HOME • EV • घर

I'm homeward bound, although I have to confess, I'm not quite sure what that means...

After nearly a month of nomadic existence through the Nepali Himalayas, I am sitting in a hard metal chair at the Kathmandu international airport staring at a bright red boarding pass. Two boarding passes, in fact, the first of which will take me from Nepal to Sharjah, UAE and the second, again to Istanbul late this evening—two boarding passes which will be the first in a total of 5 or 6 over the next three days that will eventually land me back in the good ole US of A. From Istanbul, my plan is to hop an overnight bus straight from the airport to Balıkesir where I will throw my grungy Nepali gear into a larger suitcase, zip it closed, and haul it back on the bus back to the other Istanbul airport the following morning. To catch my next flight. İnşallah.

Picturing myself disembarking back into Istanbul is a little less climactic than I had previously anticipated. The minute I left Turkey (initially for a few days to Greece with my family, then again a few days later for Nepal) I had a hard time leaving my Turkish-self behind. Over the past year I had slowly but steadily worked to integrate myself more and more into the culture of the country I then called home. I learned Turkish, ate Turkish food, made Turkish friends, listened to Turkish music, followed Turkish TV programs.

By the end of the year, I was by no means Turkish, but my frame of reference for the world was firmly rooted in my Turkish-expat existence. I could participate in Turkish traditions and superstitions, sing along to the songs I heard on the radio, carry out small talk with people in the grocery store or on the bus, was a "regular" at a handful of restaurants and cafés, and had a passionate stake in who would win Turkish Survivor. Moreover, I had a slew of inside jokes and memorable experiences originating from this pseudo-Turkish-American-English Teacher persona that I shared with a network of other Fulbright colleagues and friends across the country.

The minute I crossed through exit immigration in Sabiha Gökçen, however, (only after successfully arguing with the officer that my visa was valid because my residency permit was expired—my last conversation in Turkish thus far) that perspective was suddenly irrelevant. Nepal was immediately a chaotic explosion of unfamiliar colors, sounds, and smells. It was exciting and overwhelming, and I was hopelessly at a loss. Normally I crave that feeling of being out of my element when traveling, but this time, after a year of painstakingly working to trade my "yabancı-ness" in for cultural integration, I couldn't help but mourn the loss of my insider-card. The Nepali people I met were kind, welcoming, and couldn't care less that I could carry on a conversation in a country thousands of miles to the west. They accepted my one word of Nepali ("namaste") with grace, and regarded me as what I was: a tourist.

The next three amazing weeks were spent trekking through the mountains and jungle, learning bits and pieces of Nepali culture, processing the past, wondering about the future, and boring my poor friend Kacie with stories about everything Turkish. My Fulbright friends went home to amazing jobs, or off on last-minute adventures themselves, and slowly I began to accept that the past year of my life, like all good things tend to, was slowly coming to a close.

Now, as I sit in the airport and try to picture myself stepping back into my apartment in Balıkesir, I feel a bittersweet twinge of displacement. In fact, the next few weeks will be something of a whirlwind of displacement—Kathmandu to Sharjah to Istanbul to Balıkesir to Istanbul to Amsterdam to Portland to Sacramento to Loomis to San Jose. One night in Balıkesir, the place I have called home. One night in Loomis with my parents, the only 'permanent address' I've had to list for several years. Then on to San Jose where I will immediately start my new job with nothing but a car full of suitcases and a spot on a friend's couch. Part of me is exhausted just thinking about it. Here I go again, starting from scratch, no house, no community, no clue what lies ahead. But the other part of me, the more significant, grounded part of me, knows I wouldn't want it any other way.

A lot has changed over the past year, but the thrill of a new place, new people, new job, and new adventures has never seemed to lose its appeal. In fact, after a year abroad, California seems just about as distant and exotic as anywhere I've been thus far—a land of kombucha and coffee shops, reliable wifi and endless toilet paper. Almost too good to be true.

More significantly, however, is the whispered voice that remains when all the excitement, anticipation, and uncertainty fade away. The same voice that I heard so clearly while staring at a different set of boarding passes—these ones also starting from a familiar place and ending in a strange city that I would soon call home—almost one year ago. It is the voice that says, "I know the plans I have for you, to give you hope and a future" and "I will bless you and keep you" and "fear not." That voice, so clear in the deep wilderness and mountain-top splendor of Nepal, is the voice I want to cling to as the hundreds of other tired, worried, stressed, or lonely voices flood in with the "real world." That is the voice I choose to trust. The voice of a God who was also both homeless and at home.

SAYING “HOŞÇA KAL”

The past few weeks have marked of the end of my time here in Turkey… and, to be honest, it’s freaking me out. It’s so hard to believe that a year has come and gone since I first opened my email and found a message from the State Department inviting me to hop on a plane to halfway across the world at their expense. I can’t even begin to describe the crazy ups and downs of this adventure or how much I have come to love this place and the people I have met. So, rather than wallowing in my angst, I’ve decided to channel all my emotions into constructing the following lists:

THE TOP THREE THINGS I WILL MISS MOST ABOUT TURKEY...

1. Friendly strangers

Turkey is a country where you can receive a homemade-dinner invitation from the woman sitting next to you on the bus and where strangers will go far out of their way to help you. Take, for example, any of the following scenarios:

•  I was deathly ill within the first few months of being in Balıkesir (kidney infection… don’t get one). My roommates managed to somehow get my feverish self to the hospital. Upon realizing that I did not speak Turkish, half the nursing staff was engaged in the act of Google Translating communication between the doctor and me, then ten minutes later, someone from the radiology department showed up and announced that he knows a little English and may be able to help. 
• My roommate and I visited our friends in the neighboring sea-side province of Çanakkale, and we all took a day trip to a vineyard island called Bozcaada off the coast. It was off-season for tourists, and the island was quiet, so we decided to rent a car to explore. The man who we rented the car from mentioned that his family was having a mangal party (Turkish barbeque) on a beach across the island and invited us to drop the car off there once our time was up and join in. We met the whole group and were treated with grilled lamb, fresh sucuk (garlic sausage), köy ekmeği (village bread), cheese, and free-flowing homemade red wine brought in a plastic water jug from their vineyard. 
• My other roommate and I traveled to the Southeastern part of Turkey during one of our weekend breaks. After one of our day trips, we rushed back to Diyarbakır, where we were staying, to see if we could make it to a Kurdish cultural center before it closed. The place served as a center for Kurdish seniors to sing traditional songs in order to preserve their culture.* We got there 30 minutes before the center closed, but upon asking, we learned the singing was done for the day. A group of men heard us asking, though, and invited us to drink tea and ask questions. One of the seniors then agreed to sing a few songs just for us, and treated us to the song in the video below (hence the “Americans” reference at the end :) Our Kurdish friends then proceeded to give us a broad education in the history of Diyarbakır and even invited us to a Kurdish wedding (where it’s culturally appropriate for anyone in the neighborhood come in off the street).

Diyarbakır Dengbej Evi from Kealy Jaynes on Vimeo.

*Check out more about the history of Kurds in Diyarbakır here. 

2. Food

Food is an art form and a point of pride in Turkish culture, and for good reason—it’s delicious. After a year of constantly talking about it, eating it, buying it straight from farmers at the pazar, I can’t imagine what I’m going to do without it. Thankfully, there have been a number of people who have invited me into their kitchens and shared their secrets with me— even if the only thing I can somewhat confidently prepare at this point is Turkish coffee.

3. These people:

• Çiğ köfte lady who knows my roommates and I by name and our orders by heart. No other çiğ köfte in Balıkesir can compare. And no one else believes me when I say I want “bol acılı” (lots of chili sauce).
• Baklava guy was one of our first friends in Balıkesir. We owe our education on and addiction to baklava to him… A debt I can never repay.
• Yusuf Bey who I buy flowers from at the market each Saturday. He always remembers me, and puts together the most beautiful bouquets, which then prompt everyone else in the market to comment or ask me where I got them from for the rest of the day. 
• United Fitness Clubs staff: The people who work at our gym and who I see more than just about anyone else in Balıkesir. I started as the crazy yabancı girl training for a half-marathon on the treadmill in the corner, and friendship blossomed from there. None of them speak English, yet the friendship and jokes shared here have been some of my favorite memories.
• Turkish Friends: The English-speakers who were so gracious to invite me into their homes, cultures, and friend groups. The non-English-speakers who are incredibly patient and creative in sustaining a friendship via my pathetically limited Turkish.
• Fulbright Friends: My roomies in Balıkesir, my friends across the country, and the endless inside jokes that originate from our shared yabancı perspective.
• Students/Colleagues: The crazies that made every day at work memorable, who put up with my pushing, challenging, disciplining, pantomiming, ridiculous facial expressions, and silly games for an entire year— and maybe learned some English in the process. And my work friends, who helped us through the system and who always made downtime in the teachers' room fun.

...AND THE TOP THREE THINGS I DIDN'T EXPECT TO MISS BUT PROBABLY WILL

1. The things that keep me on my toes

• Walking past the fish market and knowing exactly which pavement stones NOT to step on in order to avoid dousing my shoes with fish water… and sometimes still forgetting. 
• Still almost getting run over every other time I attempt to cross the street. 
• That physical whirring noise that I swear I hear in my brain whenever I am tired or distracted and someone starts speaking to me in Turkish: “…what… oh… response… words… English… no… Spanish… no… something in Turkish… hadi, tamam…” 

2. The smells

Çay, cigarettes, body odor thinly masked by the same deodorant smell that every Turkish man wears, döner on the street, limon kolonya, the weird musty smell that never seems to leave our apartment no matter how clean it is…

3. The sounds

The train blaring its horn outside my window at all hours of the night, the musical calls of vendors at the market or simit sellers on the street, hearing the same 3 Turkish pop or American top 40 songs everywhere, car horns...

And lastly, because it makes me sad to think about leaving Turkey, I'll end on a happy note… My motivation for returning (apart from friends and family, of course, and not surprisingly, all food-related):

FIVE THINGS I AM MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO ABOUT GOING HOME

1. California burritos

Anything giant with black beans, avocado, and multiple types of salsa

2. Coffee

Preferably from a snobby shop where the barista talks about bean origin, served in a cup that I can take with me that will take more than 10 minutes to drink, and with any number of vegan milk substitutes

3. Salad

As a main course. Topped with sprouts, nuts or avocado.

4. Trader Joe’s

Enough said.

5. Indian food/Thai food/Chinese food/Vietnamese food/Macn’cheese

Or basically any ethnically-diverse food option that I don’t have to cook myself.

HOCA LiFE

In general, teaching is a challenging profession— I have all sorts of crazy stateside classroom stories to prove that— but teaching in Turkey has its own particular set of challenges. There was a time when each of these things drove me a little crazy, but after eight months now, there is hardly anything that surprises me. After almost a full school year, I am now a full-fledged crazy English-language teacher, and I will attempt to share snapshots of my daily work life with you:

1. Names

When I first got to Turkey, learning to pronounce Turkish names intimidated me. As time went on however, I realized that there are a rather limited amount of super-popular Turkish names and that once I learned these, I was golden. I have anywhere from 1-3 Alis, Mustafas, Muhammads, Mehmets/Ahmets, Cans/Caners, Murats, Furkans, Kaans, Yusufs, Buraks, Emrah/Emres, Özgürs, Oğuzhans, Fatihs, Serkan/Serhans, Zeyneps, Sinems, Beyzas, and Kübras in each class. It also makes for an interesting point of comparison with the other Fulbright teachers who also have a billion of the same… 
            “All my Furkans are troublemakers” “Zeyneps are the sweetest!” 

My name, on the other hand, is never "Ms." or "Mrs." anything. It's "Kealy Teacher," "Teacher," "Hocam" or sometimes when they get lazy, just "Kealy." Weird? Yes. A battle I wish to fight? Nope.

2. Classroom Troubleshooting for Beginners

Problem: Classroom is locked.  
Solution: You don’t have keys, so you should probably look around for the nearest custodian. She could be anywhere in the building… Good luck. 

Problem: There is an exam scheduled in your classroom, and no one told you.  
Solution: You should probably herd all your students down four flights of stairs while on the phone with every teacher you can get a hold of to see if their classrooms are free.

Problem: No air-conditioning and the afternoon class is melting alive.  
Solution: Attempt to have class outside, and after 15 minutes of fighting tooth and nail for students’ attention, give them an assignment they can do while smoking and dismiss them when they finish.

Problem: You got lost on your way to your classroom. Again. 
Solution: There is no choice but to retrace your steps and start again. Don’t worry, just go back down to the third floor, then down two more flights of stairs and you’ll find the fourth floor of the G block again…

3. "PAPERPENPENCIL"

This is the war-cry of my classroom. My students make fun of me for this all the time, but that still doesn’t mean that they remember to bring all or any of the above. Usually, the conversation goes something like this:

Me: On your desk please: Paper, Pen, Pencil! Two students are already writing down what’s on the board. Half the class is yelling up to the one girl in the front who brought a notebook, and she’s passing pages around, which are torn into smaller and smaller pieces until most everyone has a scrap of something. Four or five students just tear another page out of the back of their textbook.  
Me: (after explaining directions, to random student staring into space) Mehmet*, why aren’t you writing?  
Student: shrugs  
Me: Do you have paper? Pen? Pencil?  
Student: …Yok, hocam.  
Me: Okay… So you have a problem… How are you going to solve this problem…? Repeat for three or four students, per class period, then start process all over again tomorrow…
 
*Note: Not any of my real students' names...
 

4. Collecting Papers  

As you can predict from Point 3, when I ask for a written assignment, what I collect usually looks something like this:  

 

I also frequently have conversations about why you shouldn’t write emoticons, texting short-hand, or phrases like “blah blah blah” in academic writing.

5. IMZAT  

Classroom management is bound to be an issue when your class is a roomful of largely unmotivated adolescent men (mine are all Engineering students, and about 95% male*). What I didn’t expect, however, was for there to be little to no structured disciplinary system at the university… at all. So when students aren’t graded beyond exams and attendance, we have to get a little creative about the way we motivate/coerce our classes to some semblance of good behavior. The one thing we have some control over is their ability to sign in and out for each hour of class— thus the “imzat” or “signature” became a weapon. 

I can’t tell you how many angry students have stormed out after the same conversations: “No, I’m sorry, but you were more than 5 minutes late to the first hour of class. You know the rule, you lose one signature for today… ” or “You came in 45 minutes late and then refused to do your work. No, you cannot sign the attendance sheet for this hour. If you want to sleep, you are welcome to go home and sleep, but I cannot give you credit for being here.”

*I am really rather fortunate that my students are mostly respectful. In all seriousness though, there are certain aspects of teaching adolescent males in a patriarchal society that are problematic. Many Fulbrighters have experienced very real harassment from students or colleagues. This blog post by my friend Laurel, is an amazing description of the issue. Check it out!!

6. Teacher Talk  

You know you are an EFL (English as a Foreign Language) teacher if any of the following are true for you:

• You cannot speak without using your hands: You’re part teacher, part mime, and you’ve found creative ways to signal even the most obscure words. You and your fellow teachers have even inadvertently developed the same signals for many words, and you’re convinced it should be a certified form of sign language. 
• You’re trained to respond to blank looks: You see a flash of confusion, look of panic, or no one is making eye contact. You start over. Different words. Slower pace. More writing or hand gestures. Give an example. And repeat.
• You speak in circulation and examples: After a long day of teaching, conversations with your housemates go as follows… “What would you like for dinner… to eat… We can eat çiğ köfte… we can eat çorba… we can cook dinner… what would you like to eat… for dinner?”
• You’ve mostly lost the ability to correctly speak the language you teach: You also often struggle to distinguish between standard English, British English, and cultural Turklish… 

            Q: “When do you leave?”             
            A: “Three weeks later.”
            Q: “What will you do tomorrow?”  
            A: “At the weekend, I always go to the Saturday pazar.”  
            Q: “What did you do yesterday?”  
            A: “We traveled to Cappadocia. It was too much fun.”

But, when all is said and done, I love my job and my students, and I know I will dearly miss both when I leave. At the end of the day, while the craziness may be frustrating, it is also keeps things interesting, and while my students might be problematic, they are also entertaining, funny, and endearing. Every day brings a new challenge and a new opportunity, and there is certainly never a dull moment. :)

LATELY...

Dear friends/family,

Sorry it’s been so long since my last post... Life and everything happened, as it tends to do.

I’m working on a few catch-up blogs, but in the mean time, here’s a preview...

THE LATEST OBSESSIONS OF MY TURKISH LIFE

1. Poetry 

A cafe that we go to gives you a slip of paper with a few lines of poetry every time you order Türk Kahvesi. This sparked my exploration of the world of Turkish poetry, which is one of my new obsessions as of late. Here’s bored doodling of one of my favorite poems from one of my favorite poets thus far:

 2. Music

Turkish music (...more specifically rap :) is my other unforeseen obssession lately. It’s probably the greatest thing ever. Recently I’ve been refining my preferences (including/apart from the Top 40 pop that we hear everywhere all the time) based on a running list of recommendations from friends and students. This playlist has a little of everything:



This playlist has a slightly higher concentration of my favorites:



Enjoy :) More to come soon!

HOLIDAYS FOR DAYSSS

It’s been a while, so I will attempt to blitz-recap the past few months, via the major holidays: 

THANKSGIVING

Ironically enough, this Thanksgiving was probably one of my favorites to date despite the fact that I was celebrating it as an expat. It started with a very complicated attempt to make apple pie to share with my adult night class and Turkish colleagues. 

The crust was rolled out with a jar and it was deep-deep dish given that the only round pan in the house was a bread pan, but it was a hit nonetheless. It in fact sparked a tradition within my night class of someone bringing food to share each week. 

Çok ekmek in true Turkish style

We also traveled to Afyon (a small town in central-western Turkey, literally named "Opium" until the official name was changed to Afyonkarahisar or “Opium Black Fortress” in 2004— which I still find hilarious) to get together and celebrate with the Fulbrighters in western Turkey. There were about 30 ETAs, Turkish friends, and one cat crammed into the Afyon group’s apartment, as you can see in this adorable family photo… There was even a turkey, bussed all the way in from Bursa, where a Fulbrighter had a student whose family farmed the birds. 

CHRISTMAS

Valuable English vocabulary

Christmas in Balıkesir was nice and relatively uneventful. I made my university students listen to (and sing) Christmas carols each week of December— the perfect English comprehension lesson, sure, but really just an entertaining excuse to hear a roomful of adolescent Turkish males impersonate Frank Sinatra. Hilarious. I had to say goodbye to my classes for the rest of the year, surprisingly sad for as sassy as they are. My A1 class wanted a group picture: 

Christmas Eve was the night of my last class with my adult speaking class, so as per tradition we had lots of food. And several even brought me gifts! They are my extended Turkish family. :)

I found a dusty, vintage ’70s cookie press in the back of our apartment and some good ole American green food dye from a box of mysterious St. Patrick’s Day paraphernalia (repurposed as Christmas decorations), so I made a massive batch of my family’s traditional Christmas cookies.

Christmas Day was especially chill, I went for a run, then spent the rest of the day watching Elf, sipping peppermint mochas, and skyping friends and family. 

 

NEW YEARS

After our last exam we all headed to Istanbul, where we met up with other Fulbright friends. We used the extended time to expand our Istanbul experience from the typical coffee-Mango-and-Shake-Shake haunts to include the usual touristy circuit. Istanbul definitely lives up to the hype as one of the most amazing cities in the world.

The Blue Mosque (Sultanahmet)

We were there through New Years, then parted ways for another month of adventures.

TATİLER

Our university had no classes between exams in December and the beginning of February, so for my tatil (or holiday) I spent some time in Ankara, and then went to Israel for a week. It was a much needed break from our everyday school schedule, and I even studied some Turkish (çok inanılmaz!).

View of Jerusalem Old City from the Mount of Olives

The week in Israel was a whirlwind and surprisingly far too short a time for such a tiny country. Apart from a few security fiascos in the airport (apparently living in a predominantly Muslim country raises red flags there... who knew?), the trip was incredibly smooth. I had a blast catching up with some Pepperdine friends who live in Tel Aviv, exploring Jerusalem, making new hotel friends, and attempting to absorb an overwhelming amount of sights of historical, spiritual, racial, and political importance. By far my favorite part of the trip was traveling to the West Bank, where I was completely floored by the injustices I saw and also inspired by the Palestinians I met and the stories they told.

EVDE

Now, I am evde (at home) and slowly trying to get back into the swing of things with our new university schedule, exciting new gym down the street (stories to come... be excited...), and the scary spectre of future job applications on the horizon.

More updates to come.

Görüşürüz!

WINTER WONDERLAND

This is a story of a one little Californian who journeyed to a place called Balıkesir, Turkey and encountered a phenomenon she had never experienced before— a thing called winter. Sure, she had hiked through some snow and visited the fabled East Coast in the dead of slushy February a few times in years past, but winter had never been quite so close to her backyard.

Then one night, she witnessed snow falling softly on her way home from work, and went to bed with this sight out her window:

Only to wake up to this:

Literally overnight the surrounding city had been thrown into the dead of winter, and the poor girl had no idea what to do. Luckily she had caring roommates— all East-coasters well-versed in the art of winter— who patiently undertook teaching her how to function in the snow. Roommates who asked insightful questions like, “Is this made of wool or polyester?” when she attempted to pick out winter clothes, and who lent her functional boots when she realized her shoes were as unprepared as she was.

The girl was also blessed with sweet students, like those in her adult night class who advised her where to buy Turkish Winter Tea and who brought her beautiful woolen gloves from the handmade market. 

And slowly but surely the girl started to learn important life skills for the long days ahead— like how to walk over ice without falling on her face, how to layer and unlayer and relayer and unlayer clothes, and most importantly, how to enjoy the beauty of the snow.

Now at peace with the weather outside, she is (almost) fully prepared to hunker down and spend the cold dreary days crocheting yet another hat or scarf and drinking delicious salep (imagine hot Turkish horchata) next to their tiny fake Christmas tree*. Happily ever after.   

*Said Christmas tree was found tucked into the back of the water-heater closet— one of the many mysterious items left over from past Fulbrighters. Its lone decoration is a strand of glittery thread from the yarn nook we frequent alongside a billion other Turkish teyzes. The saleswoman was sweet enough to give it to us for free because she was so confused about why we were attempting to buy only 3 metres of yarn.

UPDATES: fun running and salsa dancing— free time in Turkey

In the interest of not falling tooooo behind with blogging, here are a few odds and ends from my life these days:

"Ellerine sağlık"

 Turkish saying literally meaning ‘health for your hands’ said to the cook after a shared meal or gift of food.

After jealously drooling over the billions of pumpkin/fall/spiced baked goods posted by friends to Facebook and Pinterest, I was overjoyed to find that pumpkins had indeed popped up at our local farmer’s market one weekend. They were massive and rock hard, but they were pumpkins nonetheless. So I bought a kilo (they just busted out a saw and handed me a massive chunk), and then spent the next few days contemplating how exactly I was going to make pumpkin bread from an actual, raw chunk of pumpkin in the tiny toaster box posing as our oven.

It turned out better than I expected, and I brought some to share with my Turkish colleagues. Who were confused by the idea of “pumpkin bread.”

This exchange:

“If it is bread, in Turkey, it is not sweet.”

“…I’m not sure why it is called bread, come to think of it. We have banana bread too.”

“Banana?! In bread??”

Turned into this exchange:

“Ah, it is not bread. It is more like cake…”

“Mmm, it is like carrot cake!”

 

Fulbrighters Are Fit

A few weekends ago, a big group of Fulbright teachers from across Turkey all went to Istanbul for the Istanbul Marathon. Several ran various lengths of the race— most either the 10k or the 8k “Fun Run.” The Turkish Fulbright commission even jumped in and helped organize, giving us all blue “Fulbright” t-shirts, and Fun Run registration for those of us (like me) who missed initial sign-up.

Advertised as a “trans-continental marathon,” all three distance courses involved running from Asia to Europe via the Bosphorus Bridge. The Fun Run ended up being more of a Fun Walk/crowded-shuffle at times, but it was amazing nonetheless. Everyone was packed together, waving Turkish flags, chanting and cheering, eating simit and drinking tea, and stopping for numerous selfies over the strait. The energy was crazy, and it was a great way to spend the weekend catching up with Fulbright friends from all over.

"BIR IKI ÜÇ DÖRT, BIR IKI ÜÇ DÖRT"

So one day Sophia and Lisa went to get their hair trimmed, and the stylist who cut their hair happened to speak great English. Friendship was born. We later found out that this same friend’s secondary job is teaching Latin dance class at the “American Culture Center” in Balıkesir. Thus last Friday night, we found ourselves in a small room packed with other young Turks learning to tango and salsa, tripping over our feet, and counting out the beats in Turkish.

"Öğretmenler Günü" 

 

photo credit: the instagram queen herself, Lisa Hoca.

Today (Sunday) was Teacher’s Day in Turkey, and our department organized a group meal at a nice restaurant outside the city. The menu was fixed and included: ayran, soup, bread, köfte (lamb meatballs), chicken, rice, salad, and dessert (höşmerim and some sort of peynirli tatlı or cheese dessert).  (Note that “nice meal” in Turkey is synonymous with meat and that french fries are served with almost everything.)