The Ride

Buy the ticket, take the ride.

- Hunter S. Thompson

Today I'm thinking about retirement. That's right. Today. I've spent quite a few years living and working in various places and at various jobs. The path of my teaching career is either sideways or downward. Sure, last year was a brief upward spike, but this year I am squeaking by month to month. Teaching in America was a bust. Japan was a crabwalk towards old age. Turkey is just too tight a fit.

So where do I go from here? I find myself thinking about jumping off again towards a paradise location where there may or may not be amenities like hospitals, electricity and hurricanes. Low salaries are a real consideration. Should I try to stomach the UAE or Saudi Arabia in exchange for some savings in the bank? It's a possibility.

(I'm also wondering if I should change the tone of this blog to sound like a know-it-all expert)



Throw up your hands, tear out your hair... stuck in the minor leagues

2011, the year of intended change... it turned surreal and hit a wall of blind, stupid vengeance. Actually it was more of a storm of blind, stupid vengeance. For me, the moment of numb weightlessness immediately after the impact- that dull, shocked slow motion stretched over an entire summer and I'm still waiting for the full realization of what exactly has happened and what might come next. My attempt at making large changes in my life only achieved a holding pattern. I'm still in Turkey, feeling a little bit trapped here. No amount of slowly whirling meatlogs could make me like it better. The story is purely personal... it would be of no educational value to share details, but the life of an expat can take unpredictable turns. I definitely stepped on some cultural toes and caught some bad surprises.

In hindsight, I can see where I hesitated when it was time to make a move and when I moved at the wrong time, but these lessons may or may not be applicable in the future.

Despite things gone wrong, I'm finding quite a bit to be happy about. I like my job and my apartment... and there's a new Mexican restaurant...

The next move (plan B) requires a bit more planning. I'd like to borrow a few pages from a successful expat handbook somewhere and get back on track, hopefully improving my game.

Permission to live and work in Turkey

The cost of the yearly Turkish residence permit is the only barrier to living here - about $600, and marriage to a Turkish citizen or proof of being able to support yourself with about 2,000 Euro in a Turkish bank.

For some foreigners (like the enraged American I saw stomping up and down the halls), the cost is prohibitive, so you'd better have a good plan and a reason to stay here. Employers will hopefully pay the cost of your work permit application (if they care to - luckily mine does), but they won't pay for the residence permit.

A lot of people, like someone who will never leave and just wants to do a simple job, probably won't pay for residence or bother with work permits.

İzmir Gypsy Street

To a simple midwestern American searching for something to compare this place to, maybe it looked like a renaissance fair... a purpose-built, festival grounds, but without the costumed re-enactment fetishists and their false British accents. The action was real, the crowds real.... no false fronts on the buildings or the people, just winding narrow streets lined with neat, colorful little concrete/brick homes and shops that looked too make-believe to be beleived. There was also a whole lot more shouting and life on the street than a fesival - five fights and one wedding while we were there, lots of cars and scooters, kids playing and getting into trouble, and business being conducted.

We sat with our host and his family on plastic chairs drinking tea for most of the evening, and the night hadn't even started when we left at about 10:30. Our hosts were extremely gracious; gypsy hospitality must be the finest in the world.

We thought the wedding was starting when a '64 Chevy Impala convertible, decorated with rows of lights and carrying a mother, father, and two children dressed in white satin, came tearing through the main street to celebrate the boy's circumcisions.

I was cursing myself all night for not having a camera, but that moment really made me feel the misery of my failure.

Some Photos

This is a Tofaş Şahin, a typical Turkish car. These things are everywhere. They're relatively cheap, so it's the kind of car kids might trick out with rims, neon lights, and Cadillac emblems, then drive around playing obnoxious club music. Despite this and the fact that I'm going to get tired of seeing them around, and that driving in Turkey is a dangerous pain in the ass, and that if I owned a car, it would get banged up in no time at all, I want one of these things in the worst way.





This is the view from our roof... by all accounts, it's a pretty busted up part of town, but I love it. It's charming. It's starting to feel like home.

Nine Days in Turkey

I've only been here nine days? During that time, I've probably learned four whole words. Learning a new language is not easy, and not many people here speak English.
Soon, my wife isn't going to be around to translate for me, so it's definitely time to step up and start actively learning to speak Turkish. In Japan, it's possible for a foreigner to function without having to learn the language, but in Turkey the bureaucracy is too thick, the city too hectic. There is a feeling that you have to be "on" at all times when you're out and moving around.

In other news, Bilgi University throws a nice party. Armağan's graduation ceremony was followed by a cocktail party that was held in a very beautiful space that used to house an old factory. Whether the campus was beautiful or ugly was something that we didn't agree on (I liked the old factory buildings), but the view of the city rising up around it gave it a feeling of being at the heart of things, of serving a necessary function. I was immediately envious and wished I had gone to University there.

Today's mission: learn to use the tramway.

Sounds

At night, the relative silence of the city is broken by the sound of dueling ezan – the prayer announcements from the loudspeakers of the local mosques. I like them. The speakers give a little crackle and the muezzin gives their most beautiful call, trying to stand out from the others. I tried to look at a mosque during prayer yesterday, but the doorman gave me stinkeye because I looked like such a tourist.

The first sound of the morning is hammering. Downstairs there is a recycler who breaks up old appliances with a hammer to get the metal. He does his work out on the sidewalk. We’re away from the main street, so our street doesn’t see too many cars. There are a lot of voices and kids playing outside. The number of people goes up until at night, streets are filled with men, women, and children wandering around. Anytime you need something from the store, just call to one of them and throw some money down and they will get it for you. Little convenience stores are everywhere, along with bread shops and internet cafes, and an assortment of other types of businesses, including restaurants and “secret” shops that sell pirated DVDs.

The money isn’t as much of a problem as it was eight years ago, the last time I was here. The old Turkish currency was counted in millions and tens of millions for purchasing small items. That was just too much for anyone to get their head around, which was probably good for rip-off artists. Now the money is easy; 1.60 TL is equal to about a dollar. For convenience’s sake, I think of 1TL as a dollar.

Today, starting in the morning until late at night, their was rhythmic hammering, like steel on concrete. I don't know what they were doing for 8 - 10 hours, but it sounded like they pounded down every last wall.

Packed and Ready

There's not a lot left to do - just a couple of fussy details to take care of so there won't be any problems with checking in at the airport or getting through security.

Once I arrive in Turkey there'll be a couple of bureaucratic hoops to jump through before I can start working, and we need to figure out once and for all what Nilu is going to do about her school.

Thoughts?

None right now. Dogs know instinctively when they're about to go to the vet, but most of my head is too thick to process the fact that I'm going somewhere for a long time. The ticket, the passport, these bags, and people hugging me to say goodbye should be enough to help me realize that I've already spent my last night here in Michigan, but it still feels very unreal. Twelve hours from now, I'll be in the air. In less than 36 hours I'll be in the heart of one of the world's biggest cities, jetlagged and disoriented.