Anna in Istanbul

You look so YOUNG for 85! I can barely see any wrinkles… well… You can get work for that kind of thing, you know? I know a great doctor. He’s totally reliable.

Ataturk is everywhere. Taksim Square looks like a patriotic giant got food poisoning and was flag-sick all over everything. I’m not anti-Turkish Patriotism. I’m anti any blind patriotism (July 4th anyone?!). That being said, I can’t help but feel like an excited, little kid with all the pomp and circumstance. Distract me with your flags! DO IT!

So last night I was having a discussion with my roommate about the choices we make with money; how to get it, how to keep it, how to make the most of what you have, etc.

Now, I have to say that most of the time when I’m talking with her, I end up nodding and agreeing because it’s very hard for me to understand her mumbly, fast-paced Turkish. It always takes me a moment to translate in my head–my seconds of silence always followed by her rant about how I need more Turkish friends because I know nothing. (In my own defense, I DO have Turkish friends and I speak more Turkish on a daily basis than most exchange students. I’m sorry if I don’t automatically know how to translate “So my friend who was over last night is dodging his compulsory military service and I need to take pornographic pictures of him with another man to submit to the military in order to get his dismissal on the grounds of being homosexual. Can I borrow your camera?”)

So I’m standing there, leaning against the peeling-paint covered doorway, and my roommate says, “We all make our money in different ways in order to get by. Like the woman who owns our apartment building. You know she’s a prostitute?”

Automatically, I respond, “Oh yeah. Biliyorum. [I know]“.

3….

2…..

1…..

“WHAT?!”

So if this entire adventure is teaching me anything, it’s how very important different perspectives are. I’m not talking perspectives in the Politically Correct “I love [insert minority]s! I have a friend who is [minority]” way. I’m talking about a real, day-to-day understanding of what it is to NOT be coming from inside the folds of “normal society”. Okay. I may be different than some of my family, I may be different than some of my friends, but I am still PART of normal, upper-middle class culture. My difference is not beyond the pale of acceptance. I can say that I support X, Y, and Z but I don’t know what it is like to BE X, Y, Z. Before I knew the abstract concepts of “escaping compulsory military service” and “prostitution” but I didn’t know what it was like to wake up in the morning and have that be your reality. Those worlds had not touched me via interaction with people who actually live in those realities.

I feel like I’m getting a better picture now. I’m gaining empathy through experience. Even if it takes me a few awkward seconds of silence to get it.

….but seriously. What?!