Finally! With a bit of time, tough love, and iron-fisted encouragement (Jackie Flamm, we're calling you out), we've successfully started our first blog.
Greg and I arrived in Antalya, Turkey almost exactly two months ago. Since then, we've settled in, found an apartment, adopted a kitten, and began teaching at the brand-spankin' new Antalya International University. With this blog, we intend to keep readers informed on our lives, safety, and sanity while also reporting back on the delicious and interesting new foods we taste and delightful (or terrifying) adventures we take. Without further ado...
...two months in review!
At the end of August, a week before university started, we and four other teachers went to the small town of Denizli in Western Turkey. Just outside Denizli is the regional tourist attraction - the tiny town of Pamukkale. In Turkish "pamukkale" meanings "cotton castle." But don't be fooled, these white masses we are posing in front of are enormous calcium deposits, which act as a natural curtain for the number of ancient Roman ruins that await hikers at the top this white mountain. Absolutely gorgeous, nothing like it in the world.
Greg and I arrived in Antalya, Turkey almost exactly two months ago. Since then, we've settled in, found an apartment, adopted a kitten, and began teaching at the brand-spankin' new Antalya International University. With this blog, we intend to keep readers informed on our lives, safety, and sanity while also reporting back on the delicious and interesting new foods we taste and delightful (or terrifying) adventures we take. Without further ado...
...two months in review!
This is a view of the beach at Konyaalti. It's a ten-minute walk from our house. We are here - in this exact spot - anywhere from 3 to 5 days a week. Loren likes to take long runs to the beach and go swimming. Greg likes get out of work around 4:00 pm on Thursday and start the weekend early with a few Efes (the Turkish "Budweiser") beers with Emmett at the seaside bar - Baki Beach 11.
Must be around 3:30 pm on a Sunday. Greg and I can be found in this spot, Kindles in-hand. We have learned the importance of reminding each other to turn over.
At the end of August, a week before university started, we and four other teachers went to the small town of Denizli in Western Turkey. Just outside Denizli is the regional tourist attraction - the tiny town of Pamukkale. In Turkish "pamukkale" meanings "cotton castle." But don't be fooled, these white masses we are posing in front of are enormous calcium deposits, which act as a natural curtain for the number of ancient Roman ruins that await hikers at the top this white mountain. Absolutely gorgeous, nothing like it in the world.
Showing off our healthy, toothy smiles from all the calcium we've been intaking via springs of Pamukkale.
Loren makes friends easily. While wondering around Pamukkale at night looking for some cheap postcards to send out to friends and family, she befriended a Kurdish dude named Nicos. Nicos happened to be a lifelong Pamukkale resident and owned a hang gliding service in town. The next night, after a long day of sightseeing, Nicos took us to the top of his hang gliding mountain to see the sunset over Denizli and Pamukkale. He used to come here as a child, he said, "to remember that the world is made of magic."
We got a kitten! Here's the story: On our second weekend in Antalya, the University administration staff had a dinner meet-and-greet for the faculty at the super fancy Rixos Downtown Hotel. At dinner, Loren noticed a table in the corner that was strategically blocked off by chairs. In Turkish, there was a sign pasted to the table saying, "Be quiet and caution. Mother cat has just given birth to new kittens here." One look at those newborn little fur-coated worms and Loren was in love! She begged the Rixos wait staff to let her grab a kitten, but the pleading fell on deaf Turkish ears. They insisted that the kittens needed more time with their mother (and they were probably correct).
But the spark in Loren was alight. That weekend, we went to a vet's office a few blocks away from our house and asked where we could get a kitten. The woman in the office told us to sit down and wait for ten minutes. She made a phone call, and ten minutes later, a small excited Turkish woman arrived with a tiny plastic cage holding a teeny weeny black and white kitten. We walked home with our kitten chirping like a bird in the palm of Greg's hands. As we walked, many women stopped and asked to look at the kitten in Greg's hands, cooing over the tiny fluff ball. Greg couldn't help but wonder, "Is this all I really had to do to get chicks to notice me?"
We gave him two names. We called him Noam, after the famous linguistic and social theorist, Noam Chomski. He also has a Turkish name, Inek, which names "cow" in Turkish after his black and white spots. We really wanted to call him Cataturk, but our Turkish friends said our neighbors might not appreciate that name if we started yelling it out the window to get him to come home. This is Turkey.
To say that we love this kitten is the understatement of the century. He has us wrapped around his tiny, white-booted paws. Although the teething phrase he is powering through now is less than amusing, he wins our hearts back everyday when he greets us at the door when we get home, looking up at us with excited eyes screaming, little throat purring, "Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! You're home! This is the best!"
On Monday 17 September 2012, we officially began our first week as English professors at Antalya International University (AIU). This is the premiere view of our school as you enter from the front gates. When we first arrived to this building on August 3, there were no trees and no cobblestone walkways. Our school is so fresh and untouched you can still smell the paint drying on the walls. There are advantages and setbacks to being the inaugural faculty at a new university, as we are finding out. Starting the classes and programs involved in running a school is an immense challenge, but we are young and bright-eyed so we just do the best work we can and drown our sorrows in tiny glasses of raki - the Turkish national alcohol beverage (it's basically the same thing as Greek ouzo, but if a Turkish person ever asks, I NEVER MADE THAT COMPARISON!).
This fountain-laden building is the Foreign Languages Department, where we work. We both have fun, exciting "extra" positions at school that keep us on our toes. Greg is a coordinator for all the Fundamental (beginner) level teachers and Loren is the coordinator of all the CUE (Creative Use of English) extracurricular programs. We are usually exhausted when we get home from work, after spending our days teaching and getting washed away in bureaucratic, school administrative BS, but then we just go down the beach and look at this...
...and we instantly feel better about the decisions we've made in the past two months. As if it were possible, I promise you that the marina looks ever more gorgeous at sunset. You can't see it from this camera angle, but there is actually a little pirate cove (I know, a PIRATE COVE!) lurking on the other side of that beautiful rock formation to the right of the marina. At the top of that cliff sits a nice, very-reasonably-priced-for-its-incredible-locale restaurant that we and our friends enjoy having dinner at. In fact...
...here we are now, having dinner at that exact restaurant. It's really beautiful. The food is delicious. You should just come to Turkey and visit us already.
t
And really, what is the point of reading one of our travel blogs unless we make you suffer through one of our palate-whetting food journals? We live a 3-minute walk from the Altinkum Pazar (our local neighborhood bazaar, or farmer's market). Loren loves to grocery shop. It's a strange fondness, but one that is quite handy. If Loren loved Stop and Shop, rest assured that she is now addicted to bazaar shopping. It's great to watch her in there. She stalks her prey, weaving through rows and rows of ripe peaches, figs, lemons, and plums, subtly pinching, thumbing and sniffing until she sees a produce vender she thinks she can trust. Kilo by kilo, she trades lira for plastic bags of the most succulent, sweet, juicy peaches you have ever tasted in your life. She whizzes by the fish and kitchen items dealers and goes straight to the back, where thin, tanned farmers perch barrels of fresh spices, nuts, and dried fruit in every color of the rainbow. Loren stashes green and pink raisins, a red spice of unknown providence that she throws on everything, and ruby-skinned dried figs into a large green plastic cart she has purchased "to make her look more like a local." Most Fridays, Loren makes the same meal. A vegetable melody of fresh oyster mushrooms, tomatoes, capsicum peppers, cauliflower, garlic and onions, roasted together over some magician's potion-type mixture of olives, olive oil, and bazaar spices. She throws it over some warm, daily-baked local bakery flatbread, and we called it dinner. Turkey tastes awesome.
This is a photo of a traditional Turkish country breakfast. Two weekends ago, the whole faculty went out for breakfast together to celebrate our first week of teaching! We indulged in Turkish coffee (rich espresso sweetened with sugar cubes and filled with coffee grounds), Turkish tea (strong, bold black tea), eggs, flatbread, tortilla-like wrap breads, grilled peppers, tomatoes, cream-clotted buttery spread, olives, cucumbers, sausages, and a dill and yogurt dipping sauce. The word "yogurt" is actually Turkish in origin, and the Turks have cornered the market with their inspiringly brilliant ways to use this creamy, smooth, and subtly savory dairy delight. Afiyet olsun!
