Thankfulness in Every Language~

Temiz I come away from your presence cleansed; to you who have forged the path of purity, and graciously bid me walk alongside...*I thank you*~

Emin I rest in your presence without reserve; to you who have welcomed me into the peace and safety of your sanctuary...*I thank you*~

Sade I shed the weight that has long been a burden; to you who have shown me the freedom in simplicity…*I thank you*~

Eser I am rendered speechless, grasping for words as I stand before you; to you who are a creation beyond compare…*I thank you*~

Keyif I dance before you, mind untwisted; heart untied—a freestyle flow in which my body coincides; to you who have ushered me into this deliciously rowdy rejoicing of life… *I thank you*~

Kolay I remember vaguely my life before—cluttered and wracked with worry; to you who have simply swept the “stuff” aside…*I thank you*~

Uyanmak I spent my life sleeping to dream of tomorrows—hopes deferred in my todays; to you who have awakened me anew…*I thank you*~

Rahat I stepped into life with you like a pair of worn-in Levi 501’s; it was a perfect fit. To you who clothes me in comfort and grace…*I thank you*~

Evet I stopped doubting myself and began to believe. To you who exchanged my no of “reality” for the yes of possibility….*I thank you*~

Doymak I discovered the deceptive difference between “need” and “want”; the sweet recognition of satiety. To you who whispers softly, “It is enough”…*I thank you*~

Ekim I witnessed the blessed harvest; to you who planted and sowed with such love and patience; who toiled tirelessly over the barren wasteland that was myself…*I thank you*~

Renkli I re-painted my skies with the rainbow of promise; to you who brought color, igniting my world…*I thank you*~

Isik I emerged from the darkness, opening my eyes to seek; to you who were a source of light…*I thank you*~

Mutlukluk “I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart.” Quoting a poetess and embracing the words she breathed—I found happiness. To you who take delight in the truth: “I am, I am, I am”….*I thank you*~

TESEKKUR EDERIM, Turkey…I am a woman most grateful~

Sdupendous~

Sdupendous~

Market day in Kas. I decided to walk into town. Having been lovingly * yet sternly * admonished for my “foolhardy and dangerous!” jolly swims across my beloved (yet increasingly windy!) channel….I figure some sunshine and other form of exercise will do just as well. Shoes laced, keys in hand, IPOD set to Sigur Ros (of course), a quick, passing wave to brother Mem (if I stop, he will try and talk me out of “overexerting myself in the hot sun,” braving one big a** hill/ driveway, and I am on my way.

Once I arrive at the top of the drive—winded, “glowing” (not sweating, mind you) and gung-ho, Sigur Ros ushers me into a steady stream of musical and visual bliss. Turkey provides the accompaniment…* teşekkür ederim, friend * For Forty-five glorious minutes, I make my way past glistening seascapes, pebbled beaches, residential roosters, fellow pedestrians (ponopeople that bless me with every breath), and (my favorites)…peek-a-boo grottos (yes, I see you, you lovely bashful beauties).

As I approach the corner that will bring me to the main street market, I prepare myself for what is to come. The peaceful pedestrian must swiftly switch roles…Clark Kent style…quick-changing into the cunning and alert consumer. What may appear as mere “shopping” to some, I have come to know more as a true sense of self-preservation here in Turkey (at least for my rapidly dwindling bank account) J

To give you a mental picture….it mostly has gone like “this” in the past…

-Arrival. Onslaught. Hands Up. Back-Peddling. Stuttering. Reeling. Gasping for deep breaths. Back-Peddling some more. Spinning. Whimpering (to myself thank God) the mantra “deep breaths,” when all I could hear like a spell-binding chant was “BUY! BUY! BUY!” Teetering about, wondering where in the world is my Zack Morris freeze-frame when I need it...words can only come to: Whoa Nellie…

I have learned a few tactics that have served me well thus far (ALL the TWO times I have tried them):

-No Eye Contact.

-Keep your a** moving! (Once you stop, you’re as good as toast!)

-If you MUST stop, Brace yourself--in what I lovingly refer to as the “Barter Stance!” (Basically, feet firmly planted, yet ready to roll…one eye on the merchandise (cursory glance of non-commitment of course) and the other eye on the door (or in this case….stall entrance…).

Normally, I am not buying, but today I am actually looking for something small for a friend’s birthday. The vendors sense this…it’s like some frighteningly sensitive alarm system in their psyches and I have a big, blinking neon aura around me. * And, yes….I have been spotted… *

The teetering old man surprisingly approaches with stealth-bomber speed, arriving directly under my nose (smaller in stature by a good foot, yet I sense instantly that he is the one in command of this situation). His ferocious friendliness and charm is almost palpable. I sense myself slowly crumbling beneath his easy manner, humorous antidotes and winning smile. I ask the price of a handwoven scarf I have had my eye on. It is quoted, and seems reasonable, yet my big brother Mem’s advice rings in my ears: “Andy, you NEVER buy the first price! That is for suckers! And the higher they sell to you for, the more of a sucker you are….*shaking his head all the while at my complete hopelessness and ignorance….tsk tsk* ” I take this wisdom to heart, and (Barter stance still holding strong!) back-peddle my way towards the escape….er…..exit.

Just for my curiosity’s sake, I waited just outside of view to watch this man work (this was by far better than any entertainment I have yet to stumble upon in my adventures). I must have observed for at least2 hours (they flew by) when I noticed a man pick up my scarf. I waited with abated breath as I listened to hear the quoted price ( I was mighty curious to know just how large of a “Sucker Sign” I had tattooed across my forehead this particular day. * Apparently, a biggun’ * …..the man was quoted HALF my price, and seemed happy as he reached for his wallet to pay. I gleefully took this opportunity to round the corner and interrupt with an innocently ignorant (of course) doe-faced: “I’ve decided it’s just too good of a deal to turn down! I’ll take it at your sale price and DO thank you ever soooo much for giving me the special!” * I even added a clandestine wink for good measure.

As I strolled out of the stall, merchandise hot in hand, I chuckled to (or at) myself (one can never tell which most days). The * sales price * * steal * of a scarf was beautiful, but it was the exultant look upon that vendors' face, coupled with the priceless machismo comraderie between the two men (who shared a secret smile * or snicker? * over the little American Super Sucker) that I considered to be worth every lire~

Turkish Tarzans~

We woke up late (a luxury we are most definitely NOT allowing ourselves to get used to). Breakfast with our brothers. Add a new guest couple, recently moved in, to the mix…blessings abound. Carbo-loaded, laughter infused, energy boosted and charged with caffeine (Turbo-style Turkish, of course), and we are ready to greet this day.

Our morning swim across the channel has never felt so good. The current was strong, but we were stronger. The ocean’s pull was a welcome resistance, providing a challenge—something to shoot for and overcome…a goal. And, when we finished—fully spent—too tired for troubles—no energy left to waste on worry…we thanked Jah for all the cares castoff—collected now at the bottom of that salty sea—having slicked off our slight shoulders in the somewhere in between~

Morning melted into afternoon. Days here dally about; yet somehow we fill the time. Fellowship, peace, sunshine, and laughter—all merge as we go about our work in a moderate manner. Languid lengths of hours…merging into one 24 segment cycle.

Evening time now. Not yet night, and the morning having made its quiet exit long ago…the slight lull lingering in the space now left. What to do? Are we hungry? Not yet…the bountiful breakfast became brunch (and quite possibly will suffice for dinner as well if the fullness and satiety of our stomachs has its say). In fact, we can imagine its say would go something along the lines of: “lütfen! artık”….(“PLEASE, NO MORE!”) J We realize that we should probably write something today, but here at the hotel our family is such fun, not much penmanship or productivity is projected to occur. To town we go, then…

One dolma down (that’s a Turkish bus…and...after the first, we believe we may only “need” one, as our legs are suddenly not so tired anymore…* funny how claustrophobia, cramped spaces and odiferous aromas of various unidentified genres--and origins--can do that…*)…and we are deposited into the depths of the bustling, big town (try to contain your excitement..I know…it’s alot to take in all at once). From the one grocer, to the two main (and only!) drags, one really must pace themselves to absorb it all J

Okay! Focus, Ponopeople, we are writing tonight! Hmm…surveying the town square (which, we have to admit, is ROCKIN’ tonight!) we see that the town is represented in full force…all twelve of them. Woo-hoo *hands raised, fists pumpin’—fanfare *. Productivity and writing in mind, we skirt around the square’s edge in search of a place to perch our poetic awesomeness. There! Spotted!—a little corner of bench right by the sea…far enough away from the crowd, yet still enough atmosphere around to inspire—we have arrived! We launch into writing mode…Notepad: CHECK! Pen: CHECK! Lucky handmade ring from Ari: CHECK! Water: CHECK (hey, this writing can be tough..one must stay hydrated!) Black and white spotted feline friend avec notebook: What the (C)HECK?.... and enter our new kitty co-pilot. * Fabulous * just wonderful…now, if we could just have you, Miss Kitty, scoot over a * tad * …so we could * maybe * just see one corner of our paper…yes, thank you, that would be SUPER…* sigh*~

After humoring the little furry freeloader (yes, we fed her too….such pushovers), we sent her on her way, and set our focus back to work. Pen poised, we pondered plot, characters, setting, rising action, falling action, and climax... * as in, the head trauma we just underwent as the band of biker boys, avec little sisters in tow..avec SPLAYED SOCCER BALLS…awesome! BUMP THAT—literally (we are assuming they had the same idea…) * sigh *~ As we turn to give them all an EVIL “Hey what the HOO?” glare-with-a-nostril-flare!---our eyes rest upon the cutest, most adorable, infectiously endearing imp that we have ever seen. * Goners *…..we smile despite ourselves—In that instant the throb of our (now dinosaur egged) heads dissipating.

* Sigh…* ...* smile *... *sigh *…..Resigned, we allow ourselves to revel in the rambunctious rowdiness that is now enveloping us. Looking around at this tribe of tiny Turkish Tarzans, we know we are surrounded…we drop the pen, and reach for our camera (our own version of raising the white flag)… and surrender, swept up in the silly sounds and sweetness of youthful bliss….we are being held captive-ated~

Divine Chance~

It was a blind date, neither of us knowing quite what to expect from the other. Yet, you did not seem nervous or ill at ease. In fact, it was your quiet confidence; your humble assurance, that attracted me instantly.

You met me at the airport gate. Without one word you had my bags; relieving me of the cumbersome weight I had been carrying. You apologized in broken English for your lack of communication…not realizing all the while, that from the second you smiled, we’ve been speaking the same language. You gently took my hand in yours; I let you lead.

We spent that first night together. I was surprised at how safe I felt, so soon. It is not like me at all. You were kind and vulnerable with me. You showed no fear or hesitation. Patiently pursuing me, you opened yourself up for me to discover…inviting me in…allowing me to know every inch of you. I find you irresistible. Your nakedness is beautiful to me. Spellbound, I cannot look away.

Because you gave all of yourself so freely…without fear…without reservation…unconditionally---you freed me to offer myself. I felt wanted…as I was…here…now. I felt beautiful. I felt flawless. I felt I belonged. I felt held. We fit together perfectly. The gentle pressure of your hips was not an oppression, nor controlling pulse—but rather our bodies and souls aligning in rhythm; dancing to a tune tangible to us alone. As I opened myself, you met me. Together we found our flow…poetry personified.

The morning after I did not have to worry…you were still there with me. A palpable peace—your presence beside me. I never had to tell you I needed my mornings to start softly. You wordlessly held me close, leaving me to gently greet the day my own way—in the peace and stillness of sunrise. You waited; I reveled in its radiance.

When it is time (and you always just seem to know when that is exactly) you bring me coffee—bold and black…just how I like it. Breakfast is simple (most of the things we share are)…made from good things from this good earth. Our bodies are nurtured; our souls, sustained.

Turkey, I am glad we took the risk...I look forward to this season of LIFE with you~

Just Like The Moon~

Barcelona

I awoke early. Bouncing out of bed, I was eager to get to know you. You slept. You made me wait. I tried to go back to sleep and be patient, yet I felt restless...listless...lost. I am a morning person, didn't you know?

As I waited on you, I had time to think; time to pace the chilled marbled tiles, giving my icy feet time to remember (and grieve for) the warm, Hawaiian sand they'd so recently burrowed beneath. I had time to worry...to fret over how many mornings alone I would spend during our time together--time to calculate that loss in not just days, but hours...minutes...seconds...moments...and loved ones. I looked outside. Not even the sun would shed its light; instead making me wait in momentary darkness. I felt you were closed entirely to me, Barcelona. Even your shops and markets had no warm welcomes for me this morning....signs seemed to scream in resolved solidarity: "CERRADO!" I was awake, alone.

Unaffected, you took your time. As mid-day approached, I (being nearly at my wits' end, and certainly almost out of patience) watch as you nonchalantly amble towards me. Slowly, you beckon your day to begin, acknowledging noon in an unhurried aside. I follow at your heels, anxious to see who you are; what you are all about; to discover why you are so beloved among your people. To possibly understand why those who arrange their entire lives just to stay near to you possess such fierce loyalty in your name.

You stroll down the street, round three corners, cross one plaza, and slow. Sidling up to an unassuming sidestreet cafe, you enter...no introduction necessary. This is your spot. Here your table is ready--your coffee and croissant are waiting to warm you. I eat as well, feeling energized by the welcome repast. Yet, still, I wonder what it is exactly that is so special about you. You seem so quiet; almost rude; arrogant in your way. I wait to see.

You settle the bill and I assume we are on our way. My heart drops as I watch you leisurely reach for the daily news, shifting your weight ever so slightly--settling in. We sit for what seems like hours, observing as people pass. Your neighbors, your friends, your colleagues...all greeting you in quiet nods and familiar double-kisses from cheek to cheek. Your streets begin to slowly grind their gears--street vendors pedaling their wares; citizens shifting their paces into one slow and steady, collective hummmmm (yet in a reserved and almost regal way). I begin to see glimpses of life in you, Barcelona.

We share a lite lunch in a little cafe, and you open up a bit more in conversation. Gestures are more animated, and your muscles along your jawline (as well as your stiff upper lip) become more relaxed. I think I may have even caught a brief and fleeting glimpse of a grin at one point.

I begin to get excited, but now, where are you going? "Siesta," you say?!?!? But...isn't that just an exotic and very European-ese way of saying..."NAP?!?!" (as in the kind I used to be forced to endure back in the day...in Mrs Frye's Kindergarten class...while relegated to an orange foam mat that I DISTINCTLY remembered smelling of a grievous mixture of urine and cheetos?...) Well, if so (and I sadly fear it is), to be quite honest, this idea of wasting so much of my day away when I could be getting to know you, leaves quite the same odious stink to my senses). * Boo *.... Yet, I humor you, and we place our days on hold as we sleep. * sigh *

We awake and, surprisingly I feel refreshed. Almost, yes, almost as if this is morning anew. YOU bounce out of your bed and leave ME in the dust! There is much to do, you say, as I dash after you. We make our way through the (now bustling) streets; streets awake and alive with people yelling, heralding their family and friends across the avenues. I dodge children and papas giggling through a frenzied futbol session in the square...watch as a tiny curl-crowned Spanish princess passes by, greedily gobbling up her gelato--a tiny pink trail of sticky sweetness the only evidence remaining of her afternoon's delight.

Arriving at the pub, we sit. We eat. We drink. We laugh. And..I watch you come alive...mingling, dancing, reveling in fellowship and light. It is not until now that I see you, Barcelona. You, to me, personify the very rhythm of your days. We got off to a slow start. I only felt darkness from you...until I understood and looked closer. You, too, shine....the moon to Hawaii's sun, you are now understood, and recognized, with respect and newfound wonder.

I collapse into bed as we return home. How about tomorrow, new friend, let's sleep until noon....

Quitter...

Anyone of you who communicates with me on a daily basis will already be aware of this tragedy, but for those who I am only privileged to share with in less frequent moments, I have a newsflash * insert dramatic pause for effect here *....(wait for it)....and.....(deep breath)....[___]...

***My computer officially (and rather passive aggressively, I might add!) gave me her resignation yesterday***.

I am nonplussed * and not to mention quite a bit perturbed--hurt, even. * Basically a seastorm of emotional waves rockin' this bosslady's world right about now. My therapist (okay, maybe it was more like something I heard Stuart Smalley say once on SNL...) suggested that I write a letter to my recent "employee" voicing my feelings...in hopes that I may arrive at some small semblance of peace and closure concerning this travesty. So, here is said attempt (bear with me, as it is still in its rough draft stages...)

Mrs. Computer,

I consider myself to be a fairly reasonable employer. I am grateful for all of the things/ work that you have aided with, and supported me in accomplishing over the years. I do believe I have expressed this gratitude on several occasions in fact. I even distinctly am remembering some hand clapping and happy dancing occurrences *I would say that was enthusiastic thankfulness for sure *.

True, I understand how working without one single paycheck, in well over two years, could have had an impact on your decision. However, I still have to admit that your just up and quitting with no notice, nor even a verbal acknowledgment of the gaping void you would be leaving behind in your wake, I find to be grossly unprofessional.

That being said (and speaking *ahem* of unprofessionalism) I do see that I may have contributed in a few, small, very minor, areas to the development of your recent unhappiness in my employ. For these I would now like to apologize (as my therapist..*coughs*...okay! okay! again, it was from SNL Stuart one night when I couldn't sleep, but still!)...he said it was "a good and lovely thing to do" as long as I keep repeating the entire time to myself a personal "me mantra"..."I am me, and I am OKAY!* )....too much information? Okay....*throat clears* ...ooooohh-kayy.....back to the point....

My apologies for:

1) Being the incredible hotness that I am. [I am sorry, but I cannot leave unnoticed that you were turned on by me almost every single time I would come into the room. Really, I mean, you just lit up. Now, I would be lying if I said I do not carry you with me everywhere and always, but, alas, I am in a relationship you know...and I am very sorry if I sent you the wrong signals with all the time we spent together...mea culpa~

2) (As mentioned above), the no pay. Yeah, about that...would you reconsider if I could offer free travel, a five-star resort stay, and the best company known to man? (Do think on that...)

3) The onslaught of incoherent mumbling, frequent crying, occasional cursing, and yes, even that one *cough* (or two?) isolated instance(s) of yelling. (I thought you understood that came with the territory in this business...)

4) And finally (and this I am realizing may have really pushed you over the edge), I apologize for stripping down and getting completely naked in front of you every single time I sat down at my desk to work. Which, just now, strikes me that this behavior could seem to some (who of course, are not aware of our particular line of work) as being mildly awkward and inappropriate...

*The List Goes On....*

-------------------

Friends, this is as far as I have gotten with the letter. I, for some reason * and I can't quite put my finger on it * am not entirely sure that I am quite communicating * exactly * what I mean to say here...

~Sound (Affects)~

Airports. Microscopic blinks. Brief, concentrated glimpses of this macroscopic world, and all those inhabiting it. I have always found them to be fascinating on so many levels. From fashion to finances, being a spectator as the spectrum of humanity colors my scope of sight, is such an eye-opening experience.

In fashion-forward Europe, where couture is king, it is not surprising that I would gravitate first to clothing commentary. Today, some people dressed for style (from 8 inch high stiletto heels and skinny jeans, to thigh high boots and barely-there mini skirts; fashion is always a factor here in Barcelona). Other people (such as myself) dressed more for *coughs* ...."comfort." (Yes, I assure you, I strategically planned this outfit--fully aware that I am in the mecca of mod). These jeans, sneakers and tee shirt are going to serve me well, and allow me the luxury of breathing, thank you very much...(and yes, they also just may announce to the entire European airport: "American tourist! American tourist!" )

Closing the fashion file, I make my way up the terminal stairs, surveying the crowd en route. Those who seem in a hurry (or perhaps just were inspired by a secret, undying affection for aerobic idol Richard Simmons and his sweatin' to the Oldies self) took the steps. Those who opted for the escalator, I noted, could be grouped into two major categories:

1) Those who were in a hurry, yet too lazy to take matters completely into their own hands (or feet?) and actually climb...they rather more were half-a**ing is, while hemming and hawing at the second group...

2) Yes, group number two...those poor, innocent bystanders who alighted the escalator fully secure in (and resolved to maintain) their stationary states. The longer I watched this parody of Truman-show transit, I realized that there actually kind of was a non-verbal (yet understood) "protocol" to this processional. Basically, if you weren't going to move your rump, you had better GET RIGHT!

Once I recognized this pattern, I decided to post myself off to the side and "Charles Darwin" it for a bit. For a good twenty minutes (seriously), I entertained myself with the emotional outbursts of "inconvenienced" travelers as the rump-resters refused to stay right, or * heaven forbid * absent-mindedly allowed any portion of their person to remotely venture into the left-hand lane. *Hem!**Haw!**Hurrumph!**Wheeze!**WAIL!** (and, yes, there actually was at least one distinct and gutteral wail). Sound effects make everything better, do they not? ;)

Finally tearing myself away from this asthmatic display of ire, I headed to find something to drink. As I was standing in line at the airport cafe, I noticed a striking difference in how much people were spending. I saw parents buying children 10 Euro grilled cheese sandwiches that would most definitely remain half-eaten (or find their way, in short order, to their final resting places on the sticky terminal floor). Others (like myself) were notably (not necessarily by choice, mind you!) more "frugal" with their funds. As I got to the cashier and reached into my purse, raising, with trembling fingers, the whopping 5.95 Euros to meet her open fist...I willed myself to NOT calculate exactly how much that worked out to be in American dollars. Sheesh....She smiled with me (okay, maybe she was actually more like laughing AT me)...but she "got it." As in, she knew exactly that I was thinking: "This better be some DAMN GOOD Arizona Green Tea!"

And here I sit, waiting for my plane to board...and sipping my 6 Euro Arizona Green Tea. I am present...soaking it all in...surrounded by style, spendthrifts, and yes, sound effects~