Monday, 22 March 2010

sunday blues, sunday bums

(i)
on mondays around this time of the morning i usually head to the swimming pool. but today nico is not 100% and fell asleep on the sofa as we were listening to "parachutes", coldplay's first album.
so i just grabbed the pc and am now typing this as he is next to me, looking like an exhausted badger curled up in his winter lethargy. "parachutes" is still playing and i will be forever surprised at how amazing early coldplay music sounds...while their latest albums seem just so very predictable...
(ii)
always have a hard time feeling energetic on sundays. the fact i now work on sundays does not change much this - and i walk to school every sunday morning feeling forlorn and grumpy... oh, so grumpy.
i still do manage to blag my way through all the atrocious niceties of the teachers' room - but i tend to hang out very little there. i still find the working attitude here rather bizarre and verging on the crazy / moody /bitchy / jealous / aggressive and temperamental - which might have to do with the fact that most teachers are women.
most working women in this country enjoy diplaying mannerisms and attitudes i have seen in some over the top american mafia movies where everyone is supposed to bow and kiss the feet (and hands and cheeks) of someone imitating (and unsuccessfully so) robert de niro in the Godfather.
i have kind of come to the conclusion women here are still living the very early stages of emancipation on the job and therefore assume they have to behave with the same hideous bravado they have been given for centuries by their fierce men, trying hard to look as arrogant, crucially pissed off and vain as possible.
the main result for me is that, during breaks, i take long...loong visits to the Ladies.
toilets are a great place to disappear in.
some kind of handy no-man's-land.
a cubicle of neutrality.
the switzerland of all offices.
(iii)
despite constantly being in a fowl mood on sunday mornings - i must admit i absolutely adore my sunday morning class. they are everything you can feel partial to in a group of young people: chirpy, curious, naive, sweet, genuine and at times awkward and clumsy.
as stroppy as i can feel on a sunday morning - they always manage to disarm any sad thought.
yesterday the topic for the class was horribly serious and had to do with putting together public presentations in three different areas:
1) giving information;
2) creating comparisons;
3) explaining cause and effect processes.
as i was about to tackle number 2 with some notes on the whiteboard - i watched from the corner of my eye two girls rolling up their sleeves and comparing their arms very intentely.
i could not help but smile.
"don't tell me you are talking about waxing while i am here like an idiot talking about TEXT ORGANISATION..." i said, rather amused - while the boys in the room rolled their eyes to the ceiling.
"can we see yours?" the two girls asked, half laughing.
to which i obliged.
"you have no!" one of them said.
"i have no what? no skin? no arms? no what?" i pretended not to understand.
"no, i mean, we cannot see hair on your arms. i have a lot" one of the two girls said.
"but that's because i take it off. ever heard of epilators? like...machines to wax it off?" i said, finding them sort of sweet as they listened with eyes wide wide open to my absolute revelation.
"no...no...if you do that - i mean - the machine...it gives you ACNE" one of them complained with a worried face.
hilarious, i thought..."acne? on your forearms? you must be kidding" i replied "who told you that?" i then asked.
"my cousin" she told me, to which i kind of concluded "i can promise you that there are more chances of getting acne on your butt than on your forearms" - which seemed to finally involve and amuse the boys in the class.
and, before anyone started asking questions about pimples on bum cheeks...
i turned to the whiteboard and wrote - "DEFINING CONTRAST".

Sunday, 21 March 2010

POINT MIRABEAU


Under the Mirabeau Bridge there flows the Seine
Must I recall
Our loves recall how then
After each sorrow joy came back again

Let night come on bells end the day
The days go by me still I stay

Hands joined and face to face let’s stay just so
While underneath
The bridge of our arms shall go
Weary of endless looks the river’s flow

Let night come on bells end the day
The days go by me still I stay

All love goes by as water to the sea
All love goes by
How slow life seems to me
How violent the hope of love can be

Let night come on bells end the day
The days go by me still I stay

The days the weeks pass by beyond our ken
Neither time past
Nor love comes back again
Under the Mirabeau Bridge there flows the Seine

Let night come on bells end the day
The days go by me still I stay

Friday, 19 March 2010

brilliant brilliant brilliant brilliant brilliant brilliant


Louis MacNeice (Snow)

The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and pink rose against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener than we fancy it.

World is crazier and more of it than we think,
Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion
A tangerine and spit the pips and feel
The drunkenness of things being various.

And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world
Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes --
On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of one's hands--
There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.

Thursday, 18 March 2010

books on heroine (s) 1971



found out that there is actually a small library at the school. before i could get excited about it - i realised by looking at the half empty shelves that most of the titles could make the day only of a 6 year old living in norwich during the 1950s.

they are all very old volumes - children stories.

"black beauty" stood out as a remarkable and daring title - and i reckon that really says it all!


yet, faced with this odd literature selection... i ended up turning the pages of a rather daunting tome, bearing the title "2ND BOOK OF HEROINES, 1971".

in it, propaganda-like pages put one next to the other the likes of lady jane grey, novelist george sand, maria theresa, charlotte bronte, elizabeth the first, elizabeth fry...etc.

the headings of the chapters are one better than the other - and all sounding extremely matronising.
e.g. -
"marie antoinette - SHE LIVED FOOLISHLY, BUT DIED BRAVELY".


mysteriously - the book also dedicates praises and plauses to the following HEROINES:

- sappho (?!)

- shirley temple (...tip tap might be a form of martyrdom, after all)

- the norwegian icea skater sonja henie (well, she married three times...)

- pat smythe and her pony bubbles (...right...)


i think elizabeth the first and mother theresa would approve...

Wednesday, 17 March 2010

very american, very gay, very happy


still chilly and windy here - but with the brightest sun shining.

i have come to the conclusion that you can tell with a fair amount of precision that nicer weather is coming when you see the wives of the american soldiers posted here parading towards starbucks wearing jeans and flip flops on their bare feet.

it works better that any weather forecast!

(i)

today our housekeeper asked me if she could borrow a dvd from us and she picked "hamam" by ferzan ozpetek.

"is it nice?" she asked, with hopeful eyes.
which prompted a perfect example of how neanderthalian my turkish is.
knowing she is very religious and easily shocked - i tried to explain (a) the gay element in the movie; (b) that she was going to find amusing the part in which the rather stern and stiff italian wife visits istanbul and hates the lavish breakfast she is offered.

so i said... "movie nice - but - very gay...because - ozpetek very gay. italian man - from rome - go - istanbul...comedy part - breakfast - italian wife - (voice imitation) - breakfast turkey - too much food".

she gave a confused smile and took the dvd despite the "very gay" warning.
not to mention my scary butchering of the turkish language.

(ii)

today, as we were strolling by the sea, nico said "look, i catch the wind with my mouth" while parting his lips as far as he could.

i think it was graham greene that explained...
"nothing really happens after one's first twelve years"
how pefectly true.
how inevitably beautiful.

Tuesday, 16 March 2010

green days

it is march...but the temperature suggests it is kind of "january - part 2".
the sky is amazingly bright and the wind blows fast and sharp.
when i drop by our house around this time of the (late) afternoon i love the noises the wind makes around the old building where we are staying.
bangs...hisses... and whimpers...it feels like there is some ghost knocking at our door.

and when somebody uses the elevator (that, like most lifts here in turkey, does not have a door...so when you come up you just see the floors sliding before your eyes) you can feel a series of sudden jolts and clanks...like an old tin train breaking down.
and right under your feet, picture that!

we have a "family" of pigeons that have nested on our balcony - something that i initially found filthy and appaling (to say the least) - ...yet i have done nothing to send them away.
turkish people say everything is meant to be.
and, perhaps out of tireness - on this matter i seem to comply with the rather inshallah-inspired way of thinking of the locals.
it somehow seems like a good idea, after all.

had a class last night that was meant to start at 7 pm but could not - as, inexplicably, as we entered we found a man armed with a blowtorch and a huge mask (and sparks and smoke and an earpiercing noise) working on the air conditioning unit.
but with such whim and violence that he looked like a murderer.
i love these situations - especially because my turkish students never look surprised - not even slightly surprised. whereas i cannot avoid making aghast faces / worrying / fearing this is all some kind of candid camera exercise and i sort of want it to...end.
"10 minutes. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. maaaaybe" my students reassured me and made a beeline for the dreary coffee machine we have in the lobby.
i loove their MAAAAAYBEEEEEE's.

and, indeed...MAAAAAYBEEEE i...
...i kind of looked at the blowtorch a bit too long, i think.
"i might use that for the bloody pigeons" i thought for a second or two, staring blankly (and through the sparks) at a nasty tattoo the man had on one of his bushy forearms.
vote for pigeon-cide!!

maaaaaaybeeeeee.
or maybe not.
as EVERYTHING is meant to be.

yes...everything is...

even if it too often comes in the shape of green, splattered bird poo.