Istanbul Sweet Istanbul
Home is here for now. I like it. I like the temporary feel of living here. I think it makes the things that are so frustrating to me more tolerable.
I arrived back from the states late Monday.
The wind and rain storms in Detroit and Chicago on Sunday made my trip about 4 hours longer than I expected. When I arrived in Istanbul my luggage didn't arrive with me. I went through about 2 hours of the "run around" with Turkish Airlines. Now I know where the term "run around" comes from. They had me run around from place to place looking for my luggage. Each time I returned to the office I had to wait in line again to get someone to help me. (4 times to be exact) After waiting in line or clump, to get help, I heard other people talking about their lost luggage from Chicago. They were all passengers who had been on American Airlines with a connection in Chicago to Turkish Airlines. I figured it wasn't Turkish Airlines that caused the problem. But, they were the ones that had to take care of the paperwork to get the luggage.
I felt for an older man who had a connecting flight out to Egypt within 4 hours. It didn't look like he would get his luggage for a LONG time. I knew what to do by watching him. He just sat down in one of the red chairs in front of the desk with a look of "I will sit here until I get some personal help" on his face. He was quite tan and was wearing sand colored clothes that were lighter than his skin and his shaved head. It was good he thought of sitting there otherwise I think he would have blended in quite well with the walls. He had a very calm expression on his face which seemed to get more attention than the angry, loud voices in the room. When he stood up and left I took the red chair. It was surprising how quickly I got things taken care of and left with a packet of papers verifying my loss.
I've already felt the jet-lag. Not in a tangible way. Just in a weird out of body experience way. I was on "duty" today at Eyuboglu. For ten minutes every hour I go to the second grade floor and wander the halls and keep kids from killing each other or running too fast. The students have ten minutes break for every session of class. Each floor has a different grade. Reception is on the zero floor, first on first floor, second on second floor....If they have gone outside with their teachers I just wander the quiet halls. On my third trip during the day to the second grade floor I started walking around and stood by the ping pong table (there's one on every floor). There's always a large group of kids playing and standing in line for their turn. I thought, "Man, these kids are getting big for second grade." When duty was over I headed for the sixth floor which is the teacher-office area. (each teacher has a personal desk there and there's a huge computer room, smaller meeting rooms, etc.) After walking up two flights of stairs I was on the sixth floor. It was only then I realized I went to the wrong floor for duty. I was glad I hadn't challenged any of the kids to a match at the ping-pong table (I often do when on duty) Those fourth graders are probably really good.
After I got home from school I knew I had to get some milk, yogurt, and eggs. My refrigerator was pretty empty. I napped for a bit and walked to Migros. I got some things in my cart and decided to check my list in my purse-NO WALLET!! I left it on the table when I was taking out my American dollars and replacing them with Turkish lire. Crap! I had to walk all the way back and return again with the money.
It isn't like St. Ignace. I remember once when I was coming home from M.S.U. and I didn't have enough money for the bridge toll (then it was $1.50). I told the toll-booth guy and he said, "Don't worry about it, just have Jerry drop it by the next time he comes through." Ahhh, now that is the beauty in living in a small community.
I forgot to mention an important detail from my trip. I was bringing back my new Apple computer so I could again write and communicate through skype. I was very fortunate it was in my carry-on luggage. I couldn't wait to begin again to write with stained-glass eyes.
The wind and rain storms in Detroit and Chicago on Sunday made my trip about 4 hours longer than I expected. When I arrived in Istanbul my luggage didn't arrive with me. I went through about 2 hours of the "run around" with Turkish Airlines. Now I know where the term "run around" comes from. They had me run around from place to place looking for my luggage. Each time I returned to the office I had to wait in line again to get someone to help me. (4 times to be exact) After waiting in line or clump, to get help, I heard other people talking about their lost luggage from Chicago. They were all passengers who had been on American Airlines with a connection in Chicago to Turkish Airlines. I figured it wasn't Turkish Airlines that caused the problem. But, they were the ones that had to take care of the paperwork to get the luggage.
I felt for an older man who had a connecting flight out to Egypt within 4 hours. It didn't look like he would get his luggage for a LONG time. I knew what to do by watching him. He just sat down in one of the red chairs in front of the desk with a look of "I will sit here until I get some personal help" on his face. He was quite tan and was wearing sand colored clothes that were lighter than his skin and his shaved head. It was good he thought of sitting there otherwise I think he would have blended in quite well with the walls. He had a very calm expression on his face which seemed to get more attention than the angry, loud voices in the room. When he stood up and left I took the red chair. It was surprising how quickly I got things taken care of and left with a packet of papers verifying my loss.
I've already felt the jet-lag. Not in a tangible way. Just in a weird out of body experience way. I was on "duty" today at Eyuboglu. For ten minutes every hour I go to the second grade floor and wander the halls and keep kids from killing each other or running too fast. The students have ten minutes break for every session of class. Each floor has a different grade. Reception is on the zero floor, first on first floor, second on second floor....If they have gone outside with their teachers I just wander the quiet halls. On my third trip during the day to the second grade floor I started walking around and stood by the ping pong table (there's one on every floor). There's always a large group of kids playing and standing in line for their turn. I thought, "Man, these kids are getting big for second grade." When duty was over I headed for the sixth floor which is the teacher-office area. (each teacher has a personal desk there and there's a huge computer room, smaller meeting rooms, etc.) After walking up two flights of stairs I was on the sixth floor. It was only then I realized I went to the wrong floor for duty. I was glad I hadn't challenged any of the kids to a match at the ping-pong table (I often do when on duty) Those fourth graders are probably really good.
After I got home from school I knew I had to get some milk, yogurt, and eggs. My refrigerator was pretty empty. I napped for a bit and walked to Migros. I got some things in my cart and decided to check my list in my purse-NO WALLET!! I left it on the table when I was taking out my American dollars and replacing them with Turkish lire. Crap! I had to walk all the way back and return again with the money.
It isn't like St. Ignace. I remember once when I was coming home from M.S.U. and I didn't have enough money for the bridge toll (then it was $1.50). I told the toll-booth guy and he said, "Don't worry about it, just have Jerry drop it by the next time he comes through." Ahhh, now that is the beauty in living in a small community.
I forgot to mention an important detail from my trip. I was bringing back my new Apple computer so I could again write and communicate through skype. I was very fortunate it was in my carry-on luggage. I couldn't wait to begin again to write with stained-glass eyes.
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