1. (adj) Funnily situated; 2. a blog about putting space, choice and food into context, with autobiographical narrative
Finding a decent place to live in Istanbul is not easy. But it is easy to get conned. For instance, today, even though I’m in the process of negotiation for a place I hope I’ll move into soon (hi, A!), I emailed a listing offering a fully-furnished two bedroom with two-balconies in a great location for a low, low price. It looked too good to be true.
It was.
After writing copy today about “food-grade silicone molds made without peroxide” I realized how freelance writing can be like acting – it’s about wearing different hats with confidence. I mean, I’m almost like Sarah Chalke (obviously on the left).
Okokok, not. But this epiphany came while watching Scrubs. I thought, wow, the actors are unrealistically believable and they’re not even doctors! An oxymoron! Just like me! I don’t have practical knowledge about the topics I write about sometimes, I just educate myself enough to act like it.
Career similarities aside, I think is clear who is more glamorous at work. 
Yesterday was the International Human Rights Day. As such I dedicate this post to the fact that reproductive rights can and should be a global priority when it comes to human rights. As this manifesto decries, women can and should have control over their own reproductive health and bodies.
I’ve got many thoughts and concerns about this issue, which will have to wait until a further post. But stories like the one I posted yesterday about the women’s shelter anger me. So, more to come.
This makes me really mad and sad.
These are my words, jotted down after receiving a scholarship last April to attend the Travel Writing Class in Rome taught by Amanda Castleman and Marcus Donner. Read more of my thoughts here. Further, I hope to be in a position to “pay it forward” in the future.
Now, to make it happen, let me get back to my looming deadline. I’m writing a piece on something extremely normal, generally not hard to do, but hard to find in Istanbul. A common sport in uncommon conditions.
Bicycling.
Who is crazy enough to bicycle in Istanbul? Let me introduce you to a few dedicated souls. And if you’re brave enough to try, I’ll share what you’ll need to know.
Coming soon …
There are Kurban Bayramı sacrifices taking place in the ‘village’ below my building and I’ve got a bird’s eye view from my bedroom window.
It’s 10am. Women are digging holes in their gardens. Children are around. People are out with their broomsticks and shovels. In one garden there’s a cow. In another courtyard, one close to the huge wall, I see a man with bloodied hands. It’s not long before a flood of crimson washes across the cement where he’s standing. I cannot see the animal.
I’ve been sick lately. First it was the flu. Then, something I drank or ate – as I was told at the hospital later - turned into a monster in my intestines that I’ve been trying to express out for three long days. I took Imodium to keep this sickness at bay, which may or may not have been a good idea, but was necessary as I ride on a bus for an hour and a half each morning.
Then on Saturday, maybe it was late Friday night, the bacteria took its revenge and I began throwing up in addition to having to use the toilet and felt so sick I couldn’t move. To the hospital I went, and after an IV of some reviving electrolytes and a diagnosis of Travelers Diarrhea, I’m resting up. Unfortunately, malaise defines me lately, corporeally and otherwise.
I posted this status update on my FB page, and sweetly received lots of comments (way more than this blog receives!) which made me feel loved. Thanks for the well wishes!
I’m not sure what water I drank or which food I ate that was contaminated, but it makes me red with anger that it can be difficult to access clean water.
Monika is …
This is about how I am in Turkish. Though I can piece together at least four sentences with the 20-some words I know that are about as correct as that one. And all of this after a month with no book, only immersion. I have to say, as bad as that sounds, I’m giving myself a pat on the back.
Except for when I cannot communicate.
