teary

I'm a little ashamed to admit that I've become a weepy, teary-eyed sap as I've gotten older (I hate to be able to tag that onto the end of any sentence...gotten older. It sounds so foreboding). When I was a child, I prided myself on the fact that I rarely cried, unless I was really sad about something or  induced into a fitful rage, at which point tears were an inevitable result of not being able to lash out in the way I wanted to. My momma was tough and didn't cry; I was tough and didn't cry. That didn't mean I wasn't still very sensitive. I was. I just didn't like to show it.

My best friend Jay would cry during a Hallmark commercial, a sappy chick flick, in church, or during a good song. And she always did it so gracefully. Her eyes were never puffy and her nose never turned red. Maybe her mascara smeared a little, but it somehow managed to make her look more radiant. Jay could shed a tear with beauty and grace; sophistication, even.

But not I. Which, since I never cried, meant it wasn't much of an issue. But nowadays, I get choked up all the time...during movies, plays (like last night when we were at A Christmas Carol at Ford's Theater), books, when singing particular songs (let me just add that it is really hard to sing and cry at the same time. It usually comes out as a very unattractive sob, just hopefully not on a high note), and yes, even occasionally during a sentimental commercial. But this is new territory for me, this letting my emotions actually reach the surface, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. If nothing else, it seems I need to buy some waterproof mascara.

Gen Y

Before you read any of this post, please take this (possibly overly) simplistic quiz and find out in which generation you fit according to your beliefs, not age. My score was 70, making me a pretty solid Millennial; what's yours?

Last week one of the lectures in one of my textbooks covered the topic of Generation Y (Millennials). It was actually really interesting and I learned all sorts of things (which is one of the joys of being an ESL teacher- I get to study and teach science, history, culture, economics, sociology, etc, and language). For instance, the average Millennial spends at least $30 at the mall every time s/he visits (which is often).  They're very close to their families and usually get along pretty well with their parents; they value time with family and success in marriage far more than success in their career. They are less white than any generation before. They love to have fun. They consider themselves to be pretty tolerant of everything from interracial relationships to religion to sexual orientation. They're well educated, especially the girls. Anyway, you can read the full, and very long, report from the Pew Research Center here.

So I had my students take the quiz--most of them scored somewhere in the Millennial range of 60-80 with a few around 95 (not surprisingly, those are the students whose phones I'm constantly collecting for texting during class) and a few with the scores of Baby Boomers--and then we spent some time in class discussing what it meant to be a Millennial and the differences between us and previous generations.  They were extremely enthusiastic during our discussion, possibly because it meant they got to talk about themselves more, but they brought up some good points.

Most of them said that the one thing they felt was most unique about them compared to their parents' generation was the use of technology. One student agreed that Millennials like to have fun but was concerned that it meant that Millennials are lazy. He's not, he assured me (which is true), but maybe Millennials enjoy leisure so much to the point of making it detrimental to society. I think he's on to something. Millennials are lacking the work ethic that abounded during the time of the Baby Boomers. It may be better that we're not raising another generation of workaholics, but worrisome that we might be lazy entitled piles.

I was surprised that several of my non-Muslim students (from mostly Catholic countries) thought it was ok to date someone of another religion, but definitely not marry that person. I think most young Americans are fine with interracial/religious dating and marriage, and I actually think it's beneficial for society to mix and mingle...which is another thing that makes me a Millennial, I suppose.

Anyway. I was wondering what you thought.  Regardless of whether or not you are one, what do you think is good/bad about Millennials?

One more thing. As I was reading up on Gen X and Y and Baby Boomers, I kept wondering how we all turned out the way we did. What was it in the way our parents taught us or what teachers said at school or what we saw on Sesame Street that helped form our belief system? I was a little offended that I too, fit fairly nicely into a category along with everyone else. I hate that the little voice in my head that shouts "But I'm different!" is wrong.

PRISENCOLINENSINAINCIUSOL

I know I haven't posted anything worthwhile lately, and unfortunately today won't be any different (or maybe it's fortunate; what I'm about to show you is much cooler than anything I could say on my own). If you recall from last year, I posted a video with fake English, giving native English speakers the opportunity to "hear" what English sounds like to the rest of the world. This little gem below is a song written by an Italian pop star 40 years ago. Some say it was the world's first rap song; I say it's just fantastic.

Read more about the song on npr's article here.

debate debacle

I made the mistake of watching the debate last night, or rather part of it since I couldn't take it anymore after 40 minutes. The particular news site I was using to stream the debate also happened to have an opinion poll on the same page. It allowed you to indicate how strongly you agreed or disagreed with what was being said while showing the average responses as they were being sent in, which meant that you could really get the flavor of the mood of the audience. What really irked me was that when either candidate stood up, before he had even begun speaking, the tracker would drastically swing to agree or disagree depending on who was speaking, clearly revealing them as partisan hacks who didn't give a damn about the issues or the words that were coming out of the candidates' mouths. They had already made up their mind about what they theought about each candidate before either of them had even begun to answer a question.

I'm disappointed, but not surprised, by the American people. Don't they care about the issues? Can't they wait a few moments to hear out the arguments on the other side and think about things rationally?

And this is what I hate about politics. Too many people choose a candidate based solely on political party and then automatically discount what the other side says because they're the other side. When election time rolls around, a politician who works well with someone of the opposite party is suspected as being a turncoat- too liberal or too conservative. Romney has to appeal to conservative extremists to get a nomination and then fall back to moderate once it comes to national elections. Obama is expected to completely turn around the economy in 4 years...etc, etc, etc. It's all just silly. Asinine. Infuriating.

I wish Nader were running again.

the giggler

The concept of classroom cohesion in ESL classes is quite mind boggling when you really think about it. You're take 15+ students from different countries with as different backgrounds as you can imagine, stick them in the same room 4 hours a day, and tell them not only to work well together, but to be friends, ideally in and out of the classroom. And I, as the teacher and language expert, am the great friendship facilitator. Sometimes my job is easy--my students are actually interested in life outside of themselves, and I don't really have to do much to encourage them to expand their social circle to include each other. Their language skills improve rapidly because they're actually speaking English while living in the US. It gives my heart a warm glow when I see that they're actually voluntarily doing things with classmates, even the ones whose accents are seriously difficult to understand. It's so nice.

Alas, it doesn't always work out that way. I've had semesters where the students remained in isolated language cliques unless I force it out of them, only to slink back into their comfort zone the moment my back is turned. These students generally don't learn much English. I've thankfully only had a couple of (miserable) experiences where there's actual animosity between students. One was an issue of racism where the student quickly found himself kicked out into the hall. Another was chauvinistic bullying that was never fully resolved (too many deeply rooted cultural expectations) and continued a semester past mine. It makes going to class unpleasantly nerve racking for both me and the rest of the class.

But never until now have I had a giggler. Actually, that's not true. I had one really odd boy from some South American country who sat in the back and laughed or hummed or made other sounds on a regular basis. I think there may have been something wrong with him. But this kid isn't weird. He's just giddy. And he giggles like a 5 year old, so no one wants to work with him because he's too busy chuckling at...who knows what. I'm definitely a little hammy in class, but I'm not that funny.

So today he and I had a heart-to-heart where I told him that I expected him to respect his classmates and me by acting in a professional way and containing his laughter. He vowed to "refresh" himself (??) over the weekend and promised to return a new man boy (he's only 18). We'll see if it happens.

a simpler life

Sometimes T-rav and I think about leaving our lives behind for something like this:

With a view of nothing as far as the eye can see.

We could move somewhere like Ocracoke of the Outer Banks. We'd buy a little house on the beach and get some inconsequential job at a gift shop or a restaurant - I've also considered starting my own "destination" English school at the beach - or volunteer to patrol the shore for sea turtles during nesting season. And we'd finally get our chance to ride out a hurricane.

Wouldn't it be grand?

goodbye (kind of) DLS

Today is my very very last day at the company I've been working for the past year. Actually, it's my third "last" day since I was supposed to be done July 27, extended to August 2, extended to August 17 or whenever I happened to finish the Pashto grammar book we've been working on.

Having three last days is rather anti-climactic.

It's been a good year at DLS. There were times when I was bored out of my mind and times when I ranted at the laziness of some of my coworkers who didn't quite share my work ethic. I'm a teensy bit sad to leave, but knowing that I'm probably going to be back for some odds and ends on my textbooks (that I already know need further editing) makes it less sad. But for a little while at least, I'm done.

And what's next? Georgetown full time for the fall. Here's to a new semester of (hopefully) good students and good teaching.

friends

We've now lived here in the DC area for over a year, and with the exception of Ryry (whom we met back at BYU) I'm sad and a little ashamed to admit that we still have few people we'd really call "friends." Plenty of acquaintances, surely, but no besties in the making. There have been a few "trial" friends: that quirky, earthy couple who wanted to live in a van, the over eager super talkative wife with the silent husband, the cool girl with the big hair and cycler husband with the obnoxious friends, the really nice couple we think we'd really like but are always in high demand with everyone else. I thought it was just us, that we were somehow lacking in personality or social savviness, or that we were really really picky about who we choose as friends.

But then I read this article and I felt a little validated and a lot more discouraged. Apparently we've reached that period in life where making friends, real friends, is pretty damn hard. Not only do you have to try to match up a husband and a wife with another husband and wife (which is far harder than you might think between me and T-rav), but you also have to have 3 things: "proximity, repeated, unplanned interactions; and a setting that encourages people to let their guard down and confide in each other." A HA! So that's why we have no friends.

So what to do about it? I've considered having monthly house parties, with the secret motive of screening for bosom friends throughout the evening, but sometimes that sounds rather exhausting. . We go to work and church activities, but making friends in college wasn't hard (probably because we had those 3 points mentioned above), and I don't really want it to be hard now. I think I've become a little socially lazy...and I'm tired of superficial social interactions.

The end result of all this is T-rav and I have gotten even better at hanging out together, I've read a lot of books, and we've watched probably one too many television series on netflix. I miss my real friends more with every failed friend date. We're happy here, but sometimes we're a little lonely.

random Turkey thoughts

A few other random tidbits and then I promise to stop talking about Turkey. Unless you ask me about it, in which case, I'd love to prattle on. 

Turks are probably the friendliest people I've ever visited. They were helpful, warm, and inviting. I did get sick of seeing men everywhere and often found myself wondering where the women were...I'd never really thought about that until the women are missing and then I missed them. 

I hate being an obvious tourist even when I am. I'm usually loathe to reveal my camera and pose for pictures because I don't want the locals to so easily spot me as a foreigner. But since I obviously stuck out as not even a little bit Turkish, I decided to embrace my tourist status. And it was a rather refreshing...I'm not saying I'd do the same in Norway or Spain or elsewhere, but in Turkey it worked. 

We didn't encounter many Americans in our travels, and most Turks assumed we were Europeans (more specifically Germans for me and Zillah...Phin a Kiwi?). I think it was partially because they don't see as many Americans as Europeans, but I like to think that maybe we didn't stick out as anything in particular. I prefer anonymity when I travel. 

The public bathrooms in Turkey are plentiful and generally quite clean. Some charge, some don't, and I was only left without toilet paper once (luckily I carried some with me everywhere). However, there are often more "squatter" toilets than upright ones. I got really good at squatting and might have even perfected my technique. ;) 

If you want to buy a rug, don't even think about in Istanbul or Kusadasi. They're way way expnsive. Selcuk seemed like it had reasonable prices, and they were even cheaper in Bergama (though I think Bergama had more of the tribal-esque rugs rather than the Persian style, so it depends on what your preference is, I suppose). 

Never go to Turkey in June or any other month near the summer. I'm thinking January might be nice. 


The fantastic sites and scenery aside, it was marvelous to be with my bosom friends, 24/day for 13 days straight. After years and years of dreaming about taking a trip when we graduated, when we finished our grad degress, when we have money...we actually managed to pull it off. Phin, Zillah, M: You are the best and I love you! 

Would I go to Turkey again? Definitely. There's still an entire half of the country to explore. I'm thinking of starting on the eastern border and ending in Cappadocia or maybe Patara next time...

Turkey Part 3

Days 8-10: Patara
After a much longer ride than we expected in the crowded, under air-conditioned Dolmus (there were lots of people hopping on and off which made it take foreevvvver), we finally arrived in Patara. The owners of the hostel (St. Nicholas Pension- as the name might imply, Patara is the birthplace of our St. Nicholas) were eagerly waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs and quickly herded us in, offered us tea, and showed us to our lovely rooms. We freshened up a bit and then dragged ourselves back out the door to see some ruins before they closed for the day. The area around Patara was once a major Lycian port, but now it's mostly used as farm land-notice the cows grazing around the well in the midst of all the rubble- and provides the few tourists who go there charming scenery along the mile down to the beach. In typical un-American fashion, these ruins are not regulated even a little, so you can tromp around to your heart's content. It was great fun. 

Patara beach is 18 kilometers long and generally has only a handful of people scattered about. We paid a few lira to rent beach chairs and sit under an umbrella, and when it started to rain (of course the only time it rained was the one day we went to the beach), we climbed up the rock outcropping (bottom left) for a view of the cobalt blue water on one side and turquoise on the other. Naturally, we got quite sunburned (rotten non-waterproof sunscreen that I applied many times to no avail), which was especially sad because it prevented us from being able/having a desire to go to a Turkish bath for a scrub down and massage. Ah well. Next time.

Because of the bus schedule and because phin wasn't feeling well and really because we really loved Patara, we decided to stay an extra day here. This was fantastic especially because it gave us more time to go to a wonderful little restaurant that mostly served Gözleme, a kind of Turkish pastry/pancake deliciousness. Zillah and I had been on our first night for smoothies but couldn't resist the restaurateur's charm and agreed to try a gözleme- apricot, which really meant sweet heaven's nectar. We begged M and Phin to go there for dinner the next day for an assortment of savory and sweet (as soon as Phin has time to send us some pictures, I'll show you how the chef made the pancakes. Over an open flame). I wish I could eat one right now...one chocolate honey and one apricot. Oh the honey. I almost forgot to mention how amazing the honey was in Patara. I would have loved to have taken home a bucket of it, but it might have weighed down my bag a little too much, not to mention what the Customs people would have said...but it was so. dang. good.


Days 10/11: Selcuk (Ephesus)
Leaving Patara, we caught our next bus just like native Turks by standing at a hot dusty intersection. We arrived in Selcuk a bit late to gain entry into anything, but we bopped around town to see the lay of the land and peeked into an simple old mosque with a lovely courtyard. Although I was dressed inappropriately for a mosque visit--my legs were showing brazenly--there were several scarves at the entrance, so I wrapped myself up like a mummy and stepped inside. It was a much more intimate feeling mosque, the kind you actually might want to pray in rather than visit only for the beautiful interior. 

The next day we spent the morning in Ephesus. I was delighted to see a few areas I hadn't seen the year before when I came with my parents and it was nice to have the freedom to wander around without a guide. There were cats everywhere. Actually, there were cats all over Turkey. And most of them didn't look too mangy either.  

After Ephesus, we headed back to Selcuk for a few hours to see the ruins of the Basilica of St. John where, as you might guess, St. John is buried...IF he's actually dead, that is. Is he? Is he not? Then M went off to the Ephesus museum to see, I believe, the well-endowed Artemis, while Phin, Zillah, and I did some shopping for some odds and ends, and, of course, more food. Zillah ended the day with the purchase of a small but exquisite rug, and Phin finally found herself a dagger. 


Days 11/12: Bergama (Pergamon)
Bergama is a less visited town, evidenced first of all by the shopkeepers' excitement at seeing real live tourists. It was also a very manly town- maybe it was because we were there on a Saturday/Sunday, but we hardly saw a single Turkish woman the whole time. Men, men, everywhere, and not a woman to be seen. And the men stared. And stared. AND STARED to the point where I was ready to blurt something very rude  if they dared say a word to me. Luckily we left for Izmir before that happened. Anyway, the purpose of going to Bergama was to see the ruins of the ancient Greek city of Pergamum. What's left of it is located on top of a fairly steep hill, so the Turks built a nice little tram system to take you up and down. We thought about walking down rather than taking the tram, but a few hours in the beating sun changed our minds. M was in heaven when we finally found the remnants of the Altar of Zeus for her. 

On the evening we stayed in Bergama, Phin finally spotted some fantastic little ceramic balls that she had been looking for, and so we stopped into a little shop thinking we'd grab some and go...but we didn't leave for well over an hour. The shop keeper was exceedingly happy to have customers, and even more delighted that we were Americans. He offered us cup after cup of tea and we sat on his couch and chatted about his travels around Italy, his family living overseas (he called his son in North Carolina to see if it was close enough to DC that I could go visit), and how he met and married his wife. It was a lovely experience.


Before leaving Bergama, we visited the ruins of the Red Basilica, ate some baklava (which we did, to the point of nausea), and saw the Bergama Museum that houses bits of the ruins from Pergamom and has a fairly large (though not life-sized, to M's disappointment) replica of the Altar of Zeus. Then it was back to the bus station for a short ride to Izmir to catch a flight back to Istanbul and then back home. And that was it.