American Pie

So.  Yesterday.

After playing monopoly for speaking practice (don't ever let anyone convince you to be the banker when you're working with old Turkish lira.  That stuff makes no sense.)

I had my first kemençe lesson since Nermin Hanım got back from vacation.  Apparently the instrument needs to be all sorts of fixed for a person of my size.  The strings are too high up from the finger board and the pegs are too long for me to hold it properly.  Nonetheless, we were able to play a little bit.  I'm progressing quickly because it's similar to the violin, but I still sound pretty bad.  And I am to take the instrument back to the kemençe maker (with whom I was going to meet anyway to get strings) so that he can fix it.  This has resulted in me having to send and read quite a few emails in Turkish.

After my lesson, I left Beşiktaş and got on the crowded but still comfortable rush hour Kadıköy ferry, the "Barış Manço" (which, for all intents and purposes is the "Elvis"), to meet Rachel and Michelle.  Michelle's friend, Osman, and his roommate, Onur, had requested American desserts, specifically pie.  The three of us, eager to cook, agreed to come over to their apartment and bake pie and brownies.  

Now apparently, when Osman first came to get Rachel and Michelle, he said there might be a small problem.  This possible small problem was that they didn't have an oven.  We were told not to worry.

First, we got dinner.

This is Onur.  He, unlike Osman, does not speak English.  Well, that is not entirely true.  He has been learning.  The poor kid's English consists solely of "y'all," "hey bro, what's hangin'," and "Texas."  I shouldn't make fun.  I told him my birthday was "under October" instead of "October 6th."  This is the difference between "Ekimin altında" and "Ekimin altısında."  It happens.

Next, we attempted to cook.  I prepared a pie crust by sight and pressed it into the pan, because there was no hope of measuring cups or a rolling pin.  Needless to say, the top was a crumble crust.  Rachel cut lots and lots of apples, and Michelle made brownies, also by sight.  The three of us barely fit in the kitchen, but Osman and Onur still kept popping in to make sure everything was ok.  We quickly learned to not use the word "problem," even in the context of "that is not a problem," or "there is no problem," or "probably."  Every time "pro-" was said, one of them would come running in: "What?  There is problem?  What is problem?  What do you need?"

Soon we came to the question of the oven.  Osman had indeed solved the problem.  We were to bring the pie and brownies over to a woman's apartment across the street.  Michelle was not happy with this idea: "But I need to watch them!"  I too was worried.  "She is old Turkish lady," Osman said.  "I think that it will be ok."  

And indeed it was.  Our desserts came out better than if we had baked them ourselves. 

And we ate them out on the rooftop balcony to the sounds of the Fenerbahçe match that was only about a block away.  We ourselves were not to be excited along with the nearby fans, because this specific apartment belonged to Galatasaray supporters. 

(The third balcony up belongs to the woman who baked our desserts, and the greenish light in the background is the stadium.)  

Both desserts were a huge success, but Onur sadly did not get to eat his piece of pie with us, since by that time he had already left to accompany a neighbor whose cat had just been run over to the vet.  

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Nermin Hanım, over coffee after my lesson, expressed how uncomfortable she was with Americans' obsession with personal independence.  She would always feel most comfortable where her friends and family were since those connections were the most important.  My experience in Kadıköy only deepened my understanding.  I've found it's often easy to look down on the people here who accept a lot of help from others, but I'm starting to realize it's all just part of a large web of interdependent relationships.  (It still sometimes makes me uncomfortable, though.  I've heard that this attitude at least partially explains the prevalence of cheating among primary and secondary school students.)

I think Michelle put it best in response to the stereotypes that Americans are shallow and Germans are cold.  Americans are good at being friendly to lots of people and Germans are good at establishing deep and meaningful relationships.  For some reason, the Turks have mastered both skills.