Tarhana & Dolma

On another note, I made a Turkish dinner last night for Grandparents and Aaron and Kristen. It's hard to cook for a cook! Especially if you're making meat dolmas for the first time. But it turned out good. I also made Tarhana soup, which is such, such a great Turkish soup that I believe I should carry on to the future, so I decided to learn from my grandmother how it's actually done. Here are some pics from our "low-key but classy" dinner!

Separation, or lack thereof

I've been here for some time. I have some observations (I'm experienced in observing). I believe it's time I shared some of those observations:
In my culture, we tend to separate our spheres. Inside and outside spheres are separate. We don't step in with our shoes on. Humans and cats or dogs have their own places. The majority of Turkish people would not want an animal living inside the house, save for the occasional bird or fish, in which case they have their own space as well - cages and fish tanks. The borders of the rooms are clearcut. Women and men had separated spheres in the past, but we don't have that anymore (hoping it won't come back). Here in the US, those lines are a little blurred. They walk in with their shoes on. They live with their pets. Their homes have an open plan most of the time. Obviously they don't separate women and men.
I don't know if I can ever get used to wearing shoes inside the house or living with dogs (I don't really like cats). I think I like the separation that we have. It keeps life easier and cleaner.
The blurred lines also apply to eating habits. Some nights people will just "fix" something for themselves and there won't be a dinner table, or a sit-down dinner for that reason. Or they just get a bowl of cereal in the morning and cross out breakfast. Us Turks prepare some kind of breakfast or dinner (or lunch, if applicable), and then sit down and eat it, and spend even more time cleaning it up. It's more ceremonial, almost. I like that, too. I feel like it reminds the family members of their focus regularly. Being together, gathering around food. I'm not saying it's not present here, it definitely is. It just doesn't have to happen everyday, or all the time.
Another difference in the spheres/separation/division context is that Everyone Works. Everyone. From all ages. You see older ladies working in shops or teenagers in rollerskating rinks. There are almost no jobs reserved for a certain age group or a gender. So the divisions are lifted in the working sphere as well. In Turkey, older women belong to the house to take care of grandchildren or do their own thing, whatever that is. Here, not necessarily.
So - those were my humble observations. If I didn't have to work, I would do some research and try to find reasons or causes. Some other time.

Peacocks are rare treasures

And I love peacocks. I love how they look and how aloof they are, and the weird sounds they make at night. I also love the peacock pattern on porcelain, in black and white or original colors, it doesn't matter. I had this favorite china pattern at Watts Contemporaries of UK, and then I found another one that I liked at Anthropologie, when we were in Portland. I also found this invitation in my design ideas folder, that I was looking on etsy for wedding invitations. I can't believe just how elegant and original a pattern can be. Peacocks are my favorites in everything, really.

images from: Anthropologie, Peacock Plate and Watts Contemporaries, Crown Hill collection

Personal history, Part I

It's a matter of personal history. I am sampling some songs on iTunes. I am browsing artists and I click on Anita O'Day (Randy's recommendation and favorite), and then to an album called Verve Jazz Masters (my favorite albums in high school years). I'm hearing the songs, I have $11 credit on my iTunes. Then I start listening to A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square (our jazz choir song along with Bach's Organ Fugue). Maybe no one likes this song. Maybe they'll think it's cheesy, or too slow, or too boring. But I love it, and I think I will always love it. It's personal history. It reminds me of the jazz choir days in my freshman year when we used to try to sing this song in harmony, with Burak Bedikyan on the piano. It reminds me of walking home on winter days in the dark, with this song on my mind and with loneliness in my heart. Anita O'Day's voice brings peace into the room. Brings me back the days I thought maybe, maybe I can be a full-time singer. There's just so many songs to listen, so much time to spend tracing back the memories, so far back that you start to live in that first moment you probably didn't appreciate them. But then there's so much to do in life, that's brand new, that hasn't been dipped into personal history like chocolate-covered strawberries (there is something associated with that but it has to sit in the cellar for a while until I can call it history). I will sample some more songs and then try to work some more. Here I pick another artist, Benny Golson, just because I met him and I listened to him play Whisper Not on one of those Nardis nights. Boy, do I have something for familiar territory.

life and death

We went to a funeral yesterday. It was held in the tent-shaped church that we drove by all the time on the way to Hermiston. I had actually never been to a funeral in my entire life, and I was told that this wouldn't be like a funeral but rather, a celebration of life - which it kind of was. But it was still sad at parts. At least for me. It was so different than how it would be back in Turkey, though. People got on the stage and talked about their favorite memories of him. There was a slide show of his pictures with nice songs in the background. Apparently he was a great guy, everyone said so. His granddaughter sang beautifully. Then everyone joined her in singing Amazing Grace. It was bittersweet.
A guy gave a long speech about how, according to Christian values, he is in a better place now, and he is actually better off this way. He supported his theory with arguments, used Bible quotes. I thought it was an effort in vain to try to prove that a dead person is in fact, next to God now, and in a better, healthier body. He hasn't been there. He doesn't know. And how can you be in a better place when all the people you love are on earth living their lives in their usual bodies? It escapes me.
Today I faced yet another face of death, what happens to your stuff when you die. Americans have a remedy for this too. Estate sales. We went to this lady's house, who I'm guessing passed away, and all her stuff was out on the shelves, priced, ready to be sold. I got really cute earrings for only $1. All her earthly possessions, her china, clothes, handkerchiefs, jewelry, even body lotions. For sale. I'm not denying that it's an effective way of doing it. It's just so new to me and so wouldn't work back home. But then I got really cute earrings for $1, and saved them out of the garbage. I guess it's a win-win situation.

room

equipped with the stuff i was able to bring over from turkey and some furniture grandma joyce gave us, we put together a living environment for us that will keep us happy and grounded at least until we take that road trip to Cambridge, MA to finish up D's MBA and get ourselves situated somewhere. here's what the room looks like.