can there be a better birthday?

I doubt it.
Not when you wake up after a spectacular trip to eastern Turkey with your equally spectacular foodie friend Yvonne and find:

a) you can take a shower because the water is running

b) this image in your inbox [with a "happy birthday to you. love from mom and dad" attached]:




That's right.
Le Creuset. Limited Edition Color.
Now proudly owned by one Ayla P.
Booyah.


other birthday highlights included:

1. five (nearly) pristine ginger gums and a very long CVS receipt c/o the Paleobotanist

2. a pretty pretty little sketch from Hum c/o Auntie Andi

3. a lovely card from Grandma and Grandpa

4. a successful dinner [first time I've actually cooked in about two months] and a tasty plate of cookies with tea at the pastahane down the street

5. a totally rockin' postcard from Lindsay D.

6. excellent fresh figs, a perfectly selected watermelon [thanks to training by dear Yvonne], and half a frozen banana

7. finally opening the stash of dried cranberries the Paleobotanist sent months ago

8. 93-degrees rather than 99-degrees

9. water-water-water-water-water-water-water

10. putting up all the printed pictures and maps from recent travels, making my map room one crazy cool photolog

11. realizing all was well and good after having a few moments of incredible, insatiable panic at the thought that all my music and digital photos had been deleted

12. love and wishes from friends and fishes [I was particularly fond of Nan's wish for my day to be a rainy one]--thanks to everyone, it was really nice to hear from you all


a swell birthday, indeed.

susuz hayat...

...gercekten cok zor.

--Burcin Buyukpamukcu

Indeed it is true, as my dear cousin Burcin said, "waterless life is really very hard."

Folks, things in Ankara are still bad news bears with the water situation. The mayor went on CNN Turk the other day to declare that the water would be turned on for the next 10 days. After that period, water cuts would be reconsidered. It would all depend on how people used water in those 10 days.

It's a hard choice for the government. First, the water pipes are old and can't handle the constant changes in pressure. Reinstating the water cuts may just result in more water wasting--more pipe explosions. On the other hand, apparently, there's no water.

Except, wait, what is this I hear? The mayor was warned years ago about this problem and decided that the subway system was more important than updating the water system? So, now he's depending on the new Kizilirmak project? And we actually have enough water to last us six months but he decided to start the water cuts now to speed up the project?

What now? What's going on? Just tell me [us] -- is there water or is there not?!?!?!

Conspiracy theories abound [the fault of Zionists anyone?], the government is being blamed for neglect, the mayor is blaming the DSI while the DSI is blaming the mayor...in the end, though, that doesn't matter. What does matter is that people are still sans water. For example, my cousin Burcin. The depo in her building has dried up. Additionally, people are getting sick and having reactions to the heat+no water combo. For example, my aunt Firuzan. Something's gone wrong with her face.

Someone, anyone, has got to take responsibility--the truth needs to finally and clearly be given and people need to be helped. After the 10 day grace period, the water cuts will likely be restarted...to an even greater extent. Instead of two days off, the water cuts may be raised to four days off. Health officials are wary, suggesting that one day off is the only acceptable amount of time to continue secure hygiene.

People are angry. They are angry at AKP, blaming them for protecting mayor Gokcek and not firing him. They are angry at Gokcek for not heading the warnings. They are angry because new reports show that Turkey, in general, is undergoing rapid desertification. They are angry and they are scared. With good reason, I'd say.

At the same time, those with consistent water aren't exactly conserving. I see huge loads of laundry put out to dry. At midnight I hear my neighbor washing her balcony [while her child screams at the top of his lungs to other children on other porches where their mothers are washing their balconies].

Indeed, my water is back on. It was a bit faulty for awhile. I was a bit worried because I saw my neighbors with lines full of laundry while I wasn't getting a drip. True, I'm on the top floor of my building.

I'm trying to conserve. Those efforts are not exactly aided by the temperatures that are being experienced here. It literally feels like I'm burning in hell. It is horribly hot with no kind of respite, no breeze, no water. Ice cream melts...while sitting in the freezer. Of course, my mom can always put it into perspective: "think about those soldiers in Afghanistan and Iraq who are living in 140-degree weather with heavy bulletproof suits on."

True, it's not that bad...but it's not that much better. I live in a state of constant dehydration. I can't even make my body move sometimes because it's so weighed down by hot air...

So, I'm leaving...again. I feel pathetic because I've only been back three days and I can't tough it out. I don't know how the people are doing it...especially the devout Muslim women. I don't know how my aunts are doing it.

I feel pathetic, but at the same time I feel it's sort of reasonable. I am worried about getting sick. If I'm gone I'm not consuming water. In some way, Gokcek was right about the whole "take longer holidays to lower the pressure on the system" deal.

I'm lucky that I have the resources to do this...I'm very lucky. I'm also lucky that the ticket prices are low to the places I want to go visit. In some ways I feel like I should stay for solidarity's sake, but at the same time it's a great excuse for me to travel. Additionally, all of my family in Turkey has encouraged me to get away if I can.

Agghhhh!

I don't have a good way to reconcile my internal conflict, but the fact of the matter is that i'm leaving...tomorrow morning. I'm going out East for five days. It will be a welcome respite and a chance to spend some time with my friend Yvonne. I will also have a chance to see some places that I have wanted to see for a long time, like Ani, Mt. Ararat, and the castle on Lake Van. It's also one of the few opportunities that I have someone else to travel out East with, a fact that brings much comfort to my parents [and myself].

In the end, I think it's a good choice. I'm ok with it. Actually, I'm secretly [or not-so-secretly] thrilled about it.

But, dear reader, it means I will be gone from you. I will be back soon. Really, it's just five days! And then I will give you the new updates on the situation...and move on to more enjoyable stories, like all these trips!

And, as always, I'd love to hear from you and of your personal going-ons. So, do email me sometime!

So, until my return...

May your days be waterfull. [ha!]

i'm not an archaeologist, not yet a geologist [part III--week 2]

Week 2 started much like week 1 ended. Then, Tuna came.

Tuna opened a new trench and I was assigned to work with him. It started out rough with the guys being pretty tough, though they didn’t verbally abuse me as much as ignore me. That was because Tuna was Turkish and could understand them and thereby give them a hard time in return.

Tuna is going to the University of Arkansas in August and he had a few visa issues to deal with while he was at Kerkenes. Consequently, soon after getting to the site he actually had to leave again. The day before he left, Scott came and told me that I would be taking over the trench…

Hi. Yeah,I was not expecting that and, I won’t lie, it made me pretty nervous. The thought of having to direct a trench of guys who despised me was not a thrilling one. Additionally, it was nerve-wracking because I was taking on a responsibility for something that I hadn’t signed up to do. What if I screwed everything up? Poor Tuna had to deal with some general unpleasantness from me for a bit. Then, I got over it.

Tuna, in response to my worries, was great. He could sympathize with my frustrations and had had a similar experience with the workers his first year—the only difference was that he knew Turkish and could strike back. He tried to help the best he could and, amazingly, he managed to make the workers recognize, talk, and listen to me. Mostly, for that day-and-a-half before he left, he always deferred the workers’ questions to me—“Tuna, what do we do now” “Ayla will tell you”—and would leave me alone at the trench while he went off to take notes. As a result, the guys got used to interacting with me and when Tuna left they had no problem listening to me. Better yet, they actually talked to me.

I ended up with a pretty great group of guys—Mustafa, Ilhamid, Lokman, Talking Mehmet. They were mostly patient and took their time with me, often helping me improve my Turkish. Soon we even got to a point where we could joke—a serious accomplishment for me and my Turkish skills. Sometimes, though, Ilhamid would start tense conversations about politics, economics, philosophy, and religion and Talking Mehment would make things awkward at least once daily by professing his undying love for me. Usually, though, Mustafa or Lokman would break the ice, the former by doing something ridiculous to impress me and the latter by starting a new conversation.

In the middle of the week, we suddenly hit a huge patch of ceramic and bone. It was a small section horizontally, but it extended vertically about 60cm and into the walls. Additionally, the fragments were so poorly preserved that taking them out was hell on earth. Consequently, it became a remarkably frustrating and uncomfortable task—Lokman and I spent nearly two entire work days sitting in the middle of the trench under a blazing sun and 90-degree weather trying to get pieces out.

Then, it all took a turn for the worse…

One day, Ismail Bey came over to see how things were going in the trench. He came at a particularly heavy time for ceramic and bone. It was close to the end of the day and we were all hot, tired, and dehydrated. He watched as I pulled some pieces out and then he went over to our collections bags, dumped them out, and examined the finds. Suddenly, he started chiding me, telling me that I wasn’t careful enough, that I was taking the pieces out too haphazardly and too quickly. Mind you, he’d been there about ten minutes and knew nothing about the situation.

He left and nothing happened. He chided me again later that night. A few days later he came back and attacked me again, this time over a piece of painted pottery that we’d pulled out…because it was broken…but it was broken before we started taking it out.

I started getting frustrated with his attacks, but on Wednesday a great storm rolled in making excavation impossible. So, I got out of getting yelled at for my poor excavation skills for the day. The replacement, however, was not so great—it was freezing cold [they actually lit the furnace] and I had to spend my day with my hands in cold water washing pottery. If you know anything about my hands and what happens when they are cold, you can imagine this was not a pretty sight. But, it had to be done.

Thursday was our half-day, so luckily I didn’t have to deal with the issue again as we spent part of the day drawing and the afternoon in Sorgun.

Another release from the week's frustrations came in a couple of good walks alone and with Tiffin through the village and surrounding fields...

...purple wheat, ugly little chickens, donkeys hanging out on porches, huddling fat-tailed sheep. Really, how could you not be in a better mood after seeing all that?

sidenote: Here's a fact about fat-tailed sheep [care of Scott]. Apparently, their tails were never that fat, they've been bred to be that large. As a result, they can no longer reproduce on their own. The shepherd has to stand there and hold the tail of the sheep up for mating to take place!

Friday I got out of the chiding too—we took a trip to Mt. Erciyas and Kayseri. Erciyas was beautiful, but unfortunately we weren’t able to hike up.

The poppies and wildflowers were also out in full force, adding a lovely touch to the already pretty pretty environs.

We drove around the mountain and then went on a hunt for lunch. Sepi really wanted Iskender, which I relayed to Osman Bey. So, we went on a search…an unsuccessful search. However, since I had told Osman Bey we wanted Iskender, I was blamed for all the running around…but the fact was, I wanted manti [Kayseri is famous for its very tiny manti]! In the end, we drove all the way back to Kayseri and, after some more roundabout walking, we found a place in Noel’s guidebook that allowed us to get both manti and Iskender. How ‘bout them apples?

After lunch, Tiffin and I went to a carpet place that the group had visited the prior year and Sepi had frequented on other occasions. The guy spoke great English and although he didn’t remember Tiffin, the mention of Sepi brought excited recognition. With Sepi came discussion of another Turkish girl who had worked at Kerkenes, Bike [Bee-kay], who the guy claimed was “my best friend.” Since Tiffin said she new Bike, the guy called her up and made Tiffin talk to her. It was a bizarre experience, but hey, the more connections we had the better!

We didn’t have a lot of time before we had to be back at the van, but the intro schmoozing had to be done. We had our tea and, just as the guy started the carpet show, in walked the rest of the group. Apparently, one of the people at the shop spotted them at the cami and made them come for a visit.

Unfortunately, this renewed the schmoozing as the guy wanted to talk to Sepi, but eventually we got back to business. Long story short, after a few grueling nail-biting hours we all walked out store. I ended up with two kilims—older and well used, but they have a lot of character. I also got them for a good price, less than what I expected at least. Speaking Turkish helped, I reckon. Robert, in turn, hemorrhaged money but ended up with some outstanding pieces. Tiffin also ended up with a good deal on a pair of beautiful rugs—couldn’t take one and leave the other for a stranger [as grandma would say]. It’s like separating twins!

It was getting late. My carpet had to be repaired a bit and they said it would only take 15 minutes. Yeah, 15 minutes of Turkish time a.k.a. an hour. I felt bad for making everyone wait, but it wasn’t so bad as we sat and chatted with the owners for awhile.

At some point, one of the young guys brought Tiffin a rose. When the older man discovered that I didn’t have one he rushed out and picked one for me, too. Then, for Noel, he put together a nice big rosy bouquet. The smell was absolutely delightful!

Scott said later that the young fellow originally wanted to give me a rose, but when he discovered I was unavailable he was just as happy to give one to Tiffin. Oh Turkish men, so swiftly their love flies to another!

It was 7 o’clock by the time we finally started on our way back to Kerkenes…much later than we had originally planned. The sun was going down and the light on Erciyas Dag as we drove away was striking. We made it back to Sorgun around 10 o’clock and stopped at “the best fish place in town,” where they only serve one type of fish…the one they keep in the fountain. Since Tiffin and I don’t care for fish we skipped out on the delight and ordered soup. The grilled fish took awhile and we were done eating by the time it came, but it looked pretty good. By the time we were done it was late, but everyone went home full and happy…even Osman Bey!

wanderlust and waterlessness.

Whew! What a whirlwind month. I've been out-and-about in the world and I'm finally here to report back...with loads of pictures, of course.

Before I start up on my most recent activities, however, i'd like to finish a few series I began. Namely, Kerkenes and Cyprus. After that, we'll be back to a [semi]regular flow.

Unless, that is, the water situation in Ankara continues as it is...

I returned to Ankara last night amidst a three- to five- day water cut in the city. Since the beginning of August water has been cut-off regularly, two days off-two days on. This past week, the water was turned on again and a pipe burst when it couldn't withstand the rush of water. Potable water flooded streets and water reserves dropped to 4%.

Water has been a major problem in the city this year. With daytime temperatures consistently between 95-112 F sun galore and no sight of rain, Ankara has undergone a serious drought. Additionally, the lack of rain and snow in the winter and spring gave us an unusually low reservoir to begin with this summer. A new pipeline is being created to bring water from the Kizilirmak River, but it's not expected to be up and running until November. Furthermore, the water resource infrastructure in Turkey is quite old and has not been well maintained, causing problems such as burst pipes and inadequate retention.

It's a bad situation. People are traveling far outside of Ankara to stand in line for hours in the sun to fill canisters from fountains. Hospitals are strained, some are not accepting new patients unless there is an emergency. Water-borne disease is a concern, causing schools and universities to consider delayed start. Using water from taps that have recently been cut-off can also result in sickness. Health professionals are recommending all water is boiled anywhere between 10 minutes and 6 hours. Conflicting reports.

The water cuts should have been started in May, but with the election looming the mayor of Ankara chose to delay, hoping it would serve to gain votes for AK Parti. Indeed, AK Parti did win, but it's backfiring on him now as people are calling for his resignation. He, in turn, is calling this shortage a result of Global Warming and "God's will," asking people to pray for rain [rain prayer sessions have been organized in the city] and telling people to take longer summer holidays to ease the strain on the city's water supplies. He, in turn, has changed his habits--instead of taking a shower every day, he only washes his hair--and has encouraged people to do the same...and they might, if they had water to begin with. Though I doubt it--this morning my neighbor threw a big bucket of water on her balcony to clean it.

Thursday evening, the burst pipe was apparently fixed--earlier than expected--and water was turned on again. When I arrived home last night, I had water. This morning, however, it was shut-off again. This despite the fact that the mayor has claimed no cuts would occur for 10 days. I'm confused.

I think everyone is confused.

As a result, I may end up doing some more traveling, getting out of Ankara to places where there is water and where there's no concern of disease. At the moment, I don't anticipate that will be necessary. I'll try to keep you abreast of things as they progress.

In the meantime, prepare for massive posting and picturing. woo-wee!

hiatus-ish.

hiya,

once again, i'm writing this without giving prior warning, but...

i'm leaving in 10 minutes for a bus to the Black Sea coast.
i'll be there for about 10 days,
traveling along from the Kackar Mountains to Amasra.
i'm flying [with my friend Tiffin] by the seat of my pants.
but, it will be great.

unfortunately, that means i will likely be updating only sporadically.
i promise, though, that when i get back there will be pictures galore, lots of updates, and many a new [and old] tale to be told.

ttfn,
ayla

i'm not an archaeologist, not yet a geologist [part II--week one]

I will not lie to you, I didn’t know what to expect from my month at Kerkenes. Ok, ok, that’s not entirely true. I knew my priorities:

1. Explore within a five kilometer radius of the site, doing some general geologic mapping of the area and trying to find rocks of certain types
2. Collect samples in a systematic manner for thin sectioning back in Ankara

Ok, so, that’s not too hard. I didn’t ask for much, just a little flexibility on the part of the people I was working with…which, I was told, would be possible. In addition, and as partial repayment for allotting me the necessary resources, I was happy to go and help out with excavations—in fact, I wanted to. My project wasn’t just about geology, I wanted to get an archeological experience, too. It was a GeoArcheological project, i.e. the two fields combined.

So, as I said, I was told before coming that the resources would be there. And, really, all I needed was a vehicle to drive around in maybe two or three times a week.

Cool.

But, what about the rest of the time?
Well, I didn’t really know. I didn’t know who would be at the site and what we would be excavating. I just knew that I was going.

And that’s how I left Ankara on the afternoon of June 1. And that’s how I arrived at Kerkenes at 8pm that evening. I was greeted by a cheery Kara Mehmet, Ismael Bey, Scott, Sepi, and Tiffin. Robert, I was told, would be arriving later that night from Chicago and I shouldn’t expect him to be so cheery.

After having some tea, Scott and I discussed what I wanted to do. He agreed that there’d be resources, but mentioned that it might be tough to do much before the last two weeks of the field season.

Umm…ok…I guess I’ll just work on the excavations and then do my stuff? Sure. So, what exactly are we doing?

Well, basically, we’re looking for streets. Ancient streets. Oh, and by the way, the excavation season starts tomorrow morning at 5:30 am.

WOAH!

Ok.
So, I was a bit frazzled, but I figured I would be alright. I hadn’t been able to sleep past 5 am that entire week anyway. Noooo problem.

Ha! Why is it that when you want to wake up early you can’t, but when you don’t want to wake up early you seem to have no control? Yeah…

Needless to say, that next morning was a bit rough. I don’t know how Robert did it, coming straight from the US and all. But, we made it. Albeit, in a bit of a mind haze for the first few hours.

We got up to site—a bumpy ride in the Land Rover that would come to haunt my dreams—and met the workmen. We split into two teams: Tiffin+Robert, Sepi+Me. Tiffin and Sepi were head directors while Robert and I were apparently swing people.

The first day was lackluster and relatively quiet. We were introduced to the workmen and slowly began the descent down into the ground. Tahir was a fearsome picker and we were lucky to have him, despite the fact that he is a punkmonkey. Conversationwise, the guys would talk to each other and occasionally to us…actually, it was more that Tahir and Ilhamid would talk while everyone else kept their traps shut. At the end of the day, we were well into digging, didn’t seem to be having any problems with the guys, had found one of our walls, and went home satisfied.

The rest of the week was not nearly so pleasant.

On the second day, the workmen started picking on me with absolutely no remorse. They really couldn’t understand how I could have a Turkish father but not be able to speak/understand Turkish perfectly. So, they started making fun of me because they thought I couldn’t understand…but I did. At one point, I told a couple of guys to do something and Tahir said “they can’t understand you. Tell me and I will explain it to them.” So, to appease his ego, I did. And guess what, he repeated what I said near exactly.

But, I can’t say I was that surprised, just frustrated. I mean, here I am, a young girl telling a bunch of Turkish guys from the village what to do…with poor Turkish. Yeah, they had a problem with it. Agh, it was such a change from my experience in Ankara where people were encouraging!

At some point, it got to be too much. The kicker came when Talking Mehmet wouldn’t stop saying how perfect Sepi’s Turkish was and that I was awful at it…that I was awful at everything. That really pushed my buttons. Sure, you can say shrug it off. But, I tried really hard to communicate with them and I think I did it well enough. It’s not like they tried to learn English to communicate with me and I was neither condescending nor disrespectful. Additionally, his comment just wasn’t true.

You see, Sepi knows a lot of Turkish but I think we are about equal in what we know. I think I actually understood the guys pretty well. So, for Talking Mehmet to say that really got my goat, especially because Sepi either didn't understand or wasn't listening...either way, throughout it all, Sepi never came to my defense. And it dragged on.

This hatred towards me wasn’t just relegated to the workmen, however. On that first Monday, Robert and I went to get our residence permits sorted out at the Emniyet. We went with a man from the village who had gone through the process a few times before. Throughout the day he kept saying that I was pathetic and it was so sad that I had a Turkish name but couldn’t speak Turkish.

Sidenote: At the same time, when we got to the Emniyet this guy wouldn’t stop bragging about how I was Turkish. So, I don’t get it! He thinks I’m pathetic but is also proud of me? It was additionally ironic because Tiffin said “if you speak any Turkish at all he’ll love you.” Ha! He also hates overweight people, even though he is one himself. I did, however, redeem some status when we went for lunch. The Emniyet is located in Yozgat so we just had to try the regional specialty: the Testi Kebap. Every town has a large sculpture showing what they’re product of fame, so Yozgat has a large ceramic Testi. The Testi Kebap consists of meat, garlic, and veggies cooked in a large ceramic pot. The pot is then cracked open and you eat what is inside. When combined with a kaymakli ekmek kadayif for dessert, the meal is quite delicious. For some reason, the fact that I loved kaymakli ekmek kadayif seemed to make him happy.

In the end, the only people who accepted me that first week were the girls in the kitchen...and that was because I helped them so they didn't have to work as much.

To top it off, as the newcomer and non-archaeologist, I was given the responsibility of compiling the Photo Archive--a most despised job. This was because, apparently, I didn't have the same amount of work to do as everyone else. You know, the non-archaeologist newbie...except I had a project of my own, remember? Wait, that's right, I did have work to do...

Basically, by the end of the week my spirit was pretty well broken. “I’m gonna have to put up with this torture, with no one to defend me—not Scott or the other kids—and just take it?! I’m not even here to work on this project! NO!,” I thought. Needless to say, I was miserable, and by the time Thursday rolled around I was about ready to head back to Ankara. The one thing that kept me going was the knowledge that if I waited it out, I would get to do my project…and I really wanted to do my project!

An additional help was the prospect of Friday, our day off, which would give me a little time to be away from the workmen scene. The day off, however, was a fiasco unto itself…

The plan was to go to a mountainous region with a big quarry. It was supposed to be beautiful and there was some geology there.

Osman Bey picked us up around 9 am and we headed off. From the start, the sky was cloudy and foreboding. Two hours later we arrive at the village nearby the quarry. It starts to drizzle, but we’re dedicated to the idea and intent on going. When we finally find the place there is a guard there:

Guard: Yasak
Ismael Bey to Scott: Yasaktir
Scott: Great! Can we park?

Ismael Bey: Yasak. Yasak.

Me: No, we can’t park…yasak means prohibited
Scott: Oh…why is it prohibited?
Ismael Bey: Dinamite
Me: Dynamite.

So, that was unsuccessful.

The crew had already been to most of the nearby archaeological sites so, despite Osman Bey’s protestations, we tried to go to one further away. One hour later, Tiffin has to pee and we can’t get there because the town is laying pipes and the road is in shambles.

Ok, how about some lunch. Sepi wants Iskender. Can we find Iskender?
Nope.
Ok, we’ll have a super greasy different type of kebab instead.

Ok, now Scott remembers this other hoyuk which he visited years ago and wrote up a report for. Let’s try finding that.

Rock on!

So, we make our way there. Of course, at some point the Jandarma has closed the road and we end up going through a section illegally. That’s a good addition to the day. Luckily, we weren’t stopped.

Soon thereafter, we get to the site. Success? Well, lo and behold…

there’s a frickin’ bulldozer there illegally mowing it down!

Luckily, Ismael Bey, the government representative for the Turkish Ministry of Culture, was there. He called the Jandarma, who we then had to wait for. It started pouring, I had to pee really badly, and we waited there another hour or so for the Jandarma. Boy, did I have to pee.

Finally, the Jandarma showed up and we headed back to Sahmuratli. Of course we take the long way, great on the bladder. And, of course, we get there and it’s been sunny sunny sunny warm allll day!

By the end of that day I think I actually relished the idea of getting back to digging trenches…or not. Adventure. Gotta love it. Especially when it’s filled with explosives, police, illegal activity…all viewed from the comfort of a van with a bag of misir fistigi in hand!

i'm not an archeologist, not yet a geolgist [part I--introductions & lists]

Well, here I am…back from the figurative, and nearly literal, dead. I came back to Ankara on July 1^st, a day later than expected because Friday afternoon I started puking my guts out and the idea of a five hour bus ride on Saturday just didn’t jive with my tummy.

For the past week-and-a-half I’ve been in recuperation/reorganization mode. Illness recuperation was pretty much a cinch, not including the one day where I couldn’t stand up very effectively and was so unbearably tired that I fell asleep on the floor of my balcony amidst high pitched machine squeals and loud drilling noises from the construction on the roof. Reorganization of my life has been a little less straightforward.

It’s been a bit of an adjustment to come back to Ankara; I have mixed feelings about it. It’s amazing what has changed in just a month…like, my address. While coming down the homestretch of a morning run the other day, I suddenly noticed that a bunch of the street signs in Bahcelievler had been changed. Lo and behold, that included mine. I’m not exactly sure how to deal with this. Will mail still come to my old street number or go somewhere else? Would it, for that matter, come to my new address? Unclear-slash-ridiculous! Who just goes and changes street numbers? Oy!

There has also been an incredible turnover in businesses, including some I used to frequent and the super movie theater down the street (!!!). It’s really quite impressive—to go away for a month and have so much change with little warning is quite unexpected. I suppose there’s not too much you can really call stable here. Well, except maybe the epic “memory of Ataturk”…

It’s also strange to be out of the village and back in the city, bombarded by summer pollution and incessant noise, women who don’t wear heascarves, and skeevie men. It’s nice to have a flush toilet, regular access to grocery stores, more than just peanut butter + cokokrem for breakfast, lack of petty drama and condescending treatment, control over my time, not being criticized for the way I cut a watermelon or peel an eggplant.

On the other hand, it’s not nice to be away from the fresh air, wide open spaces, wonderful views that never grow old, spending most of the day outside, feeling productive, being tired because you worked your butt off, koy soccer games, the good humor/conversations/laughter of village residents/friends, being with kind people and not being smothered by unfeeling crowds, fresh chickpeas stolen from fields and apples/cherries from trees, excessive amounts of tahini helvasi, kuru kayisi [kooroo kahyeuseu; dried apricots] and misir fistigi [meuseur feusteu; corn nuts] on a regular basis, not being bored.

All in all, my time at Kerkenes was…inconsistent. Some things I could count on:

1. Our schedule:

Wake up: 5:00-5:30

Prepare breakfast picnic and get some coffee: 5:30-6

Hop in the Land Rover and head up to site: 6-6:30

Realize you forgot the bread for breakfast and you’re going to be stoned by your workmates: 6:15

Morning excavation: 6:30-9:30

Brekkers: 9:30-10

Back to work: 10-12:30

Lunchers: 12:30-1

Back to work: 1-3:30

Clean-up and head back down: 3:30-4

Bring in finds and record: 4-4:15

Bring large boxes of stone out of the Depo after a long hot day of…moving stones: 4:15-4:30

Go to the cami and fill up the water canisters with water just barely trickling out of the cesme: 4:30-5, 5:30

Break or, for me, go hang with the girls in the kitchen: 5:00-7:30

Dinners: 7:30-8:30

After dinner activities, usually entailing a quick shower, making the hard boiled eggs for tomorrow’s breakfast picnic and hitting the sack by 9:00: 8:30-?

2. Osman Bey’s fake teeth were always going to be shiny white

3. The picnic baskets would never be clean and nothing would ever be refrigerated

4. I would be the one washing 90% of the pottery

5. “Kara” Mehmet was always going to be tired [and rightfully so!]

6. The girls in the kitchen were going to ask me what to make for dinner every single day

7. A Friday trip could not occur without some sort of ridiculous mishap

8. Breakfast and lunch on the mountain would never start a second late—the workmen would revolt if they didn’t get their cup of cay with an average of nine sugar cubes

9. No one would ever tire of discussing the trenches

10. If you begged Osman Bey to not get another box of helva, he would get another box.

11. Food = super salty

12. The representative would always finish his dinner, leave his plate on the table, then walk into the kitchen where the dishes are put in a tub of water, and make his tea…just to show his authority.

13. Waking up at 5:30 would never get easier

Other things I couldn’t really depend on:

1. How the workers would treat me on a given day

2. How the government representative would treat me on a given day

3. How other persons would treat me on a given day

4. My level of happiness/sadness/frustration/anger/calm at the end of the day

5. My day-to-day responsibilities

6. The status of laundry

7. If there’d be enough sun to have a hot shower

8. If the green melon would be have cantaloupe or cucumber flavor

9. If Ilhamid would engage me in a difficult conversation about Fidel Castro/communism/ the Nixon-Gorbachev relationship/American salaries/why Israel sucks/what my religion is/why I can’t speak Turkish if my father is Turkish/if humans came from frogs or monkeys orrrrr if he’d let me off the hook and talk about why I like tel kadayif [kadayeef; yummy sweet] so much

10. If the evening’s soup would be hazir corba [hazeur chorba; ready-soup, like Campbell’s] or tasty homemade corba

11. The exact moments when Natalie would belt out some frog noises and scare the living daylights out of me

12. Who the crappy pigeon would attack/fall in love with next

13. Whether the girls would give us cake or watermelon for lunch

So, in the end, it’s about 50-50, no? Thirteen dependables, thirteen undependables. Fair enough. It was an adventure, I suppose.

An gigantic adventure in a tiny village.

As for the details of this adventure, the ups-downs-all arounds, I’ll save that for some future posts. For now, I’ll use this as an introduction, ending with the Cast of Characters. As I expect to drop alotta names in coming stories, I thought a pseudo-reference guide might be helpful.

Cast of Characters

Excavation Team and House Staff

1. Geoff – Co-director of the Kerkenes archaeological excavation; Professor in Settlement Archaeology at ODTU; hilarious and interesting; was at the site this year but is mainly writing, so didn’t participate much in excavations; skeptical skeptical skeptical ornery…which made him a profoundly useful person to have around; relatively open-minded about alternative explanations; old school archaeologist—a dying breed

2. Francoise -- Geoff’s wife and director of the Kerkenes ECOCENTER; architect focusing on eco-friendly building; intense; ruffles feathers

3. Natalie – Geoff and Francoise’s eldest daughter; currently studying marine biology at Universite de la Reunion (Reunion Island); loves loves loves frogs

4. Scott – Co-director of Kerkenes excavations and Director of CAMEL at the University of Chicago; Assistant Professor at the University of Chicago; taught my GIS in Landscape Archaeology class; wrote one of my Fulbright recommendations

5. Ismael Bey – Representative from the Turkish Government; oversees excavation and determines who gets hired/fired, what goes into museums, what pictures can be taken; bureaucrat supreme

6. Osman Bey – Muhtar (moohtar; mayor) of Sahmuratli Koy [shahmuratleuh keuy]; dealt with financial matters concerning employees; supreme grocery shopper; has a set of fake teeth that are eternally bright white; drove us into Sorgun on Thursday afternoons and was our transport on Friday excursions; disapproved of the way I cut watermelon

7. “Kara” Mehmet – Bekci (bekgee; guard) of Kerkenes Kazi Evi; delightful man with a wonderful laugh and smile; works his butt off; first recipient of EU money for drip irrigation in the village; told me I was fat

8. Burcu and Nuran – The girls with bad attitudes that cooked and cleaned at the Kazi Evi; asked me what they should make for dinner every single day, even though we had written a detailed menu for them and didn’t really care what they made

9. Noel – Conservationist; world traveler; carpet lover; constant photographer; spent most of her time in the Depo looking for stones to put together

10. Tuna – Nicest fella I’ve met in Turkey/the World; starting graduate study at the University of Arkansas in August; loves a good beer and hand-rolled cigarette in the afternoon; crazy hard worker; was helpful beyond belief, mostly for transactions in Turkish such as buying geotextile, hiring/firing workers, communicating with staff; had a few mishaps making chocolate chip cookies near the end; trench acrobat; likes good music

11. Robert – Assistant Director of CAMEL; PhD student at the University of Chicago in the Oriental Institute; premiere pot drawer; incredibly polite and understanding chap who put up with a lot of my complaining; quite funny

12. Sepi – Recently graduated from the University of Wisconsin; starting grad school at UCLA in the fall; loves archaeology; really really loves metals; likes chocolate and coffee; smokes, but only when he’s in Turkey; likes nomads and nomadic things

13. Tiffin – Recently graduated from William & Mary; has participated in a number of archaeological digs and is currently considering a foray into conservation; spent a lot of tortured time trying to put stones together in the Depo but also learned how to gap fill which is cool; adorer of dried apricots; quick learner, hard worker, greatly loved and revered by the workmen; picked up Turkish like a fish to water; shared helva and saved me many times; really loves bird(s)

14. Ben – Dutch; professor at Bilkent University in Archaeological Drawing; hilarious man; afraid the Bilkent Center will stop importing Dutch peanut butter so he hoardes it

15. Kagan – Ben’s son; 11 years old; on the annoying side of the spectrum; apparently has an imagination because he is young but still can’t keep himself occupied

The Workmen

1. Adnan – Sneaky little devil; mealtime cay maker; somewhat creepy but redeemed himself when he told Tiffin and I that we were very good people and very hard workers

2. Haci Mahmut/Haci Baba – Slow worker, serene man; has gone on the Hajj to Mecca [hence the Haci in front of his name]; apparently wanted by the police for managing a crime ring/mafia in Istanbul

3. Gazi – Silly man who makes funny faces; loved by Tiffin

4. Mustafa – Hilarious old deaf-as-a-doornail man who I am secretly in love with; routinely blew me kisses; impossible to understand; has absurd rage-filled moments which are, apparently, his way of impressing girls/asserting his authority as a man; incredible at cleaning/straightening walls and making squares pits out of holes; father of Tahir; randomly rips trees out of the ground

5. Tahir – punk/bully supreme; hated my living soul until the last two days of excavation; most toned man I have ever seen; incredibly strong; incredibly necessary force; has a super duper cute little boy; smokes like a chimney; has worked on Kerkenes excavations for nine years

6. Ilhamid – uberleftist but believes money is the most important thing in life; hard-working with no interest in the archaeology; likes to bring up controversial/difficult topics; really tall; wanted to marry me, pay me, and get a visa; moving to Antalya to become a Karpuz farmer…apparently, that’s where the money is these days

7. Salih – incredibly quiet man; somewhat slow worker; brother of White Hat Mehmet

8. White Hat Mehmet – always wore a white hat…that thing never came off; apparently, he’s 23 and bald; went as far as middle school; very intelligent; doesn’t like meat, loves lemons, tomatoes, and yogurt; eats yogurt because “it’s very important for your bones”; doesn’t drink and smoke because it’s unhealthy; father likes Jennifer Lopez and Beyonce; opinionated; hard worker; incredibly thin; wore long sleeves and two pairs of pants in 97-degree weather; dedicated; wore bell-bottom pants; interested; proper and respectful; good soccer goalie

9. Talking Mehmet – never stopped talking, unless Tahir was around; other workers thought he was a big weird; liked to be ornery and opposite; taught me lots of useless Turkish words; believes love is the most important thing in life; continuously professed his undying love for me saying that within the five surrounding villages including Peyniryemez I was the only girl worthy of anyone’s love

Sidenote: Flattering? Hey, I was being compared to girls in Peyniryemez! Totally flattering…except when it didn’t stop. Ok, imagine directing a trench, spending your entire day as a lone young American girl with five Turkish village men…and then one of them starts professing their love for you…I can’t even begin to describe the awkward silence and the ridiculous fumbling of Turkish I spewed when trying to ease the tension. Ok, now imagine that happening for an entire week, every single day. Eventually, it stops being sweet and starts getting creepy. Additionally, Peyniryemez is known for being the only village around that has bulls and Murat didn’t even think people lived there...

10. Ahmet – another talker; only worked 1.5 weeks; student at Yozgat University and quite proud of it; Tahir’s brother-in-law; nice but kind of really super annoying

11. Servet – believes he’s hot stuff; incredibly well-toned muscles but doesn’t put much effort into digging; fired after “sleeping in late” which really meant his girlfriend from Ankara came to visit—scandal!

12. Lokman – very nice guy who became a good friend; secretly brought me and Tiffin cherries and apples from his trees; was in love with Tiffin and carved an ‘L’ into her trowel handle; pretty good soccer player; says he’s 22 but is actually 19; uses the identity of a brother who died; believes health is the most important thing in life

13. Murat – youngest of the bunch at 18; married with a baby on the way; got married when he was 16 and isn’t really excited about having a baby, especially a girl, because he knows that one day he’ll have to give her up to someone else just like he took his wife from someone else; is married to his uncle’s daughter; didn’t want to get married and there are conflicting explanations for why he did; has humongous ears and an incredible smile; so so sweet; secret love of Tiffin; makes hilarious noises; great soccer player

And that's the lot of them. They'll be featured prominently in upcoming posts. Whew, what a crew. I must say, they left me with quite an array of memories, some of which I'm currently attempting to forget...