Getting food during daylight ...

is an absolute breeze in Turkey. In fact, it's probably the best time of year for a non-Muslim to have lunch.


RAMADAN: A LOOK INSIDE RITUAL STARVATION

Part two of an occasional series.


The restaurants, cafes and eateries are nearly empty as many people observe Islamic holiest month. Non-Muslims, like myself, are not encouraged to fast and even if we did it would mean nothing because we are not Muslims, according to an interpretation of the Koran I read from the University of Southern California Web site.

Ramadan, which observes the month that the profit Muhammed wrote the Islamic Holy Book, the Koran, or Qu'ran if you must, after speaking to Allah. It begins at the sighting of the crescent moon in the ninth month of the lunar calendar.

During that time, practicing Muslims are not to let anything touch their lips while the sun is up. No food, beverages not even a cigarette.

Out of respect, however, myself and the other non-Muslims I've met here refrain from eating, drinking or smoking on the streets. However I am tempted to walk down the street with a big sandwich proclaiming, "Cok Guzel" (Pronounced, "chok goozelle" which means, "It's so good.")

Some eateries close during the day from the reduced traffic and others cover their windows so not to tease those fasting.

I think some of them would be wise to have Ramadan lunch specials.

Think of it this way. They are open anyway, and the non-fasting market is a limited one. Those restaurants need to compete for non-Ramadan business. They need us, in the words of Nixon's 1972 re-election campaign, "No, more than ever."

It's Ramadan ...

Which would mean absolutely nothing for me otherwise.

Except for the damn drums.

RAMADAN: A LOOK INSIDE RITUAL STARVATION

Part one of an occassional series.

See, here in Turkey and in most (I imagine all) predominantly Muslim countries, men walk the streets at 3:45 a.m. every morning during Ramadan to wake people so they can eat.

The men, called "Ramazan Davulcusu" in Turkish which means "Ramadan Drummers," are part of a thousands year old tradition waking people to eat before the sun comes up.

The key part of Islam's most Holy month, Ramadan, is that no practicing Muslims can let anything touch their lips when the sun is up. So people eat before sun up and after sundown.

Since Ramadan follows the Islamic calendar, it falls on different dates each year and begins 11 days earlier each year. Look out for Ramadan sales coming in August 2007.

These people can have their holiday. I guess I have no right to complain since I moved to their country, but could they at least use alarm clocks rather than drums. These drums are loud!
And there's not just one of them - there's several of them.

I can hear them coming from the north, from the east and from the west all at once. They're everywhere.

I guess I'm just waking up early for the next 28 days.


Tomorrow: Getting a meal during daylight.

Oh, it's not mine ...

Every now and then, I think my cell phone is going off. I can either feel the phone buzzing or hear a ring and think its me.

The only problem is that I have not had a cell phone since I arrived in Turkey.

I thought I was free of the electronic leash. At least that's what I thought.

Damn cell phones became such a huge part of my everday life that now its like I have to ween myself off it.

The phantom buzzings and rings decrease with each week, but they still show every now and then.

And I thought I was going to be free.

***

On a side note I've been getting complaints that there's not enough posts. I'd write everyday, but everyday is just not that interesting. Some days I go to school, either teach or observe eat lunch and come home.

However, I will make at least the effort to post more and if that means I need more wacky adventures then you, the good readers, will have your wacky adventures.

Hayir means NO! ...

I was walking to school Monday morning and a shoe shine boy stopped me to ask if I wanted a shine.

Politely, I told him, "Hayir, teshekur ederim," which means, "No thank you."

How I wish that was the end of it.

On a morning where I woke later than normal, had not yet had caffeine and walked quickly to school (I wanted to get some Turkish Coffee in my system before I observed a class) I did not have time for any distractions.

The people of Turkey are wonderfully hospitable .... except for this punk. He might have been 18, spoke no English and began arguing with me in Turkish about why I should get a shoe shine.

I went from pleasant and polite refusals to abrupt NO!'s in a few seconds. I may not know much Turkish, but I can at least be rude in it.

As he kept arguing with me in Turkish, making had gestures that my shoes were dirty and he could clean them right there, I kept telling him, "Turkce bilmiyorum," which means, "I don't know Turkish."

He even went so far as to put his shine box down in front of me a few times to obstruct my steps. Dumbass kid didn't realize that I can walk around him.

Finally, after continuous walking and repeating, "HAYIR," he went away.

There's plenty of street vendors around here, but this was the most annoying I have encountered.

Fortunately, my fellow teachers got a good laugh at the story (I guess this happens to every foreigner) and gave me some tips to get street vendors away.

James

P.S. I didn't send out a newsletter this week, because, well, nothing all that interesting happened. I'll send out one this week for the beginning of Ramadan and have plenty of stories next week as I hit the road for my first school holiday week.

The most terrifying experience I've ever had ...

occcurred this week when I took one of the local buses. I've written about driving in Turkey before (with rules such as there are no rules) but I didn't think it could get worse. I was wrong.

I went with a member of the school staff to Kocaeli University, to speak with students about English lessons and do recruiting.

To get to this particular campus took about 45 minutes on the bus. I nearly kissed the ground when I got off.

Turkish buses stop at designated stops, much like everywhere else, but they also stop whenever somebody waves them down. The driver pulls over or stops in the middle of the road and people enter.

There are 20 seats on a bus but an average of 40 people ride in them, making the journey cramped and uncomfortable.

When we got on the bus, there were only about 15 people on board, but that would change as we left town headed to the university. By the time we were out of Izmit a good 40 to 45 people were packed in and the journey was just about to begin.

The drivers are maniacs, honking their horns at slow traffic, cutting people off and nearly getting into crashes every leg of the trip. There were too many "close calls" to count because it seems every bus in Izmit comes within inches of crashes on a daily basis.

On one trip, there was another bus in front of us going slower than our driver cared for. So he began making passing moves on the left side of the bus in front of us and nearly crashing into several parked cars.

To get to the university, we took a mountain road that winds through the Kocaeli mountains. There was not much visual clearance ahead of us, but that didn't stop the driver from a series of passing trucks and other buses driving too slow in front of us.

Again, several close calls.

On one of the trips I did not have a seat, which I preferred, because the bus was packed so full with people. I figured if we got into a crash I would have plenty of people to absorb the impact and survive.

I think I am going to take the train whenever I can.

James

A day at the Turkish gun shop ...

While I was walking through town Saturday I noticed two gun shops to my right.

I couldn't resist walking into one of them and at least holding the beautiful cold steel of a Turkish gun.

The two guys behind the counter were great. I explained that I was only looking, but that's just for now.

However, I could not believe how inexpensive Turkish guns are.

For example: a .38 caliber revolver with a 4 inch barrel. In the states, you're looking at upwards of $250. In the Turkish gun shop, 50 Lira, which is about 35 U.S. Dollars.

A 9 millimeter semiautomatic handgun. In the states, upwards of $350. In the Turkish gun shop, 75 Lira, which is about 50 U.S.

A .22 caliber handgun, that switches from semi-automatic to full on automatic. In the states (specifically California) not even legal. At the Turkish gun shop, 70 Lira, approximately 42 dollars.

Thought I was tempted, I did not walk out with a gun Saturday. I sat and talked with the two gentlemen who run the gun shop, about Turkey, America, teaching English and, of course, guns.

They were quite hospitable for someone just looking and in the course of my visit, served me tea and offered me a cigarette.

It just went to show that no matter what country you're in, language you speak or profession you work in, you always have a couple of friends at the gun shop. For a stop in the gun shop is not a visit, but a journey.

I was a bit melancholy at the end of the journey though. Before then I never realized how much I missed my gun in the states. She's sitting there waiting for me until I get back, but I miss taking her to the range and shooting at paper targets or even keeping her under the seat of my car.

It's an incredible feeling holding a gun. It's what God must feel like when he's holding a gun.

James

P.S. A special shout out to P. Fizzle, who has a birfday today. She had it before it became the day before September 11, so a special happy birthday to Patti. (Funes not Steele.)

I SAW A TURKISH MIDGET ...

and where was my camera, in my apartment. I was on my way to school so I didn't have it with me. Damnit!

I've been staking out the corner where I saw him and no luck. Fear not good readers, I will find that Turkish Midget once again.

I started school this week and that has been interesting to say the least. The highlight of the week was last night, one of the teachers called in sick and I subbed. The class topic was past tense verbs, but I added in my own material, such as, "Does anyone know that Turkish Midget."

The students here are very respectful, and pretty eager to learn. Sometimes they need to be motivated, and none of them seem to like the lecture format. They want to be involved and practice English. Well, at least the good students.

Anyway, I'm doing well here and will post more than I have this week. (Then again, I didn't have many wacky adventures, other than observing classes, teaching a class and playing Medal of Honor Allied Assault back here at the flat.)

All the best,

James

Crickey! It's a Sting Ray ...

I never knew Steve Irwin, he was on the air when I owned a television but I never cared for his show. However, his death made me laugh all day.
I know I am going to hell, but how long can you play with snakes and crocodiles and not get bitten or killed? He was playing Russian roulette every day and finally came upon a sting ray that had enough of his bullshit.

My favorite quote about his death was from the Associated Press Article about his death.

Stings usually occur to people when they step on or swim too close to a ray and can be excruciatingly painful but are rarely fatal, said University of Queensland marine neuroscientist Shaun Collin.

Collin said he suspected Irwin died because the barb pierced under his ribcage and directly into his heart.

"It was extraordinarily bad luck. It's not easy to get spined by a stingray and to be killed by one is very rare," Collin said.

Again, hilarious.

James

The most annoying Turkish tradition ...

When a couple gets married or a boy get circumcised (I'm not joking, http://www.kultur.gov.tr/EN/BelgeGoster.aspx?17A16AE30572D313AC8287D72AD903BEA7DE728C67538960) everyone who attended the ceremony gets in theirs cars and drives in a procession around town honking their fucking horns.

It's not just one or two or even three honks, they keep repeating it and constantly honk as they drive through the entire town.

Since Sunday is the semi-official day off here, it's when they hold weddings and circumcisions, at least according to what I hear.

To a certain extent I can see why they do it for a wedding - but a circumcision?

"Hey everyone, honk your horns, my son is missing his foreskin." However it's more than just foreskin, its a right of passage. Kids are usually 6 or 7 when they get snipped.

Well, enough talk about missing foreskin.

I start school today, at least training and then teaching next week.