Sunday, November 04, 2007

Surprise, Surprise!

Well, nothing really worked out the way I had planned...

First, Lindsey's no longer here. She spent a total of about 3 weeks here in my flat before I realized that inviting a girl that you don't know at all to come and stay with you indefinitely, especially when you have no job and your country is in the middle of political turmoil, is a bad idea. I kind of imagined that I would help her expatriate herself (I see myself as a kind of under-ocean railroad), but I'm pretty sure she just wanted to lounge around and get drunk all the time on my dime. So, I told her she had to leave.

So, what was the poor girl to do? She was without money, without a job, without a ticket home, without anyone to support her, and stranded halfway across the world. A couple of friends of mine took her in for a couple of weeks, but when she destroyed their flat by clogging up the plumbing (doesn't take much - the pipes here are made of aluminum foil and chewing gum) and causing all the sewage to seep back in, she was officially up a shit creek (pun certainly intended).

Fortunately, she just happened to run across an American solider on leave in Istanbul. They fell in love, yada yada yada, and he's whisked her away to live in Rome. I tell you, that girl's got skills. I wish her the best of luck, and I'm sincerely glad she's found someone else to follow around Europe.

As for me, I'm not working at ITU after all. I got an email in mid-September saying, "Er... We still haven't received the necessary documents for your employment, but we really hope you'll continue to wait for us and our government to get our shit together. We know you're not making any money or anything, but we're sure you're a really swell guy and everything will surely come up roses!" Of course, I did the professional, loyal thing and got a new job the next day. (Jobs for English speakers grow on trees here. I couldn't count the amount of times I've been propositioned in pubs... For jobs. English teaching jobs. Damnit.)

Anyway, now I'm working in this nice little family run school called ALTA Eğitim, or Beş Günde İngilizce - English in Five Days. Basically, the scam is this. (Did I say scam? Oops, sorry boss). Students come here for only one week, nine hours a day. They walk in, drop off their telephones in the office, and enter the classroom (equipped with comfy IKEA chairs, beautiful IKEA tables, and a brand-new IKEA stereo system that spills out lovely Baroque music, performed by the IKEA symphony orchestra), and shut the door behind them, effectively leaving their lives behind and entering into an ENGLISH SPEAKING WORLD. Which is a room. And me. And cheeseburgers.

Yeah, we eat cheeseburgers for lunch. Every day. I guess that makes it seem more American. We spend 9 hours together, no breaks, which means we eat breakfast together, smoke cigarettes together, drink coffee together, eat lunch together, and at the end of the day, drink wine together. That's right - I get paid to drink wine. The perfect job for an English teacher!

Actually, it's a really nice place to work, and they're really successful. They advertise in every professional magazine in Turkey as well as have a team of young women cold calling every major business in Turkey, trying to get these huge companies to pay for their clients to come learn English. And do they learn English? Well... no. I don't think so. But still, the students walk out every day, smiling and feeling successful because they just spoke English for 9 hours straight! They don't even notice that they're not really learning anything new. They're too amazed at the English they already know. It's a brilliant system, and the owners deserve every one of the millions of Lira they're earning.

In other news, I'm beginning preparations for opening my company. I've settled on a name - Educit Editing and Translation. Why Educit? Well, it's from the Latin meaning to draw out, where we get the word education. It means that we draw the meaning out of your document and translate it into English (or something like that). It's also kind of cool because the first two letters and the last two letters spell "Edit". :) We've reserved the website, and it will be opening soon: http://www.educitenglish.com/ (no longer in service, sorry! -ed)

But don't worry, even when the millions start rolling in, I won't forget about all the little people who helped me get here. (I'm not saying you're little. Really. I was only speaking comparatively, I promise.)

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Worst idea ever?

Where am I? Glad you asked. I'm sitting in an internet cafe in Athens.

What am I doing here? Well, I'm on holiday, obviously. Why else would one go to Athens? (Incidentally, this begs the question of why anyone would go on holiday to Athens, which I'm not in a position to say at the moment. My Athens experience has thus far been limited to a nice lamb dinner and several episodes of Hercules: The Legendary Journeys.)

Where did I come from? I'll spare you all the tempting but trite existentialist answer and say that my last couple of weeks have been split fairly evenly between the Black Sea coast in Bulgaria and the island of Ios. And the toilet of an international train. But that's not really a fair answer, and the details of that incident have yet to be hammered out. (Note: the word "hammered" was carefully chosen there)

Where am I going? Ah, I've finally asked myself the right question... Because, believe me, where I'm going is a hell of a lot more interesting than where I've been, Greek wildfires aside. I'm returning to Istanbul, which is on the verge of a military coup, to a job that I may or may not have, with a girl I picked up in Bulgaria.

What's this about a military coup? Right. Well, there was supposed to be a presidential election in Turkey in April, right? Just trust me on this one. However, the military stepped in and said, "If you elect Abdullah Gul, we'll stage a coup d'etat." (They're not joking. They've done it 4 times in the last 4 decades) AKP, the ruling party, respectfully shut up, and the election was delayed. See, everyone's worried that this Gul guy wants to impose Shariat law on Turkey, Iran-style. No problem for me, except that I won't be able to drink beer anymore, and my penis will be chopped off for living in sin or something. Actually... That last one is kind of a problem, isn't it?

Well, guess what? Abdullah Gul was elected president today. The military has issued a warning, but nothing serious has happened yet. I just hope I can get across the border before they close 'em up. My biggest concern isn't the coup itself - that'll just cause most of the foreigners to scurry away, thereby driving wages for foreign teachers up (No, I don't like the term war profiteer; it's too accurate). I'm actually much more concerned about the mound of Lira that I've accumulated in the last year. If the YTL falls, I lose everything. Why, oh why didn't I buy dollars before I left? Oh, yeah. Because the dollar's faring even worse.

But don't I have a job to go back to? Not sure about that one. I got an email about a month ago saying, "Congratulations. Your paperwork has been approved by the ministry of education! We look forward to calling you a colleague soon!" And then... complete silence. Now, I'm assuming that I'm supposed to start on Monday, but with the way things work in Turkey, it's equally likely that I've been caught on some technicality (such as my not having a work visa), which will render me unemployed. But, never fear, I've weathered worse, and working illegally is far more rewarding (fiscally and adventurously - just not practically) than sorting out that paperwork. Besides, I'm still a legal resident of Turkey (which may not have a government tomorrow) until next April, so they can't really kick me out (unless they really want to).

Besides, my editing job is really taking off. I've got three clients now, and if I can expand to just a few more in the next few months, I hope to be doing it pretty much full time by June. Then, I buy a laptop, leave Turkey, and travel the world, hopping from beach to beach, and wireless hotspot to wireless hotspot.

And what's this about a girl? Funny you should ask. Her name's Linsey - I met her on the train to Burgas. She's Canadian and was doing a 2 month trip around Europe. After a week or so in Bulgaria with me - of little sleep, lots of laughs, and probably too much sun, she's decided to come and hang out in Turkey with me instead of returning home. Her plane should be landing in Athens about... now... Gotta run!

I raise my glass of ouzo to you all!

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

That Gov’ment Cheese

From the tree-spangled hills o’er the fields bursting with sheep shit here in rural Turkey, I come to you once again, all ye faithful. I sit in rural Turkey because I am back in Sile, which means that my life as a sitter-downer and a sleeper-inner is officially over. I have served my duty as a teacher-teacher in Erenkoy Isik Lisesi, and I’m back on the farm, eagerly awaiting my next assignment, sir!

But oh, what shall that next assignment be? I shall tell you forthwith. I’m going to work for the government!

Ironic, eh?

Istanbul Teknik Universitesi (That’s Istanbul Technical University for those of you who can’t puzzle out the intracies of the unique Turkish tongue) has offered me a job for next academic year. Is it a good job? Oh, my friends and fellow (wo)men, no, it absolutely is not. This job, which will force me to commute across continents (or move house to a strange and exciting new place), represents not only a substantial pay cut (we’re talking 2/3 of my current salary), but also the loss of my most prized possession – private health insurance. Oh, I’ll still have the public variety, but can you imagine what a public hospital in Turkey is like? Try it.... Ok, now add more urine. That’s it.

So, why in the name of Allah would I do such a thing? Am I tired of eating sushi for breakfast and drinking champagne out of the skulls of Anatolian farmers? Well, no. No, I’m not. But there’s a benefit more alluring than an extra XXXX dollars a month. And that, my patriotic peers, is freedom.


I'll essentially be working 1/3 of my current hours, so the trade-off is more than fair. Oh, and the 3-month paid holiday in the summer helps. But more importantly, with the 11 or so teaching hours, I'll have the opportunity to open my own business. Oh yeah, I wanna be a businessman.

The goal is simple – get people to translate documents for me, charge as much as possible, and pay them as little as possible. Is that how capitalism works? The details are not important, and not really planned out. Just like everyone else in this country, I'll kiss my prayer beads, mutter a "Bismillah" and refuse to think about the consequences of my own actions (yes, I'm starting to get too comfortable here).

Anyways, that means it looks like I’ll be giving one more year of my life to this country of infidels. May God himself save me from the Starbucks on Bahariye Caddesi, the TGIFridays on Bagdat, and the McDonalds lounging languidly by the bull on Alti Yol. And the duck, the noble-winged simple-minded duck is still pacing around the fish market in my little Kadi village.

Look at this crown of thorns.

Aaron

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Sun, Sea, and decaying nuclear power plants!

While it may be an uncomfortably cold day here in Istanbul (as I'm sure it is for the rest of you in your respective Northern European and American locations), I have as of late found my attentions turning once again to the inevitable changing of the seasons and the oncoming spring. If inductive logic once again fails to disappoint us, we will, within a matter of a few short months, be ushered into a gloriously balmy summer. That illustrious season is not one in which I intend to spend in the sweltering streets and muggy merkezler of Istanbul. Rather, my plan is to head a bit north, through the long, flat stretches of Bulgarian countryside, and into the pearl of the Black Sea, Varna.

This Varna, or BAPHA as it is comically spelled (no less amusing than Batman, Turkey. Or Centre of the World, Ohio, for that matter), is a small town in the North-East of Bulgaria, scant few scores of kilometers from the Romanian border (Here there be Tygers). BAPHA, however, is no wild, scavenger-ridden wasteland, as is so much of its neighbor to the North. No, friends, BAPHA is practically paradise. The city itself is relaxing, yet not boring by any means. The seaside is full of clubs and restaurants. The architecture in the city center is old and grand. There are many parks, churches, mosques, and monuments to feast your eyes upon (as well as some old Roman Ruins and Monestaries nearby). Cobblestone roads and wide open promenades about, only a respectable walk (or short Taxi ride) from huge shopping malls and supermarkets.

The city is only half the draw, however. Just 8 km (around 4 miles) north of our Varna lies St. Konstantin, a sleepy little resort area, full of boutique hotels, rich British people, and kilometers of undeveloped beach. Perfect for relaxing, or burying your friends in the sand (better leave the head out though, eh?). Paths weave down from the highway all the way to the sea, crisscrossing through this silent, shady hideaway.

However, just another 8 km north (that's 4 miles yet again, Americans!) sits GOLDEN SANDS, whose majesty can barely be expressed in the capital letters with which I have emblazoned its good name. This is a Beach Resort that simply blows away any resort that I have ever seen. Miami? Heh. Varna taught Miami how to swim. Ft. Lauderdale? Right. Varna gave Ft. Lauderdale its first shot of whiskey. The Greek Islands? Not a chance. Varna simultaneously pleasured Greece's mother, put its father into a headlock, and taught it how to roll a cigarette with one hand. (At least Varna said it was a cigarette).

We're talking massive 5 star hotels, clubs on the water, water parks, tiki bars, water sports, casinos. BAPHA's got it all. You know those movies where there's a huge party on the beach, and everyone's laughing and drinking beer and having fun? Well, I assume that's not Varna. But Varna is still cool. And cheap!

See, Bulgaria is a really poor country where all the extra money gets poured into entertainment. Yeah, communism fed them, but they've got decades of disco dancing and skimpy clothes to make up for. Of course, if they tried to charge five dollars for a martini, they wouldn't sell any martinis, would they? So... They charge one dollar. (They still don't sell very many. You could eat a full meal for that much). Of course, the beach resort is more expensive than that, but for the price of a dinner and a drink at TGI Fridays, you could eat a feast, and drink all night long. But, why am I telling you all of this? Am I just spouting on, yet again, about all the fun I'm going to have this summer? Well, yes.

Privet, Komrades,
AAPOH

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Lights? Camera?

My friends and friendlishes, I extend to you a reasonably jovial salutation. I expect that a few of you extend the same to me. How's your 2007 going? Chock full of the same 2006 lovin'? I sincerely hope that this year is the King Size version of the last, with 33% more nougat, caramel, and chocolatey goodness.

I can hear the skeptics among you now, asking, "why is that good-for-nothing, estranged, coward of an American bothering posting again? That's twice in a month! Doesn't he have anything better to do with himself, the lousy git?" Well, to that I can only reply, "There is nothing more satisfying than engaging in a light-hearted, albeit one-way, conversation with my fellow and fallen comrades (not that the two are the same, mind you)." And speaking of the onewayedness, well, it exists. If you're not dead, let me know. (My sincerest apologies to those of you who are, and may have been offended by my insensitivity).

And to those dear friends of my whom I've passed over in the last few months, I'm truly sorry. My intention was never to lose touch with all of you. Just a select few. (And, no, Ron, you're not one of them). Please accept my apologies. I have been lazy this year, and as I begin stirring in my hibernation, I'm starting to feel guilty about the poor, wee cubs I left in the freezing cold. If you're so inclined, ring me up. You can harass me as much as your sadistic hearts desire, and I'll not bat an eyelash - to this I swear. Conversely, you may send me your phone number accompanied by the rudest expletives you can muster, and if I find myself significantly scandalized, I'll be forced to ring you and give you a piece of my mind.

And I'm afraid I must unleash yet another apology upon the masses. You see, fate has bestowed upon me a wealth of free time this year - I work about as much as a one-legged prostitute, and make just slightly more (assuming she's working a decent beat). And having had a burst of creative energy semi-recently, I rather mistakenly thought that I could devote these free hours to writing a book. However, it was not meant to be. Having opened up my head, and chased down, stabbed, and taxidermized 40 pages of perfectly preserved prose, I found that there was naught behind it but a brick wall. So it goes. Like every other attempt before, this one has been filed away for posterity. Josh, it looks like your good name will not yet be tarnished by my pen. At least not in public.

So, for the last couple of weeks, I've been moping around the house, making everyone around me more miserable than usual by muttering "What to do, what to do," not only by being a general pain in the ass, but also by reminding them that I'm working a fraction of what they are. More out of desperation than any desire to do any real work, I placed an ad on the forums of mymerhaba.com, advertising private lessons. While perusing the various other advertisements, I happened across one seeking an American to play the part of the American President in an upcoming Turkish movie. "What an opportunity!" I exclaimed to no one in particular, as I began typing up a hasty application forthwith. They say that imitation is the highest form of flattery, but it's also a great way to take the piss out of someone.

Unsurprisingly, the director thought that 26 might be a bit young to play an American president. However, the nice young woman that I spoke to mentioned a new comedy that the company is producing - Amerikan Damat - the American Groom. She informed me that they were looking for an American man my age to play the main role - a young New Yorker who met a Turkish girl in college, and has come to Istanbul to get married.

She asked if I spoke Turkish, to which I replied "Bir az, evet." She asked me to send some photos, to which the writers replied, "Sexy!" (or at least, they weren't frightened away). Finally, she's asked me if I could come in the next day at 2:00 to meet the director. They are, as it were, "really interested." The fact that I have no acting experience matters little, I've been told, as it is terribly difficult to find an American in Istanbul willing to be made a monkey of in front of a camera for months (probably with little to no pay).

However, after growing more and more curious about such a unique opportunity, I asked some of my students about this company, Platofilm. Imagine my surprise when they had not only heard of the company, but immediately told me that the director, Sinan Cetin, is arguably one of the most important filmmakers in Turkey. Go figure. A quick search on Imdb.com has revealed not unimpressive credentials (Darryl Hanna was in one of his earlier movies - I didn't have time to peruse the page in its entirety). So, my friends, I hope to join the ranks, along with Cuneyt Arkin and Cem Yilmaz, of the ultra-famous, super-cool, blockbuster movie stars that neither you, nor the rest of the world have ever heard of. Exciting, innit? Thus, you naysayers and yaysayers, although I have shopped at Ikea, and although I occasionally pop into Starbucks on my way to work, and although there is now cable in my apartment (gak!), I'm not yet ready to sleep all my lunch breaks away until I jump in the extended cab of the great minivan in the sky. Wish me luck, comrades!

And to all you disgruntled youth - I've got space in the living room (our sofa is a king size bed), and there's more work here than we know what to do with. Come be a part of one of the last countries in Europe that hasn't sold its soul to the EU! We'll show you where to stick your health inspectors!

Hayata!
(Shit, now that bloody Turkcell song's stuck in my head)
Aaron

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Floating Onions

A good morning to those of you who have indoor heating,

And a bad one to those who don't, I reckon. I hear there's a nasty cold spreading across many of your homelands - people dying, schools closing (the importance seems to fall in that order on the international news). Funny that. If I could, I still wouldn't share any of my warmth with you. I've fought for what I've got tooth and nail.

Oh, my bed here in Sofia was quite warm last night, but as I sit in the living room of my little private apartment here in Bulgaria's majestic, masticated capital, I'm having to type by jamming one finger down in the general location of each key - it's too cold for my fingers to bend, and they're too numb to predict exactly where they'll land. Sitll, the space heater in the bedroom surprisingly didn't catch fire and kill Thomas and I in our sleep, and I managed to find a kiosk selling Nescafe this morning, so I'd put this day in the "GOOD" column so far.

Why am I here in Sofia? Well, I came here a year and a half ago, but didn't really give the place a fair shake. As you may know, the last year of my life has centered around a passionate love affair with this forsaken country (Oh, you knew. You always knew.), and I've decided that if cities like Varna, Plovdiv, Stara Zagora, and Veliko Turnovo keep me grinning from ear to ear for the duration of my stay, I shouldn't base my impressions of the fine Bulgarians' capital on a mad, exhausted dash through the Balkans before I fell so deeply in love.

And, I am pleased to admit, this is not the Sofia I remember from 2005. Imagine, for those of you who can, the boredom that descends over Plovdiv at approximately 7:00. Well, it's still there. Imagine the beauty of rows of blocks of communist flats in Central Europe. It's got that too. And imagine the dour faces of Slavic peoples from any nation. That is, of course, quite observable here as well. But, that wee magic that permeates the rest of Bulgaria is sprinkled throughout its capital as well. There are cozy little restaurants, suprisingly chic for a country whose average wage is less that 200 USD a month, tucked in underneath battered old concrete buildings. There are magestic churches, government buildings, and mosques (ahem... archaeological museums, as it were) rising up above the squat, practical streets. Most importantly, a hunk of pork stuffed with cheese and a shot of vodka will still only cost you about 5 dollars (as opposed to the 4 in other Bulgarian cities). There's a lot to like here, and a little to ignore.

Sorry for the short update, but my life is quite unremarkable these days. Still working at the university, and still not working very much. I'm going to try to expand my clientele (and therefore my wallet) by picking up privates on the side. It's winter - finally, really, truly - and there's little else to do other than work. Ah, but it's time now for more coffee, more pork, and a shivering stroll down Ulista Vitosha.

Not yet broken, and still smiling all the way,
Your comrade,
Aaron