I live at the top of the village of Arnavutköy, an enchanting old settlement on the Bosphorous. It’s an Ottoman version of San Francisco. The streets leading up to my apartment vary from 25-degree to 45-degree inclines. I kid you not. In fact, some feel even steeper.

This lovely house shows the slant of the Arnavutköy streets.

About half the streets are just stairways. The one leading down in front of my building has 203 stairs, and that still leaves about 4 steep blocks to the waterfront. I’ve been walking Libby down to the Bosphorous twice a day—something we’ll have to give up until my knees rebound.

This is the switchback road that goes AROUND the 203 steps below my apartment.

On the other hand, every walk through the village means reveling in the picturesque views of wooden Ottoman houses, many of which have been renovated. Renovated, I might say, at great cost. (One has pounded tin siding—very cool!) And that against the backdrop of the glittering Bosphorous.

The amazing tin-sided house.

Unfortunately, many of these old houses are rotting on the vine, so to speak. Apparently they have uncertain ownership or disputed titles. In the States, homes with back taxes go into public auction, while in Turkey they just crumble. Real estate in Arnavutköy is at a premium, though, so more and more are being snapped up and redone. Good thing.

A renovated Ottoman house beside a crumbling one.

Back to my cranky knees…

In addition to the steep hills below me, I’m only about halfway up the hill, and I have to walk up to school each day. That trek isn’t TOTALLY uphill, but mostly. I go down a short block, up a STEEP incline, up a long, gradual incline, down a bit, then through a security gate and up about 20 steps to the main school road. From there it’s another 50-yard climb up to the school buildings. 24 more outside steps get me to the main entrance, and then another 70 get me to my attic office. I do between 300 and 450 stairs each day just in the building. No wonder my knees are crabby.

Robert College’s Gould Hall in it’s full national holiday regalia.

After a week of pretty distressing aches, I called my friend Dr. Mike, who has tended my ailing knees for years. “Well,” he said after asking all the pertinent questions, “First of all, your knees need a rest. Stop climbing stairs and hills for the next few weeks.” Right. I shared this suggestion with a few fellow teachers, and the response was a hearty  guffaw. Rest? Not an option at Robert.

Robert College is old and gorgeous, but it’s located on a very steep hill, and there’s only one elevator—not in my building. That’s just the way it is. So—I went out tonight and bought myself a hot water bottle. Made by Kraft, no less. “This hot water bottle is made of natural rubber,” is printed on its neck. Smells like it, too. The price was actually 6.75 lira, but the druggist didn’t have change, so he gave it to me for five (about $3.50). At least some things are going my way.

A lovely renovated house facing the Bosphorous

So—I’m sitting in my lovely Arnavutköy apartment, knees propped up on my new, blue, eau-de-rubber hot water bottle, listening to Debussy and typing my woeful tale.

But guess what? I’m happy as a clam.

As my father always says, “Things work out.”

.
Neil just popped his head in after delivering all his exams to what we call “The Dark Side” (admin is on that side of the building). It’s down three stories, across the building (about 150 yards) and up a story. We have no carts, so we roll desk chairs piled with packaged exams (luckily, we have an elevator). Neil announced that after humiliating himself rolling an exam-laden chair through the corridors to the other side, he realized that they’re then piled on a cart and rolled back over to be stored on this side of the building. Go figure.

Exams await delivery

David transports our bundled exams.

I have more interesting news, though.
Last Friday I went to the European side to check out an apartment the Robert College director sniffed out for me. I took a teacher service bus to Bebek (which means “baby”), where I hopped off to enjoy the most stunning Starbuck’s on the planet—or so I’ve heard. It’s located right on the Bosphorous, with upstairs windows overlooking the waterway and a downstairs patio right on the water. Oh, my! Does it get better than this?

Bebek Starbuck’s: The best in the world?

After the last few slurps of my frappucino, I moseyed along the water to Arnavutköy and Robert College. I was early, so I took my time climbing the hill to the school (sweat, sweat). Along the way I met former students who had heard I’m returning. What joy to feel appreciated. As I waited for Mr. Chandler outside the main building, more students and staff stopped to chat, again warming my path to yet another year of teaching.
The apartment is sweet, bright, and has a view overlooking the Bosphorous, and it’s only about a 5-minute walk to school. The only drawback is that it has no closets—none. Interesting. The school will furnish it for me, but I’m sure I’ll have to buy something to hang my clothes in. Maybe IKEA? Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

My new kitchen (photo: John Chandler)

View from my living room (photo: John Chandler)

That evening I hiked back up to Bebek to join a bunch of Robert College staff celebrating birthdays at TAPS, yet another venue on the Bosphorous. We sat at an upstairs bar-like table overlooking the water, boats skimming by as we sipped our drinks. Ah, does it get better? Well, read on.

View from Bebek TAPS—the Bosphorous

As the sky darkened, we walked the mile back to campus, where we congregated at Phil’s waterside apartment (in Yali) to chat, sip, and enjoy an INCREDIBLE bowl of homemade soup. Yup, it got better. Finally, I hiked up the steep hill with Gaby to her apartment, where I slept on her couch listening to night sounds and waking to yet another incredible view of the Bosphorous. Oh, my! Unfortunately, Gaby is leaving Robert, moving on to Bilkent University in Ankara to train teachers and to continue her turtle trips (see my blog from June 2008).
The next day we woke early, and I headed off to meet my friends David and Nia in Beşiktaş. We hopped a bus to Ortaköy, where we relaxed over breakfast at a water-side restaurant, then shopped the “artsy” street bazaar.

Catnaps at the Ortaköy bazaar

After that we headed to Sultanahmet to meet Dee and visit Musa’s rug studio. I bought two rugs, one for me and one for a friend, and David ordered one.

Musa’s early masterpieces

When we asked for a restaurant recommendation, Musa insisted that we share a BBQ on his 5th story balcony. We refused twice, but the third time was the charm. We were IN! When I protested that we would help buy the food, Musa scowled at me. “Ann Marie! You don’t know about Turkish Hospitality?” Yup, the weekend just kept getting better! Musa yelled to the produce man as he passed by the window, and I chopped veggies for a salad as he mixed the köfte (spiced meatballs).

Musa chooses veggies from the produce truck in the street outside his studio.

Everyone helped carry food and beverages up to the fifth floor, which was soon transformed from an empty balcony to a cozy restaurant. Amazing!
It took us a few hours to get home, but it was well worth the extra time we’d spent chatting, eating, sipping, and reveling in Musa’s incredible view overlooking the Marmara. Istanbul is all about water and views. Well, there’s a little history, too, I guess.

Musa’s fresh grilled köfte, shepherd’s salad, bread, cheese, watermelon, and wine.YUM!!!

Me cluttering up the stunning view from Musa’s terrace

At 8:00 we turned right back around; 21 of us hopped on service buses to the Arkat Restaurant in the Taş Han for dinner, a floor show, and dancing. The highlight of the evening was a phenomenally talented belly-dancer—a MAN! Our French teacher got up with him, and since Jacqueline can bellydance, she was a real hit. The down side was that the traffic was horrid, and it took us 2 ½ hours to get there (about 20 miles). We missed part of the show, but many of us made up for it by dancing, dancing, dancing.

Mr. Belly Dancer at the Arkat (photo: Andrea Ball)

Mr. Belly Dancer joins Jacqueline dancing after the show (photo: Andrea Ball)

Well, that’s it for my big weekend. Sunday I stayed home to recuperate. This weekend I’m headed to Gallipoli to learn about Turkey’s Gallipoli Campaign (which launched Turkey toward independence). More on that later…

A few weeks before exams—Friday morning blues on the 3rd floor

Grades are the Be-All and End-All of the Turkish educational system. That and the Ö.S.S., the university entrance exam (but that’s another story). Actually, I find the grading system here both unfair and enabling. Hence, my rant:
First of all, 45% is a passing grade in Turkey (in the U.S. it’s 60%). Here’s the curve:

• 85 to 100%  is a 5, the top grade (no pluses or minuses, thank you)
• 70 to 84% is a 4
• 55 to 69% is a 3 (considered average)
• 45 to 54% is a 2 (still passing, but unimpressive)
• 25 to 44% is a 1, not passing
• 0 to 24% is a 0, a dismal failure

Each student has 1-3 oral grades (usually class work) and 2-3 written grades (exams) for each class in a semester, depending on how many times the class meets per week. The system for oral grades is determined individually by each teacher, while the written grades come from uniform common exams. For example, we have about 10 or 11 sections in each grade, and all those sections take exactly the same exams for each course they take. That’s to keep things equitable.

The kids arrived bleary-eyed today after a week of late nights studying.

The other thing we do to make grading fair is moderation—sometimes a struggle. Everyone on the English team grades the same 2 or 3 exams according to the rubric, then we compare the grades we gave. Next we discuss differences and figure out how to adapt our grading to an agreed-on norm. It’s hard. After hours of grading our own students’ papers, we have other teachers re-grade (moderate) some of them, particularly the highest and lowest ones. It’s VERY time-consuming, but it’s important in this culture where parents sue the school over grades. Really.

Few studied this morning, though other days they were more focused.

At least a few of the girls studied…

…as did a few in room 304.

Now, imagine a teacher who feels philosophically opposed to grading in the first place, and plunk her in a situation like this where life is all about grades. I’ve had to rethink my approach to education and move from my preferred  +, √, —  “evaluation system” and go back to a traditional 100-point system. ARAUGHH!!!!
Oh—but there’s MORE!

My own juniors (in another testing room), focused as usual (that’s Nisan waving.)

In the end, the student who squeaks out a low 4 with 70% gets the very same 4 as the student who earned 84%, fourteen percentage points higher. Enter: THE BEGGARS. Yes, folks. We have them. They’re well-intentioned, of course. “Oh, it was so close, can’t you just give me/him/her a few more points?” Grades are so important here that parents get into the act along with their kids. Not only is final exam time stressful, but it sets off a barrage of BEGGING! PLEADING! BARGAINING! (Gosh—I haven’t been offered a bribe yet. Hmmm…)

Hard at work on the history exam–one more to go!

Think that’s enough? Well, there’s even more, my friends. It’s the way the grades are averaged. Within a semester, grade percentages are averaged together to find a numeric percentage, which determines the semester grade. BUT—the two semester grades are averaged in a new and enabling way. If you get the same final grade both semesters, that’s all well and good. A 3 and a 3 average out to a 3. If you do better one term, though, the top grade rules. For instance, a 3 and a 2 make—not 2.5, but 3! (Remember, no pluses or minuses.) So, for instance, a student who finishes the first semester with a low 3 (55%) and does a bit of slacking off the second semester and barely squeaks out a 2 (45%) should have an average of 50%. Right? Well, that 50 magically becomes not a 2 (which it should be) but a 3, just the same as the student who earned 69% both terms for an overall average of 69%, a high 3. There’s nearly a 20% difference over the year for the same grade. Hmmm… Something’s wrong. It just doesn’t seem fair.

Saffet takes every exam seriously. He wants 5’s, and usually gets them.

I figured out that a student who fails with a low 1 first term (25%) and a low 2 the second term (45%) ends up with a passing grade of 2—with a mere 35%, ten percent below the (already low) passing grade of 45%. Such a deal for the low achiever!
And there’s MORE, my friends. If, after a dismal year a student is unhappy with his or her grade, there’s the option of taking a grade-changing exam during the summer. These exams are difficult, but for the intelligent but lazy student, they’re a godsend. I don’t even want to KNOW more about them.

They’re all focused—except Yunus. No surprise.

Zeynep just asked me, “Are you writing about grades in Turkey or grades at Koç?”
“Aren’t they the same?” I wondered.
“I think it’s worse at Koç,” she said. “There’s more pressure here.”
Point taken. Poor kids… No wonder they dragged themselves to school this morning with bleary eyes and collapsed into their desks. Six days of this would undo anyone.
If I sound biased, I am. I hate grades, and it breaks my heart that they’re so important in this country. I also hate it that the system is so unfair yet at the same time so enabling.
The flip side is that it’s been a joy to teach these kids. I love them, and somehow we slog through the grading mire together. We get through it, and my hope is that they learn something in the process.
I always thought education was more about learning anyway. Did I miss something?

Friends Stella Risi (South African), Lorna Richardson (English) and I (American) took advantage of our three-day weekend to visit the famed Mount Nemrut—the one with huge carved heads sitting atop its peak.

Me, Lorna, and Stella in Malatya (though how woud you know?)

We arrived mid-day on Friday and checked into our Malatya hotel, a VERY weak 4-stars. Like two. Oh, well. We dropped our gear and headed off to find lunch, which was thankfully a mere block from the hotel. We had Mercimek çorba (lentil soup), çoban salata (chopped tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions), bread, and an entrée (I had köfte, grilled spiced meatballs) for about $5 each. Go figure. Food is MUCH cheaper outside Istanbul, and delicious to boot.

A favorite lunch–mercimek çorba (lentil soup), çoban salata, pide (flat bread)

Next we headed off to explore Malatya, our intent to visit the street bazaar. Within minutes we were adopted by a group of three young men eager to guide us. It took us two kilometers and a few cups of coffee to shake them off, friendly though they were. That was just the beginning. Everywhere we turned, people were chirping, “Hello!”, “Hi!”, and if more fluent, “What is your name?” or “Where are you from?” It was fun, actually. I’d say we chatted with at least six groups of people of all ages, both male and female. Tourists are rare in Malatya, especially in early May. (Stella said it was Lorna’s and my blonde hair—bless her heart. We’re both pretty white-topped, if you ask me.)

Friendly girls welcome us to their town with their limited English (…and Stella)

The highlight of our explorations was the market, where we found scrumptious dried kayısı (apricots—the area’s specialty) and a few blocks where metal workers toiled right in the street. Welders with no eye protection, copper workers pounding on pots almost bigger than themselves, and knife crafters plying their trade. Pounding and banging, drilling and sawing sounds filled the air as we walked the streets, mesmerized with the scene.

Metal workers labor on the streets of Malatya

A copper worker pounds the bottom of a copper pot

Later we discovered a vegetable market, another place filled with a cacophony of sound, and everywhere there were kayısıcı, apricot vendors with every type of apricot you could imagine, including the pits, which are much like small almonds, and nearly as good.

A peek inside the Kayisici apricot seller’s shop. ALL apricots!

Then more tea, more wandering, more chatting, and finally dinner at the Kent Lokantasi (Restaurant), where we’d been treated to tea earlier that afternoon. Delicious, cheap, and FAR too much food. Sigh…
Saturday Lorna slept in while Stella and I headed off to explore near the hotel. We discovered a railway station where learned that the train from Istanbul costs a tenth of what we’d paid for airline tickets—but it takes ten times longer (30 hours). No way!
As we wended our way back through a small residential area near the station, we encountered a woman scrubbing her carpet in the street. I snapped her photo, asking for advice on rug-cleaning. She hoses down the rug, sprinkles laundry detergent on it, and scrubs it with a long-handled brush. Then she rinses it off and hangs it out to dry overnight. Easy, she said. Right. I can just see myself scrubbing my rugs on the Devil Track Road!

THIS is how you clean a Turkish carpet.

She invited us for coffee (I expected Nescafe), produced small stools from her house, and treated us to the most delicious Turkish coffee I’ve ever tasted. As we sat, more and more neighbors joined us, all tickled to chat with the yabanci (foreign) women. Sheer delight. One of the ladies beckoned us over to a shed across the street to show us a litter of newborn kittens.

Stella and I posed with the first neighbors who joined us. The boys spoke a little English.

At noon we departed for our 22-hour tour of Nemrut. Our $60 fee included mini-bus transport (with 5 other delightful tourists, a Turkish family and two young women from Malaysia), a lunch stop, a sunset visit to the top of the mountain, lodging at the Güneş (sunshine) Hotel on the mountain, a second visit to the summit (sunrise this time), and breakfast.

The very basic but charming Güneş Otel. Romantic? Umm…

The concrete “mock rock” decor of the hotel stairway.

We had great fun getting to know each other and sharing the adventure of a frigid hotel experience (no heat), the fascination of the mountain ruins, and the camaraderie of shared wine (brought it up there), soup and bread, chicken shish, and evening games (poker and checkers).
But the amazing thing, of course, was Mount Nemrut. At the top of this 2100-meter mountain sits a collection of statues and fragments dating back to the Kommagene dynasty of 80 B.C. to 72 A.D. Overlooking the Euphrates River (Turkish name: Firat), the ruins on the mountaintop were never a community, but a shrine to the gods and to the ancestors of the dynasty.

Zeus watches over the mountains from the Western Terrace of Mount Nemrut

According to a website about Mount Nemrut, “The well-preserved colossal statues overlooking the court on the east are made of blocks of limestone and measure eight to ten meters in height. The figures are shown in a sitting position. Inscriptions identify the statues on the eastern terrace from left to right in the following order: Antiochos, the goddess Kommagene, Zeus-Oromasdes (the Graeco-Persian sky-god and supreme deity, and also the largest-sized statue), Apollo-Mithras, and Herakles-Artagnes. On either side of the divinities stood a guardian eagle and lion.

A lion guards a platform on the East Terrace

The heads of all the deities have toppled over onto ground in the intervening centuries. Their finely worked facial features are striking examples of the idealized late Hellenistic style. The gods wear Persian headgear.” (Ozduzen, Nezihi. “Mt. Nemrut National Park.” All About Turkey. 6 May 2009 <http://www.adiyamanli.org/mt_nemrut.htm>.)

The headless, seated bodies of Nemrut’s  collosal statues

Unfortunately, the heads have fallen from their seated bodies, but they’ve been set up so that they can be admired. Perhaps these multi-ton heads will once again sit atop their bodies. It was all truly amazing, particularly as we viewed the statues in the slanting rays of the late-day sun.

Heads on the East face of the mountain—Antiocyus Theos and Zeus

Our bonus, too, was a traditional dance performance by a group of children from a nearby village, probably in honor of the May 1st holiday. Lucky us, huh? Of course, I haven’t mentioned that it was incredibly cold up there, well below zero, especially the next morning before the sun came up .WINDY!!!!

Young dancers on the terrace as the lion stands guard

They danced over a half hour in the bitter cold

They were tickled to pose with a yabanci (foreigner).

Although we didn’t get to see it, Mount Nemrut is the site of history’s first known astrological symbol, part of a lion statue which is presently being renovated (in a locked building).

Sunset over Nemrut

After breakfast we returned to Malatya and spent the afternoon exploring Eski Malatya (ancient Malatya) a small city about 11 kilometers away. There we explored the renovation of an old caravansaray and the newly-renovated Ulu Cami (mosque). Both lovely.

The newly-renoated interior of the Ulu Camii, in Eski (Old) Malatya

Peering up into the dome of the mosque

Detail of ceramic decorations in the mosque–tiles nearly 800 years old

Before we knew it, we were thronged by a herd of little boys eager to show us their village. They helped us find a restaurant, then waited outside, watching us eat our lunch of mercimek soup and coban salata—always our favorite lunch.

Rather than fend them off all afternoon, we caught a bus back to Malatya, where we meandered lazily back to our hotel, soaking in the sights and the sunshine, sampling coffee, tea, and sweets along the way.
Each time you eat a dried apricot, it probably comes from Turkey—from the area around Mount Nemrut. Imagine!

Last weekend my friend Dee and I trekked from Sultanahmet up to Eyup, through the most traditional sections of the city. We started our mini-pilgrimage at Eminönü, the ferrystop along the Golden Horn just below Sultanahmet. Once we crossed the Galata bridge, our world shifted. It was like stepping back in time. All of a sudden the tourists were gone and we were among Turks, and more traditional Turks at that. The first things we spotted were three boats moored by the quay, one with triple copper onion-shaped domes. Hmmm…

Fish restaurant boats along the Golden Horn at Eminönü

As we drew closer, we realized they were fish restaurants, with fish-flipping chefs resplendent in traditional Turkish embroidered vests. They filled crusty poor-boy sized loaves with piping hot fish fillets, which they handed off to waiters waiting on the pier.

The fish hand-off

Low tables and stools filled the quay, some under tent roofs, but all with happy Turks enjoying their fresh fish sandwiches. YUM!!!!

The fish restaurant with the boat in the background

Beside these open-air restaurants, vendors worked from quaint food stands selling—what? Something red and lumpy in a clear red juice. Whatever could it be? It looked like a pink parfait of some kind, but on closer scrutiny we realized it was TURŞU—PICKLES!!!! I’m still not sure about the red juice (cherry?), but people were buying and thoroughly enjoying pickled cucumbers, carrots, peppers, and cabbage in something red. Hmmm…

Yup, PICKLES!!!

Sorry that we’d already eaten, Dee and I trekked on to find the bus for Edirnekapı, our first stop. A friendly driver left his bus and walked us to where he thought ours might be, checking with that driver to be sure. Typical Turkish helpfulness. (I love it.) Though we had to stand, we were happy to be on our way. We rode about 15 minutes to Edirnekapı, where we hopped off and waited for a mini-bus to Eyup. Within moments we’d paid our fare (collected in a tray beside the driver) and were on our way. Once again I was standing, but a sweet man took his 11-year-old grandson onto his lap to make room for me. The boy, I think, was bigger than his grandfather. I knew better than to refuse, and took the kindly proffered place. I shared that I’m an English teacher, then asked the very shy boy a few questions, like “Are you happy there is no school Monday?” That brought a smile! (We were given the day off because of Sunday’s elections, which were to be held in the schools. Apparently they needed Monday to count ballots and put things back in order.)

Election banners for the Sunday election hang all over the city.

Before long we were in Eyup. We’d stepped from modern Istanbul into a world of capped and bearded men with women in scarves and veils. So different for us…

Traditionally-garbed Turks enjoy a Saturday promenade by the Eyup fountain.

We snapped photos of the mosque and fountain, then found our way to Eyup’s famous tomb, from which it takes its name. Eyyub al Ensari was a close friend of the prophet Mohammed, and he supposedly lost his life there during the Muslim siege of Istanbul in the 7th century. Wow. His tomb, now known as “Eyup Sultan Türbesi,” is located in the main mosque complex near the Golden Horn.

Traditional Iznik ceramic tiles with the very rare green shades as well as red and blue

Dee and I donned our scarves (you never tour Turkey without one, as it’s required garb in mosques), took off our shoes, and followed the devout into the tomb. Instead of standing with hands together as Christians do, the Muslims pray with cupped hands, palms up, at about chest level. Everyone paid their respects to Eyup, many reading from the Koran along the perimeter of the ornately decorated room, then they backed out of the room, always facing the tomb. All very silent and respectful. And there we were—tourists. Ah,well. Tourists among the pilgrims.

Worshippers at the Eyup Sultan Tomb

A koran vendor on the streets and one of the many lanterns outside the tomb.

Our next stop was the top of the hill above the famed Eyup Cemetery. Thousands of ancient tombs climb the hill to a high point at the end of the Golden Horn.

The men’s tombs often have a fez or turban atop to show their status.

Ancient, tired, leaning tombstones on Eyup’s hillside cemetery.

The famous Pierre Loti café sits atop it all. Tables and tables of tea drinkers relax to enjoy the incredible view of the city from one of its highest points. On a clear day you can see all the way to the Blue Mosque and the Haghia Sophia. It wasn’t that clear on Saturday, but it was gorgeous nonetheless. In case you didn’t know, Pierre Loti was a French writer who fell in love with Istanbul and often wrote sitting at an outdoor café on this very spot.

The Pierre Loti cafe kitchen

The Golden Horn view from our table

Oh, dear—I’m writing too much again. Sigh… It’s hard to stop, you know. Well, welcome to the traditional side of Istanbul, high above the Golden Horn at Eyup’s Pierre Loti Café.

Lovely. Incredible Istanbul.

The Bulgarian Iron Church—a Christian steeple along the Golden Horn

We arrived late, just in time to hear Turkey’s soccer team beat Croatia in overtime, winning a spot in the European Cup semi-finals. The streets immediately filled with celebrating fans honking, chanting, singing, and waving flags. The owner of the Metin Hotel found it a bit deli—crazy. We loved it.

Celebrating soccer fans in the streets of Dalyan

The first morning dawned bright—and hot. Temps were in the high 80’s and 90’s all four days (28 to 35 C.). Luckily, we were mostly in and on the water, the focus of this biology trip (the fourth annual) expertly organized by Gaby McDonald, a South African biology teacher at Robert College. Our eight students were joined by seven science teachers-in-training from Bilkent University (with supervisor Margaret Sands). The plan for the week included two days of hands-on biology activities with follow-up sessions, then two days of recreational adventures. We were also privileged with a night visit to the beach to see loggerhead turtles lay their eggs; the beaches are off-limits to anyone but researchers during the nesting season.

Gaby runs one of many information/feedback sessions on ecological studies.

Back to the first day. After an introductory session by Gaby and her assistant, Noah Billig, we slathered ourselves with sunscreen and walked three blocks to the wharf. Students carried the two huge wooden crates filled with scientific gear. Captain Ramazan welcomed us to our boat/classroom, and we marveled at the ornate tombs carved into the marble cliffs across the waterway. Gorgeous!

Picturesque marble Lycian tombs dominate the veiw from Dalyan.

The day was devoted to water samplings, vegetation surveys, and river current measurements—a mammoth task, in my mind. We moored near a group of sheep clustered in the shade, and from there the work began. One team hopped into a small boat with a long rope to measure the width of the river, then measure the depth at 5 meter intervals as they rowed back from the far shore.

Captain Ramazan rows two girls across the river to measure width and depth.

Another group set up meter-sized quadrants to survey the vegetation along the shoreline (and in the water).

Investigating vegetation within randomly-placed quadrants.

Once those tasks were completed, we headed out to the middle, where water samples were taken at varying depths and analyzed on a number of scales to determine clarity, salinity, phosphate content, etc.

Scientific equipment aids water measurements.

Lastly, six students jumped into the river to help measure the current. The rope with meter measurements was stretched along behind the boat, and pairs of students were posted at 5-meter intervals. Another student dropped two oranges into the water while a second used a stopwatch to time the oranges’ progression along the rope. The process was far slower than expected, and one orange did little but circle below the boat. Our determination was that the wind was counteracting the current or there was little current. We’d discuss possible reasons for it later.

Students continue water samplings from the boat/classroom.

We repeated the water quality tests halfway down the river, where we also wolfed down our lunch of tomato, cucumber, cheese, and salami sandwiches. The Turkish bread is always fresh and crusty, and beyaz peynir (white cheese) is delicious—YUM!!!

Finally, we reached the Mediterranean, where we were set free for a few hours to enjoy the beach and the waves. The sea was much more refreshing than the river’s warm water. We did one final water test just inside the inlet, then motored home with many exhausted students fast asleep.

Tourists enjoying Dalyan beach

After returning home we showered, napped, and held a follow-up session to analyze our data. It was clear that water temperatures, phosphates, and turbidity levels (lack of clarity) were higher upstream, away from the sea. Of course, this also contributed to higher vegetation levels. Students discussed the importance of controlling pollution in the river to maximize the populations of aquatic animals that contribute to the ecosystem.

Pensive students (Squeak and Ayse) during a feedback session.

We then enjoyed the hotel’s scrumptious buffet (mezes, Turkish hors d’oeuvres, are my favorite, so I focused on those). Later we gathered at a local karaoke bar for Gaby’s powerpoint on sea turtles, a focus of much of our research. Loggerhead turtles are amazing. They can live up to 200 years (though the average is 30-60) and can weigh up to 350 pounds. They reach sexual maturity at about 30, and females nest every three years, laying up to 35 pounds of eggs, often in three separate nests. Loggerheads often migrate thousands of miles, although the females return to the beach of their birth to lay their eggs. Recent satellite transmitter data has shown that Turkey’s turtles migrate to Tunesia. It’s interesting, too, to note that loggerhead hatchlings increase their weight more than 6000 times from birth to adulthood. If we did that, we’d weigh about 42,000 pounds.

Crab bait awaits.

Sunday was crabbing day. Ramazan piloted the boat as he tied chicken skin and a heavy nut (hardware) onto lengths of fish line. Once we were anchored in a choice location, the eight lines were thrown into the water around the boat.

Within minutes, five students were reeling in blue crabs, which Ramazan expertly netted and brought to the surface.

Captain Ramazan beams after netting a blue crab.

Gaby taught us how to determine the sex (yup—it’s pretty easy), whether the females were in berry (with eggs), and how to measure the carapace (shell). After noting all the features of each crab, its shell was marked with fingernail polish and it was placed in a bucket, where the morning’s catch soon became a knot of inter-connected pincers and shells. After an hour and a half, a mere 14 crabs had been caught. Ramazan dumped them back in the river to burrow into the mud.

Students measure and mark blue crabs (Ayça and Lal)

We once again headed to the beach for lunch and a swim—ah, the refreshing Mediterranean! The beach, by the way, has rules against putting up sun umbrellas, as they might bore into a turtle nest. They have permanent wicker umbrellas with wooden beach chairs available, otherwise it’s full-sun exposure.

Dalyan beach’s “official” beach umbrellas and chairs

We returned to our crabbing spot to catch crabs again, though with disappointing results—only 4 crabs caught. One of the four was already marked, so using the ratio of pre-caught to repeatedly caught crabs, we computed the population of the 100 square meter area to be about 52 crabs, the same computation as the previous year, although they had caught 50 (compared to our measly 18.) Interesting. Our biggest concern was that none of the females were in berry. Why?

After we returned to the hotel, we had another session to evaluate the results, and groups of students proposed methods of preserving the crab population (the loggerheads’ favorite food).

A post-discussion group photo of young biologists

That night half of us left for the beach with Bekir Bey, a ministry official who Gaby has worked with over the years of this project. Under his escort, we were able to get past the gates onto the beach, where a team of researchers from Pamukkale University are studying loggerhead turtles. They scout the 3-kilometer beach every night, watching for turtles that come in to nest. It’s important to catch each turtle before she covers her nest, as she does an incredible job of throwing sand behind her and over the nest, making it difficult to determine where it is. Although loggerheads are easily frightened away as they search for a nesting spot, once they begin laying, they are in for the count. As they lay their eggs, researchers take measurements and either mark new turtles or snip a sample of tissue from the hind flipper of turtles that have already been marked. Once the turtle has returned to the sea, the researchers dig down about six inches toward the well-covered nest and lay a metal grid over the nest to protect it from fox or other predators. The grid is spaced wide enough to allow the hatchlings to wriggle through, though narrow enough to prevent animals from stealing the eggs. In 55 days the researchers will revisit the nest, then try to protect the hatchlings as they head toward the sea. Unhatched eggs are used for study. Did you know that a sea turtle’s sex is determined by the temperature of the egg’s environment? Let’s see…I think the females are the hotter ones… (29 degrees is the dividing line.)

Photo from Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Loggerhead_close_up.jpg

The moon rose around midnight, charming the beach as we waited to see our turtle lay her eggs. She laid her eggs quickly, so researchers had to do measurements as she headed back to the sea. I wasn’t allowed to use a flash, but I got a few time exposures in the dark that showed the her silouhette as they worked with her.

Time exposures of our female loggerhead turtle being measured after leaving her nest

Our last two days were fun, fun, fun. Monday we went white-water rafting (a 3-hour drive, but WELL worth it.)

Rafting photos by Alternatif Outdoor Rafting

On the last day we went sea kayaking, a new adventure for most of us. I could have stayed out there all day, but we paddled for only a few hours, exploring one of the most picturesque coves of the area.

Too much information, I know—but it was WONDERFUL! I learned a lot about turtles, about ecological balance, and about traveling and adventuring with Turkish kids. I was once again reminded of Turkey’s varied and spectacular scenery.

Thank you, Gaby!

My view overlooking the Bosphorus (Kuleli Military Academy)

The Bosphorus has become a huge part of my life here in Istanbul. Not only does it provide transportation and a lovely place to walk, it offers a spectacular view from the Robert College campus. What a lift it is to look out over the Bosphorus from the school each day—unreal! Though it’s an altitudinal challenge, I have resolved to walk down to the Bosphorus every day—just because I can. My record is slightly less than perfect, but it’s been great.

A Bosphorus sailing regatta—a rare occurrence, happening only a few times a year.

It’s amazing to live above the busiest waterway in the world. Although it’s actually a strait, it looks more like a huge river with hills towering on each side. Twenty miles long, the Bosphorus is always busy with tour boats (speakers blaring in every language), ferries (much quieter), day/night cruises (traveling cocktail and dinner parties), and commercial ships plying the lanes both north and south. Some of the container ships are of mind-boggling size, to say the least. And believe me, they leave a mega-wake.

The bustling, busy Bosphorus–at Rumeli Castle

The Bosphorus connects the Black Sea with the Sea of Marmara (about the size of Lake Superior). It has formidable currents—I often see the water’s surface churning. Apparently there are double currents, with less saline waters flowing down from the Black Sea at a velocity of 1-2 m per second, while the Maramara’s more saline, denser water flows north at lower depths nearly four times as fast (from the Encyclopedia of Ukraine). Expert Bosphorus pilots are ferried out to each ship as it enters the waterway to guide them up (or down) the Bosphorus, disembarking at the other end to board another ship for the trek back.

A spectacular yalı (Bosphorus waterfront mansion)

But the charm of the Bosphorus is more than that; it’s the lovely yalı (old mansions) along the water, the fishermen (and women) casting along the quay, and the pleasure boats.

Fishermen on the quay…

…and others fishing from boats.

It’s seaside restaurants and tea gardens, the ever-changing lights on the first bridge, and the ornate Ortaköy mosque. It’s beautifully lit historical buildings at night—ah, the Rumeli Castle (I just learned that “rumeli” means European, with roots back to the Orthodox Christians), and the moon rising over the hills.

My friend Annie and her daughter, Jess at the Rumeli Castle

Unfortunately, it has some problems. It’s choked with jellyfish and too much trash, which will hopefully change before long. (Istanbul is making great strides in recycling and clean-up.)

Jellyfish abound in the lee of the yachts along the quay.

My home at Robert College in Arnavutköy overlooks the Bosphorus, with the Kuleli Military School dominating the view, especially when it’s lit at night.

It’s amazing. It’s inimitable. It’s the Bosphorus.

My night view—Ah! The Bosphorus!

Just outside my window is a tree lined with yellow blossoms (though this one has leaves), and on the other side of the building is a bush garbed in brilliant red blooms. Nearly every plant seems to have some kind of bud or blossom. In Minnesota I’d know the names of them all, but here I just marvel. Even the budding leaves here fascinate me—so different! (One pesky plant is familiar—bedstraw, better known to me as Velcro plant—which clings to Libby’s fur every time she ventures off the path. ARAUGHHH!!!!)

As I wander with my camera, Libby’s mission is the campus cats, most of whom know her too well. A little black cat escaped into a tree the other day; chalk one up for Libby. Reportedly our campus hosts seventy cats (mostly strays), nearly equal to the population of on-campus staff. No stray dogs, though—only pets. We even have a cat committee, pledged to catch and neuter every last one. Seems a monumental task, especially as I hear the Tomcats’ lustful yowls at night.

I hear something else at night here, too: the melodic strains of a songbird. Could it be a nightengale? That, too, is a new experience for me, a warm welcome as I wearily climb the long hill to my apartment after a night on the town.

One last note—another sign of spring in Istanbul. While walking with friends near Taksim, we saw a huge crowd of people (mostly men) standing on an overpass. Fishing? Emergency? Accident? Nope. It was the uphill soccer fan crowd, enjoying free nosebleed spots above the stadium—standing room only. There were even police to control the crowd of hundreds. Too funny!

We bypassed the cheering soccer crowds to visit the Pera Museum, where we browsed through a fascinating exhibit of the works of Czech photographer Josef Koudelka. Our tour finished with a flourish: a goodly gawk at The Tortoise Trainer by Osman Hamdi Bey. One of my favorite paintings, it was purchased four years ago by the Koç family for $3,500,000 (certainly the most valuable Turkish painting). I’ve read that it depicts Hamdi Bey’s frustration with Ottoman leaders of his time, intimating that they were as difficult to change (westernize) as training tortoises with a flute (turtles can’t hear, you know, and their hard shells protect them from prodding).

Osman Hamdi Bey was not only a gifted painter, but he was also an intellectual who organized numerous archeological digs in Anatolia (later Turkey) and founded the Istanbul Archeological Museum. Pretty impressive (in spite of the leaders who thwarted his efforts).

We ran into a few friends at the Pera and trekked off together for wine and a light meal in a quaint rooftop café a few blocks away. It was a good day. A great day.

I joined a group trek to the Halk Art Copper Factory (my third visit) a few weeks ago and came away with some exciting finds. After exploring the entire three stories of new and antique copper wares (thousands of items), the salesmen carried our finds down to their showroom, which displays just one or two of each item. My favorite find was a project for the future. I purchased 40 assorted tempered copper squares that will become a mirror frame once I get home. The copper factory’s ready-made mirrors are gorgeous, but they weigh a ton (serious shipping expense). My other purchases (mostly gifts) were less heavy, but nearly as beautiful.

Copper warehouse shelves of antiques

Halk Art wares in their showroom

Let’s see—I’ve also been doing daily hikes with Libby, morning and evening. We walk down to the Bosphorus every day, and often we head up to the plateau, arguably the most gorgeous spot on campus. Beautifully manicured trees and lawn surround a new running track, but the highlight is an incredible vista overlooking the Bosphorus.

The spectacular view from the plateau

Last week (March 18th) was a Turkish holiday, Çanakkale Day, which marks the Turkish victory over the allied forces at the end of World War I. It was shortly after this bloody battle (Aussies marked particularly huge losses) that Mustafa Kemal Atatürk founded the Turkish Republic. On Turkish holidays every public building is draped with Turkish flags and huge banners of Atatürk, and Robert College is no exception. The patriotism in this country is impressive, in spite of the threat of a growing movement against Atatürk’s secular principles.

Atatürk graces Robert College’s Gould Hall

Last Friday I ferried to the Asian side with a few Robert teachers for a performance of Jean Anouihl’s Antigone at Üsküdar Academy. It which was a fascinating modern version of Sophocles play, adapted to World War II. Afterwards, we ferried back to the European side to catch some wine and spirited conversation (there’s little of the former to be had in Üsküdar).

Saturday I spent the day with Tony and Marnie Paulus, friends who will be leaving Istanbul for a new life in Florida. I showed them around the campus, then we basked in the sun, enjoying the spectacular view of the Bosphorus. Next we headed up to the park at Emirgan to check out the latest development in tulips (lovely—again!)

Not exactly a tulip, but gorgeous nonetheless—

(Actually it’s Fritillaria imperialis rubra maxima, in case you care!) 

From there we headed to Sultanahmet and wandered near the Grand Bazaar. As Koç School Director, Tony seldom gets to explore these areas, and he enjoyed it. We capped off our day with a dinner at the Taş Han’s Arkat Night Club—stageside seats, (thanks to my friend Kemal Ocak) for a floor show for singing, belly dancing, folk dancing, and EVERYBODY dancing. It was great fun, but we old fogies bowed out long before the bulk of the crowd.

Yet another Turkish flower

As you can see, I’m staying busy. I’ve devoted much of the past two weeks to correcting Yearly Homework Projects, poetry projects, and English exams. (I figure about 30 hours total.) I try to keep my paperwork at school, but during exam time, it’s impossible. Ah, well, I chose to be an English teacher, didn’t I? I’m not complaining, mind you. I still love teaching, and heck—it’s my ticket overseas!

The first year I was in Istanbul, we had a snow day for mere flurries (by Minnesota standards). Then when we had an actual blizzard in January, we got a full week off. Of course, you must remember that this is a city without snowplows—and with precious few snowshovels. People use spades, brooms, squeegies, and dustpans to remove the snow. Believe me, it’s a backbreaker to clear your driveway with a dustpan! I think we had eight snow days that year, then last winter we hardly saw a snowflake. But Winter has returned.

City snow removal, winter 2006

Yesterday (Saturday) it snowed off and on all day, but since it warmed up mid-day, much of the snow melted away. I went into the city to meet a few former Koç students for a late lunch (such a joy!), then hooked up with friends for dinner. Amazingly, in spite of the storm, I got back to campus in just over an hour, climbing the hill through a mere inch of snow.

Saturday hiking down to Arnavutköy from Robert College

This morning, however, I woke to an amazing winter wonderland: three to four inches of heavy snow, blown by blasts of wind from the Bosphorus. There’s always wind in Istanbul, but particularly after a snowstorm, I guess. As a Northern Minnesotan I’m more than accustomed to snow (we have it five months each year), but here it’s a real novelty, even to me! Robert College has a snowplow (after all, it IS an American school), and the maintenance crew ran it up and down the winding, cobbled roadways all morning long, trying to keep pace with the snowfall.

Libby waiting patiently for our morning walk

As my dog Libby and I trekked through the storm this morning, she was thrilled with the return to “normalcy” in her life, cavorting with the snow like a long-lost friend. We checked out new routes around campus, and I realized how incredibly steep some of the campus roads are. There’s one section that’s so steep the guards set up barriers and plowed around it, across drives behind the buildings. I picked my way down that steep section, which was a little like descending a snow-covered mountain peak. I’ll be amazed if we have school tomorrow.

Deciduous shrubs and trees struggle with the heavy snow.

The guards were jerryrigging chains to their “guardmobile” tires as we walked by the main guard station, and NO one was driving the school roads—except for the taxi we called to bring us to a grocery store. Our service bus to IKEA and REAL was cancelled this morning (weather, of course), so one of the bilingual teachers called for a taxi—WITH snow tires. No thwarting a Robert teacher’s plans!

—a splash of color in a white world

Well, my first week at Robert College is behind me, and my groceries are all put away. Though I’m not sure I need a day off quite so soon, I’m open to the idea, as any self-respecting teacher or student would be. I have papers to correct, planning to do, and maps to finish for my latest book project. I guess I could use the extra time. Who couldn’t?

Welcome back to Istanbul, Winter.

A snow-swept patio overlooking the frigid Bosphorus

F.Y.I.—School was cancelled. HOORAY!!!!