"once in a house on fire" - andrea ashworth

"once in a house on fire" - by andrea ashworth is the best book i have read this year. the book is an autobiographical tale of ashworth's upbringing in manchester. the uniqueness of the book stands in the fact that, despite being a story about neglect and abuse - it is written with child-like candor, a quality that fills every page with enchantment. as you read...especially when ashworth describes her teenage years and her decisive struggle to leave her sad past behind through her giftedness - you find yourself, as a reader, to cheer and hope for her. the final happy ending (ashworth entered oxford and later pursued a career there) is a joy to read about.

"once in a house on fire" achieves the impossible result of describing pain and desperation without ever ceasing to sound deep down full of life. it is an extraordinary book that celebrates the triumph of a young girl over hatred and ugliness - all thanks to the strengh of her inspiring spirit.

...THAT'S LUCKY, I THINK! (scattered notes after christmas)

(1) will quit work in approx. ten days and i cannot even begin to say how sorry i feel about this. i will miss teaching. when we first moved here i kind of dreaded the idea of a teaching job - picturing a future of idle time spent with bratty, unbearable students. which was not the case in the end (quite the opposite, actually) and i now know i will miss being at school immensely. teaching has allowed me to gain unique insight into turkey and turkish ways - but it has also been a very enjoyable professional and personal experience. all in all, i do have a strong sense of gratitude for a merely accidental job that has made me more curious about others and happy to read more, do more and do better.

(2) my topic for this week is "advantages and disadvantages". this time around i am asking my students to point out at the positives and negatives of different conditions. e.g. being a university student versus working; being a man versus being a woman; being born in turkey instead of somewhere else; etc.

collected some interesting answers so far. remarkably, most students - when questioned about the advantages and disadvantages of their nationality tend to state that the major con about it is "being looked down at by other countries" - whereas they very often mention as a pro the "geographical position we have" (?) alongside "our very long and heroic history".

girls tend to get kind of quiet when they have to explain what they enjoy about being women. they all seem to complain about how easier things are for men - usually described as "stronger... more dominant... and much, much freer...". also...one guy in my class tonight came up with the most extravagant idea - saying that the pain of labour experienced by women giving birth is a piece of cake if you compare it with the excruciating pain of circumcision. plus, he added with a serene smile - "even if you work... with pregnancy...what you get is a long holiday - that's lucky, i think".

fascinating. almost mesmerising.

(3) christmas was a quaint affair - and a working day for me. waking up to the sight of my baby boy opening his presents was exciting and sweet... but i will forever be grateful for yet another relatives-free christmas. just exchanging wishes over the phone with family members i never hear from for the rest of the year (including my older brother) did somehow manage to depress me slightly. call me a rotten consummerist - but i seem to enjoy the festive atmosphere (lights, decorations, carols, snowy landscapes, pretty cakes, candles...) more than the actual core of christmas rituals, namely: family rounds, embarassing moments of awkardness, overcrowded parties you never wanted to attend to begin with and the silliness of forced rethorics about the joys of family life. something that, if it is real and sound...will never need to be celebrated - let alone blabbed about.

(4) with 2010 drawing to a close - i find myself looking back and thinking it was a very eventful year. it kind of took off in a rather uncertain, confusing / slow way - but it had very many precious moments. summer was amazing to say the least - and very rarely i can recall another sunny season filled with so much beauty and real, utter relaxation. turkey does have some gems of places to visit and enjoy.

overall, i would say it was a very different year. it did make me a better person - more capable of truly enjoying smaller things; more capable of listening; more into sports; more passionate about cooking, reading, writing; more into movies; more "there" for the friends i really care for; more practical. and somehow happier - i would dare to say...even if some aspects of my new turkish life still baffle me - like the bizarre, unglobalised, unexplainable social ties and life i seem to put up with here. on a more intimate note...emotionally - my feeling is that i keep on giving (and giving in!) while receiving only indirectly and from unexpected sources (like students, whom - if you put it into perspective - are in truth little more than strangers) and receiving zero (if not mediocrity) from people i was naively hoping more from. something natural, i figure -- perhaps (anthropologically) fascinating, at times...but hardly fun, at the end of the day.

yet... after all i have recently learnt that everything is relative - even grief... and, as my student tonight had the cheek of pointing out -- no pain can compare to the pains of circumcision! (..."and that's lucky, i think!")...

(5) looking forward to receiving soon visit of friend landing here on wednesday and coming to celebrate new year at ours.

(6) two days before xmas, i fell asleep during introductory visit to private clinic where i will give birth in a couple of weeks. the place had the tacky grandeur of some of the public buildings built in romania under the dictatorship of leader ceausescu. the staff seemed lovely. the rest of the soon-to-be mothers taking part in the introductory session - were safely sided by their respective husbands who looked 50% bored and 50% clumsy. perhaps... as i could relate more to these feelings of puzzlement - as soon as i sat down on a couch i fell asleep. only to be awaken by a nurse commenting in a soft voice "look at this one. god bless!!".

(p.s.) concept of "privileged geography" of turkey still escaping me.

"questi giorni quando viene il bel sole..."

i was in starbucks after class tonight and there was some music playing. it took me a while to realise why it sounded soooo familiar...and then i finally nailed it. it was an instrumental version of "on days like these". wow. i was floored. i whistled its tune walking back home and picturing the super famous scene that goes with the song - which actually opens the classic "the italian job" with matt monro's velvety and uber60's voice butchering any resemblance of the italian language..."kwesteeeee johnny kwandoWWW v-eeee-E-NNNNeeee eeeLLL BEL SOW-LE"

((...i am such a sucker (and a softie) when it comes to retro music / movies!))

...............Questi giorni quando viene il bel sole

On days like these when skies are blue and fields are green
I look around and think about what might have been
and then I hear sweet music float around my head
as I recall the many things we left unsaid
its on days like these that I remember
singing songs and drinking wine
while your eyes played games with mine

on days like these I wonder what became of you
maybe today you are singing songs with someone new
I'd like to think you're walking by those willow trees
remembering the love we knew on days like these
its on days like these that I remember
singing songs and drinking wine
while your eyes played games with mine

on days like these I wonder what became of you
maybe today you are singing songs with someone new

Questi giorni quando viene il bel sole

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_z8aLdIejPs

UP SERIES

Am currently hooked on the cult British series "7 Up" ...and because of its beauty and unique, heartbreaking, thought-provoking ingredients - am starting to consider it sheer genius.

The Jesuit motto: "Give me the child until he is seven and I will give you the man" is the inspiration for the 7 Up documentary series, which has been interviewing the same group of British people at seven year intervals since 1964, when they were each seven years old. (so far the series' documentaries include: 7 Up!;7 Plus Seven; 21 Up; 28 Up; 35 Up; 42 Up and 49 Up).
The children were selected back in 1964 to represent the range of socio-economic backgrounds in Britain at that time, with the explicit assumption that each child's social class predetermines their future. Every seven years, the director, Michael Apted, films new material. Filming for the next installment in the series, 56 Up, is expected in late 2011 or early 2012.

7 Up is a landmark in British television, consistently voted Britain’s most influential documentary of all time, as well Europe’s.

The children involved in the project came from differing backgrounds. There were four rich children

- three boarding school boys (blonde, stuffy John Brisby, geeky Andrew Brackfield, and cute Charles Furneaux);

and a girl from a wealthy family (snobby Suzy Dewey);

- two boys from a children’s home (black Simon Basterfield - and white introverted Paul Kligerman);

- four children from the poor working class East End of London - a boy (short, cheeky jockey wannabe Tony Walker)

and three would-be lifelong girlfriends (blond ugly duckling Jackie Bassett, quiet Lynn Johnson, and tall, motherly Sue Sullivan);

- two middle class boys from Liverpool suburbs (outgoing, bright Neil Hughes, and average Peter Davies);

and two ‘wildcard’ kids, who would turn out to be the most self-fulfilled of the fourteen.
The first (Bruce Balden) was an upper middle class sensitive blonde boy whose father abandoned him to the English boarding school system, and wanted to be a missionary when young. The last was the only one from the English countryside... Nick Hitchon, who had a bit of a glow about him from even the first film.

7 Up has the kids at their precocious best. The three rich boys, later dubbed The Three Wise Men, by Apted, already display signs of snobbery, if not outright bigotry, and rich Suzy is certainly a bigot. Poor, short Tony seems a hooligan in the making, and shy, big-eared Bruce seems doomed to be a male wallflower. But there are surprises in store. While the rich boys remain snobs, they are not as predictable as one might think, and while cute and perky at seven - Neil is slated to go on a ride through mental illness and paranoia later in life.

In the first film, they are seen in sharp black and white, bouncing off the walls and full of quips like pre-school Beatles. At age 21, we see them in the gauzy colour of 70s film stock. They are faux-rebellious chain-smokers, reflective and cool-headed, with all the time in the world to spare. At 28, they are still young, but they've made choices that cannot be unmade. They are like adults-in-training. At 42, they are heartbreaking. Youth has quietly slipped away. Spouses have come and gone.

All throughout the footage - one ends up feeling some kind of hypnotic effect, as repetition (of questions and faces) heightens the domino propulsion of events that bear out the Jesuit motto’s truth. The extroverts and introverts as children are extroverts and introverts in middle age. Those with silver spoons have done well, while those with less struggled, even as their lives are more interesting. Yet, the success of the rich was not for anything special, but their many advantages and priviledged education brought some kind of immediate quality to their lives. It is interesting to note the plethora of lawyers the film follows- John, Andrew, and even Peter, as well as Suzy’s husband. Not surprisingly, they are the least imaginative of the subjects, thoroughly homogenized by what Charles, in 21 Up, called the conveyor belt mentality of British society that spits the upper class kids through boarding schools and Oxbridge colleges. However, this is far more than the class-based polemic of its roots.

How forty or so minutes of scattered quotes by a person (at 7, 14, 21, 28, 35, 42, 49...regardless)

can so intimately convey such huge portions of their character, as well fate, amazes. Most of this is due to Apted, since... while everyone has a story, you need a great artist to tell it, and even when he errs in trying to foreshadow things, or tries to contrast rich Suzy with the working class girls, he never condescends to his subjects, nor his viewers. The art of selection and contrast comes into play in ways any singular film cannot match, as the intercutting forces introspection. This lends itself to irony, as well the foreshadowing implicit in the series’ motto. Watching the films in sequence, in a short period of time, heightens these feelings, while watching them a second time, especially the earlier films, brings a sense of déjà vu to these characters, as you recall things from their past (and yours) while knowing what will befall these people that their onscreen selves are clueless of.

By watching all the films in a row one sees the formation of patterns that, even though none of these people are exceptional, are utterly human and relatable.
Their lives twist in surprising ways at times. The result is that even the most insignificant tic or twitch takes on seeming relevance.

What the series does best is parallax not only the lives of the individuals filmed, but those of the viewer. We are forced to ask where our families or we were, externally and internally, during the time periods each film captures, as well the corresponding life stages each film represents, and it is almost impossible not to be bound up in this pursuit. Inner character may not fundamentally change, but the seven year intervals always make you feel success, happiness, love, heartache, loss could be just around the corner- ...for the fourteen people featured in the documentary.

And yourself.

lucy honeychurch far better than self-help books

been exchanging few emails with a friend who always provides interesting tales on his rather happening sentimental life. yesterday, after a year of new names of random girlfriends coming up every two months or so -- and after receiving punctual updates on their ways, tantrums, qualities and flaws... i suggested it could be easy to compare them to famous literary characters.

one of my main frustrations about teaching in turkey is that people here are 100% oblivious to any modern and contemporary literature... and to any modern and contemporary notion of western / european history. this kills me a little bit -- as literature to me is one of the major sources of cohesive observation and understanding of the people we meet and live with. forget self help books, forget therapy, forget agony aunt's columns, forget psychology tests in glossy magazines. i believe books, poems, short stories - if read with an open heart can fill our minds with ideas and references to look at others with a clearer vision: which, i trust, can translate in an improvement of our empathy... as well as a massive enhancement of our sense of humour.

history - as a subject, as a planet - is a form of literature in the extended sense. a kind of endless novel...with a legion of characters and a continuous addition of chapters and narrative twists.

having said this.

this morning i sent an email to my womanising friend and noted that:

-- new flame I. could well be a character from Oscar Wilde's best pages. fickle, funny, ditzy;

-- long lost love C. could be a woman out of one of the early Alain de Botton's books. cerebral and with plenty of ambition;

-- disappointing K. did remind me of a F. Dostojevski's character. sheer ambition and not much else;

-- much adored E. on the other hand did make me think of Jo March in Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott... or some Jane Austen's heroine, like Emma Woodhouse;

and that (finally) S. was a tad like Lucy Honeychurch (too aware and respectful of conventions...afraid of letting out her true self) -- yet before meeting George and ending up becoming "transfigured by Italy"...

(now...enough morning blabbing...time to go for a long swim!)

LAWRENCE FERLINGHETTI

NUMBER 8

It was a face which darkness could kill
in an instant
a face as easily hurt
by laughter or light

'We think differently at night'
she told me once
lying back languidly

And she would quote Cocteau

'I feel there is an angel in me' she'd say
'whom I am constantly shocking'

Then she would smile and look away
light a cigarette for me
sigh and rise

and stretch
her sweet anatomy

let fall a stocking

********
UNDERWEAR

I didn’t get much sleep last night
thinking about underwear
Have you ever stopped to consider
underwear in the abstract
When you really dig into it
some shocking problems are raised
Underwear is something we all have to deal with
Everyone wears
some kind of underwear
Even Indians wear underwear
Even Cubans
wear underwear
The Pope wears underwear I hope
The Governor of Louisiana wears underwear
I saw him on TV
He must have had tight underwear
He squirmed a lot
Underwear can really get you in a bind
You have seen the underwear ads for men and women
so alike but so different
Women’s underwear holds things up
Men’s underwear holds things down
Underwear is one thing
men and women do have in common
Underwear is all we have between us
You have seen the three-color pictures
with crotches encircled
to show the areas of extra strength
with three-way stretch
promising full freedom of action
Don’t be deceived
It’s all based on the two-party system
which doesn’t allow much freedom of choice
the way things are set up
America in its Underwear
struggles thru the night
Underwear controls everything in the end
Take foundation garments for instance
They are really fascist forms
of underground government
making people believe
something but the truth
telling you what you can of can’t do
Did you ever try to get around a girdle
Perhaps Non-Violent Action
is the only answer
Did Gandhi wear a girdle?
Did Lady Macbeth wear a girdle?
Was that why Macbeth murdered sleep?

And the spot she was always rubbing -
Was it really her underwear?
Modern anglosaxon ladies
must have huge guilt complexes
always washing and washing and washing
Out damned spot
Underwear with spots very suspicious
Underwear with bulges very shocking
Underwear on clothesline a great flag of freedom
Someone has escaped his Underwear
May be naked somewhere
Help!
But don’t worry
Everybody’s still hung up in it
There won’t be no real revolution
And poetry still the underwear of the soul
And underwear still covering
a multitude of faults

in the geological sense -
strange sedimentary stones, inscrutable cracks!
If I were you I’d keep aside
an oversize pair of winter underwear
Do not go naked into that good night
And in the meantime
keep calm and warm and dry
No use stirring ourselves up prematurely
‘over Nothing’
Move forward with dignity
hand in vest
Don’t get emotional
And death shall have no dominion
There’s plenty of time my darling
Are we not still young and easy?
Don’t shout.

shrimps and the new yorker

(I) SOME FOOD

found online one of my favourite tukish recipes: "karides güveç" (shrimp casserole)

•4 bell peppers, finely chopped
•2 medium tomatoes or 1 tablespoon tomato paste or canned tomato
•1 bay leave, paprika, salt
•1 glass water (250ml)
•150 gr. mozzarella or kasar (cheddar) cheese
•1 tablespoon of vinegar
• olive oil
•1 kg. shrimps
•1 can of mashrooms, drained
•50 gr. butter
•1-2 cloves garlic, crushed

Wash and drain well the shrimps. Boil them for 5 minutes in water, vinegar ans salt.
Once they are cold, break the shells off.
Heat the olive oil and add crushed garlic and chopped bell peppers. Sauté for a few minutes.
Add chopped tomatoes, shrimps, mushrooms and butter. Cook for 10 minutes.
Place shrimps in an ovenproof dish with bay leave and paprika.
Pour grated cheese on top of it. Bake for approx.10mins.
Serve hot.

________________________________________________________

(II) ...AND SOME FOOD FOR THOUGHT...

spent some time tonight on the new yorker's website (www.newyorker.com) -- and was fascinated by the BEST OF 2010 section... in it - a very enjoyable link provides the list of the "songs of the year" from 1925 till 2010...the titles mentioned are the following ones - and youtbe features even a "playlist" with all the tracks featured...

1925: “Collegiate,” by Fred Waring’s Pennsylvanians
1926: “Fat Meat and Greens,” by Jelly Roll Morton
1927: “Struttin’ With Some Barbecue,” by Louis Armstrong
1928: “Statesboro Blues,” by Blind Willie McTell
1929: “That’s How I Feel Today,” by The Little Chocolate Dandies
1930: “It Happened in Monterey,” by Ruth Etting
1931: “Farewell Blues,” by Cab Calloway
1932: “Night And Day,” by Fred Astaire
1933: “Tea for Two,” by Art Tatum
1934: “Moonglow,” by Benny Goodman
1935: “I’m Gonna Sit Right Down And Write Myself A Letter,” by Fats Waller
1936: “Summertime,” by Billie Holiday
1937: “Sweet Home Chicago,” by Robert Johnson
1938: “Begin The Beguine,” by Artie Shaw
1939: “Moonlight Serenade,” by Glenn Miller Orchestra
1940: “New San Antonio Rose,” by Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys
1941: “Jumpin’ Punkins,” by Duke Ellington
1942: “Sleepy Lagoon,” by Harry James
1943: “Paper Doll,” by The Mills Brothers
1944: “Swinging on a Star (Single),” by Bing Crosby
1945: “Scorpio,” by Mary Lou Williams
1946: “Choo Choo Ch’boogie,” by Louis Jordan & His Tympany Five
1947: “Serenade of the Bells,” by Jo Stafford
1948: “Nature Boy,” by Nat King Cole
1949: “Just Friends,” by Charlie Parker
1950: “The Fat Man,” by Fats Domino
1951: “Rocket 88,” by Jackie Brenston
1952: “Lawdy Miss Clawdy,” by Lloyd Price
1953: “Your Cheatin’ Heart,” by Hank Williams
1954: “Work With Me Annie,” by Hank Ballard & The Midnighters
1955: “Folsom Prison Blues,” by Johnny Cash
1956: “Strode Rode,” by Sonny Rollins
1957: “Mona (I Need You Baby),” by Bo Diddley
1958: “Rock Billy Boogie,” by Johnny Burnette
1959: “Along Came Jones,” by The Coasters
1960: “Walk Don’t Run,” by The Ventures
1961: “Shout Bamalama,” by Otis Redding
1962: “Return To Sender,” by Elvis Presley
1963: “Be My Baby,” by The Ronettes
1964: “Nadine (Is It You?),” by Chuck Berry
1965: “I Can’t Explain,” by The Who
1966: “Day Tripper,” by The Beatles
1967: “I Heard It Through the Grapevine,” by Gladys Knight & The Pips
1968: “White Light / White Heat,” by The Velvet Underground
1969: “Israelites,” by Desmond Dekker
1970: “Spirit in the Sky,” by Norman Greenbaum
1971: “Family Affair,” by Sly & The Family Stone
1972: “Superfly,” by Curtis Mayfield
1973: “The Payback,” by James Brown
1974: “You Haven’t Done Nothin’,” by Stevie Wonder
1975: “The Ballroom Blitz,” by The Sweet
1976: “Give Up the Funk (Tear the Roof Off the Sucker),” by Parliament
1977: “Got to Give It Up—Pt. 1,” by Marvin Gaye
1978: “Miss You,” by Rolling Stones
1979: “Rock Lobster,” by The B-52’s
1980: “Cars,” by Gary Numan
1981: “Rapture,” by Blondie
1982: “Buffalo Gals,” by Malcolm McLaren
1983: “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’,” by Michael Jackson
1984: “Head Over Heels,” by The Go-Go’s
1985: “Perfect Way,” by Scritti Politti
1986: “Walk This Way,” by Run-DMC
1987: “Housequake,” by Prince
1988: “Express Yourself ,” by N.W.A.
1989: “Me Myself and I,” by De La Soul
1990: “Love Will Never Do Without You,” by Janet Jackson
1991: “Mama Said Knock You Out,” by LL Cool J
1992: “Rump Shaker,” by Wreckx-N-Effect
1993: “Return of the Crazy One,” by Digital Underground
1994: “Whatta Man,” by Salt-N-Pepa
1995: “California Love,” by 2Pac
1996: “Where It’s At,” by Beck
1997: “Hypnotize,” by The Notorious B.I.G.
1998: “Intergalactic,” by Beastie Boys
1999: “Vivrant Thing,” by Q-Tip
2000: “Music,” by Madonna
2001: “Get Ur Freak On,” by Missy Elliot
2002: “Without Me,” by Eminem
2003: “Crazy in Love,” by Beyonce, featuring Jay-Z
2004: “Yeah,” by Usher, featuring Lil Jon and Ludacris
2005: “Daft Punk Is Playing At My House,” by LCD Soundsystem
2006: “SexyBack,” by Justin Timberlake
2007: “Umbrella,” by Rihanna
2008: “Paper Planes,” by M.I.A.
2009: “Heads Will Roll,” by Yeah Yeah Yeahs
2010: “Monster,” by Kanye West, featuring Jay-Z, Rick Ross, Nicki Minaj and Bon Iver

http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=D9814090B61CF731

snow on the water, palermo and blooming briggs

(i)
in less than three days -- the temperature went from a surreal 22 degrees to a rather sudden 2 degrees...saturday morning a little magic surprised everyone. the mountains on the other side of the gulf were all dusted with snow. to see the clear emerald sea, under a slight hint of wintery white was a real sight...just beautiful. then last night a storm broke at sea -- with a very strong, blizzardy wind sounding like an old train with broken brakes...

(ii)
despite having read plenty of negative reviews - i finally got a chance of watching "palermo shooting" by wim wenders. a friend reccomended it and bought it for me. i must say i liked it - even if some undertones and metaphores are kind of over the top and overdramatised. yet, visually, musically - it is a thunder of a movie: lyrical, surreal, unconventional, dreamy and using colours and light in the most sophisticated way. must add that the main actor chose by wenders, german singer campino, is charming to say the least - in a rather scruffily manly way. pity about the too many tattooes...but cannot complain about the rather intense rest.

yesterday also watched "the end of the affair" - the second cinematic rendition of graham greene's homonymous book. i was let down by the movie just about as much as i loved greene's original work. the story remains gripping -- but there is something too distant in the acting. or perhaps greene's wry, merciless pace is quite impossible to translate into a film.

(iii)
over the weekend, in between classes... walked around the two or three streets in town that host the most "in" shops and stores... inside, scattered glimpses of christmas trees and yuletide-ness...the more global names (gap, marks and spencers, zara, mango, sephora) displaying, reassuringly, random slogans - in english - about "giving" and "what i really want for christmas..." -- right...

yeah, what do i really want for christmas??
oddly - for the past couple of days i have had just rather consummeristic hopes for the festive season and i keep on daydreaming about eccentric presents showing up around 25th: red coats, furry vests, ushankas with pon pons, beanie caps, boleros with feathers, exotic perfumes, dandy boots, retro knits with apres-ski motifs, shearling boots, angora and mohair cardigans, bobble hats, leopard-print ponyskin court shoes, lurex blazers...
but i guess father christmas is far more sensible than that... and i will need to kind of reset my daydreaming...

(iv)
A lovely thing about Christmas is that it's compulsory, like a thunderstorm, and we all go through it together.
-- Garrison Keillor "Exiles," Leaving Home (1987)--

(v)
come to think of it -- not all father christmases are sensible, reassuring specimens. one father christmas i absolutely adore is the very grumpy and super british one created by raymond briggs, a fantastic author. his 1973's "father christmas" is a total classic and portrays santa claus as a tired and unhappy old man who dreams of exotic holidays, fancy french food ("with ketchup!") and whinges peevishly about his job, the weather and...anything really.
"Blooming chimneys!!
Blooming soot!! Blooming cats!!!!

Blooming cookers!!! Grrr! Getting a blooming cold now..!"

in a "guardian" interview - the very same author writes about his 1973's character...

Father Christmas has a terrible job. Can there be anything worse? Coal mining, perhaps? But even that is a dry, warm and matey job. Whereas Father Christmas works all alone, outdoors, at night, and in the depths of winter. Half the time he is flying through the freezing air, enduring rain, snow, sleet and fog. The other half, he is slithering down soot-encrusted chimneys, breathing in clouds of coal dust.

The work is a cross between that of a sweep and a milkman, filthy dirty, cold and lonely.

What do we know about him? He has a white beard, so he must be old, well past retirement age. Also, he has been doing this job for years, so he must be fed up with it. He is bound to be grumpy.

We also know that he is fat, so he probably enjoys his food and drink.

It is a working-man's job, so he lives in a working-man's house. He has probably lived in it for most of his life, so it is very old-fashioned with few modern comforts. There is no central heating and there is still an outside lavatory.

A few peculiar people complained about seeing Father Christmas on the lavatory. One American vicar's wife wrote that she was "upset to see one of the pictures portraying Santa performing an act of personal hygiene. Also the notations indicating that he cursed. The entire story is negative and very depressing." But that was more than 30 years ago, and besides she was religious. Children love the lavatory picture. It is always their favourite bit.

My Dad appears as the milkman in the book, saying to Father Christmas: "Still at it, mate?" The milkman's van has the number plate ERB 1900, which are my Dad's initials and the year of his birth.

As Father Christmas hates the cold so much, he is bound to love warmth and the sun. His house is decorated with posters for sunny places: Majorca, Malta and Capri. This started the idea for a book about his summer holiday. After the death of my wife, Jean, kind friends asked me to their house in France. Another friend asked me to her father's house in Scotland, on the shores of Loch Fyne. This is where we regularly watched a seal swimming past the kitchen window. We also had a fright, while swimming in the loch, at seeing the fin of a shark cleaving its way towards us. Luckily, it turned out to be a harmless basking shark. So these two incidents went into the book.

Then my American publisher asked me to New York and to a conference in Las Vegas. So these three places - France, Scotland and Las Vegas - were where Father Christmas went for his summer holiday. When he arrives home, he cries: "Hooray! Home again!"

After the lunacy of Las Vegas, I felt exactly the same.

(vi)

blooming xmas shopping! blooming loud fashion (dream) buys! -- i feel like a cartoon from briggs' lovely (and real) world...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FuZlRSbTFjg&feature=related

tangerines (ten out of ten)

have no talent for statistics, but, after teaching izmir youth for more than one year now - i have started noticing that, when it comes to some topics...young people here seem to follow predictable patterns. their ideas, tastes, fears - are, in stark contrast with their european counterparts, quintessentially even, solid, untouched by any doubt and expressed with an incredible mix of candor and stubborness. after meeting many uni students and young professionals, i have come to the conclusion that about 10 out of 10 of them will (at some point) state the following:

• istanbul is too crowded and not a nice place to live;
  
• sleep is my main occupation in my spare time as i lead a very tiring life;


• life in turkey is very stressful - unbearably so;


• izmir is the best city ever. it is modern and free and there is the sea here;


• i love my country and am proud of it;


• the education system we have is unfair and terrible;


• money buys you respect in turkey;


• policemen in turkey are lazy. and corrupted;


• i am very close to my siblings and love my parents;


• jealousy is a the biggest sign of true love;


• i hate politics and i do not know much about it. but i hate our prime minister;


• our prime minister wants us to be like iran;


• i love fast food - especially burger king;


• i love starbucks;


• i love shopping malls;


• turks born in germany are not like us and are embarassing;


• european countries hate us and think turkey is like iran;


• my father's best friend lives in germany (/switzerland) and will fix a summer job for me;


• turkey's biggest problems come from america

in addition - i would also say that 10 students out of 10 tend to:

• overuse the adjective "normal" ("my week was normal...my birthday was normal...my job is normal...my holiday was normal...my boyfriend's presents are normal..." etc)


• overuse the verb "to love" ("teacher we love you... i love my friend...i love my mother... i love my boss")


• have zero interest for their political situation and seem to have a scattered knowledge about their own political parties;


• have zero knowledge about international organisations and seem oblivious to the existence (and reason for existence) of institutions like: the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund, the World Health Organisation, the European Commission, the World Intellectual Property Organisation, the United Nations Development Programme, etc;


• have a very vague knowledge of contemporary history outside of Turkish borders and seem to associate each and every country to (maximum) one historical figure. i.e.
  France -> Napoleon; Germany -> Hitler; England -> the Queen; America -> Lady Gaga; Italy -> Berlusconi.
  
• become speechless when introduced to concepts like: recycling; fair trade; sustainability; vegetarianism; organic products; green policies; sustainability;
  
• struggle majorly (and eventually give up) when confronted with notions like: gender studies; equal opportunities; parental leave for fathers; political correctness; welfare system; minority rights; international understanding; social tensions.

• look ill at ease and stern when homosexuality is brought about;


• refuse to discuss anything involving: the cyprus issue; kurds and armenians;


• appear to have an innate tendency to mocking other races and making childish jokes about them;


• melt when you say anything about -- grandparents or children;


• look lost when you explain different people in different countries have different ideas about their privacy and their private space ("why?" they ask - as they are used to a rather exuberant interpretation of privacy and etiquette).


• bring their breakfast to class (if it is early in the morning) -- usually a sesame bagel with a huge chunk of cheese.


• bring tangerines for everybody to share (if it late in the evening) and place two or three where the teacher usually sits.

walcott, brodsky, knight

LOVE AFTER LOVE - DEREK WALCOTT

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

___________________________________________________________________

A SONG - JOSEPH BRODSKY

I wish you were here, dear, I wish you were here.
I wish you sat on the sofa
and I sat near.
the handkerchief could be yours,
the tear could be mine, chin-bound.
Though it could be, of course,
the other way around.

I wish you were here, dear,
I wish you were here.
I wish we were in my car,
and you'd shift the gear.
we'd find ourselves elsewhere,
on an unknown shore.
Or else we'd repair
To where we've been before.

I wish you were here, dear,
I wish you were here.
I wish I knew no astronomy
when stars appear,
when the moon skims the water
that sighs and shifts in its slumber.
I wish it were still a quarter
to dial your number.

I wish you were here, dear,
in this hemisphere,
as I sit on the porch
sipping a beer.
It's evening, the sun is setting;
boys shout and gulls are crying.
What's the point of forgetting
If it's followed by dying?

********
AS YOU LEAVE - ETHERIDGE KNIGHT

Shiny record albums scattered over
the living room floor, reflecting light
from the lamp, sharp reflections that hurt
my eyes as I watch you, squatting among the platters,
the beer foam making mustaches on your lips.

And, too,
the shadows on your cheeks from your long lashes
fascinate me--almost as much as the dimples
in your cheeks, your arms and your legs.

You
hum along with Mathis--how you love Mathis!
with his burnished hair and quicksilver voice that dances
among the stars and whirls through canyons
like windblown snow, sometimes I think that Mathis
could take you from me if you could be complete
without me. I glance at my watch. It is now time.

You rise,
silently, and to the bedroom and the paint;
on the lips red, on the eyes black,
and I lean in the doorway and smoke, and see you
grow old before my eyes, and smoke, why do you
chatter while you dress? and smile when you grab
your large leather purse? don't you know that when you leave me
I walk to the window and watch you? and light
a reefer as I watch you? and I die as I watch you
disappear in the dark streets
to whistle and smile at the johns

600 grams tuna

*** getting the first days of chilly weather... finally! the sky is still bright blue and we are still getiing mornings full of light -- but the wind is sharper and the temperatures are definitely less summery now. there is an air out, especially when i step out in the morning or go out for a jog late in the evening that makes me feel strangely alive and kind of euphoric.

*** had my usual round of classes during the weekend and tutored a new student on sunday. he is a 25 year old former basketball player and now works as a model, while trying to finish off (not very successfully) a degree in business management. i would add he is not exactly the sharpest tool in the box and all he can talk about is his fitness schedule + "his" catwalks in istanbul + what seems like an endless list of girlfriends. on top of that -- his clothes are boy band material. think take that in the 90's or backstreet boys in one of their embarassing dance routines: white tank top, open shirt, baggy jeans, "gangsta" snickers and big watch. yesterday i nearly collapsed laughing when he informed me about his daily diet. his list went on as follows.

morning:
1 litre of milk + cornflakes (one box...500 grams)
protein shake

lunch:
600 grams of canned tuna
1 litre of milk
protein shake

dinner:
500 grams of grilled chicken
protein shake

your poor kidneys! -- i wanted to say... but then i - less humanitarianly so - noticed with a mix of horror and amusement he had a flock of in-growing hair peeking at me from his chest.

great...!

*** asked one of my groups of students to imagine they could be someone or something else for a while... "if you could be anything or anyone for a day or a week... a famous person, an animal, an object, a politician, one of your friends... who would you choose?" i thought this could be a great conversation starter - but it was received with rather lukewarm answers... some of the students who made an effort came up with things like...

- "i would love to be jessica biel (justin timberlake's girl) -- because he is gorgeous and i would love to live with him. stay in the swanky places where he stays... ";

- a rather stern guy said "i would love to be a woman for a couple of months. just to understand what women feel and how they think..." ;

- a goody-two-shoes 22 year old girl said "i just pray i could be a student somewhere else, living on my own. and free. because now i live with my parents. and they check on me all the time and my dad never lets me go out after 9 pm" ...

- the "intellectual" lad of the group said he wanted to be a stage actor for some time to perform in theatre;

- a couple of them nodded vigorously while explaining they would be "ataturk!" any day;

- a tabby, smiley girl said she dreamt about being a hero saving lives and helping the poor.

- someone commented "if you ask this question to any woman in turkey...you have to know... - any turkish woman's real wish is to be a man".

- the cutey of the class, a skinny minnie with interesting neon ear-rings and 80's hairstyle said she wanted to be a supermodel in milan for a week or so.

- a somber, shy student stated she wanted to be the "president of wall street... or some other stock exchange".

then the jessica biel wannabe (still grinning from the thought of mr timberlake) asked me what i wanted to be... and i said i had too many ideas in my head...then changed the subject by cheekily adding: "but what if justin does not shower much?" which made everyone laugh. needless to say...my mind was still having a hard time getting over the in-growing problem of mr. "600grams of tuna for lunch"...
but...
yesterday night -- as i was out jogging... i started thinking about the conversation about "being something / someone else" and could not stop coming up with ideas.
what would i be? (the wish list is endless...)

>> for a day...an actress with talent - performing on stage or working on a movie set;

>> for few hours...a professional athlete;

>> for a couple of days...kate moss twenty years ago, ten years ago and ten minutes ago;

>> for two or three hours...a swimmer in a stunning sea water pool by the ocean i saw in sydney, bondi beach;

>> for a week or so... a fly on the wall in the life of the people i do not understand. to see if they are happy. to see what their face looks like when they are at home / out having dinner / listening to their colleaugues or walking along the street by themselves;

>> for a week or so...somebody travelling a lot for their job - someone like alex, the character played by vera farmiga in "up in the air". (ok, partly because she gets george clooney...but mainly because she is uber cool).

>> for a month or so... a food writer or a food photographer;

>> for a couple of months... a professional photographer. no war zone. no fashion. no ads. no balinese landscapes. just portrayts;

>> for one day... my son. to see how he thinks. what he fears. what he likes best. how his sense of humour works;

>> for a couple of weeks... elizabeth abbott (tilda swindon in "the curious case of benjamin button") smashing fashion sense, sheer grace and amazing class;

>> for life... somebody who can speak any language in a fluent and natural way (turkish would be enough...at the moment);
((and so many other things, really...))
but -
>> for now... someone who keeps on wondering about stupid, useless questions of this kind!
(the image of that pool has fortunately replaced the in-growing hair issue...!)

*** PLUS... must now start working on other wish lists -- but of a terribly more banal (and xmas-y nature)... which i find hard to do... especially when i keep on hearing in class that "christmas is on 22nd december, teacher...but people in europe celebrate it on 31st too"

(1) woman (singular) - ...

spent some time today with a colleague to kind of cheer her up. today she had to take her elderly mother to a psychiatric hospital. her mum spent three months there a couple of years ago because of severe depression and is now being tested as, in short, she is just acting crazier and crazier by the day.

personally - while i must confess i still have a hard time accepting the self indulgent and pathetic overuse of therapy now so in vogue in the west...i have an endless respect for real mental illness and its multifolded nature.

mental illness is sad. at times, for close family members it is even sadder. i have yet to figure out how mentally ill people are treated in this country -- especially considering you see many of them roaming around town, screaming, wearing funny outfits or banging their heads on the concrete pavements. i see three or four of them every day -- they are all homeless and the state of poverty and dirt they live in is appaling to say the least.

my colleague is finding it hard to cope. to the point she feels guilty about her mum's condition and gets frustrated by her mood swings and constant telling wacky stories.

"she is just somewhere else" she said to me today, on the way back from the psychiatric hospital --

"we were in the car and as i was driving she started going on about that puppets story again". "what story is that?" i asked, half out of sincere empathy - yet half out of genuine curiosity (mad people think and feel in fascinating ways, i find).

so she told me..."ha. for quite some time now - she has been telling people she has some creatures...like...puppets...swimming and growing in her stomach. she says they move around and tell her stuff..." -

which prompted me to immediately say, pulling a stupid face - "but, I SWEAR! i do that ALL - THE - TI-MEEE....! see?" and pointed at my pregnant stomach. "there you go... you should not worry after all. she is about as nuts as i am, i promise"

which had her in stitches for a couple of minutes.

and it was kind of heartening to see her amusement - and to join in laughing for a bit.

(2) ... WOMEN (plural) ...

have no interest in feminism and feel far from political about gender issues... however -- on the world economic forum's homepage -- came across the global gender gap report (published in october 2010) and was kind of shocked.

http://www.weforum.org/en/Communities/Women%20Leaders%20and%20Gender%20Parity/GenderGapNetwork/index.htm

the report looks at issues like: wage parity, labor-force participation, career-advancement opportunities and leadership for women... and -- if you check the rankings published... it is interesting to see how different countries perform.
turkey ranks 126th!
...and italy 74th...
found these numbers rather depressing -- the rankings alone put me off reading the whole report...

feels suddenly appealing to move to countries like tanzania (66th), the kyrgyz republic (51st) or perhaps lesotho (8th)... !!?

http://www.weforum.org/pdf/gendergap/rankings2010.pdf

turkish taste buds?

bought this afternoon the latest issue of "newsweek". the title on the cover says: THE DINNER GAP... ("fine food is the new measure of the class divide")... something that inspired me some scattered reflections and random ideas -

mainly to do with the fact that - after one year in turkey - my taste buds and palate seem different...and now (kind of) accustomed to flavours i initially could not, even in my wildest dreams, expect to come to like.

my (turkish) culinary conversion has so far led me to embrace:

• tea, the way the locals drink it - strong, harsh, steaming hot. something that, in the beginning, made my stomach go veeeeeery queasy...;
• ayran -- a salty yoghurt drink that, when i first tasted it, i described as "liquid feta cheese" and kind of disliked. i now love it (to say the least) and can have it instead of water to go with any of my meals;
• turkish soda - the fizziest drink i have ever had in my entire life. when i first tried it -- it literally "stang" my tongue. i now kind of enjoy it and find it perfect to wash down practically anything...my personal favourite is the apple-flavoured one (sweet and sour);
• lemon juice added to a hot veggie soup - especially lentil and tomato soups. just lovely...
• mayonnaise in unreasonable doses. turkish people add it generously to their pizza too -- which i have yet to master...but would not completely rule out;
• the local simits (or, in izmir...gevrek) - a kind of "bagel" sold in bakeries and tiny stalls along every street. at first i found this type of bread tasteless and far too chewy... but i am a convert now, especially after discovering the flakier and softer "sutlu" (milky) variety.

but, most of all................

• the local way of having breakfast -- a feast of eggs, tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, olive paste, thickened milk cream, sesamy sauce, fresh cheese, cheese rolls, sausage, focaccia bread, honey, cherry jam, tea, hard boiled eggs, salami omelette...

however - few turkish flavours i still seem to have a (very...) hard time with:

• red meat -- a national passion i have yet to warm to... being especially immune to the charms of beef and steaks...
• the local mania for carbs and pastries -- especially the ones baked with heaps of butter;
• the countless recipes using offals, tongue, brains, liver... (just cannot. just cannot "go there"...!, honest)
• midye (mussels) - served in their shell, stuffed with a mix of raw mussel pulp, garlic and rice and sold in the street with a slice of lemon. granted that i cannot stand any kind of clams, oysters, raw seafood or mussels in general...to me seeing a street vendor of turkish midye around town is like seeing a billboard advertising hepatitis a! and this despite legions of local friends and students worshipping this delicacy and claiming they can eat up to 20, 30, 60 in a row...

will need to rephrase the newsweek's cover caption...: fine food is the new measure of the culture divide!

difficult questions (and even more difficult answers)

my students seem to grow keener and more curious about europe by the day. however - they tend to ask bizarre questions about the old continent. here is a selection of their most recent (and peculiar) dilemmas i was kind of puzzled by.

1. teacher, is it true that people in germany when they travel on the bus...they ALL read a book?
2. i have won my erasmus to go to holland and i will study at groningen university. can you suggest a nice hostel in amsterdam where i can stay? ((groningen - amsterdam by train = 2.5 hrs...))
3. they say italian people are exactly like turkish people. is this true?
4. when i was in france i had a lot of pork to eat and it was delicious. do people there eat only pork or something else too?
5. my sister lives in finland and people are cold there. very cold. like in norway and scandinavia. is it the same in london?
6. are german people racist like... hitler? or maybe... not now...? they are not now?
7. i read about berlusconi in the press and i think he is like god. he has many young girls. but...do you know how old he is?
8. when you are in holland they told me you should NEVER say 'i am a turk'...because holland people hate us. what do you think?
9. france people are arrogant and rude. i think when i go to paris if i speak english maybe they know english but they do not want to speak english. is this true?
10. i want to travel to all other countries in europe and try different food. i do not like foreign food...i only like turkish food. but i am curious. what is good to eat? or i can go mc donalds every day...

my topic for the past week flopped.
everything was based on 2010 drawing to a close and questions included:

• how would you describe your 2010 in one or two words?


• can you tell me about a very happy memory you have about 2010?


• is there a person that was especially important for you in 2010?


• is there something you would change about your 2010?


• is there one day that was very special for you in 2010?


• what did you improve in 2010 about yourself / your social life / your education?


• how will you celebrate the end of this year?


• do you have any plans / anything you cannot wait to do in the new year?

i think 9 people out of ten did believed this was a bit of a pointless series of questions -- most of them described their 2010 as: ordinary ... nooooormal ... average (which coming mainly from 20somethings left me a bit taken aback). someone made a real effort and came up with definitions like: mixed... a bit good, a bit bad...like EVERY YEAR... tiring because of studying + everyone found my concept of "self-improvement" rather elusive and mysterious and three people out of four claimed they were going to have a quiet evening in for new year's -- mostly spent with family; and engaging in activities like "eating turkey for dinner... watching tv... playing tombola... or watching a movie" -- since "celebrating the new year is unnecessary".

to be honest -- while i have very clear ideas about my 2010, my 2011 and the happy times and significant people of these past months... oh well -- i still have to figure out what these less than enthusiastic answers reveal!

surely - i sometimes dread their answers and find them a trifle boring and plain. but...at the end of the day... while i sometimes enjoy reminding myself that that flapper of zelda fitzgerald was portrayted by her sweet husband's words "she was never bored because she was never boring" -- a quick look at her biography on wikipedia is enough to learn she was in truth extremely unhappy, suffered from complexes of all kinds and was left to rot in a psychiatric ward by her (sweet only with words!) booze loving husband, the very famous creator of the great gatsby.

as most of my students would shrug it off... a tad... unnecessary - really...! (oddly enough... even tombola sounds like a better option!)

Theodore Roethke - the sloth

In moving-slow he has no Peer.
You ask him something in his Ear,
He thinks about it for a Year;

And, then, before he says a Word
There, upside down (unlike a Bird),
He will assume that you have Heard-

A most Ex-as-per-at-ing Lug.
But should you call his manner Smug,
He'll sigh and give his Branch a Hug;

Then off again to Sleep he goes,
Still swaying gently by his Toes,
And you just know he knows he knows

usage of "crowded", a red tent and the king of toothbrushes

(i)

the holiday season here is over and today everyone is back at work. our four friends said bye (the first two on tuesday, the second two yesterday) -- leaving behind a mellow feeling: it was a lovely week...perhaps the fastest of the past year. woke up today thinking it did feel like real time off -- away from everything. it is unusual for me to feel that about a holiday... a good sign, i guess -- but i am going to miss having friends around. on one hand it may be tiring: with all the preps, the tidying up, the cooking, planning and trying to be cheerful and welcoming all the time... but on the other it is amazing to have a different vibe around the house; listen to different stories and see beautiful places in good company.

we enjoyed amazing weather (verging on 25 degrees...!) which made our day trips look like easter family outings... and we also enjoyed great food and fab sightseeing. everyone said they were expecting turkey to be a great place to visit -- but all commented they were mostly impressed by how nice, friendly and cheerful turkish people are.

i always love to have guests - i love to treat and surprise them. plus, whenever i have any kind of personal interaction i always end up realising that what people need the most is a mix of attention, care and the knowledge they are being listened to. hardly ever for advice, really -- mainly for a wish to share and "let stuff out"... ((come to think of it -- the same quite often happens in your professional life too...with colleagues, students, employers, etc.)) i have a huge respect for this type of dynamics and try my best to keep my ears (and heart) available and alert. my idea is that the more diversity of messages you take in and reflect on -- the more you keep your own diversity alive...preserving your more empathetic, bubbly and curious side...keeping it on the lookout for whatever may come along.

in addition to that -- i do think different people put together (even at random) naturally create an "esprit de corp" that provides an endless stock for a good laugh and a taste of how mellow and actually light this wacky life can be.

p.s. it seems poignant to add that as a memento of turkey each and every kind guest was given a family pack of toothbrushes from leading local brand "BANAT" - to me a product that is the epitome of technological emancipation here. i did however spare everyone my initial plan to pair the "banat" gift pack with the interestingly named "CANDIDA" whitening toothpaste...

(ii)

now that the turkish "holiday season" with all the religious festivals is up... i may have to think to arrange something for "our" christmas in turkey... which, as experienced last year, is a rather tamed kind of affair... however - am already focusing on the presents' side of things... and found the thing i really wanted for my 3 year old... a bright red camping tent. it is a tiny, igloo shaped tent -- ...i had been after something like this for months. as a child, i seemed to have a predilection for sleeping everywhere apart from my own bed - and would daydream about camping somewhere (even on the kitchen floor!) or building shelters up some tree... i guess my "hunt for the red tent" sprang from all these "tom sawyer"-fuelled childhood fantasies! will now need to create some special pantomime around the unusual christmas present. hope my little one warms to the enthusiasm...

(iii)

have recently developed an unprecedented fascination with new york and hope to travel there at some point. never had this urge before -- but may start to collect infos and tips on the big apple and eventually check it out for myself. all those don delillo and paul auster reads on n.y. may be contagious after all, i figure!

(iv)

realised by reading my students' essays yesterday evening that turkish people use the adjective "crowded" when they actually mean "impossibly messy; unbearably swarming with people; loud; out of control; insane; devastatingly chaotic and hopelessly noisy"... they in fact use "crowded" to describe wild packs of people; unruly hoards of hooligans; the traffic in istanbul and buses they never manage to catch because of the legions of people already on them; the local market populated by screaming masses and the public offices clogged with queues and angry faces. "crowded"... they say. so to speak...

(v)

was intensely engaged in my daily jog yesterday when some guy stopped me by frantically waving his arms in the air. paused my ipod (and legs) for a second and looked at him in puzzlement. "any problem?" i mumbled - expecting some major emergency on the way. he produced a digital camera and asked "no...no problem. but... can you take my picture for my girlfriend?" which sounded surreal and in truth demanded some kind of (dignified... if not offended) reaction like "can't you see i am running? / busy? / exercising?"

but somehow managed to make me laugh. that's the thing about turkey that always manages to amuse me immensely -- how unhinged and (very!) random people and things here can be. i believe my students would dismiss it as a very "crowded" matter...

(vi)

keep on thinking about a quote from "looking for eric" by ken loach. "...she nourishes everything she touches" -- which is used to describe a woman and her caring, sweet attitude to things and others. i find it very beautiful. deep but gentle. it is hard to find women you would use those words for - and perhaps it would be lovely to described like that.

(vii)

on the less sweet side -- went back to listening to loads of franz ferdinand's music. terrific stuff. i remember seeing them in concert in singapore and have always been a fan. some of their lyrics kill me.

(viii)

hope to make it to the pool today and forget for a couple of hours it is actually monday... no more mellow thoughts and after thoughts... no more friends around... alas...

...just hope the swimming pool will not be too... C R O W D E D.

i like the way, the way you shake...

the weather we are getting these days could not be any more lovely than this -- there is always a perfect light, a shy but warm sun and a fantastic, chilly breeze at night. i love it.

just got back from tiny birthday party at my son's kindergarden and - like for other occasions of the same kind - ... i was stunned by the too funny for words choice of music. apart from dreary turkish pop -- people here seem to love rap and r 'n b music... and the kindergarden teachers are no exception. the only problem is that none of them know any english whatsoever - and so i am the only one slightly amused (for the wrong reasons) when i look at the wild bunch of three years old dancing like crazy and wiggling their mini-hips to lyrics like

"...i like the way...the way you shake your ass around me..."

or
"she is a monster...and i need her...and i want her...she is a monster -- but i don't mind".
oh well, i should not mind either.

the arrival of our guests in a couple of days has sent me in absolute overdrive about fixing things around the house -- so we had a couple of handymen over yesterday...+ am waiting for two more now and i have already endured a frantic trip to the local ikea.

it is hilarious to deal with any plommer / technician here... - partly because of my rather comedy turkish, partly because when (if) they show up - they usually arrive two hours late, enter and ask for tea before saying "hi" and - since you are clearly a foreigner (no bloody way to disguise it!) - try to cheat on the price...making any 40 liras become 65 all of a sudden.

received a call from a friend from rome yesterday and learnt there is a chance we are going to have visitors for new year's too. am so excited and happy i can hardly find the words to express it.

on the other hand - with christmas approaching - few of my foreign friends here are actually leaving turkey...and tonight there is going to be a small farewell do for a couple of them. it is sad to see them go, really. most of the american and english teachers i have met here so far are lovely people, with a real "can do" attitude and a sweet, gregarious sense of life. which is rare - and refreshing to say the least.

must dash now and fetch a couple of plants for my ever temperamental balcony. had placed two gigantic, very thorny / threatening looking fat plants at the entrance of the spot where the pigeons nested last year -- only to find out the evil beasts resorted to use another corner to nest once again... blast!
as mentioned earlier... perhaps "i should not mind either".
and ... i guess... will (happily) settle for that...

all i want for christmas is a babirusa

christmas is round the corner... even if i need to remind myself of it -- as here there is (and will be) no sign, no decoration, no jingle, no supermarket's bargain, no ad on tv...no nothing - to actually remind us of the festive season.

which is not too bad, after all -- i must admit...since i have always partly dreaded all the forced loveliness of it all; not to mention the compulsory family do's and gatherings one is forced and expected to attend...putting a brave smile and oddly feeling 15 again. and awkward and grumpy again.

as i was coming back home tonight -- as i said hello to the street vendor selling roasted chestnuts in the street -- perhaps mellowed by his smile and the amazing aroma his stall was spreading in the neighbourhood... i found myself thinking about winter holidays... wondering whether there had ever been a time when i had actually loved christmas. overall, if i look back to my childhood i get glimpses of my scary paternal grandmother offering stale candies; my parents quarreling over everything and a constant feeling of uneasiness. then, if i look back to my teenage years...i, once again... get glimpses of my scary paternal grandmother offering stale candies; my parents quarreling over everything and a constant feeling of boredom. and uneasiness too -- that one never left...i would still feel it today, am sure.

but yes -- there was a time when i actually could not wait for christmas. for some unknown reasons, in 1986 and 1987 -- i actually spent my christmas away from my family. my parents, perhaps for motives they would not even discuss now -- let me spend the holiday with my godfather's family. my godfather, g., a withdrawn, skinny and soft spoken man was a colleague of my father and had a beautiful house lost on a plateau next to the border with slovenia. he had two daughters, who were 4 and 2 years my senior; owned a wire-haired german dachsund named bernie and two extremely furry cats. he was the only member of his family who was not working as a zoologist, park naturalist or ethologist -- but he was a fond hunter, knew everything about the wildlife; all exitsting species of trees, animals and plants - and, the son of a painter, he had a gift for sketching animals, especially foxes, badgers, deers and pheasants. a rather hemingway-esque type of charcter - g. spoke very rarely and, when he did, he would do it in a very funny nasal pitch, almost like a reluctant child.

his clothes had something foreign and out of fashion about them - and, especially when he decided to venture out with bernie -- he looked like a prussian junker on his way to meet otto von bismarck for a beer.

to me - he and his family were the epitome of happiness. their home and the immense garden around it, skirted by a silver grey wood of oaks -- were, to my 8 years old eyes, the sound proof that life could! at the end of the day be a very full and...free affair.

so, when his wife convinced my mother to allow me to spend the winter holidays with them -- i nearly had a heart attack because of such a massive and unexpected overload of delirious joy.

what swept me off my feet about g's family was their playfullness, their constant use of invented, improvised terms of endearment; their enthusiasm for walking for hours outdoor - just for the sake of it. their absolutely unusual way of setting priorities about life: sports came first; then travelling; then reading; then organising gregarious gatherings and trekking outings with friends. their circle of friends was unusually and bizarrely mixed - when they were all thrown together - they hardly had anything in common and it was strange to see them actually getting along and enjoying themselves nevertheless.

g's wife was a smiley woman with cheeks that looked like bubblegum and bouncy blonde hair. she always looked like someone who is about to burst out laughing and had the most wonderful of voices. their daughters were very funny and bubbly and together we used to invent nicknames for all the people we knew. most of the times -- these nicknames had some zoological inspiration...and even when we were "cursing" or mocking each other - we would come up with stuff like "hey, stop being a babirusa!" which to me was sheer genius.

their house smelt like dog at the main door; wood in the living room; old moss in the kitchen; and toasted bread in the dining area. the two daughter's room was up in the wooden garret - to me an enchanted space where the shadows of the closeby woods and the noise of the wind through the dry grass outside created a magical universe i had only read about in adventure books.

in my memories, those two christmases are most precious and special. looking back -- spending time in such a different and in such a differently serene and bubbly atmosphere - had me feeling so alive and happy i was almost afraid to breathe.

the rest of christmases i have had -- oh well...

very VERY babirusa stuff.

funny one (by will self)

My wife told me recently that “panini” is a malapropism, being the plural rather than the singular. Think about it: every time you ask for “a panini”, you are in fact requesting several of these inoffensively phallic snacks, or speaking complete nonsense – depending on which way you want to look at it. Either way, you’re giving Italian-speaking café workers an opportunity to snigger at you behind their polythene-gloved hands as they take sundried tomatoes from one Tupperware container, mozzarella from the next, pastrami from a third, and incorporate them into the eponymous white roll.

Not that anyone could be that sad – even though Italian amour propre can be staggering, especially when it comes to the English, whose style every self-respecting Italian intellectual seeks shamelessly to emulate. I well recall meeting my Italian ex-publisher for the first time. We’d arranged to rendezvous at a pub in Kensington, and as I came cycling down the road I saw a man wearing brown corduroy trousers, a tweed jacket, a Viyella shirt and brogues. I pulled up beside him and said: “You must be my Italian publisher,” at which salutation he jumped about a foot in the air, yelping: “But ‘ow deed you know?” I can’t remember if on that occasion Carlo Brugnatelli and I ate panini – but I doubt it, as we were at a gastropub and the ethos of such establishments couldn’t be further from this foodstuff: gastropubs disguise continental European mores in the tweedy fug of the saloon bar, while panini are basically just ham-and-cheese sandwiches by Emporio Armani.

No wonder they’ve taken over the country. There’s this whiff of pseudo-sophistication about them; but more than that, they’re firm, warm and portable, and by some weird sleight-of-mind they allow otherwise health-conscious Brits to ignore that they’re eating a huge chunk of white bread. Not that warmth is intrinsic to the panino; in Italy they’re just as frequently served cold, becoming by the absence of heat and pressure merely a regional variant on the pan-European baguette. Indeed, the Italian colloquialism for a toasted panino is quite simply “toast”, yet another example of Italians’ devotion to lo stile degli inglesi.

Listen, far be it from me to promote any culinary nationalism. Quite self-evidently, as it is to all aspects of culture, so it is even more so to cuisine. Were it not for the Italian POWs who stayed behind after the Second World War and opened ice-cream parlours, cafés and chip shops, entire swaths of Caledonia would be uninhabitable due to the ghastliness of the indigenous diet. (The same is true for the rest of the Union, too.)

No less a thinker than Michael Gove has called for greater emphasis on the narrative history of these islands, and appointed no less a historian than Simon Shawarma-Kebab to smear wholesome dripping on the national Hovis. Shawarma-Kebab would do well to begin with snacking; after all, it was a noble Englishman – the Earl of Sandwich – who invented the sandwich. True, I find it impossible to imagine His Lordship’s eureka moment without recalling Woody Allen’s inspired riff on the subject: “1745: After four years of frenzied labour, he is convinced he is on the threshold of success. He exhibits before his peers two slices of turkey with a slice of bread in the middle. His work is rejected by all but David Hume, who senses the imminence of something great . . .”

But there’s nothing risible about the modern British sandwich, which has done everything in its power to keep abreast with the times by incorporating ingredients, from tandoori chicken to hummus to salt beef, into all manner of breads – seeded, sourdough, pumper-fucking-nickel.

And yet . . . and yet . . . It’ll take more than Gove’s planet-sized percipience to prevent the sense of presque vu we all still have, even when biting into a marinaded fugu with julep and endive on manna. For, somewhere not far from the tip of our collective tongue is a recollection of that national humiliation – the soggy beige triangle of unwonderful loaf, seamed with bilious cheese and garnished with wilted lettuce and E coli. We long to escape the cold misery of the sandwich, just as our valiant forefathers longed to escape Colditz. And so it is, that when we find ourselves at the lunch counter, we cast aside all thoughts of patriotism and call for panini. Lots of them.

10 + 2 + 3 (talking movies)

it is sunday, early morning and i am still half asleep! was in the other room trying to organise our dvd's and while reading some titles i started thinking what movies i enjoyed the most in the latest months.

since moving here -- we have been watching loads - some outstanding and some less memorable ones. had i to say the ones that really impressed me i would mention:

1. the lives of others (oscar winning german film. a masterpiece. a very complex, unforgettable number mixing tragedy and poetry, chilling violence and enduring love);

2. hiroshima mon amour (a deep elegy on how war can bring together and break in the same measure otherwise distant lives);

3. the man who loves (italian movie -- whose only flaw lies in the unnecessary casting of monica bellucci. an everyday story told in sequences that develop in an unexpected game of chinese boxes. beautiful, gripping acting - with the added value of spanish actress marisa paredes, a personal favourite).

4. up in the air (witty, bittersweet portrayt of modern loneliness in the corporate world. george clooney delivers a great performance here).

5. genoa - by michael winterbottom (starts off as a too sad for words tale on loss -- goes on to place the characters in an unusually realistic corner of italy -- finishes with a touch of hope and joy. splendid portrayt of two daughters).

6. the burning plain (from the same director of memorable 21 grams. painful and tragic, heartbreaking. charlize theron kills you with her self destructive character who finds a reason for redemption only at the very end. the movie is shot beautifully -- with incredible oregon landscapes in its first half).

7. dan in real life (ok, definitely a happy-ending cum happy-family package - but boy, did i laugh. it is witty, it is sweet, it is very much on the "feel good" comedy side. fantastic soundtrack too. and directed by much gifted peter hedges).

8. looking for eric (by ken loach -- fab working class tale filled with humour and wackiness and revolving around the character of eric, a hapless manchester lad who starts picturing his all time favourite football hero, flamboyant eric cantona, as his "guardian angel" in his messy, unhinged life. very funny, very touching, very upbeat).

9. the bank job (unbelievable movie based on even more unbelievable (real) event: the 1971 baker street robbery in central london. this movie is a winner for action and suspense and could well be described as some kind of ocean's eleven type of thing - only with more gripping, sharper and british-ly cooler atmosphere and pace).

10. comandante (documentary by oliver stone. this one is a quirky gem: an interview of cuban leader fidel castro. sparkles of undoubted charisma mingle with hallucinating rethorics. fascinating and different).

had i to extend this list - i would definitely add:

........the boy in the striped pajamas - a movie on the holocaust seen through the innocent eyes of a child. devastating ending.

........billy elliot - unusual, sweet tale on the ballet dreams of a young working class boy from sheffield - during the miners' strike of 1984.

plus --- three movies that i have enjoyed watching again:

-- elegy (ben kingsley is incredible. and this love story will always make me cry like a baby)

-- the curious case of benjamin button (dreamy, epic. a fab fairytale)

-- bridget jones' diary (cult comedy about how dysfunctionally irresistible 30something gals can be - without losing their self irony).

haircuts are OUT

by the way... i am pregnant at the moment -- which feels like a rather daft thing to say, like that, just out of the blue. even face to face or in person -- i tend to skip the topic altogether and have some kind of allergy to showing off the fact i am expecting...out of reservedness, i figure -- but also out of the conviction most people have zero time and real interest to actually put up with your detailed reports on monthly scans, amusing (right...) tales on gastric reflux and your belief epidural should be promoted by the international court for human rights...somehow, even if i am 8 months pregnant as of today...pregnancy to me still does not seem like a relevant thing to share much either in everyday life... or on this blog. however, having said that... my fondness for lists has kind of got the better of me...to the extent that i have reached the conclusion that...a tad of interest in the whole thing may perhaps arise from some notes on what i see as the pros and cons -- for a foreigner -- to experience pregnancy in this country.

so...

my five (5) pros would read as follows:

1. the attitude turkish people have towards children and little ones. i find it full of optimism, enthusiasm and genuine joy.

2. the quality of medical care you get and the impeccable ethics doctors have here.

3. the social and cultural approach people have towards pregnancy and childhood. meaning: there is a slightly fuddy-duddy sense of poetry everyone associates to either of the two -- which is so passe, alright...but interestingly unusual. i have noticed even young people and teenagers tend to smile and stare with starry eyes when they see a pregnant woman...while in other parts of the world being preggers has kind of become the ultimate act of de-womanisation. during one break at school i was approached by one of my students, a 21 year old lad -- who had the urge to inform me that "in our religion we believe that women have heaven under their feet...because they can be mothers"... which perhaps may sound melodramatic -- but meant to be sweet and kind. (and was received as such).

4. because of my limited turkish -- the only job i can actually have here is a teaching one. and a part time one. what a blessing! i have realised very soon that experiencing a pregnancy while working only few hour a day is an amazing luxury.

5. people sometimes use the expression "slow food" for lovingly crafted cuisine... and i sometimes think you could label life here as "slow life". there is no rush, there is no hurry, people love to keep it relaxed and laid back -- if not slacky and a bit lazy. as indulgent as it may sound -- it is the ideal dimension for the early days of a new life. plus...because of how simple (and slow!) many things are...people are still foreign to trends that seem to have taken by a storm american and european families -- cajoling them into enlightening pedagogical, nutritional and educational methods to raise better, more gifted, more self aware, more "competitive" offsprings. turkey is still very far from this type of scenario...and maintains a no-nonsense approach to kids...perhaps sticking only to two general principles:

you should shower them with unconditional love; and -- if you do not understand them 100%...oh well, boot them out in the open air and "things will work out". which is not exactly super deep -- but seems like a happy alternative after all...

on the other hand... my five (5) cons about being pregnant in turkey would be:

1. everybody touches you! everyone. from the wife of your colleague to the lady selling you bread; to the primary school kid you are giving private lessons to. everyone seems to have the irresistible urge to rub your stomach, touch your face, hug you, lift your sweater, parade you holding you by the shoulders. this bit i must say i kind of hate!

2. a slight, puzzling ignorance about any medical knowledge on what one should do vs. avoid when pregnant. everyone here seems to believe being pregnant implies you HAVE TO stuff your face 24/7; spend your afternoons sleeping; gain an average of 25 to 35 kilos and indulge in sweets, french fries and heaps of chocolate; avoid ANY form of exercise (god forbid) and take a cab even if you have to go somewhere one block away.

3. the rather poor choice of prams / strollers and some routine maternity buys. streets here do not offer a smooth ride (to say the least) -- yet... most toddlers are pushed around in prams of the same (shaky, tiny, uncool) type i used for my favourite doll when i was at kindergarden. bizarre.

4. any kind of involvement of your male significant other in any of the sequences of the pregnancy is doomed to be blasted as an eccentric, useless, abnormal bout. deep down, my feeling is that the culture here expects women to crucify themselves over maternity (and family in general). men should be left out of any of it -- and simply make sure to express their manly pride, best if while smoking their 56th cigarette of the day.

5. the comedy pieces of advice you receive by passers by in the street, by the lady queueing up behind you at starbucks, by the guy selling roasted chestnuts below your house, by the young girl waiting next to you for the green light at the crosscroad close to your job.

indispensable tips collected so far include.
-- (pointing at your (very normal) handbag): you should not carry weights!

-- in turkey we say that pregnant women should eat all the food that comes into their sight, at all times!

-- (pointing at your glass of apple spritzer): you should not drink alcohol!

-- (pointing at your cup of tisane): you should not drink caffeine!

and

-- ((the most gothic of all...so far...but i still have two months to go!))

"when you are pregnant you should never get a haircut. if you cut your hair -- you will shorten your baby's life!"