Real Life Friends

Since moving to Istanbul the whole friendship thing has been a little rough. I have had patches of this, off and on, for my entire life. When you are a kid making friends is easy because you have school and are assigned projects together, or you play on the same sports teams. Unless you are the military kid who is whisked in and out of classes every six months to move to a new school, town, or state. Then it is harder. Then you have college, and making friends is easy because you are all away from home for the first time and NEED friends, plus you all live in the same dorm. Then you are suddenly out in the real world and that safety net of friendship is taken away. Unless you work at a summer camp. Then it is like permanent college, with friends floating through... the same for a conservation corps. In Peace Corps you are assigned friends. Locals, fellow pcvs etc. Then suddenly you are 29 and wondering how to make new friends. You could go back to hashing, but you know the drinking isn't good for you. Everyone at the university is younger, surrounded by their own friends, and not married. Your husband is supposed to be your best friend, not your only friend. <sigh> Friendship is a tricky thing. How do you make time and invest energy into these new people? You can barely get your runs in, let alone your school work and other obligations. Is friendship an obligation?

I miss:

The parties that I hated. (And I hated them all) I miss the messiness of them, and I missed the shared guilt of them. I miss the card games and bottles of wine. I miss the support that my friends gave me in going to IBTs or Colors.

Going on play-dates. Museums, shows, concerts, frisbee in the park and a bit of steal the bacon.

Deep intellectual conversations. Books, movies, theories and such.

Trying to build a community. Orphan's christmas, sunday night supper.

People that really knew me.

Talking with one of my best friends I have to wonder... is this something that we all lose as we get older? Or is it something that my nomadic lifestyle has forced me to abandon? 

God is Love

I spent the weekend with my friend. Technically we were supposed to be having my hen party, but for me that basically means doing all of the things that I love doing as a single woman... wine, dancing, and long conversations... one of the questions fell to religion and spirituality, which is a conversation that I actually enjoy and do not get enough of since I left the bay area, which was a land of spiritual wanderers, floundering through ethics and philosophy, drowning in the possibility of their lives and decisions. In Arizona I fell into another type of contemplation, which lasted well enough, for enough years, and I still grew. But then I joined then peace corps and the growth was in a very subconscious, physical manner. I feel that I learned a lot about humanity, life, love, living, and the body in those two years, but I did not have many opportunities to orally contemplate religion and the meta-living of life. It was the physical understanding of sunshine and tomatoes, of language and interaction, that did not require process for achievement. But there were a couple of people who shared their perspectives on religion with me in a non-threatening, non-judgemental manner, which I appreciated.

My conversation with my friend this weekend made me realize just how much I will miss her when she heads back to the states, because she is one of the few people that I have in my life that is on a similar level of exploration as me. Whenever we talk I feel regenerated, and back on track in my life, as if she inspires me to be a better person who questions things but also actively lives the decisions that I have made with passion and conviction. This weekend we started talking about religion and somehow got to the topic of, "God is Love." It is not a conversation that comes up with many of my Christian friends in the manner of God being love. Usually it somehow becomes translated to, "God loves you," which is subtly different and yet very far from being the same thing. For the first time in YEARS I felt a rush of understanding and thrilling acceptance. God is Love. I could contemplate on that for years. Just one simple sentence inspires so much interpretation and thought.

God is Love.

It makes me feel small and insignificant and yet large and part of something. It seems to be a very important truth, if it is a truth, and worth investing some time and energy in. However, I do have one problem with that from the Christian perspective. If God is Love, then where exactly does the knowledge of good and evil fit as a sin? Because now knowledge is a good thing, and even Christians are encouraged to learn and process and seek knowledge about the world and their religion. So, once that original sin of disobedience was breached, was a decision made for all humanity? Is the knowledge not so much the sin as the disobedience? As in, humanity as a possibility made the choice to live in this kind of world where we would thirst and hunger for understanding, and so here we are, and now knowledge is necessary and not the sin? Was the sin just choice different of God's? It doesn't seem particularly loving. I wish that I had more time to contemplate these issues with my friend, but for now a quiet meditation on a slow rocking train will have to be enough.

Monet on Boxing Day

The weather today reminded me of why I choose to come to Istanbul every Christmas. It was warm enough for a light sweater, bright and sunny, the sun reflecting off the water, mostly quiet, fishermen throwing lines into the bosphorous... okay, it isn't quite all weather, but it all contributes to the feeling of weather- to that ambiance that surrounds and permeates and is quite classically Istanbul. Scott and I took a minibus down to Istinye Bay, and then walked in the sunshine along the bosphorous down to the museum that is currently housing Monet. Now, I am not particularly big on art defined by fame, so I did not expect to think much of a museum collection of anyone, even Monet, but I figured that when an entire collection is in your city, and free to see, it is a shame to not at least put in the effort for a strolling gander. I was quite surprised by how much I actually enjoyed, not just the paintings, but the entire experience of viewing a museum collection.
My exposure to art is rather limited. I hate the snobbery of it, and the in/out group feeling it inspires reminds me too much of gender conflicts and the LGBTQ determination to be elitist in their out-styles. (I can say that, only because I am in the LGBTQ crowd, ostracized by the competition to be 'most gay.' But that is nothing new. What was new today was my fascination with the art. First of all, the gallery that we went to (ssm) was amazingly well set up. It is an old mansion that was dedicated to art by the owners, who specialized in calligraphy. The top floor is filled with antique, very lavish furniture and paintings, and the calligraphy sets. The basement houses Turkish work, and the middle floor was dedicated to Monet, including plenty of historical and personal information. They didn't have the full set, but most of it was there, including so many variations on water lilies. I skipped quickly through the first room, dedicated to portraiture, and moved into the second room, which had smaller and medium sized landscapes. Boats, water, trees, islands. The colors and the strokes on the paintings were fascinating. I developed a game of moving further away from the paintings to understand them, then  moving in close, and squinting until everything became shiny. It was fascinating. I never knew that impressionism worked like a magic-eye picture. Things popped and glowed and there were so many levels to each painting. I don't think that any of the reprints that I have seen have captured even half of what the paintings portray in real life.  By the second room I was already emotionally affected by the atmosphere and the art. In the third room there were his larger paintings. Some of them just popped and glowed with neon streaks of color that I didn't even imagine possible. I was enthralled. By the time I moved to the final room I was quite prepared for the beauty of the painting that most moved me. It bordered on a spiritual experience and I can honestly say that I was able to project and find myself in that painting, a flower bathed in yellow light, trailing my spirit freely with my partner by my side.
In the final area we talked about the repetition in his work and one of the most impressive things about the experience was actually the dialogue between the paintings. Any one picture, taken out if context, could not be as impressive as the leading story that we had been immersed in, for just a short hour.
This is the first time that I wish I could go back to a museum, for days and weeks, and lose myself and find myself over and over in these paintings. They were magnificent.

In defense of marriage...

I have long been the type of girl who thought that she was never going to get married. No, not one of those desperate, forever-alone girls stuck on self-pity and thirsting for a man, but more of one of the girls who just never quite got the point of marriage. I have seen too much divorce to really take marriage seriously, and I do not think that it is right for the state to monitor what is or is not a family based on religion. On my 13th birthday I vehemently disavowed marriage, promising my father that he could look forward to having an unwed daughter forever. Over the years I have been a bridesmaid and a groomsman, in weddings to celebrate unions that have now been dissolved, and both times I felt a little cheated by the whole ordeal. (I know, it is selfish. I am sure that what the bride and groom felt was much more significant than what I felt, but if I believe in marriage, and if I believe in a wedding, then it is a moment when you ask the support of your family and friends for your union, and make a promise not only to your significant other, but also to them. The promise to your sweetheart that you will be forever theirs can easily be made in bed, and sealed with a kiss. The rings and ceremony is for the social seal of the marriage.) So, all in all it was easier to forego the idea of marriage and just live each moment how I saw best, in a very selfish, self-defined, egotistical way. I was quite happy that way.

So, why the change in theory?

Well, first of all over the past couple of years there has been a change in my heart. Not only have I finally settled the restlessness that drove me as a young adult, but I have also gained more respect for the social world. Five years ago I was determined to go through this world alone. I was an island. Now I have a much deeper understanding of community and friendship. I still don't have much respect for religion or the state, but I can see the need for the support of friends and family when you choose to be together with one person for the rest of your life. I think that some of this is due to the natural aging process, but most of it is due to my peace corps experience... seeing the way other families live; both American and Bulgarian.

Secondly, I have honestly never felt about any one else the way that I feel about Nikola. I thought that I knew love, and I did. I knew all sorts of love. But with him I also know this huge, unbeatable trust, and the depth of it is unbelievable. I am pretty much drunk on trust these days. Trust and acceptance. It is wonderful. For that reason, I would never let him go, and also, I happily want the entire world to know that we are together, side by side.

So, one morning we woke up and were talking about when we would get married. There was no proposal. We both just knew that we would get married. Conversations about immigration and residence permits and our landlord only renting to married couples had already helped to plant the idea within us. Two years from now, next summer, and then, suddenly, why wait? We decided that we will get married this winter. I know that it is quick for a lot of people. We have been dating for three months. When we get married it will have been six. It isn't much time. But I think that we are both the type of people that once a decision is made there is no going back and forth, trying to decide if it is right or not. It just is.

I don't think either of us really have a clue about how to get married. There are so many traditions that we first have to learn (as our experience is quite limited) and then cut through to get what we really want our wedding and marriage to be about. I think this is going to be a very fun three months, followed by a very fun party, followed by a very fun lifetime with the most incredible, inspirational person that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. 

Friends

I met a guy during orientation. A group of us went out to grab beers afterwards and I thought, sitting around a table and talking about nothing, that any one of these people could become my friend. This guy turned up in one of my classes, and we magically run into each other occasionally. Two weeks later he casually, in some form of teasing, drops the f-word. You know, the one that for some reason usually makes my spine crinkle in bad ways: "friends." I very quickly squashed that delusion with a sharp flick of the tongue. "We are not friends, yet."

It's a critical moment in friendship, for me. A person who is actually interested in becoming my friend will dig deeper. They will ask why, and what is a friend. They will try to learn my definitions and possibly deeper understanding and friendship can be born. It's rare though. Most people take if offensively, because most people have no real desire to be friends with anyone. They just want everyone to view them positively. Well, a friend is someone much more than a person that I kinda like and think is okay. A friend is someone that I trust and love. I am sorry, that does not come without some effort.

Usually.

On Friday I stopped by the doner place near to my house. For some reason I feel comfortable there. I feel welcome. There I had a small chat with the man selling doners and we were so excited and happy to have that conversation. I was offered tea, the Turkish sign of friendship, which I accepted, and I skipped out of the shop thinking to myself, "Hey! I made a friend!"

Stop. Pause. What? Why is it that I would consider him a friend and not this student? Is it because I expect more from Americans, or people who have a fluent understanding of the english language? Is it because I have a certain set of barriers for each person, and if they have the potential to be closer than their friendship is more precious and harder to obtain? Is it a quantity thing- if there are more of a single type of person around then it requires more? An identity thing? Something that I just cruelly inflict on people who I think MIGHT get it? I am not sure. It whirlwinded me into having to think more about friendship... again. <Sigh> 

Learning from cats

So I thought that I would take a few moments this morning and write a bit about my newest love. (No, I am giving the blog a break from writing about Nikola... this little guy is newer and slightly more furry.) :

The hostel that I am living and working at is called, "Stray Cat Hostel." I think the name is very appropriate, especially this month as it is filled with the lost little kittens of erasmus who are desperately looking for accommodation for their coming semester or years. The hostel has three cats that actually belong to it: one who just had kittens, one I haven't seen, and one that I have fallen in love with and want to talk about.

He doesn't really have a name. His name was Sofi when a hostel worker found him on the street and insisted that he was a girl. It stayed that way until last week when the creative little guy participated in some sort of adventure that none of us will ever piece together and broke his leg. Sedat took him to a vet who informed him that a) the cat was too small to do anything for the leg, and b) the cat was a boy. At that moment two very interesting things happened to the cat. A) He was confined to a box to encourage him to stop running, jumping and playing and B) His name was stripped from him.

Well, now I am calling him Houdini, because we have learned that he is quite a determined kitten that will get out of any type of box or cat-crate that we put him in. This guy loves to be out and about. He needs constant interaction and human affection. He also needs adventures. He is absolutely perfect for the hostel setting and several of the guests have fallen in love with him as we have nursed him back to health. Over the past 10 days I have grown to respect Houdini very much. I feel that there is so much that I could learn from him.

1) Determination and trust.

Houdini refused to rest with his broken leg. He kept walking, and jumping off of couches or out of boxes. For those of us trying to get him to rest his leg it was terrifying, but he was not about to give up using his broken leg. He exhausted himself as much as possible and then found a lap or couch to curl up in and slept completely, peacefully. When he woke up he was at it again. It did not matter that his leg was broken, and it did not matter that we were trying to get him to rest. He was determined to live his quality of life the way that he had always known. In the end this exercise actually worked and now he is barely limping, and able to safely jump up and down! (Only 10 days after the vet said that there was a good possibility that his leg would be paralyzed for his life.) I wonder if it did any good to try and stop him. Animals know their bodies and the healing process a lot more thoroughly than humans do. Perhaps the next time I am faced with that much insistance I will just trust the animal to heal itself to the extent that it can, and take that as the fate of the animal.

2) Friendliness and affection.

Houdini is a cuddle-slut. He will come to anyone, look up with those kittenish eyes, open that tiny kittenish mouth, and insist to be picked up and petted. I have not seen anyone with the power to resist him yet. He states his needs both vocally and physically. It is very obvious when he wants to be petted and when he wants to be fed, and when he wants let out. I think that is a trait that people are happy to embrace: stating your needs in an unobtrusive, yet firm and clear way. It is funny that I learn this from a creature that can not even speak.

3) Rest.

When Houdini needs to rest he really rests. He passes out, completely unaware of the world, and goes deep within himself. He stretches and curls his body and really seems to be enjoying his life. If he chooses your lap to rest on then you get a contented purr running over your thighs and you know that he is one happy kitty.

So, I think of all the strays that I have come across in this hostel, Houdini is by far my favorite. Unfortunately I am in no position to adopt a kitten at the moment, but hopefully I get to stay his friend for many months.

A Meta-Vacation along the Black Sea

I originally intended to come to Turkey at the beginning of September. I thought that I would take a train over on the first, and spend ten lazy days doing nothing until I had to register for school. Having a single lazy day this morning I realize that it was a terrible decision, and I am lucky that my friends had to bump our vacation forward and I stayed in Bulgaria to the fullest extent of my possibility.

Last week we completed part II of our Black Sea adventure on bikes. It started last year, surely imagined over beers in the bylato or the firehouse, and taken too seriously by Maria and myself. I enjoy people who take ideas too seriously; those who think that thoughts and ideas are silly in themselves and actually turn them into experiences. For the most part I think that has been why Maria and I have gotten along over the past two years. We talk less and do more than those around us. Anyways, I wander in my thoughts. Last year was 10 days from Bourgas to the Turkish border, and it was lovely. Three of us went together, with no experience between us, and came out the other side feeling cranky, tired, sun-weathered, and overall happy. Of course we needed to repeat the adventure. So, this year we grabbed another friend and we went north.

I felt much less connection with the sea this year. In the south we rode for a little way each morning, through the woods, and in the afternoon we drank beer and laid on the beach. Every morning we repeated the ritual of coffee and breaking camp. It felt like we had forever down there, and I was quite happy. This year we spent much more time on our bikes, going less distance. I think that this was mainly due to the cooler weather, the wind, and the lack of cover. We were exposed the entire time, and it wore on me. I wanted to go further, faster, and overall  I could just not admit that I wanted it to go on longer.

Many times during the week I found myself irritated, and thinking that it didn't matter. The irritation mattered as little as the individual pleasures. Everything would weigh together in the end and in 5 years I will not remember the time that maria said this, or eva said that, or gigi pulled a leroy jenkins. I will only remember that one summer I went on a trip along the northern coast of the bulgarian black sea. It will be positive, because it was an experience, and so I surrendered to the pull of averages and tried to let go of my taut emotions.

 The trip started with a failure. I left my lover's bed at 5 in the morning to take the train from varna and meet up with my fellow riders. Unfortunately, the train broke down 1 stop away from our connection to the north, adding 2 hours and a disproportional amount of exhaustion to the first day of our trip.

 After riding for two hours on a weirdly open but pleasant road we came upon this very communist-era statue, overlooking nothing. By nothing I mean absolutely nothing. A bit of grass, but mostly turned fields of dirt. It was queer and classic for me, but I quickly learned that my fascination in communist style sculptures does not echo at all in my modern Bulgarian friends.

 And then, over the hill, there was the sea. We spent two evenings camping at cosmos, although one would have been plenty. However, the first sight of it was a beautiful reward for the year.

 The second day we continued on to Shabla and Tulenovo, which was gorgeous. There was a perfect cave to camp in, a fire to be had, a new friend to meet, and falling stars to watch. The moon was huge and orange and everything was quiet and perfect. I think that it was my favorite night.

And a favorite night was followed by a favorite day. We went to the nature reserve, "qlata." There was some serenity that seeped from that place and I wanted to sit there and meditate for hours. In a moment I realized the importance of ritual (I am older now and so really I remembered the earlier realization) and I decided that I need to form rituals. I have been floating without rituals for way too long.

The last two days flew by, and I actually ended up leaving our company early, just to get some actual beach time and a last night in a bed with my boy.

Overall the trip was not bad, but it was not spectacular. I was constantly gnawed by the thought that in the states burning man was happening. I am not even sure that I would still want to go, but I kept thinking that every vacation is like burning man. We look for the creative parts of society, the beautiful parts of nature, and strive to make connections with people. Actually, that is not vacation as much as it is life, I suppose.