Making my way to Constantinople

After the packing-fest that became a day-long fashion show (thank you Camila, Kathryn and D for providing the stylish innovations that allowed for some serious silliness), the only thing we were left with were four HUGE bags - not exactly the 1 bag under 50 pounds Air France allowed for.  Camila to the rescue!  after realizing that because of my mother's awesomeness that allowed me to fly business class the first half of the way, Cam Cam looked up the regulations and we learned that shockingly, business class patrons are allowed to bring not one, not two, but THREE suitcases all under not 50, but 70 pounds!  oh the world we live in, awfully unequal, but wonderfully so when it benefits me and my love affair with clothing and artwork.

so we get to the airport, and after a few hugs and some serious tears, I am off to enjoy a business class meal...movies! the movies of choice on this flight were particularly good because they were all ones I had wanted to see in theaters but not been willing to spend the time/money doing so - the final selections were A Single Man and Brothers, which I fell asleep halfway through.

Waking up to arrive in Paris is quite lovely, especially when it comes with a croissant and incredibly creamy, French butter and jam :)  After disembarking from the plane, I had 8 hours until my departure to Istanbul.  So when faced with the choice of going through the Passport line to exit the airport or go to the gate for my flight, I thought to myself WHAT on earth kind of a decision is this?  There is no way I am not making the most of this opportunity.

So I leave the airport, after checking in at the information desk to ascertain exactly what on earth the mangled lines on this so-called metro map I had found meant.  Upon being given some pretty basic instructions by this wonderful information-filled French lady, complete with circles and highlights, what do I do?  I lose the map.  But it's OK, because I REMEMBER!

It is one thing to know where you are going, when on the Paris metro system, and it is another to know just how in the world to do it.  But if there is one thing I have learned from long, circurlutous trips up to Vermont with my trusty co-captain Camila, it is this; do not doubt yourself.  If you think you missed the exit, you are wrong, do not turn back, do not regress, just keep swimming!  So I keep walking until the signs eventually prove to be not lying to me, and I get out at......a seemingly random intersection with a huge monstrousity of a building on my left.  So, I wondered to myself, should I ask someone how to get to the Louvre?  Well I am glad that I did not, and instead opted to independently explore this monstrousity of a building that was, in fact, the Louvre.  

approximately 3 hours, 1 medieval castle (complete with moat), 50 Egyptian sarcophaghi, 200 Levantine & Mesopotamian sculptures, 300 Flemish and Dutch paintings and 400 marble statues later I decided it was time to head back to the airport, in case I had a repeat of my train experience on the way back....BUT WAIT, there is a painting stand on the side of the street, I must go check this out.  Of course before I got to the paintings, the Seine river appears around the corner, complete with a lovely pair of French ladies sun-bathing and a skeevy but persistent French man inching his way towards them, unbeknownst to them, but perfectly visible to me with my aerial view of the situation - c'est le amour en Francais!

But I must keep my focus and remain vigilant in getting on the metro by my proposed time of 3:30...which becomes incredibly difficult as I walk by probably the cutest sandwich shop which I will forever kick myself for not going into, especially when all I have is a Cliff bar and a bag of puffins cereal to keep me alive.  so I find the metro, which proves to be slightly more difficult than I had imagined - and after a successful transfer of lines, find myself chatting with a very rugged pony-tailed Hungarian man whose skin is tanner than my (fake) crocodile clutch...he has spent the last twelve days in Paris helping Nepalese monks build boats?  what do we think of this story, this might have been lost in translation, no?

I successfully get back into the airport, checked in and by my gate a full 2 1/2 hours before my flight, to do nothing but sit and have a coffee and people watch.  I first notice the plethora of young couples congregating around me, before I notice that the gate to which I am sitting next to is a light to Seychelles - a likely honeymoon destination.  This makes me happy for them and I am in a good mood.  and then, I start crying, not because I am a lonely woman moving to another country for two years without her friends, but because I see a dog - a cute little terrier/dachsund mix in the arms of a pompous French man, and I think, "why can he bring his dog and I must leave mine at home in the care of my overly-eager-to-adopt-my-dog-brother's hands?"  it is an unfair world we live in.

but I persevere and get on my flight, having to ask a woman to kindly let me pass to get to my window seat(they are my favorite, as I am a child and like to look out the window).  So anyway, back to this woman, I forget how we started talking, but somehow we talk for the entire flight - maybe something to do with the two little bottles of wine we both ordered with dinner - but I think not.  She is Brazilian, going to Istanbul for 5 days with her husband after attending an engineering conference in Paris for her job.  We discuss lot's of good life stuff...and now I have an invitation to go to Rio de Janeiro!  woot woot.

So another perk of being the daughter of an awesome international lawyer is that you have lot's of amazing friends whom you have never even met.  This one being my mom's ex-student and current client, who we will call my Guardian Angel, who operates his business out of Istanbul.  He is also about the nicest and most welcoming guy around...and I haven't even met him yet!  After picking up my luggage, I am greeted by his personal driver, Seljuk outside the welcoming gate.  Seljuk takes me to his hot ride, a spiffy Mercedes (oh so much cooler than the yellow cabs popping around town - it's always important to travel in style, especially when you are a broke student and have no other way of proving your worth). 

Seljuk does his best to not freak out when I tell him I have absolutely no idea where I am supposed to go.  He instead calls Beyza, my Gaurdian Angel Max's assistant, at 12 am, who calls my mom and tries to figure out where in the world I am actually going (I should preface this by saying, it's not entirely my fault I don't know where to go, due to many an unanswered email from the secretary at my university), but we decide to go to the security desk at the university, bc apparently there is someone waiting up for my arrival. 

wall from Pompeii

So we go, and of course, they have no idea who I am.  but it's OK, because they are TURKISH, which means that even when they are telling me that for all they know, I could be a lying imposter, they are REALLY nice about it.  And although I am going to have to be moved to the apartment I'm actually supposed to be in in the morning, they go about doing everything they can to get me set up for the night.  So Seljuk goes home, Beyza goes to sleep and I have a room for the night!  plus two chocolates and a cay (tea).  mmmmmm :)

I sleep from 3 am until 2:30 pm.  A good sleep!  and I wake up in a stupor, a half hour into my alarm goes off, still set for 8 am Eastern standard time - good to know it only takes a half hour to work.  So I wake up and get my move on over to the apartment and a series of conversations terrify me and make me doubt my decision to come here - all conversations having to do with the fact that I cannot speak Turkish and people around me cannot speak English.  But then I go to register for classes (which I didn't end up doing because they were closing) but I meet Yilmaz, an awesome undergraduate student who has enough school spirit to spent a couple hours showing me around campus to try to help me get oriented - and play foozball.

I get to my apartment, which has been void of persons all day, and decide that the best thing to do to get settled is to unpack as I listen to my favorite American tunes.  I unpack and put up all of my letters/photos/objects that remind me or are from my friends first.  and I continue to unpack for an hour or two and I hear a knock at the door...one of my two suitemates!  Dumi.  Dumi is a Romanian girl, my age, who lives in Hungary and is here doing a Masters in History and Society. We instantly bond over trinkets brought from home, on her side are socialist pretzels, candy-covered peanuts and stuffed animals "Marsulius"? in particular is her favorite stuffed animal, apparently he is a big hit in Hungary.  She is equally excited to be doing a two year program and be put up in an apartment all for free.  She also supports my bringing Barnaby to Istanbul and having him live here with us.  She more than supported it, she brought it up on a few occasions throughout the evening, so I think she is pretty seriously behind my Barnaby cause.

our second roomate came shortly thereafer, her name is Zeynep, which is apparently a common Turkish name, because I thought she was the secretary of the school who I have communicated with (one-sided communication), upon which she told me that it is actually a common name and she is not, in fact, the secretary.  Embarassing Americanism #1.  Zeynep is a PhD student in engineering - only slightly given away by the copious amounts of math books I instantly noticed on our dining room table when I arrived.  But she could still be cool :)

That is all for now.  I will check in tomorrow as the quest for necessary items such as toilet paper and bed sheets will hopefully be fulfilled (do not ask how I have been managing today). tata