Sunday, November 29, 2020
The "I-think-we're-sailing" lessons (Dad)
After months of keeping an eye open for sailing lessons in English the clouds finally parted and I enrolled in a group lesson with 3 Brits who work for Kipa grocery and department stores (owned by Tesco of the UK). The price was great and the idea of learning to sail a 9 meter boat was something the landlubber in me had always wanted to do.
Lesson 1:
It's 9:05a Sunday afternoon and I'm the last to arrive at my first sailing lesson. OK, I think, so this is new. I've gotten used to Turkish time which is sort of like NYC time in that 5 - 10 minutes late is generally acceptable especially if you're buying and not selling. This by the way is in contrast to Tehran time where arrival within an hour of the designated time doesn't raise even a single well-plucked eyebrow. The wind is not so good for true sailors but good for beginners and we learn to tie some knots.
Lesson 2:
I have to drive our Fiat Doblo like a maniac but this Sunday I'm on time. Our sailing instructor/captain by the way is an incredibly polite young Turkish woman who speaks English passably well and is very efficient with her commands. At less than 100 lbs. she leaves no doubt as to who is in charge and her instructions send four beefy guys scrambling all over the boat in an effort to please her, I mean learn to sail. The wind was pretty strong even in the marina and she gave us the choice as to whether we wanted to out. ..little did I know what I was in for....rolling waves...Yasemin putting on foul weather gear...texting in the back of the boat...one arm always ready to take the tiller
Lesson 1:
It's 9:05a Sunday afternoon and I'm the last to arrive at my first sailing lesson. OK, I think, so this is new. I've gotten used to Turkish time which is sort of like NYC time in that 5 - 10 minutes late is generally acceptable especially if you're buying and not selling. This by the way is in contrast to Tehran time where arrival within an hour of the designated time doesn't raise even a single well-plucked eyebrow. The wind is not so good for true sailors but good for beginners and we learn to tie some knots.
Lesson 2:
I have to drive our Fiat Doblo like a maniac but this Sunday I'm on time. Our sailing instructor/captain by the way is an incredibly polite young Turkish woman who speaks English passably well and is very efficient with her commands. At less than 100 lbs. she leaves no doubt as to who is in charge and her instructions send four beefy guys scrambling all over the boat in an effort to please her, I mean learn to sail. The wind was pretty strong even in the marina and she gave us the choice as to whether we wanted to out. ..little did I know what I was in for....rolling waves...Yasemin putting on foul weather gear...texting in the back of the boat...one arm always ready to take the tiller
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| Where's the captain? |
English, who is right? (Sam)
We go to an all english speaking school which has every different country an english speaker could come from besides Ireland. Kayra- Aussie, Me - American, Ellie- Brit, Emi- South African. This makes english class very fun because at least once a day because we get into heated debates about how one should say certain things. The most recent one is whether Z should be called is zee or zed. Another great example was the argument between orEgano or or-e-gan-o.
The Mighty Mountain (Jasmine)
(This is Jasmine) Last week my dad and I returned from Tanzania. We were in Tanzania to climb the majestic Mt. Kilimanjaro and visit a local orphanage called the Rift Valley Children's Village. Climbing the mountain has been an ambition of mine for a very long time. When I was 8 I saw an IMAX film at the Museum of Natural History in New York about a British family who climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro, the youngest of the family being 12. As an 8-year-old I was mesmerized by the film and became fixated and climbing the mountain myself. I pleaded with my parents to let me climb the mountain myself since, after all 8 and 12 are not so different, or so I thought. My parents, humoring me, finally agreed that when I was 12 I too could climb Kilimanjaro. My parents obviously thought I would forget about it, but as my 12th birthday rolled around I was expecting a trip to Tanzania so I could climb the mountain and I brought the subject back to life. Not thinking that I would remember this "passing phase" my parents planned no such trip. After getting over my thorough disappointment at being denied the climbing privileges I had waited four years for, I made my parents set a real date on which I could climb the mountain; I would climb for my 16th birthday and my dad would accompany me for his 50th.
Yet another 4 years later I began to plan for my much anticipated climb on Mt. Kilimanjaro... And then we moved to Turkey. That threw a little bit of a wrench in my plans. Not only would I have to pack for Turkey I would also have to take up space in my suitcase with useless hiking and outdoors gear that I would use on my Kili trek. Not only that, but I also found out that Turkey is not a very outdoorsy country and lets just say that hiking equipment was very difficult to come across. Our major purchases ended up being in Greece or Iran because after scouring both izmir and istanbul my dad and I decided that we had exhausted our resources and that we should look somewhere else. We also found out that no one would give us mountain travel insurance, which was required to be allowed to hike, because while we were citizens of the U.S., we were not living there. Eventually though, everything did turn out well and my dad and I found out that all you really need on the mountain is good boots, warm clothes, and waterproofs.
Leaving a very terrified mother and grandmother, my dad and I left for Tanzania. The night we got there I found out that our driver, who had been promoted over the years from porter to office worker at the company, helped make the IMAX that inspired my vision. This piece of information came about when we asked him what was the shortest time it took him to climb the mountain. William, our driver, climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro, the mountain my group struggled on over 7 days, in 9 hours because the camera crew forgot a camera that they were going to use to shoot the summit. Anyway, the next day was the briefing where we met the rest of our group members. I unknowingly and naively volunteered for the money collecting and tipping job that was to happen at the end of the trip because I thought it was ridiculous that 9 adults would argue over watching a piece of paper (that was the paper with all the tipping instructions on it).
Yet another 4 years later I began to plan for my much anticipated climb on Mt. Kilimanjaro... And then we moved to Turkey. That threw a little bit of a wrench in my plans. Not only would I have to pack for Turkey I would also have to take up space in my suitcase with useless hiking and outdoors gear that I would use on my Kili trek. Not only that, but I also found out that Turkey is not a very outdoorsy country and lets just say that hiking equipment was very difficult to come across. Our major purchases ended up being in Greece or Iran because after scouring both izmir and istanbul my dad and I decided that we had exhausted our resources and that we should look somewhere else. We also found out that no one would give us mountain travel insurance, which was required to be allowed to hike, because while we were citizens of the U.S., we were not living there. Eventually though, everything did turn out well and my dad and I found out that all you really need on the mountain is good boots, warm clothes, and waterproofs.
Leaving a very terrified mother and grandmother, my dad and I left for Tanzania. The night we got there I found out that our driver, who had been promoted over the years from porter to office worker at the company, helped make the IMAX that inspired my vision. This piece of information came about when we asked him what was the shortest time it took him to climb the mountain. William, our driver, climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro, the mountain my group struggled on over 7 days, in 9 hours because the camera crew forgot a camera that they were going to use to shoot the summit. Anyway, the next day was the briefing where we met the rest of our group members. I unknowingly and naively volunteered for the money collecting and tipping job that was to happen at the end of the trip because I thought it was ridiculous that 9 adults would argue over watching a piece of paper (that was the paper with all the tipping instructions on it).
The Bread Connoisseur (Sam)
During our time in Turkey, dad decided that cereal was evil, and that bread was the way to go. Not literally but despite our efforts through the first couple months he was unmoving, and we slowly began to get used to the bread. By now I have actually become picky about the bread, and would like to fancy myself the "bread connoisseur". Every morning I announce if the loaf is a good one or not. If you get a good loaf is soft on one side and a tad crispy on the other. The middle it is fluffy but dense, the perfect combination that makes you want to dip your finger in and pull it out. A bad loaf tastes more sourdough-ish, and normally is too crispy, the middle is a little harder from being overcooked, this is the type of loaf that requires jam and "kaymak".
P.S. I'm not sure if anyone has mentioned kaymak before me, but if not this is the jist of it. Imagine butter that doesn't taste as good by itself, but tastes a million times better with other toppings, as well as makes said topping creamier. Sam
P.S. I'm not sure if anyone has mentioned kaymak before me, but if not this is the jist of it. Imagine butter that doesn't taste as good by itself, but tastes a million times better with other toppings, as well as makes said topping creamier. Sam
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