This week we transitioned back from one of the biggest cities in the world to our Central Asian home.

I saw the doctor at the end of last week, and she gave me and the baby a clean bill of health, permission to fly, and the phone number of a friend here in our city in case of emergency.

We spent our last evening at Pizza Hut and Kahve Dunyasi (Coffee World). Mike enjoyed a French-Press coffee, and I got the richest Hot Chocolate I’ve ever had. Matthew and I shared our first Chocolate Fondue—we both loved it. Anna apparently didn’t inherit my sweet tooth, but enjoyed making a mess anyway. At Kahve Dunyasi they bring a chocolate spoon with your drink, and Matthew and Anna each got one too, from the friendly waiter. Anna ate half of hers and melted the rest in her hand, Matthew ate mine, his, and Mike’s. They also each apparently enjoyed several chocolate covered coffee beans. ( I prefer to just suck the chocolate off.) Then the kids sang the whole way home, and Matthew said a joyful unprompted “Goodbye!” to the Taxi driver. It did wear off, and they did sleep that night

We were welcomed back by friends and neighbors, including my across the hall neighbor, who came and cleaned my balcony and mopped several rooms. Realize that in this coal-heated city, winter means soot. After a month away, my brown-tiled balcony was a lovely light grey color! I’m still working (slowly) on the post-trip chaos, but we are glad to be in our own home.

Since my recent visits to the university hospital where we live, I spent some time making notes about the people and experiences there. This is a section only lightly edited about the people I met, so you can meet them too.

Tubal was a girl from the most densely populated part of our city. Her whole family lived there and had no desire to move elsewhere. She was married last July, at 20 years old, and lost her first baby at 6 months pregnant. She had high blood pressure, and her mom said the baby was handicapped, I’m not sure if it was still born or just not able to survive once born. She had a normal delivery, but her recovery was really rough. For the first day she was in my room the family wanted everything dark and quiet and she slept the whole time. I don’t think the doctors agreed, they kept telling her she needed to be up and around. Her mom, aunt, and sister stayed with her. They brought in food cooked at home for them and for her. They were basically camping there for a week, sleeping on the floor, in a chair, in empty beds when possible, or at the bottom of my bed sometimes too. She had lots of other visitors too. I got to see how a hospital visit could be carried out in this culture. Most of the visitors talked very little, there were no apparent attempts to really cheer up or comfort the patient, in fact, just sitting there silently was fine. The evening of the second day she sat up a little, and the third day we actually talked a little. Her whole family was a minority ethnic group. The mom and aunt did not speak the majority language—the one I’m learning! Whether that was because they couldn’t at all or just would rather not, I couldn’t tell for sure. Her younger sister was 18. Although she was pretty shy, we did get to talk some. The last evening she even taught me some words in their language. It was really sweet how this family tried to take care of me, especially when they realized I didn’t have anyone staying with me. Now, I also was mostly just there to be observed, so I didn’t need someone to wait on me and help me around; I wasn’t feeling too sick. But they washed my fruit, shared their food, poured my water, shared their silverware, and—this is may favorite—made sure I was tucked in anytime I took a nap. Being covered up and warm is important in this culture. The one time I started to take a nap, honestly more to get a break from the foreign language than anything. I had let someone use my quilt—I wasn’t cold! But as I was laying there with my eyes closed (fully dressed), I realized that they were finding their sweaters to put on me so I wouldn’t get cold. I decided I’d just let it go rather than try to explain that I really wasn’t cold and have yet another weird foreigner moment. When I woke up my quilt had returned, and I was so hot and sweaty that I was convinced I had a fever. Nope. Just well covered -up.

The third bed in the room was occupied by several people during my three-day stay. The first night there was a lady with her newborn. She slept the whole time. But from her brief interactions with the staff I could tell she too spoke only the minority language and wouldn’t be able to understand me. There was a girl there for a few hours who was 6 or 7 months pregnant but experiencing pain and high blood pressure. I don’t know what happened to her. Another lady spent the night because her water had broken at 8 months pregnant. She was pretty sure she was going to have a cesarean in the morning. But the doctors wanted to induce her. She called her husband to reason with the doctors, but he ended up coming back and telling her she would be induced, to her distress. I don’t know what happened with her either. After that a lady came in who I barely talked to because she slept most of the time. Her name was Shukran. She had a problem with her amniotic fluid, either low or it had broken, and she was bleeding. She didn’t really know what they were going to do or what was going on. The first night her sister-in-law stayed with her. Then the next day another sister-in-law came in. There are five brothers altogether, and all the sister-in-laws were coming in, each in turn. This second sister-in-law lived in a newer section of town and had three kids, two teenagers and a 5 year old. She considered herself a “foreigner” because she was Z--- but married a K---, both minority ethnic groups. She had gone to elementary school but no further, but was very curious about the world in general. We talked about everything from church to language to America to kids. She translated some of who I was and what I said for the mom and aunt who didn’t speak the majority language. When I came back the second time I saw Shukran; she was still waiting. Again I’m not sure what for, maybe the birth, maybe an operation…I don’t think she even knew.

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The second time I came I stayed in a room with six beds, and saw quite a few people in and out. They mostly all operated in the minority language, so I didn’t learn as much or share as much. I did get to know the lady right next to me a bit. Although she couldn’t understand me, her helper did. They were “foreigners” too, from a small town nearby, (which is the most devout, friendly, clean, wholesome, nice, beautiful place). She had a blood problem, her blood was not “clean” but she didn’t know what that meant or what the prognosis was. She had like 10 kids already. She said the doctors just came and took blood every day, and monitored the baby—no medicine or anything else. Emine (her helper) was curious about America. Were all the cities and houses like the ones on TV? Did they have mosques as beautiful as the ones here? Was I going to visit my family? Why was my husband so gentlemanly? (He didn’t come in the room full of pregnant and nursing ladies; I went out to talk to him.)

The girl across from me was wheeled in from the operating room in the late morning. She had been in labor all night but ended up with a cesarean. Although she was miserable for most of the day, she did much better than my previous roommate. I was surprised how infrequently she fed the baby, preferring to let it sleep. She had visitors too, but they were happy, congratulatory visitors. Although her family brought in drinks and snacks, they didn’t bring in all the food and gear some people did. They also knew enough of the majority languagefor us to have some very basic conversation.

That morning they discharged two happy healthy moms from that room. There was also a lady who was sleeping most of the time. I don’t know what her specific situation was. Around lunch they wheeled her to the OR, and she was crying as she left. My friend Emine said she was having a cesarean, and since she was only 6 months along there was 1 in 100 chance that the baby would live. But it could be a problem for the mother. That’s all the information I ever got, except that I did see her come out of the OR a little while later. I don’t’ know about the baby.

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For me it was so frustrating not knowing what happened to so many of the others around me, either because they moved on, I couldn’t understand them, or they themselves didn’t understand their condition. So many of the ladies were dealing with life or death situations and it was just a part of their lives. There was no talk of epidurals. Pain was just part of the process. If someone was facing a difficult delivery the other ladies’ response was to call out in prayer for that person. They prayed for eachother, sympathized with eachother, helped eachother. And all this with so little knowledge. They didn’t understand what was going on with their bodies in any medical sense. It was pulling teeth for them to get any kind of assement from the doctor, much less an answer to a “why” question. If the nurse said “roll up your sleeve,” they rolled up and took the shot. But the whole place was one big community I won't easily forget.

Just some pictures...

...of us hanging out in the big city

Pieces of our Week

I actually wrote this a few weeks ago but never got the chance to post it online. This past week was spent getting tests and seeing doctors in another city after my symptoms reappeared. Baby girl Christ is doing fine and healthy, and the doctor said I am unlikely to deliver any time soon! She did find an infection that may have been the trouble maker all along, and we are still waiting on results from a few other tests to figure out what was going on.

Pieces of our week

We’ve met a new family. They own a dukkan (small store) two buildings down from us. Last Friday Mike stopped home for lunch and said we were invited over their house for dinner. I had a great time, and the kids did well too. We started out from with a very vague sense of where they lived and figuring it would be about a half hour walk. So we bundled the kids into our trusty Wal-mart umbrella strollers and went down to the dukkan to meet the gentleman. We visited over tea and yogurt (taken from the shelf and given to the kids so they wouldn’t cry—a very typical thing in this culture) for about a half hour there, while he settled accounts with what seemed to be quite a few men coming and going. Then our host informed us we could go to his house in his car. Turns out that was good, since it would have been impossibly far to walk. We got to his house around eight in the evening, and got back home around 11:30. I was surprised that we didn’t actually have a meal together, although our hosts served us and then left the room while we ate. Ladies and men visited separately, so I got to talk about all the fun topics like kids, pregnancy (the hostess was expecting too), housekeeping, family, life here and in the States, the haj (one lady had just returned from Mecca), food… The ladies were friendly and generally sweet the whole time. The family is part of a minority people group here, so they sympathized with my kids not quite being comfy in the foreign language. Their kids are learning and speaking two languages too! They got quite a kick out of the way we give nicknames and shorten long names.

We also got to spend an evening this week with our neighbors across the hall. Mike and “Mr Neighbor” worked on setting up their new internet and computer access. Their 3^rd grader needs to go online to get extra credit points for school. Meanwhile my kids played with the two little girls. Actually, Matthew cuddled on my lap for awhile, since he was feeling out of sorts. But he perked up when the 3^rd grader “abi” (big brother) came in and played growling games. I’ve gotten to visit several times with Gulista and her kids, but this is only the second time we’ve had tea as families.

Tuesday Mike gave me a mini-vacation. I walked over to a shopping center and had lunch by myself with my journal. Then I browsed a few stores without restless kids, and found oatmeal (yay!!!).

In the less adventurous category, we had some plumbing work done. Our neighbors under us had asked us not to use the eastern toilet since it was leaking or pouring water on them, or something like that (sometimes my understanding is a little on the vague and fuzzy side.) But eastern toilets are really convenient for recently potty-trained little boys, so we got a plumber to come look into it. Well, he took a few hours, dismantled the flusher, spilled white plaster-like stuff over most everything in both bathrooms, and left. So today I cleaned the house for the second time this week. I’m really kinda curious what the plaster-like stuff was supposed to do…but oh well.

Thursday the kids and I went to the store, and then I made stew. Then, just as it was almost done, Mike came in a remembered that Alton Brown says stew is always better the next day. So my very logical husband suggested saving the stew. Of course, since it was seven o’clock by that time, plan B was McDonalds. So we put the stew on the balcony to cool down (also Alton Brown’s idea—your fridge is meant to keep things cold, not cool hot things) and went to McD’s. It may have been logical, but it still felt odd eating out at the last minute after cooking all afternoon, especially since I didn’t burn it this time. The stew was good for dinner today :)

Thank you to everybody who has prayed for me and the baby this week. I went to the hospital Tuesday night with cramps, backache, and light contractions at 28 weeks pregnant. My normal OB sent me to the University Hospital (by ambulance--no lights, but still quite a trip) since he didn't have the facilities to handle a premature birth if it came to that. At the University Hospital I was diagnosed as having preterm labor. They were able to stop the contractions/backache within a few hours, but I stayed at the hospital for another two days so they could monitor me and the baby. The baby showed no signs of distress through the whole thing, and I was discharged Friday morning.

Medical concerns aside, spending the time at the hospital was an incredible experience. After the first night, I felt fine, so it was a great opportunity to learn about being in the hospital here, get exposed to helpful new vocabulary, and get a little tiny bit familiar with the system. For example, you bring alot more of your own stuff, toiletries, drinking water, etc. You also bring your own relatives to take care of you, to do the non-medical parts of nursing. One of my roommates for most of the time was a newly married girl who just lost a baby at six months pregnant. Her mom and sister adopted me, sharing their home cooked food and generally fussing about anything from my blankets to washing my apples for me. They were really sweet, especially considering the mom spoke only a minority language that I don't know. I discovered that if you wake me up at four o'clock in the morning no matter how aware I am of what's going on, my brain will only speak to you in English! I was quite the curiosity for my roommates and the nurses.

At the moment I'm resting and waiting to figure out "now what." I've had no more labor symptoms, but we and doctors we consult with are trying to ascertain what the next few months should look like...ie, can we stay in this city, should I be on bed rest, modified bed rest... Our friends and fellow believers have been very supportive here, willing to watch the kids at a moment's notice and come stay in the hospital with me. I am also so encouraged as I am finding out now how many people were praying so quickly for my baby that night. God is very good! Please continue to pray for the safety of the baby, and that we would have wisdom as to how to best take care of her for the next few months.
~Becky

I'm 27 weeks pregnant now, but this is from my last visit at 22 weeks. Isn't she pretty?

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Check out my sister's new blog:

http://mixedupmeanderings.blogspot.com/


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We have house guests--two young men in town for a conference. Over breakfast they met Matthew and Anna for the first time. Matthew loves playing language games as he learns little by little with me, sitting at the table asking, "bu ne?" (what's this) and pointing at things in the room. But he won't speak a word around nationals. So today one of our guests asked him, (in Turkish), "Do you know Turkish?" Matthew's response--he shook his head "no." Our guest laughed; Matthew gave himself away. Earlier, trying to get him to have some fun, Mike asked him, "Does kopek mean dog?" Matthew paused, cocked his head to look at Mike, and said, "Probably." Kopek was his first foreign word--learned over a year ago. When the electric went out, Matthew announced, "Something went out." I said, "The electricity?" Matthew said, "I don't know." (He does very well know.) Apparently he thinks electricity isn't English. But He freely used the word "oturma odasi" (sitting room).

Random pics from our Christmastime trip

We took a several-day trip back to the city we previously lived in just before Christmas. Unfortunately, seeing friends took priority over taking pictures, but here are a few shots I did take.

First is Matthew eating a doner when we stopped for lunch on the road. Doner is meat (in this case, chicken) roasted in front of a flame on a vertical skewer. The edges are shaved off with a long knife as they are cooked. It's served on a platter with salads or on a roll with fixings--anything from plain ketchup to the works (including hot peppers and french fries).

Before our trip we made salt-dough Christmas ornaments for our friends. Can you tell which ones Mommy "helped" with?


Friends we visited from our first home here. This is a very patient family who tolerated our earliest days in language and culture learning! My kids remembered them and were glad to visit and eat traditional meatballs and salad.

A Slice of Life in Our City -- From Mike

I was struck recently by how many different layers of culture and civilization I see during my 45 minute walk to the church for language lessons. I’ll give you some highlights:

I set out and pass a row of shops, many of which sell only one thing. There’s the shop that sells honey, the shop that sells vacuum cleaner bags, the shops that sell tires, and several shops that sell lamb parts (the lamb heads are set neatly in a row on the counter). I pass a grocery store, which has on its sidewalk a large assortment of fresh produce and a large aquarium of fresh fish for sale. A pair of American-built fighter jets race overhead.

After the grocery store I walk on a narrow but crowded sidewalk and see lots of different people. There are “modern” looking people with tight jeans and spiked hair (both male and female). I see ladies from villages with layers of clothing and white lace head scarves. I see men wearing sport jackets and ties and men wearing village pants which hang baggy from the waist to the knees and then narrow to the ankles. I see women dressed in all black, some with their entire face and hands covered. Some youth go by pushing a wheel barrow with a decent looking television set inside.

After the busy sidewalk I see a small but very modern mall. Inside the mall you can eat at McDonalds and then pay 5 dollars for a cup of filtered coffee at a coffee shop—truly a Western experience.

After the mall there is a large dirt field. The middle of the field is a popular place to sit and talk. Some ladies from the village roast mushrooms over open fires.

I cut through a large park with green trees, a fountain, and well-watered grass. After the park I enter the major shopping district. The large windows are splattered with neon signs advertising jeans, shirts, computer equipment, cell phones, and photo developing. I hear a mix of local music and 80’s Michael Jackson pop. To avoid crossing a busy street I cut through an underground mall that is has a higher class of shops. A man walks around selling hot tea.

After the shopping district I pass a school where children play soccer on the sidewalk in their bright blue uniforms, using their school books as goals. The school is on a road filled with cars. Gas is $8 a gallon, but the cars whiz by. There are also a lot of small busses, called dolmushes, which literally means “stuffed,” an accurate description. I see army vehicles. There are also a lot of motorcycles with side cars. One man is escorting his entire family in the side compartment, another man his entire living room set--consisting of a sofa, loveseat, and two chairs--another has live animals.

I come to a large wall that surrounds the oldest part of the city. The wall is thick enough to house soldiers inside. It looks like something straight out of the middle ages. I walk along the inside of the wall and watch children play in the park and climb on the ruins.

I turn into what feels like a small alley. It is a cobblestone street built long before they conceived of cars. I pass a series of old apartment buildings and concrete compounds. Children play in the street. Wheelbarrows push produce to a store. I see a woman negotiate the price of a live chicken. I get the feeling that life here hasn’t changed much in the last 200 years—well..except for the satellite dishes that decorate the buildings and the cell phones in people’s hands.

To my left I come upon the outside wall of a compound that houses a Syrian Orthodox church. The building, originally a Zoroastrian temple, dates from a few hundred years before Christ. It was converted to a church around 300 AD. Services continue, but in a language similar to Aramaic, which no one speaks now. My destination is the church on the right. It, too, looks old, but it was actually built about 3 years ago. It was given the appearance of age so it would blend in with the community. I ring the bell and am greeted by a familiar voice and warm smile.

My friend serves me Starbucks coffee from a French press as I warm my hands by a coal-burning stove. As get ready to start the lesson, two more fighter jets pass overhead.

Theology with a Three-Year-Old

Matthew: Where’s Hope Abla going to? She’s going to America?
Me: Hope Abla is in --. Paula Abla is in America. Grammy is in America too.
Matthew: Maybe we should go there.
Me: After the baby comes we will go and visit Grammy in America.
Matthew: There is a dog there.
Me: Yeah, Grandmom has two dogs.
Matthew: What’s it’s name?
Me: There’s Charlie, remember Charlie?
Matthew: Yeah.
Me: … and Ty.
Matthew: But Grammy has one dog.
Me: (appropriate change of tone) Yeah, well, Grammy’s dog died.
(Matthew thinks for a few seconds, almost a minute)
Matthew: On a cross like Jesus died on the cross?
Me: No. Jesus died on a cross, but now He’s alive again. Grammy’s dog got sick and it was a really back sickness so it died. Sometimes animals die.

Another time…

Matthew: Look Mommy, Tigger’s having a baby. His name is Jesus. Like Mary had a baby. (Oh, and I should mention Tigger was having this baby in the back of a toy dump truck.)

I'm a Foreigner.

I know I’ve gotten used to this country when I consider it a treat to get coffee at McDonalds. McDonalds is one of two places in the city where I can get buy filtered coffee. And at McDonalds it is only two dollars. Everywhere else sells instant. Here’s what happened when I tried to order ice cream for my family and get myself a coffee.

Me: I would like two Sundays, one chocolate and one caramel and two ice cream cones. Could you put the...

McDonalds worker (MW):..ice cream in a cup. Yes I remember the last time you ordered.

Me: Thanks. Oh, can I get a cup of filtered coffee too.

MW: I’ll bring you the ice cream and then the coffee, okay?

Me: No, I’ll take both of them together.

MW: (With a look of complete amazement) You want both something cold and something hot, together?!?

Me: Yes. [pause] I’m a foreigner.

MW: That will make your teeth hurt.

Me: I do that all the time, I’m a foreigner.

MW: you can’t do that.

Me: In American it is very normal

MW: Okay. The coffee is on me. It is a gift.

(He gets the ice cream and coffee, and gives me a lot of sugar.)

Me: I don’t need sugar. I take it black.

MW: [aghast] No sugar! That’s right, you are a foreigner.

There are sometimes when it is just really fun to be a foreigner.

Christmas package

I got a call from a phone number I didn’t recognize last Tuesday. It was a man, and about all I could make out was that it was something about “posta” (ie, post, mail) and he wanted my address. Well, since I couldn’t understand exactly what he wanted, and I wasn’t going to give my address to a strange man even if I did, I offered to come to the post office. He asked if I knew where the mail work center is. He gave me all sorts of directions, the only part of which I understood was what major road it was on. So after lunch Mike and I head off to find it. We are driving along the specified main road, stopping to ask random people where this place is. The first guy’s answer is, after a long pause, “I don’t know, I’m a stranger here too.” The second guy’s answer was “I don’t know, it’s my first time on this road.” What’s amazing about the two answers is that this culture is notorious for giving vague, useless, or incorrect directions rather than disappoint the asker with an “I don’t know.”
We found the mail center at the place where Mike thought it might be, and convinced the security guard that we were here for a package. He told us to pull around back of the building. Mike gets out and starts somewhat tentatively into the building. Watching from the car I see him through the windows walk by one way, and then the other way. Then I see a guy pass with a tray full of tea glasses. Then Mike goes by again. After about 20 minutes he comes out and says that although he thinks he’s talked to everyone in the building, and although he was offered packages destined for other foreigners in the city, no one seems to know anything about the phone call or our package. So he looks up the incoming calls on my cell phone and calls the original guy back. In seconds, literally seconds, the guy comes out on the concrete porch with a mail bag.
The package was my Christmas present to Mike—two books (if you want to know what they were about you’ll have to ask him.) Apparently the box the books were in (which didn’t have my phone number) was falling apart so the thing was bundled up in a mail bag and the phone number and our name were all that was on the bag. So now Mike has met and had tea with all the guys down at the mail distribution center. And although they probably still don’t know where we live, we at least know how to retrieve our lost packages!

Ramah

For most of our neighbors, Christmas is called “Noel” and it means decorating a mini fake pine tree, having a party, and getting drunk on January 1. December 25 is just another winter day. No cantatas, no frontyards full of lights, no special church services, no holiday traffic, no packages of Christmas cookies being baked to the sound of special holiday music and delivered to every imaginable friend or relative. Living here where Christmas is smaller, different, has made it easier to look at it from new perspectives. I was re-reading Andrée Sue’s book of essays, Won’t Let You Go Unless You Bless Me, when I happened upon this meditation on the second chapter of Matthew.

From Matthew:

When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi. Then what was said through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled: "A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more."

From Seu:

“The little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay.”… ….Dec. 25 will surely come, with presents galore and songs of the sweet baby of Bethlehem. Carefully quarantined from this heart-warming tale will be images of those other babies hacked to death in neighboring Ramah: “Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be comforted, because they are no more.” Hatred. Jealousy. Selfish ambition. Death.

But the Lord, who is not so sentimental, has placed Matthew 2 after Matthew 1, for the reason, I presume, that we should make connections. If there are no Ramahs there is no need for Jesus. If there are no young women who fall of bridges, no middle-aged women with calloused hearts, then what is the point? If Jesus’ incarnation was not “to destroy the devil” (1 John 3:8), then what was it for? The baby in the manger is a scene without a plot, good news without the bad, nonsensical. Jesus is cute, ornamental, warm and fuzzy—and ultimately irrelevant.

Our Four-Day Holiday

We just finished a four-day holiday that is about as big here as Christmas or Easter in America. The holiday is intended to commemorate Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son, it translates locally into a great family and friends time off from work. Although we weren’t off the hook for language study, the week did bring us some variety.

Day One:
While our friends and neighbors were off sacrificing their sheep and cooking and distributing the meat, I cleaned. That’s a holiday tradition, but unlike my neighbors who cleaned every nook and cranny all week last week in preparation, I just spent a few hours Monday morning. And unlike last year, we didn’t witness any of the sacrificing part of the tradition. Throughout the day we answered the doorbell to hand out candy to the groups of children who came around wishing us “may your holiday be blessed.” In the afternoon, some friends came over for tea and sweets. We had a great visit (and the kids did fine with no nap).

Day Two:
We pretty much hung out and did normal stuff all day. Then in the evening we decided to go out and find something interesting to do. There’s this word in this language that means “to go about, to walk about; to visit, to tour (round)…to go for a walk.” It’s a nifty little word, and we’ve anglicized it—“to gez.” So we decided to gez. After driving around for a bit we determined that this city after dark on a holiday night is about like Bel Air (MD) during Thanksgiving dinner—there’s not much to do. We ended up walking the mall and getting ice cream at McD’s. Not a bad gez if you ask me!

Day Three:
Daytime day three we decided to take Matthew to the park, one of his favorite activities. Although the sun was trying to shine when we set out, we got just about the weather you Maryland readers would expect for mid-December—cold and mizzly. Matthew didn’t care on bit. That evening we went to a gathering of believers at a friend’s home. We spent awhile singing praise music. Then they started a sort of hot potato game where the penalty for getting caught was singing a solo or dancing. It was hilarious to see this multi-generational group playing. Then they split into groups and improvised/performed skits from the book of Luke. So Mike and I had our debut acting in the local language.

Day Four:
We finished out the holiday with an engagement party. Engagements here are a big deal, with a party not to different from a wedding reception at times. The ceremony involves trading rings that are connected with a red ribbon, which is then cut to finalize the engagement. Red is the traditional color for the formal dress the bride-to-be wears. This young lady and gentleman are believers, so their event had some special twists including prayer and a brief speech by the pastor. Typically any local party lasts well into the night with music and dancing; loss of electricity cut this one a little short. But we still had a chance to eat baklava and cake, and Mike had a chance to participate in some traditional dancing (sorry, no picture of that one).

(tea-glass picture credit: http://workingthesilkroad.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html)

Some Christmas Spirit

Chestnuts and stuff

I've come half-way around the world to experience a tradition I've only ever heard in a song--roasting chestnuts. The fellowship room at the church we attend is heated by a barrel shaped stove right in the middle of the room. Last night at the meal we share before prayer meeting, the youth were enjoying roasting chestnuts on top of the stove. I can't say I was impressed; I don't know if it was the technique or just the fact that I've never been a huge fan of nuts. But it was a nostalgic moment.

It will be interesting celebrating the holidays here, where we are involved with a group of believers. Last year it was as if we and our American friends were the only ones celebrating Christmas. Now it's like we're almost the only ones. All our neighbors are gearing up to celebrate a Muslim holiday that commemorates Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his only son. Practically, the holiday means a four-day vacation and lots of cleaning, guests, and special food. We're hoping to put up our Christmas tree this weekend.

Since it's been quite awhile since I've blogged, I should fill in a few random details. First, we moved. We like our new home, and are started to feel settled in finally. Our neighbors across the hall are super friendly. We are involved in the church here in this city and making new friends there too.

Second, new baby Christ is growing fine, everything normal as far as we can tell. She's due May 4. Yes, the doctor did say at the last visit that he thinks it's a girl (that was at 16.5 weeks). She better be a smart, active little baby, since she sure is sucking up alot of my energy!

Finally, I'm going to upload some pics to the slideshow. You'll notice several shots of Matthew and Duploes. He and Anna have been on quite the creative spree, with their blocks, playdough, and other toys. If I remember correctly, the pic featured below is a building created for Uncle Jonathan. Other than buildings, he specializes in planes and camels made from Duploes, and playdough sculptures of (unidentifiable) friends and family. Anna is a very diligent little Mother, and I discovered the other day that her baby's name is "Baby."

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One Election Perspective

Over here the US election has been big news. Every time I turn around people are giving me their (generally positive) opinions and asking me what I think. Here’s a translation of one conversation:

Store owner (SO): Obama won. Is he good?

Me: We will see.

SO: Will he be better than Bush?

Me: We will see.

SO: Obama’s father is a Muslim, right?

Me: I think so.

SO: Obama is a Muslim.

Me: He says that he is not a Muslim.

SO: But does he do the Muslim prayers.

Me: Probably he does not.

SO: He is a Christian. He isn’t Catholic is he?

Me: No, not Catholic.

SO: So Obama is a protestant like you?

Me: He says he is a protestant, but I don’t think he is like me.

SO: What does Obama think of us?

Me: I really don’t know.

SO: What is he going to do?

Me: I don’t know, but after I leave I’ll call him and let you know.

SO: (laughter) I talked to him last week. Tell him I said hi.

Me: Okay. Good bye.

Matthew's Birthday

We've had two very interesting days. I got up Monday planning to clean up the house from the weekend, walk over and check email and facebook, frost Matthew's cake, and have dinner and cake at our house at six. I made seven minute frosting for Matthew's chocolate cake, while Mike went over to the store to check email/news etc. Well, while he was there, he mentioned to one of the girls who worked there (R) that it was Matthew's birthday and she asked if she was coming. Since the party was combined with an already scheduled meeting, he couldn't say "yes," so he invented another party for Tuesday night on the spot. He invited R and her newly engaged fiance E. He almost had the whole youth group coming too, but apparently they couldn't come Tuesday and we couldn't do it Friday.

Matthew enjoyed his party, spaghetti (aka "noodles and cheese) and cake. He took five minutes to figure out how to blow out the candles, between it being a whole year since he did it last and his natural shyness. He was so cute!

Tuesday I got up and made another cake (a box mix this time--thank you Aunt Ginny!). We gave Matthew a play-dough toy; a thing you squeeze to make play-dough ribbons. He's really into play-dough right now, he'll say "we should do play-dough" and then sit at the table for hours making fish, or bugs, or whatever he's into at the moment. Then we took Matthew to the park for his birthday as we'd promised. While they napped I cleaned the house and frosted the cake for our next party. This time we invited our neighbors from across the hall who we've talked to several times. They came! So did R and E, and our American friends.

Overall the time was a success. I made tea, but R "fixed" it (I still haven't mastered getting it right every time). Everyone enjoyed the cake and icing, and the kids played well. Their kids loved our toys--locals don't like their kids to have too many toys because of the mess; even if they have the money to buy them they just don't. So our Duploes and play animals were a big hit for the 4 and 9 year old. The conversation went well, I think. There were a few nervous moments. The conversation went a little political, and you've got a room full of 1. us foreigners 2. R and E and 3. neighbors who I had no idea what they thought or where they were coming from. But everyone seemed to have a good time. "Mrs. Neighbor" wants me to show her how to make the icing I made for her daughter's birthday cake next month. R and E left a little earlier. They were happy; R's brother just let her get engaged so they just glow whenever you see them. The neighbors left after about 2 hours, and they seemed relaxed and happy. Actually, Mr. Neighbor stayed and helped Mike with the TV, cause it turns out our building has free cable. Altogether the night was a success and Matthew enjoyed his two birthday cakes!

For any of my readers who have thought about what it means to be a TCK or parent one--here's an interesting quote from WORLD Magazine (Online):

Both presidential candidates Barack Obama and John McCain are adult third culture kids, spending developmental years outside their passport cultures. Obama lived in Indonesia with his stepfather and mother. McCain was born in the Canal Zone and grew up as a military child in the Pacific...

...Third culture kids, like many homeschoolers, [Van Reken] writes, often have stronger relationships with adults. They can be perceived as arrogant—a charge slapped against both Obama and McCain. The world usually looks different to them because of their multicultural experiences. Many third culture kids develop a sense of a both/and identity rather than the traditional either/or identity common to those growing up in one culture.

"Obama is one of the millions of people across our globe who grew up among many different cultural worlds," Van Reken argues. "Ironically, among the common characteristics of these third culture kids is the capacity to be cultural bridges, to be able to see both sides of a situation."

And McCain? "He is seen as a maverick," she says, "because he frequently won't stay in his assigned box and has often voted across party lines."

reference: http://www.worldmag.com/articles/14398

First Sentence

Both kids are growing by leaps and bounds in their communicative ability. Anna has a pile of words, a few in the local language, and a few phrases she uses (mostly ones Matthew has taught her.) Matthew narrates our life and shares suprisingly deep and insightful thoughts with us. But today is a new celebration: Matthew said a sentence in his second language. He wanted to get our helper's attention to show her something he made with duploes, so he said, "bak bana, bana bak," which is, "look at me, look at me."

Quick question

As you can tell, I've been playing with technology. But I dont' know if it's working. It's complicated, youtube being blocked over here. So could someone in the US tell me if the embedded video a few posts below shows up at all? Thanks!

Oh, and I'm also kinda curious who's out there reading this, if anyone (other than Grammy and Grumpy). "Hellooo out there....??"

But no honey...

So I was hanging out with two of the ladies from our apartment building outside, and we were talking about food. The conversation started out with questions about what I eat. (Weight and food are favorite topics anytime here). I said we eat alot of chicken. A while later, one of the ladies brought out a baked/sauteed (how do I spell that?) vegetable dish. I tend to eat slower than the average local, so of course the topic of conversation was about me eating more and faster.

Finally, an hour later, I said I had to go in and fix dinner. The obvious question: "What are you making?" In my head I thought, "Oh no, how do I explain this one?" You see, I'd had a heads-up from a friend that the locals don't really like or understand putting sweet and salty things together, and I was making crunchy honey mustard chicken. So I said "I'm making chicken." "What kind of chicken?" "Chicken with...sauce...and um, you know that stuff kids eat for breakfast that's, um, corn?" (Luckily they guessed CornFlakes and I recognized the word.) "I [mime "crush"] those and put it on the chicken. Kinda like Burger King, but alot different." "Tomato and pepper sauce?" "No..." "Then what's in the sauce?" (Here goes...) "Mayonez, mustard, honey." In the next ten minutes both ladies insisted that 1. it's ok to like Mayo, but not on chicken. Only on certain kinds of salad. 2. I should make chicken tava (baked with veggies, very yummy, by the way). 3. Honey olmaz. That means something like "impossible," "can't be," "doesn't exist."

The next thing I knew, I was having both ladies up to my kitchen to show me how to make it their way. Cut up chicken, potatoes, tomatoes, peppers, onion, etc. Season with a little tomato paste and black and red pepper. Cook 'till done. But absolutely don't use honey!

If the video below doesn't work, check out the video here

A blog post by Mike

I was helped by C.J.’s blog on how to think about vacations. He said that the temptation as a guy is to want to plan a vacation so that I can relax. (When I read that I thought, yup, I can identify with that). But that’s not really serving my family, nor is it the makings for a great vacation. (Don’t worry, I did actually get a lot of relaxing in). One goal we need to think about is building memories. I think we did that. I’ll give you a few things that I think I’ll always remember. Becky would probably give you another set, and Matthew and Anna would have yet another.

The age old question in vacations (at lest for me) is do we do the ocean or the mountains. Well, we decided to do both. In this country driving only 4 hours can take you to radically different terrains and different experiences, not to mention very different people.

First we went to the Mediterranean sea for two days. You’ll see in the pictures sand, surf, and a castle in the background, not a sand castle, but a real castle. What stands out to me from our time at the beach is being really exhausted, having tired kids, but still going to the beach and playing with the kids in the water. We went back to our hotel and crashed. partly because we were so tired and partly because the power kept going out randomly and we couldn’t see anything. But I had fun with my family. My wife has a lot of memories of the beach growing up. I began to understand those memories and we began to make some of our own.

We then took a 4 hour drive north to Capadoccia. Being in Capadoccia is kind of like being on the moon because the landscape is so different. There are these things called fairy chimneys, which are 5-6 story cone-shaped rocks sticking up everywhere. The place we stayed and the scenery was fantastic. But what I remember most are the things that didn’t go as planned. We were told that the “open air museum” was ½ a mile a way. Should we take the car or walk? We decided to take the car, only to discover that it had a flat. So, we walked. It was ½ a mile away, but not from the hotel, from the center of town. And the hotel was almost 1 mile from the center of town down a very step hill. During the walk our kids fell asleep—Matthew in my arms. He was very adorable, but also very heavy. We finally made it to the open air museum, but we found out that it was $15 per person, and we weren’t sure we’d get much out of it with tired kids. So, we played in some caves for a while, and walked back very tired, somewhat sunburnt, but very happy.

The drive home was an adventure. There is so much to see in the area. We decided to try to circle around and see some sights on the way back. We got away from the normal tourist sights and found some spectacular views and interesting history. But in going there meant going on the “road less traveled.” One road in particular was pretty much sand and rock. All the while I was hoping and praying that we didn’t get a flat tire. Why? because we were already using the spare. We thought about what would happen if we did get a flat. We saw several people riding on donkeys. I wondered if we could borrow a donkey, put our family on it, ride into town, and get a tire. I wondered if the guy riding the donkey and pulling a cart would give me a ride to the center of town to get a tire. We wondered about calling our supervisor 4 hours away and telling him that we got a flat in the middle of nowhere. He would ask, don’t you have a spare, and I would inform him that it actually was the spare that was flat. We ran through all those situations in our minds and laughed together. Thankfully, we didn’t get a flat.

Those are some things that I’ll remember from our vacation. I hope you enjoy the pictures and my wife’s witty comments.

For pics click here

To read CJ's blog click here


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Where were you five years ago today?


Special Day!


In 2002 Mike proposed
In 2003 We got married
In 2004 We bought our first house
In 2005 We had Matthew
In 2006 We had Anna
In 2007 We moved to the other side of the world
In 2008… what’s next?

My Two Kids

Odds describe one kid, Evens the other, can you guess which is which?

1. Likes to find Daddy’s backpack and buckle the chest strap closed.

2. Kicks the ball and then falls (on purpose) to the ground since that’s what the kids on the movie do during their soccer game.

3. Refuses to eat half the cookie because Mommy didn’t give the whole cookie. Still refuses even if offered the other half, presumably since it’s now broken?

4. Intentionally taps head on elevator wall and then says, “Ooww. Look Mommy, I bonkin my ‘ead!”

5. Pushes umbrella stroller around the house until it gets wedged somewhere, then cries until Mommy rescues.

6. Points out every bus and categorizes it as big or little.

7. Barks to indicate a dog has been sighted. Or a cat. Or a cow. Or anything vaguely fuzzy (except horses, who have their own word.)

8. Seriously likes routines… “Now it time for Matthew and Anna to go get a diaper change and get some juice and go… to…” “Naps” “Yes!” Diaper, juice, kiss on forehead, and say “Night, night, no talking, no standing, no spitting [there’s a reason for that last one]”.

9. Insists on picking out own clothes. Likes to wear underwear on top of diaper.

A Little of our Life

It’s hard to make generalizations about our daily life--once I say something it changes--but I thought I should update blog readers on what’s up with us (other than the cute pics and stories).

Language learning is still a big part of life, but it is slowly morphing. We now have fewer hours with our grammar tutor. Each of us spends some time each week with a helper for conversation practice. What can we say? Last time I blogged language, we were at mostly pleasantries and introducing our family. Now we can talk about a lot more subjects in our daily life, although our grammar and usage is still pretty rough. Put us in a group of native speakers, and we’re lost. But face to face with a sympathetic communicator, we can carry on a conversation even about abstract or spiritual ideas. A big challenge is trying to think like a native speaker—since this language is structurally pretty different from English, thinking in English and then translating isn’t very practical.

We’re getting to know more people around our neighborhood. Some of the ladies sit outside in the evenings, so I go out and sit with them while the kids kick a ball or generally look for things to get into. I got to have Doritos and Coke with a family at a store we visited recently, and Mike visits the owners of a little family restaurant around the corner. We trade dishes full of food with our neighbors in our building.

Being sick has been a big part of our life, unfortunately. We’ve been getting Amoebas pretty regularly. They’re treatable, but the medicine makes me feel (to be honest) pregnant—that is, vaguely hungry and fairly nauseous at the same time randomly throughout the day. God has been good in that both Matthew’s and Anna’s weight/height is normal—they’re both at the 50th percentile. We’ve also been looking into some possible issues with Matthew’s coordination and balance. We’ve met some really nice doctors who speak pretty good English at the hospital downtown.

And of course, to keep things from becoming routine, we keep traveling. You can see some pics in the sidebar of places we’ve been so far. We have a vacation coming up and a little after that another trip, this one to the Big City with some friends. The kids are great travelers, they recently did a six hour car ride. There were moments that they didn’t love it, but over all they did great.

I did two significant things today: I watched a chick-flick and made brownies.

Neither of those things are significant on their own; you have too see them from a certain perspective. While the kids took their afternoon nap, instead of cleaning, cooking, studying, or doing paperwork, I watched a movie. The house didn't fall apart, I wasn't stranded at dinner time, I'll do fine at lessons tomorrow, in short, it was ok. This says to me that we've achieved some slight level of stability in our routine after months and months of transition during which one little less-than-ideally-spent moment could throw the whole day or week into "catching up" mode. Life is getting more livable.

The significant thing about the brownies was that I made them from a box. Real American brownies (some cake mixes are slowly showing up here, but they just aren't the same). Not that I have anything against making brownies from scratch--I have a promising recipe waiting to be tried out. But you see, I never made brownies from scratch back home. The box mix is so easy and yummy. So after months and months of learning new recipies or re-learning old ones with new ingredients and substitutions for everything I cook, there was something satisfyingly familiar about tearing that box top off. I made brownies my way.

Oh, and I caught myself talking to myself (in my head, not aloud) in two different languages at the same time. How weird is that?

Mother's Day

I finally got my hands on the digital files for the pics Mike, er, that is, My Two Kids gave me for Mother's Day. He took these, edited them, and had them printed all while I was at lessons so it would be a surprise.

Olympic Sports

...are on my mind. I'm thinking of working out for the olympic sport of sunflower-seed-eating. I was never a big fan, but around here, it's a social thing to sit around and eat sunflower seeds. You snap the shell open with your teeth, wriggle that little bitty seed out with your tongue, throw away the leftovers, and pick up another all in one smooth motions that takes about the same (or less) time as it takes to pop a Planter's peanut in. But while my neighbors each have steadily growing piles of shells (husks, whatever are they called?) I'm still trying to fish that little piece of non-seed stuff out from under my tongue. Would it be too strange to go buy a bag and sit in my kitchen and practice?

If I can't qualify for the speed sport, I'll go for the strength sport--refrigerator door opening. It has a great air-tight seal. Every time I close it, it gurgles and clamps shut--I suppose it's attempting to re-create that chilly atmosphere we so appreciate. But now that it's hot outside, for a 3-4 minute period after I close it, it clamps down so tightly that rather than opening, it slides across the floor when I pull.

Of course, I may just take up toddler referee. It's the sneaky vs. the fiesty. The bigger vs. the littler. The verbal vs. the non-verbal. And of course, justice must prevail!

I love my kids!!!

The Beach

It was a beautiful 4th of July... Hot... Sunny... the sand was soft...

A great place to kick a beach ball around with Dad. The waves were perfect too, tiny little ones and shallow way out. Ok, not much fun for body surfing, but great for a 2 year old.

We rented an umbrella and lounge chairs and made sand castles.

Oh, and did I mention the real castle just off shore?

And of course, what would a day at the beach be without fresh hot nescafe served as you sunbathe?

My two adorable children were playing out on the balcony, and I was keeping an eye on them to make sure that heads were staying above water. They enjoy playing with cups and buckets in the pool, and it's an easy way to stay cool when temps are getting close to 100. But then I noticed that Anna was very carefully pouring the water out the balcony "window"...

....fortunately managing to miss the neighbor's laundry. I've actually never met this neighbor, and having to explain Anna's "rain" is not the way I want to start!

Spring Cleaning -- Rugs

Around here when summer comes it's time to clean the rugs and roll them up 'till fall. For smaller rugs, you take them outside, hose them down, squirt shampoo on them, scrub with a broom or brush, and then rinse well--pushing the sudsy water away with a squeegy. Our rug-cleaning party degenerated into a hose party when Anna got interested--first in helping, later in playing with the water. The lady in the picture is Yeter. She comes on Wednesdays to help around the house and we do everything from housecleaning to cooking to playing with the kids or talking about life. I love getting her perspective on how a house ought to be managed and the kids both love her chasing them around.




This is some serious rug cleaning... The large living room rug can't be cleaned on a balcony, so you can have a cleaning service take it away and bring it back clean and dry in a few days for about 10$. We'll probably do that in the fall. Although the locals take up all their carpets in the summer, we like our living room one for the kids to play on, so we'll leave it for now.

Father's Day

For Father's Day last Saturday the kids and I took Mike to a park to cook out. I found this place on the internet, but the site didn't include directions. I did however, find it on a map, so we took off to see if we could actually find it. We did; there's a beautiful lake a little over an hour an a half from our house. Just beyond the lake there are mountains, and the park is my a little creek. We overshot the park the first time, so some of the pictures in our slideshow (left sidebar) are from our wandering in the mountains enjoying the view. We had grilled chicken sandwiches, Rice Krispie treats (thanks to Grammy), and Coke. Of course Matthew and Anna's goal was to throw every stone on the shore into the creek before we left :). On the way there we drove through miles of farmland--lots of sunflower fields, some corn, lot of citrus orchards and other fields.

Anna's Words

eat, chair, juice, wet, hurt, head, hat, shoes, "fork," "woof," "hsss," turn, Bible, book, wash, ball, night-night, help-you, thank-you, Anna, Daddy, car, truck, more, yogurt, up, bye, hi, diaper, shirt, off, abla, watch, cookie, candy, cup, come, yes, trash...and my personal favorites, Bob and Larry (yes, that's from VeggieTales).

Just a few cute shots...

Riding horses:


Goofing off:


Dancing with Bob & Larry:

Watching VeggieTales:

McD's playworld:

Another Day in the Life

Monday May 26

Woke up 7:10. Got up, dressed and all that. Had the last of the muffins, kiwi, and yogurt for breakfast. Hung out the laundry and swept the kitchen, made the kids' beds. Got shoes on the kids and took them to the bazaar. Matthew walked the whole time. We were there about an hour, bought peaches, tomatoes, melon, green onion, parsley, bananas, sesame seeds, raisins, green beans, and cucumbers. Forgot lettuce, oops. Walked home for a potty/drink break and then headed back out. Let Anna walk as far as the pharmacy and then headed up to Bim (food store, reminds me of Aldi). Kids love Bim, they always get a cookie and I let them roam quite a bit. No chicken today, but I found something like apple cinnamon cheerios. Walked back, stroller loaded with groceries. Found a package from Aunt Ginny at the front door! Matthew’s watching VeggieTales and Anna is roaming…it’s 11:33.
After lunch played with the kids in their room for a bit, then put them down for naps. They slept from 1:30-3:30 while I did Turkish. I started disinfecting the veggies I bought this morning too. When they got up we folded the laundry together, finished cleaning the veggies, cleaned up the storage closet, colored, and started dinner. We had burgers, fries, brocolli, and carrots for dinner. After dinner I cleaned up while Mike read books and played with the kids. They went to bed and we watched the movie “Holes” in Turkish, with a break to Skype with Mom and Dad. Movie over, lights out, 10:47.

A Day in the Life

Thursday May 22

Got up, showered dressed, made bed etc, got kids up and dressed. Fed everyone breakfast--yogurt, scrambled eggs, peaches, and “raisin-prune-bran cookies“. Did Bible time with Mike and the kids. Straightened up the bedrooms, put away some clothes, emptied the dishwasher. Spent the rest of the morning juggling kids and language. Managed to get done a page and a half of grammar exercises, listen to my recordings several times, and write a brief paragraph about the truth that is so valuable to me. Kids colored, played toys, built a house together the big blocks, and watched VeggieTales. Had soup and pilav for lunch--yummy soup my helper made yesterday. Both kids liked it, yay! Tutor got here a few minutes early, so we chatted while the kids finished up. She brought her usual candy treat, and we started lessons when Mike got home to play with the kids. He put them down for a nap and left again, while I had a two-hour lesson. Talked about how to use the ability tense, “I can do it,” “I can’t do it,” and the hardest one, “won’t you be able to do it?” Kids woke up about 15 minutes after the tutor left, just enough time to check email and the news. But they were still tired, so I gave them drinks and let them lay down a while longer while I listened to my recordings and cleaned up from lunch. Got them up about a half hour later-4:00. Worked on putting some things away in the office that have been sitting around for awhile, found an extension cord for the fan in the bedroom (it’s in the 90’s now during the day.) Took the trash out, talked to the doorman--he’s going on vacation so we’ll be taking the trash out to the pick-up spot ourselves. I think we owe him money too--got to ask Mike about that one. Got some video of the kids doing a cute “show for Grammy.” Solved about a gazillion squabbles and said “Be gentle with Matthew” or “Be gentle with Anna” about a gazillion times. Had a peaches and yogurt and chocolate cookies snack. Gave the kids baths and fresh outfits. Called mom. Mike got home (about 7:00) and we went out to the big mall for a little fun and to get some real “filter” coffee--bought whole beans. Bought a potty chair! (Wishful thinking?) Brought the kids home and put them to bed, checked email and wrote this journal while Mike got his shower. Time now: 11:07

Mike Cooking

Twenty points for the one who can tell what it used to be...

Becky studying language

Two are better than One

Why two toddlers are better than one:

They make faces at each other across the dinner table.
They keep each other happy if they wake up before mommy.
They think it's fun to hold hands and run around the airport singing silly songs.
They play peek-a-boo on long plane or bus rides.
They learn each other’s mispronounced English.
They give each other hugs and kisses
They like playing the same kind of games, watching the same kind of movies, eating the same snacks.

Of course they also pull hair, grab toys, wake each other up, fill more diapers, splash more bathwater, and figure out how to climb places neither would have discovered alone—but I’ll take two any day.

Hair Cut

This country is a great place to get a hair cut. For about 6 dollars I got an hour long hair cut, enjoyed some lunch, and got the hair in my ears burned off with fire.

Food...

I'm having some random food thoughts today. Part of that is because I tried a new recipe, a local dish of green beans and rice. Check it out here. It didn't work, but it had promise! I think it needed more water and more time. Rice and I are kind of at war. Around here you can get -- and they use -- pasta. But it seems like it's a second class citizen to rice and bulgur, which are what all the favorite dishes are made of. I figured out how to steam rice till it's good and dead, but that gets old quick. They do lots of neat stuff with pilav. But so far, everything I've tried has either been crunchy, sticky, or burnt.

But I have found a neat recipe idea that does work--although there's nothing local about except that I can make it here. You dip chicken breast slices in honey mustard dressing, and then roll them in crushed cornflakes and bake 425F for 15 minutes. We like it with/on salad. I make my own honeymustard dressing with 1 cup mayo, 1/2 cup honey, 1/4 cup mustard, and I line the pan with foil if I want easy clean up.

Today I discovered a new food at the pazar. There were these things that looked like a small, pale canteloupe. I figured they were probably some type of melons, something like honeydew, but in the interesting of being a life-long learner, I asked the seller "what's this?" He responded almost automatically with the fruit's name, but my favorite part was the look on his face when I asked him to repeat it and he realized I didn't know what it was. He found it quite amusing when I told him I had never seen one before, and he told me it was sweet like honey and really good. I bought one for a little over 2 dollars, which I doubt was a good deal since he knew I was pretty clueless. I came home and cut it open, and it's basically just like honeydew. The word he gave me just means generic "melon."

My guys are back! Matthew had a trip to the big city this week for medical reasons. Monday he got a fever (not that unusual) and Tuesday we took him to the doctor (again, standard procedure). But the doctor couldn't find a reason for his infection, and when he did a blood test Matthew's white blood cell count was pretty high, so he started him on antiobiotic injections. In addition, Matthew was complaining of stomach pain. So Wednesday he and Mike got on a plane and went to see another doctor for further evaluation. That doctor determined that Matthew had strep, said that Matthew should continue the 6 days of antiobiotic injections (poor guy) and could come home when his fever came down. When they got back home, one last test by the local pediatrician showed that he also has amebiosis. Now he's worn out and tired of "icky medicine", but happy and fever-free. He has two more days of antiobiotic, a week of Flagyl, and we'll go back to the second doctor for follow up and another blood test in two weeks.