I read this today on Hürriyet Daily News and Economic Review, one of the local English papers.
Obama-mania hits Turks too
Showing posts with label american politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label american politics. Show all posts
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
American Pie, or, Why we should care about what we export
Crafted by one of PEÉ's own students. What follows is an excerpt from an essay on why movies are popular worldwide. I'm not saying anything--judge for yourself. (You can click on it to make it full screen if you can't read it otherwise. I don't want you to miss any of it.)
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
The World Is On Sale
I have a new boyfriend. I know, it's unceremonious to announce it on the internet... Sorry mom--hopefully you won't take it personally. Here's a picture of him--he looks a little goofy in his turtleneck sweater, but I think he's perfect.
Yeah, that's right. "He" is actually an "it"--a hot water bottle. It's getting colder and last night was uncomfortable so it was time for a sleeping upgrade. I bought him this afternoon at the ultra posh Turkish home store: MudoConcept--a cross between an upscale Pier 1 Imports and Anthropologie (since they also sell clothes and an entire lifestyle just from the experience of shopping in their store).
I thought my shopping mission would be simple enough, but what should have taken only a few minutes ended up consuming half an hour. The entire universe of Mudo was on sale--30 to 60% off to be exact--and stuffed to the gills with glitzy Turkish women vying for a spot in the check out queue. After standing in line for almost 20 minutes, I experienced more than my share of the winter shopping madness induced by the global financial crisis' absurd sales.
For the most part, I've been successful in resisting the temptation to buy things in Izmir. There have been insane sales on already-cheap clothes, but I have consistently reminded myself that I don't need anything more in my closet.
I've read some of the articles on NY Times about the sales in the States (not to mention the Walmart employee who was trampled to death), and how it's going to take seasons to retrain shoppers to pay full price for things--I think that maybe Turkey is experiencing similar problems. Everything is on sale. Everything. It's kind of nauseating.
Yeah, that's right. "He" is actually an "it"--a hot water bottle. It's getting colder and last night was uncomfortable so it was time for a sleeping upgrade. I bought him this afternoon at the ultra posh Turkish home store: MudoConcept--a cross between an upscale Pier 1 Imports and Anthropologie (since they also sell clothes and an entire lifestyle just from the experience of shopping in their store).
I thought my shopping mission would be simple enough, but what should have taken only a few minutes ended up consuming half an hour. The entire universe of Mudo was on sale--30 to 60% off to be exact--and stuffed to the gills with glitzy Turkish women vying for a spot in the check out queue. After standing in line for almost 20 minutes, I experienced more than my share of the winter shopping madness induced by the global financial crisis' absurd sales.
For the most part, I've been successful in resisting the temptation to buy things in Izmir. There have been insane sales on already-cheap clothes, but I have consistently reminded myself that I don't need anything more in my closet.
I've read some of the articles on NY Times about the sales in the States (not to mention the Walmart employee who was trampled to death), and how it's going to take seasons to retrain shoppers to pay full price for things--I think that maybe Turkey is experiencing similar problems. Everything is on sale. Everything. It's kind of nauseating.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Tales from Kapadokya: Bush in a Dolmuş
<-- Check out my new link to help you pronounce weird Turkish letters.
George and I were on a dolmuş in Nevşehir. Though we and the driver were the only ones, the windows had fogged from the ten or so people who had also ridden from Göreme. We were evading the seeping cold by waiting inside for the next dolmuş that would take us to Kay Maklı.
We had been quiet for some time--constant companionship often reduced us to silence. The only thing I'd said was to notify the ticket man that we wanted to go to one of the area's underground cities burrowed out of the earth ages and ages ago. I am never nervous traveling in Turkey. Once I tell the driver or ticket man where I want to go in broken Turkish, he smiles and shepherds us along, telling us what to do and where to get off. Though I rarely understand their directions, they point and we figure it out. No need to worry.
But once our driver realized that we spoke English, and that I was American, he twisted around in seat, off and running in poor English supplemented with Turkish.
"Obama?" he asked me.
"Çok güzel! (He's very good!)" I say with a smile on my face and the driver smiles back.
"Obama maybe good." Turks are glad to get rid of Bush but they're not holding their breath for miracles. The world's in a bind--it's still too soon for them to know about Obama.
The driver went on. Father Bush was okay, but Bush has made a mess. George tried to get a word in edgewise: "Tony Blair?" He had to repeat a couple of times to be heard and the driver said, "Sometimes good, sometimes bad." But soon he was back to ranting about Bush son going to Iraq. "Why?" the driver asked me with a pained look on his face. I shrugged. He continued--something about petrol, nuclear weapons, and children dying--lots of children dying.
I commiserated, nodding my head. "Çok kötü. (It's very bad)"
With zero prompting, he divulged his presidential preferences: "Clinton, good. Father Bush, good. Reagan, *and he made a face that was neither bad nor good*." He listed Carter, Ford, Nixon, Johnson and Kennedy. I can't remember his verdict for all of them, though he did like Kenney. But he knew them. They know about us. We really are omnipresent.
I get this weird feeling every once in awhile. I'm embarrassed and sad and very conscious that I don't know anything about Turkey, or the rest of the world, for that matter. I couldn't form an opinion on any of the Turkish presidents' political victories or debacles. And yet, here I am, American, with my ass bare in the wind, the world watching.
Then he transitioned to global climate change: "The world... silk." Turks don't use the verb "to be" so they often forget to include is/am/are if they don't know a lot of English yet.
"Silk? İpek?" I asked. It didn't translate.
"Hiyar (no)--hasta," he explained.
"Oh--sick--yes, the world is sick."
About this time, a dolmuş with KAY MAKLI printed in blue on its rear windows zipped past us. "Kay Maklı!" I blurted out, pointing at it through the windshield.
The driver whipped around and honked his horn a few times and flashed his headlights. I groaned with despair but the dolmuş slowed down about a hundred meters in front of us.
"No problem! No problem! I talk talk talk talk!" He apologized and gunned the engine, chasing down our next dolmuş. I was laughing with the driver as George and I hopped out of the dolmuş. "Çok teşekürler! Çok yarım seversin! Hoş çakal!" (Thanks a lot! You're very helpful! Bye!)"
The driver had a huge grin on his wrinkled face as we waved goodbye to him before we climbed into our next dolmuş to Kay Maklı.
George and I were on a dolmuş in Nevşehir. Though we and the driver were the only ones, the windows had fogged from the ten or so people who had also ridden from Göreme. We were evading the seeping cold by waiting inside for the next dolmuş that would take us to Kay Maklı.
We had been quiet for some time--constant companionship often reduced us to silence. The only thing I'd said was to notify the ticket man that we wanted to go to one of the area's underground cities burrowed out of the earth ages and ages ago. I am never nervous traveling in Turkey. Once I tell the driver or ticket man where I want to go in broken Turkish, he smiles and shepherds us along, telling us what to do and where to get off. Though I rarely understand their directions, they point and we figure it out. No need to worry.
But once our driver realized that we spoke English, and that I was American, he twisted around in seat, off and running in poor English supplemented with Turkish.
"Obama?" he asked me.
"Çok güzel! (He's very good!)" I say with a smile on my face and the driver smiles back.
"Obama maybe good." Turks are glad to get rid of Bush but they're not holding their breath for miracles. The world's in a bind--it's still too soon for them to know about Obama.
The driver went on. Father Bush was okay, but Bush has made a mess. George tried to get a word in edgewise: "Tony Blair?" He had to repeat a couple of times to be heard and the driver said, "Sometimes good, sometimes bad." But soon he was back to ranting about Bush son going to Iraq. "Why?" the driver asked me with a pained look on his face. I shrugged. He continued--something about petrol, nuclear weapons, and children dying--lots of children dying.
I commiserated, nodding my head. "Çok kötü. (It's very bad)"
With zero prompting, he divulged his presidential preferences: "Clinton, good. Father Bush, good. Reagan, *and he made a face that was neither bad nor good*." He listed Carter, Ford, Nixon, Johnson and Kennedy. I can't remember his verdict for all of them, though he did like Kenney. But he knew them. They know about us. We really are omnipresent.
I get this weird feeling every once in awhile. I'm embarrassed and sad and very conscious that I don't know anything about Turkey, or the rest of the world, for that matter. I couldn't form an opinion on any of the Turkish presidents' political victories or debacles. And yet, here I am, American, with my ass bare in the wind, the world watching.
Then he transitioned to global climate change: "The world... silk." Turks don't use the verb "to be" so they often forget to include is/am/are if they don't know a lot of English yet.
"Silk? İpek?" I asked. It didn't translate.
"Hiyar (no)--hasta," he explained.
"Oh--sick--yes, the world is sick."
About this time, a dolmuş with KAY MAKLI printed in blue on its rear windows zipped past us. "Kay Maklı!" I blurted out, pointing at it through the windshield.
The driver whipped around and honked his horn a few times and flashed his headlights. I groaned with despair but the dolmuş slowed down about a hundred meters in front of us.
"No problem! No problem! I talk talk talk talk!" He apologized and gunned the engine, chasing down our next dolmuş. I was laughing with the driver as George and I hopped out of the dolmuş. "Çok teşekürler! Çok yarım seversin! Hoş çakal!" (Thanks a lot! You're very helpful! Bye!)"
The driver had a huge grin on his wrinkled face as we waved goodbye to him before we climbed into our next dolmuş to Kay Maklı.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Obama Victory!
Obama Victory!
I was wandering through morning dream land before 7am when I rolled over and heard clapping and cheering coming from the TV. I leaped out of bed and ran to the living room. Streaming live to the world--the BBC's coverage of the American election. Obama had won. Already. I was so excited I hopped around the living room (Kenyans were hopping around their towns, too, in celebration--it's a global party!).
Then I sat on the couch and was enraptured by Obama's live acceptance speech to Chicago. I laughed when he made a shout-out to "all of you overseas, huddled around radios." Not quite... But I was ever so huddled, ever so stunned, ever, ever, ever so proud. My two favorite parts: 1) Obama telling his daughters that he loved them and that they had really earned the new puppy that was going with them to the White House; 2) when Biden's family came out and 90-year old Mama Biden stood on the stage with the "Oh my God, I can't fucking believe I'm here" look.
It is surreal to me, too, but for different reasons--this world is becoming smaller than it has been. Technology is so incredible. I've been following it for weeks on satellite TV and I watched the acceptance speech live thousands of miles from home. I logged onto Facebook soon after I found out the election results and probably 50 or 60 of my friends had updated their current status to say something about the fact that Obama had just won the presidency. The Internet and the youth vote are going to change the way politics happen in this country--they already have.
A lot of people are euphoric, perhaps too euphoric given the limitations of the wars, the global financial crisis, our own national debt, the climate crisis, and on and on. But... We'll see. We've got eight years.
Manifesting the Law
My students were better behaved last night than they have been. A few strategies:
I was wandering through morning dream land before 7am when I rolled over and heard clapping and cheering coming from the TV. I leaped out of bed and ran to the living room. Streaming live to the world--the BBC's coverage of the American election. Obama had won. Already. I was so excited I hopped around the living room (Kenyans were hopping around their towns, too, in celebration--it's a global party!).
Then I sat on the couch and was enraptured by Obama's live acceptance speech to Chicago. I laughed when he made a shout-out to "all of you overseas, huddled around radios." Not quite... But I was ever so huddled, ever so stunned, ever, ever, ever so proud. My two favorite parts: 1) Obama telling his daughters that he loved them and that they had really earned the new puppy that was going with them to the White House; 2) when Biden's family came out and 90-year old Mama Biden stood on the stage with the "Oh my God, I can't fucking believe I'm here" look.
It is surreal to me, too, but for different reasons--this world is becoming smaller than it has been. Technology is so incredible. I've been following it for weeks on satellite TV and I watched the acceptance speech live thousands of miles from home. I logged onto Facebook soon after I found out the election results and probably 50 or 60 of my friends had updated their current status to say something about the fact that Obama had just won the presidency. The Internet and the youth vote are going to change the way politics happen in this country--they already have.
A lot of people are euphoric, perhaps too euphoric given the limitations of the wars, the global financial crisis, our own national debt, the climate crisis, and on and on. But... We'll see. We've got eight years.
Manifesting the Law
My students were better behaved last night than they have been. A few strategies:
- not being as friendly towards them at the beginning of the lesson;
- hovering in their space rather than towards the front of the classroom and standing closer to them when I told them not to speak Turkish whilst giving long, reprimanding stares;
- determining which students would work with each other to break up the perpetrators;
- hanging out with them during the 10 minute break (when they are allowed to speak Turkish) and allowing them to translate for each other as they asked me questions about America and my time in Turkey; upon returning to the classroom I said Turkish on break was fine but now it's back to English.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
American Elections in Izmir
It is Sunday night. On Tuesday, America will know who its next president will be. Well. Not likely. I predict some last-minute drama about hanging chads, faulty voting machines and whatnot. But regardless, we're all pretty damn excited over here in Turkey. Sondra, George and I are planning on plunking in front of our TV Wednesday to watch the BBC's election coverage and drink beer--we're going to need it to either celebrate or mourn the outcome.
My students have been asking me about the election. Even the elementary students who can hardly string words together: "Teacher. President? Obama? McCain?" Like I can answer and have you understand me, so I just shrug and shake my head with a huge grin in my face. In the staff room today we were talking about the election and another teacher mentioned that when he organized a class competition and asked the two groups of students to choose team names for themselves, "Obama" and "McCain" were the picks. So there you have it.
America, the world is watching.
My students have been asking me about the election. Even the elementary students who can hardly string words together: "Teacher. President? Obama? McCain?" Like I can answer and have you understand me, so I just shrug and shake my head with a huge grin in my face. In the staff room today we were talking about the election and another teacher mentioned that when he organized a class competition and asked the two groups of students to choose team names for themselves, "Obama" and "McCain" were the picks. So there you have it.
America, the world is watching.
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