Footbaaaaaaall!

The other day one of my friends here mentioned that he has yet to have a bad day in Turkey. This strikes me as both impossibly bizarre and true. I have had uncomfortable moments, boring classes, and many long and stuffy bus rides, but no bad days. Some random act of kindness or delicious new dessert always succeeds any unenjoyable moments and, more often than not, my memories of the day all end up fantastically happy.

Take Sunday for example. A big group of us bought tickets to a professional soccer game between to Turkish teams, Ankaragucu and Galatasaray, who are apparently archrivals in the world of Turkish soccer. We went into the city early for some lunch and good conversation at a sports bar, then took cabs over to the stadium. It didn’t take but a moment to realize how extremely in the minority I was. As I stood there with my friends, all I could see on all sides were thousands of men decked out in all things soccer: oodles of hats and team scarves and jerseys, as well as a general sea of blue and gold in support of the Ankara team. To get into the stadium, we pushed our way first through a gate where we quickly waved our tickets at police officers, then found our seating block and stood in line for a solid hour and a half as everyone got padded down by security. While ninety minutes is a long time, it passed relatively quickly thanks to the general feeling of excitement that surrounded us. The lowest point of the entire day was when one of my friends felt the repercussions of what we think must have been food poisoning from the night before (caution: don’t eat the mussels they sell on the streets!). Standing in a long line in a crowded and noisy area is no time to feel lightheaded. But after a lot of sitting and several trips to the bathroom, things were looking good enough to get through security and to our seats. The game itself was pathetic for the entire first half, full of wild shots and poor plays, but the fans kept us extremely entertained. The super-fan section was right behind the goal, which was not where we sat, but we had an excellent view of them. They had a cheer for what seemed like every possible situation, and sang it out in a loud wave of manly unison. They had great gestures as well, including arm flapping, scarf waving, head bobbing, and jazz hands. My favorite was when they appeared to be bowing down in worship, arms extended towards the field. By the time the second half rolled around, the game was heating up enough that the wild fans were no longer the main attraction. Our team scored with about fifteen minutes remaining, at which point the riot police who had been patrolling the sides in higher and higher numbers throughout the game seemed to multiply. About five minutes later, our team scored again, and once more nearly two minutes after that! The stadium went wild. The small section of fans for Galatasaray, the visiting team, were on the brink of a true riot. As soon as the game ended and Ankaragucu had clearly won, the Galatasary fans started tearing apart the stadium. The riot police rushed in, helmets on, as stadium seats went flying down towards the field. It was an excellent display of sports fanaticism. They have another game in the city in November and tickets are only around $3. Can’t wait!

To back track a bit, Saturday was another fun-filled day. I went back to Ulus, this time with Charlie, Natalie, and Joe, two short of the same group I went to Antalya with three weeks ago. We did some grocery shopping in the food bazaar, and I bought some excellent white cheese, dates, pomegranates, and some little citrus fruits that are green on the outside, orange on the inside, and taste roughly like a tangerine. Delicious, and all much cheaper than the grocery store. We also went back up to a bazaar that sells everything from clothes to bedding to kitchen supplies, where Natalie bought a scarf and the rest of us got stared at shamelessly. I think we were on our feet from 2:00 to 6:00, and by the time we got back to the apartments we were both exhausted and quite happy with our bounties of fruits and new foods. The true topper, however, came when we met up with some Turkish friends that night who told us quite ardently that we should never go to Ulus. Ulus is certainly a more conservative, poorer pocket of Ankara, but it in no way felt unsafe. This makes me wonder if either we missed something quite vital, or if our friends are in fact quite classist and sheltered. The later strikes me as more likely, being as one of them mentioned that he comes from one of the ten richest families in Ankara and invited us to join the yacht team (I have no idea where one would take a boat in the middle of Turkey). At any rate, our day was wonderful and free of any pick pocketing or stabbing. And my strange little citrus fruits are delicious.

Tomorrow is another six hours of struggle in the classroom. Tuesdays are always difficult to accept, like being forced to eat sauerkraut after an amazing chocolate cake. It is, however, the trade off, and it’s never actually as bad as I expect. I’m learning to focus more on the individual personalities that spice up each class rather than pounding through the lesson plan, which makes it more fun for both me and the students. Last week I had one day where I had too much time at the end of class, so we just talked about idioms for ten minutes. Several of my favorite Turkish idioms include “Don’t mistake a flea for a camel,” in place of our mountains and molehills, and “When walking through the woods, call the bear Uncle until you cross the bridge,” an elongated version of “Don’t burn any bridges.” As long as they’re talking, I’m satisfied. Although coffee is rather important as well.