Let me bitch a little right quick:
“OH EMM GEE! Did you see what Peter wrote on his blog last time? He put up the German guy’s texts! What if he finds out? That’s lyke ILLEGAL or something!!!”
This is what I’ve heard people comment on my previous post titled “Robert the German Asshole”. This irritates me immensely because these very opinionated people, who like discussing MY blog with MY friends, somehow forget to tell ME why they don’t think it’s appropriate. If you gotta problem, you tell MOMMA, K? This IS Erasmus if you forgot. 😉
So, if you are one of those people (with they panties in a bunch) and who BITCH about my BITCHING and the ASSHOLES in my life, please stop reading…
If you are still reading this, thanks for not being a BITCH (and for having your panties on appropriately).
Turkish life has been treating me quite well and I plan on catching you up on all the details, juicy and not.
But while we’re on the topic of RUUUU(de) people, let me tell you about getting a residence permit in Turkey/going to the fires of hell and back. So, before I came to Turkey, I applied for a student visa at the Turkish Embassy in Washington DC. That was a pain in itself because DC is not very close to my house, and I had to go there twice for something that took ten minutes each time. But alas, I survived. However, upon coming to Turkey, you are required as a student to apply for a residence permit, which shows that you are legal to live in Turkey and travel to and from the country. I applied online for an appointment to the main police station right away but because there are so few appointments, I had to wait until November until I actually went. On the day of my appointment, I came with all my documents to the police station (which is 2ish hours from my neighborhood), waited my turn for about two more hours and then finally went to the window in hope of applying without problem. I was wrong. The two men behind the counter took my papers and one of the two seriously looked at me as if I had just handed him five sheets of toilet paper. He looked at me like I was the dumbest person in the world because I didn’t print the pages correctly. And no one spoke English well there, so I ended up running around the police station attempting to reprint documents and pay for my RP with misty eyes, trying not to be a loser and cry in the Turkish police station. But finally,I applied and was told to come back in a week to pick up the actual document.
SOOOOO! I came back the next week when I was supposed to, handed the man my receipt to pick up my RP and waited for them to call my name. He called my name soon after and I stood up to sign for my permit. BUT, he just gave me the paper back and said “You come back tomorrow. Thank you.” AH-SKEWZ MEEEE! I DID NOT JUST SKIP MY CLASS AND COME 2 HOURS TO BE TURNED AWAY AND TOLD TO COME BACK TOMORROW! That’s what I thought in my head, but in real life, I said out loud to him “NO” (That’s right, with capital letters) But I soon realized that he had already spoken as much English as he could with me. There was no point in arguing with him. He wouldn’t/couldn’t listen. I left the office, walked outside, sat down, and cried. That’s right: This bitch cried with his sunglasses on because he couldn’t get his RP. I was so frustrated! In the end though, I waited around another hour and tried again. Only this time, it was (magically) ready. Guess crying helped. But if you want to know where all the rude Turkish people are, go to the police station in Fatih.
On a happier note:
Two weeks ago, we had a week off from classes because it is a religious holiday or “Bayram”. My mom lived in Turkey about eight years ago while she was in the military and made friends with a Turkish woman named Ilknur. Ilknur has been peeing her pants to meet me ever since I’ve arrived and invited me to come visit her for the Bayram. I was hesitant about such a long visit because I had never met this woman before. Also, all my friends seemed to be planning cool trips to the beach or other parts of Turkey while I was going home with a middle aged Turkish woman. But, why not? So, I took the overnight train to Eskisehir, the city where my mom worked and where Ilknur lives, on a Saturday night. I arrived at about 4:30 in the morning and met Ilknur and her “mommy”. I stayed with them for a couple of days before we left for Konya, another city where Ilknur’s sister and their family live. Keep in mind that out of everyone in this family, Ilknur is the only one who speaks English. So, it was interesting at times, but I feel that my Turkish has improved a lot.
Bayram is meant to commemorate the biblical story of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son (or something like that). In order to do so, Turkish people kill animals. And whatchu gonna do with all those dead animals? YOU EAT THEM. EVERY. SINGLE. PIECE. OF THE ANIMAL. For the whole week. They just kept feeding me and feeding me. It was quite a change for me since I was a vegetarian back in the States and now, I’m stuffing my face with cow heart! It did get to be a little like Fear Factor at times, but overall, the food was very good. Ilknur’s family is also the sweetest family in the world. Her sister was an awesome cook. Her brother-in-law’s name is Aladdin (no joke) and the two little kids called me “Abi” which means “my brother”. SO ADORABLE! And her mom is cute because she bought me socks.
Besides being fattened up, Ilknur bought me clothes and took me to the sites in Eskisehir. We even got to go to Cappadocia for a day, which is quite beautiful. My friends who roadtripped to beaches in the south stayed the night at Ilknur’s also on their way back to Istanbul. We had a fun little sleepover. And did I mention, I did not spend money for this vacation? Turkish people are (generally) so nice. (So fuck the people that work at the police station!) They don’t let you pay for anything. So, I had an awesome-tastic break if you couldn’t tell. Mommy also sent me home with ELEVEN bottles of homemade tomato sauce, a jar of strawberry jam, and two bags of leftover meat. Turkish hospitality can’t be beat!
Now, I’m back in the Isty and planning when I’m going to leave again. Of course, I love it here, but there is so much of Turkey that I haven’t seen yet! It’s finally starting to change into winter here, and traveling won’t be so much fun or easy any more. But two of my friends from Oklahoma (shoutouts to Lauren and Cindy)are coming to visit next month and we will definitely be traveling/party-partying for a good portion of their time here. Now, who wants to write a 20-page research paper for me while I go have fun? Hahaha-I’m being serious. Neither of us is gonna be laughing if I fail my class.
Let’s finish with some fun facts, shall we?
1. Boy sitch: All I can say is Turkish flight attendant. That’s seriously all I can say because I don’t remember his name. Whoops!
2. While in Konya, I overheard two American girls talking about “Ayran” (pronounced like Iran), a Turkish yogurty drink that tastes like nasty nast salty milk in my opinion. Anyway, this is the conversation between them:
Normal girl: Whenever I see the name “Ayran”, I think “Aryan”.
Stupid girl: I love the name “Aryan”.
Yes, this actually happened.
3. Guess who I saw at a club the other night? I’ll give you a clue, he’s German and he’s an asshole…THAT’S RIGHT, IT WAS ROBERT!!! It was obvious that we both saw each other, but for some reason, neither of us felt the need to say hi to the other. It was awkward the whole time and toward the end, my low esteem started to come back to me, but luckily he didn’t make a move and I still have my dignity. So there!
I’m a failed model/international peace mediator. I like telling stories, traveling, and guys. Besides becoming Oprah, my biggest life goal is to be able to do the splits. All the way.