Blondes Probably Have More Fun

Why welcome back, fine reader! Before we start today, I'd like to take a little walk down memory lane to a housewarming party McSteamy and I attended just a few weeks after finding out that I had a new nannying gig in Turkey. While standing on the periphery of the crowd (having a brief but intense moment with some spinach dip) I met Atil, who had just moved to Corvallis and is an Istanbul native. Thrilled to meet someone who not only shared my passion for cheesy, spinach-y goodness but who also had the inside scoop on all things Turkish, I launched into a breathless monologue where I told him all about my new job opportunity and asked him roughly 10,000 questions about what I should expect. After thoughtfully munching on his sourdough and dip he looked me straight in the eye, and, with no sarcasm or irony, said Well, you probably won't be raped or killed or anything. But people are going to stare. Yeah...you're definitely going to get stared at and pointed at.  When I asked why I would be stared at, Atil simply shrugged his shoulders. You're blonde, he answered. People don't look like you in Turkey. But don't worry. You'll probably be fine. More dip?

Friends, let me stress to you that probably is not the adverb you want to hear when discussing your personal safety in a foreign country. (Or, for the record, your girlfriend's safety. Later that night, McSteamy asked me if maybe I should dye my hair before I left.)  However, I am happy to report that Atil was right about everything. Nine weeks into my adventure I am still very much alive and well, feel very safe, and for the most part have gotten used to the sideways glances and occasional stink eyes brought on by the faux pas of me being my very blonde, American self. I haven't been doing very much adventuring since my last post, so instead of pictures of food I thought I'd give you all my interpretation of Turkish culture, and highlight the biggest culture shocks I've experienced in the last 9 weeks.  Before we start, though, let me very clear about something (cue world famous Adaline eyebrow raise and nanny tone): everything I'm going to tell you is a GENERALITY! Turkey is a country of  74 million people. That's 74 million different sets of reactions, emotions and beliefs that can not and should not be contained in a single, non-Turkish-speaking American's blog. Obviously I can not speak for every single Turkish person, and if anything comes off as politically incorrect  or offensive I apologize. We will all assume it is due to my ignorance and/or inability to express myself. Do I make myself clear? (This is where you look mildly scared and shake your head yes). Excellent. Let us proceed.

Trumpets sound. Confetti streams down. A hush falls over the crowd as the drum roll begins... Ladies and Gentleman, I now present to you:

Adaline's 5 Biggest Culture Shocks of Turkey!!!
 

Turkish people are ridiculously welcoming...  If you've gotten to this point in the post you might be feeling a bit confused. But Adaline, you were just complaining about people staring at you. That's definitely true, but for the most part the stares aren't malicious or a la "Mean Girls." They are just genuinely confused about why there is a foreigner (or, when I'm with the fam, a group of foreigners) wandering around Konya. We're a bit more of a novelty here than if we were in Istanbul or another of the more popular tourist destinations, and we definitely dress and act differently than most of the people here. Most people don't speak English, but if they do they almost always start a conversation and welcome us to their country. If we're near a cafe or restaurant we're almost always invited in for Cay (Turkish tea) on the house, and we are regularly left homemade treats by our front door. For instance, while I was writing this post the doorbell rang and our neighbor was out front with these bad boys:

I'm unsure about the exact ingredients in the filling, but I'm pretty sure it was mostly unicorns and happiness.

I'm still willing to teach a class on the art of the subtle sideways glance, but overall we have been welcomed with a lot more graciousness than I first expected.

...and confused about why I'm here.  Konya is a fine city, but as I said earlier it isn't a huge tourist destination if you're not a devout follower of the teachings of Rumi (more on him in a later post). So, when I roll into town everyone is confused about why I'm spending time in Konya. Nannies aren't very common in Turkey either, so most of the time I just say that I'm visiting a friend (Stephanie and I decided that calling me her sister wife might be deemed inappropriate.;) Whenever people meet me, they always start with the same two questions: Where are you from and what are you doing here?  Then (presumably because of the high cheek bones and hipster glasses seen below) they almost always ask if I am German or Dutch.

 

It seems Oregon pale is similar to German pale...

Once we get through that (which honestly always confuses me, because by then I've usually told them I'm from the U.S.) the next question is usually if I'm married or not. This only counts as a culture shock because it's not my personal go-to when making small talk, but maybe that's just me. I get asked it a lot from members of both genders, though, and occasionally I think they're scheming to hook me up with their cousin or some such nonsense. Better watch out McSteamy... ;)

 

Lines are for squares. For all of their niceness, there is one place you don't want to be in Turkey: in line. I mentioned in an earlier post that it took me over an hour and a half to get through the line to get my Visa, solely because people will cut in front of you in every single line. This has happened to me at the airport, at the mall, and even at the grocery store. I missed a tram today because I simply got pushed out of the way. I've done my fair share of traveling, but I've never been in a place where the people are simultaneously so nice yet aggressive (hmm, now that I think about it, that could describe my all girls highschool experience, too). Driving is a similar situation, in which the rules about tailgating, honking, and speed limits are more polite suggestions than actual rules. And blinkers? Let's just call them white surrender flags. I'm not exactly known for my driving prowess in the States, but I'm going to be thrilled to be back to the land of respecting stop lights and leaving a car's length between vehicles. 

And finally, the biggest one of all:

Turkish people LOVE children. As most of you know, this little bundle of cuteness is one-year-old Aliah. 

But who is that holding her? you ask. That, dear reader, is an excellent question. I have no idea. Just like I don't know who this person is:

 

 

 Or these people:

Or this guy:

In Turkey, it is completely normal for total strangers to walk up to you and take the child you are holding from your arms, or, if she's walking around, pick her up. A few will ask before they take pictures, but most whip out their phones and start snapping. They will kiss her, pinch her cheeks, caress her head and just generally go gaga over her. Stephanie told me that when they first got to Turkey, the cashier at the grocery story took Aliah out of the cart and kept her on her lap the entire time she scanned the groceries. It's not just Aliah, either: when Lexis goes into a store or restaurant, 9 times out of 10 she leaves with some sort of candy, toy or other treat. And this love of children is not limited to one gender or age group. I almost went into cardiac arrest when, at Troy's basketball game on my second day in Konya, a 40-something-year-old-man started taking pictures of Lexis on his phone. Stephanie's reaction to my hypervenilation? Turkey, baby. Old ladies, prepubescent boys, college students, you name it: all of them have come up and admired Aliah and Lexis at one point or another. As someone who's job it is to make sure that the children I'm with are safe and (if possible) happy, I'd be lying if I said this was something that didn't take some getting used to. It definitely has its perks, though: shopping and eating are both made a lot easier when someone else is holding the squirming one-year-old. :)

Even with the difference in culture, missing friends and family from home and a severe lack of bacon, the past nine weeks have flown by. I hope you'll stay tuned for my trips to Izmir and Istanbul before I close up the blog shop and head back to Corvegas, where I suppose I'll have to get used to not being the only blonde and using my blinker again. Well, probably. ;)

Safe travels,

Adaline