and the stage, social and political philosophy and of course a turkish language class. All juicy and contrasting stuff.

Now, the entertainment department definately has not been neglected. I went through a really 'interesting' time while Utku was playing rambo at military service. He was there for 3 weeks at the beginning of the semester, and naturally sal turned into a loose cannon! I made a party possie from uni and became 18 again. Fanbloodytastic. The weeks were spent roaming the city and giving in to its pull when the sun went down. And man is there a night life here! Forget New York and London, the whole worlds party/drunken/randy population is missing out my brothers and sistas! There is a huge choice of venues; reggae, world music, funk, chilled groves, live gypsy music, heavy metal rock bars, techno dance parties whatever the hell you want! So sal went a tad crazy and after hip-swivilen, booby shakin, belly-protruding dancing she usually ended up solo on the dance floor with her eyes closed mouthing the words she didn't know to a soulful french tune.

So the body got a battering and so did the soul after while. There is only so much drunken rampaging one can cope with. I am steady on my feet now, my head isn't so much in the clouds and i have a couple of great, grounding friends who want to continue their cultural intrigue without the beer goggles on. Still of course, when the night calls every now and again i give into the pull of the 'The City of Lust and Fate'.

Rather than observing the historic architecture, sights and general aesthetics of Istanbul. At the moment, my observations have been more closely related to the social structure here in Turkville. They arent calculated observations, just general feelings and energy i get from friends and 'the' family. At the moment i am struggling with it. I am struggling being part of something i am not sure how to be a part of. I will always be a foreigner, and that's ok.... for now, i think i am happy in that box where it allows excuses for not withstanding the pressures that have never before been presented to me. However my box has a crack, and i have a responsibility to mend it. Nobody can do it for me. I have to find a way to mend it without offending anyone and at the same time being true to myself. I know these metaphors aren't giving much away, im not quite comfortable typing it in an email where it can be taken out of context. Its something i am taking note of and bringing to the surface every now and again... when it needs to be listened to.

So i wanted to position this email more around the surface events. It hopefully paints a picture of the wave i was surfing and the unavoidable dump at the end (straight from Manly beach when the water witch is at her best). You know what, upon arrival at Istanbul they should plaster a big warning sign at immigration WARNING: THIS CITY IS LIKE A DRUG, ENJOY THE HIGH BUT PREPARE FOR AN ALL CONSUMING COME DOWN.