iTravel Istanbul

Austin and I have decided to take a creative night for an easy break. We’ve got some wine, some arts & crafts, and some minty goodness for the evening. I want to keep a record of what I’ve been doing in Newport Beach (for 1 month minus 5 days), so here goes:

-Veterans Day 5k

-Rally to Restore Sanity Los Angeles

-Kung Fu (Shaolin Kenpo style) with Austin’s friends

-Yoga at YogaWorks

-Joining the local Ultimate Frisbee team

-Joining the Girls Rugby team

-Taking an Emergency Medical Technician class

-Saw Paranormal Activity II

-Lobel Halloween party

-Dragging Austin AND Chris to go running

-Growing Mint and Rosemary plants

-Learning to cook my own way—and make sandwiches

-Learning to drive stick-shift

-Farmers Market of Irvine

-Swap Meet of Costa Mesa

-Learning to play D&D

-Senior voice recital for CHRISTIAN—awesome!!

-Got my CPR certification

-Saw Allie in Oklahoma. She was fantastic. What a laugh!

-Went to listen to Debbie Friedman perform at Shir Ha-Ma’alot. Music=good. Talking=not so much.

-Played video games at Nickel Nickel

-Met Austin’s parents/family

Jobs

-Too many interviews with too few results—illegitimate places and ill-fits

Peace Corps

-Got nominated for Central Asia, Teaching English, Leaving March 2011. We’ll see if I pass the medical exam and Washington’s stringent second evaluation

Side note: Austin got into Cal State Fullerton!!! YAYYYYYYYY

Of course, I can’t have a moment off. It’s not a possibility for me, really. So here I am— taking an EMT basic course. Not bad.

I’ve gotten into the Peace Corps! —Or, at least, I’ve been nominated for a region. Which is a start. Rebi e-mailed me and told me that I was being nominated for the CENTRAL ASIAN persuasion, if I’d like to accept. After freaking out a little bit, of course I did.

Although, here’s the thing: Applying to the Peace Corps began as a means to study Arabic— and get paid for it. Going to a Central Asian country would entail learning another language (and alphabet) to add on in the grand scheme of things, but does it mean changing my grand plan in the scheme of things? Will I be changing my life/life goals around with this experience (if it happens) or will it further support my life as a linguist/criminology expert?

I have the nomination; she submitted it to Washington. However, after the Washington team and the Security team and the Medical team comb through my business, then I will actually know if March is the date of impending doom.

On a happier note, Austin’s car broke down on the way to a job interview which I rescheduled for Thursday. And then we bought groceries and rosemary and mint plants, and re-potted them in recycled materials (silk milk and gatorade bottom halves). I’ll probably be perusing the gardening blogs for the next couple of days, but it’s not serious gardening. Just enough for me to get all nostalgic about living on a kibbutz and hanging the plants from bottle bottoms. I haven’t poked holes in the bottoms because I’m not sure where’d they go come cold time, but they’re new and beautiful. I’m very excited for fresh plants!

And Austin, Chris and I went running around the island. It’s so nice to have these guys to jog with!!

And so it begins. 

I have now been in California for 4 days—5 if you’d like to be technical. I arrived on Friday night, and have been flitting about hanging out with Austin and other friends all weekend. Now it’s time to get in and dig around, so to speak. 

Sometime around Thursday I’ll find out if my life is over or has just begun—kidding. But it somewhat feels like it, because knowing whether or not I got into the Peace Corps will be a key frame for my life for the next few years. Am I going to go back to school and get another degree and take out loans to pay for it, or am I going to spend the next 27 months helping to develop a community in another country, learning more about myself and another culture than I ever could imagine/want to? Will this relationship with Austin last a few months (sent out in Feb) a year (sent out in Sept) or be decided by how we feel? (This would be nice, too)

So, I’m sitting at a Starbucks, trying to figure out my life. I feel soooo atypical. Not.

Soon I’ll be walking around this mall, collecting job applications and hoping SOMEbody is hiring. If not, I swear I’m going to go and get an MBA in hotel management and rule the world. Or go teach English in Japan. Orrr Korea. Or, I’ll just teach English in an Arabic speaking country, but the Peace Corps has SUCH nice backing and successful support system.. Yeah, people complain about it, but think about all those other English teachers that really are reliant on themselves.

I love California, by the way.

Apparently this B&N has an open interview process, where you show up on the first of the month. You sit in a circle and try to sell to the person next to you. I’m not sure how I’d do, but I’ve been selling my family books since I was 7 years old. I used to walk around with a chart of my family’s reading interests and try and match the family book collection with what somebody sought. I did fairly well, too. At least I thought so at the time. That would be a cool job.

It’s a process.

For anyone who cannot guess, the HI in the title is a play on words. Or abbreviations.

My mom is asleep in the other room, exhausted from a day of rescuing and organizing the mess back home from the eastern stretch of the country. We meant to start the cleaning and tossing of junk from the childhood house early on in the morning, but it was soon obvious that it was just not meant to be. We arrived at breakfast at 9:30 in the morning, and while I was able to exercise my little lungs to my heart’s desire, my mom sat on the sidelines. Spread out between three tables were the papers, three of those lovely styrofoam coffee containers, and her laptop. By 1:30, I semi-forcibly dragged her out of the hotel to get to work already! Much to be done.

Items found:

-Grandmother’s birth certificate. Two copies.

-Old stock certificates. My grandfather saved everything. Unfortunately, he didn’t save things from bad smell and worse deterioration. Wonder how long those things are good for?

-Death certificate. Grandma had an older brother who drowned while at camp.

All in all, a day of certificates. Of course there was a multitude of other items, but those were the highlights.

Now for the other float in this parade: the Peace Corps application process.

It’s taken me a long time to get this far. I’d been planning to send in my application since last January, and I finally got my act together (mainly getting up the nerve to ask for recommendations) around last May. The application, along with the essays, was submitted while I was in Turkey in the middle of June. I received responses about 2-3 weeks later in the mail and by e-mail, and had a hard time reaching my contact until the beginning of August.

Finally I got ahold of him— only to find out I need to get my fingerprints done, and while it could be done at an embassy or consulate abroad, it had to be stamped on specific paperwork. Application status: On hold.

Back in the states now, I re-submitted my application the moment my plane touched the ground and my hands could access a computer. Spoke to my recruiter the next day, fingerprints were done at my local police station in Denver, and it was off to the mailroom. One little problem with my unofficial resume as the name of my college had been omitted, but the mistake was renovated and I was back on track.

Now, here I am, sitting in Port Jervis, too excited/nervous/filled with anticipation to sleep. I’m wondering what people do if they don’t live in New York or travel there frequently. I was lucky that I incidentally happened to be in the area… but I live in Denver. Would there have been another way to interview? What about people who don’t have the means to fly across the country for a potential interview that just might not pan out?

I’ve spent the entire evening since we returned from dinner re-reading the stories people have strung up for my *personal* viewing pleasure (not), become re-engaged with my love for traveling and storytelling. Each story (almost all of them) has pulled me in and sat me next to them at the dinner table, or walked with me down the street, guiding me through the controversies, the difficulties; those tiny moments of pride when you fling a response and realize, wait a tic. I must know this language!

I think I’m ready for my interview now.

Here in Miami or, as it’s also known, Little Havana. My brother’s a freshman at Miami, and we’re here for parents’ weekend, like most of the tourists in the area. Amazingly, there doesn’t seem to be a ginormous load of people at our hotel visiting their kids. 10,000 is the population, but I’ve managed to walk around the main campus in the same time it took me to walk from one end to the other of my tiny east-coast liberal arts entertainment center—- i mean, college. It’s quite beautiful actually, and there are these neat rocking seats to be found all around the campus that let you rock-and-roll while people watching/overlooking the lake.

Also played some frisbee with the Miami Girls’ team. Practiced with the girls, played with the guys. The guys didn’t seem used to playing with the girls… more sharing practice, perhaps?

Exhausted for the evening. Ditched the mojitos with the sisters. Nighty-night.

Here I am again. Finding myself writing into this empty space in hopes that, even if nobody reads it (which of course I secretly hope to save myself the embarrassment), I’m able to organize my thoughts together, and maybe express myself a little clearer.

Although this blog is entitled “iTravel Istanbul”, there’s something that did not feel quite right on ending it when I left that wonderful city. I don’t know if I changed, or something changed about me while I was there. All I know is, I met some wonderful people and ate some delicious food. Those people supported me unconditionally; they saw adventure and fire and happiness in everything I spoke about doing, and because they saw those possibilities for me, it helped me to see it in myself a bit. I don’t know if what they saw was right or wrong or greyish or grayish, but it gave me the push I needed to keep going, seeking, doing, and exploring.

All of this is important because traveling is not stagnant. It is dynamic and moving and flowing; whoever has heard of a traveler who never went anywhere? (Don’t answer that—there’s probably a blog out there already) But, because of that inherent fluidity caused from traveling, the Istanbul traveler will be with me for a long time. I think. It’s changed my eating habits, the way I look at the news, the language and sound used to express an idea… that’s what I’ve noticed, anyway.

If you follow all of that, and understand what I’m trying to get across, then I don’t need to say this, but I will: I am an Istanbul traveler and this is a blog that charts the journey. Not the ending, beginning, middle, whatever. The process. That’s what the most interesting books are about, right? Why would you read Harry Potter if you knew what was going to happen (DUMBLEDORE DIES) in the end?

That’s it for now. I’ll write an update tomorrow.

This is going to be ongoing, as I STILL don’t have my visa for China! It’s getting ridiculous. I woke up at 7, took the dog out, left the apartment at 7:45 (he had to doodie), and took the dolmus to the vapor (ferry). Took the ferry kadikoy-kabatas, took the feniculer up the hill, and looked around for the bus. Got on the 25T, which went to Sariyer. After stumbling through center Istanbul, asked somebody where the address I had in my hand was located. They didn’t know +didn’t speak english. But, the people behind us saw I was asking and took control. They got a guy who knew where to go, and he told me to get off… but the bus was moving already, so I jumped out of a moving vehicle! 

It wasn’t moving very fast, but they were still shocked that I would do that— I was too, so I hid behind the bus station while I burst into a fit of nervous giggles. Onto the next bus, 29T. I asked the lady if she spoke English. Again, no. Again, she took charge of me, until we were in the village, and she handed me off to someone else. 

At that point I knew I was in a local area, so I switched to asking for the Chinese Consulate. That was a success. Walked around the corner and up the cobblestone road to the gate. They had some guys in a police fenced-in waiting-area, but it looked awkward to me. So, I kept going up to the security guards and asking if they spoke english. Eventually, I just pushed the button, and the guy got across the message that when one went out, one went in. 

After going through security (very basic) I got inside, where I played sudoku until I was called up. Finally, someone who spoke English. 

Unfortunately, it was to tell me that, for U.S. citizens in Turkey going to China, they use a consulting office in Taksim area; that the visa application CANNOT be handed directly, but must use this outside company. 

Feeling flustered, angry, disappoint, and whatnot, this guy said “that’s really disappointing that it didn’t work out for you”, and we started talking. He’s from Dubai and works in China frequently, so was just waiting for his wife and his baby’s visas. When we found out that he had to go to this company for his visa too, he invited me to join him, his wife, wife’s sister, and baby in the cab back. Good thing I did, too, because they didn’t know a word of Turkish.

They were really cute, and let me hold the baby! When Hassan (the guy) saw me holding the baby, he asked me if I liked babies. I said “yes” and he asked me if I’m looking to get married. Classic, but he’s much more relaxed than most Arab guys I meet. I told him I like all small things—babies, kittens, and puppies. When they’re small. All three laughed at that. 

Unfortunately for me, we discovered at the Visa-company that I need actual copies of my plane tickets and a copy of my bank statement that says there’s over $5000 in my bank account. So that they know I have money to spend… How nice of them to care….

Hassan unfortunately needs to go to the Moroccan consulate in Besiktas (his wife and baby have moroccan passports) to get a stamp on a certificate that says a) yes they’re married and b) that she’s not trying to run away from him, since they are not getting visas together. Slightly unnerving. 

We went out for a nice little lunch after, back to their hotel, and then I skedaddled! They were very, very nice and it was nice practicing my Arabic, but Hassan is 24! He’s my brother’s age. And the wife’s sister is a year older than me. It was a bit… surreal. My parallel universe, maybe. 

Anyway, time to call the Anne (mama)

Par usual, I’m up past midnight—laundry, you know. Might as well use my time productively!

I have managed to accomplish the following things this week: Flipping an omelette only using the pan (re-acquired skill), made my own delicious pesto pasta, taken my picture for the visa (headed to the consulate tomorrow), and received my first capoeira t-shirt! Classically, it’s an XL, but I’m thinking about making it into a stylish dress. With leggings. Maybe. 

Last day of Turkish class was today. I can’t believe how fast this month has gone and yet, at the same time, so slow. All I can say is, this test won’t know what hit it :)