Gaziantep

Sorry blog friends, I am way behind, so let’s get up to speed.  We have been in Gaziantep for four full weeks now, and I think it is safe to say we are now settled in.  We have outfitted our apartments for comfortable living (Turkish style, as will be seen), found the neighborhood grocery stores and mom-and-pop shops, our digestive systems have begun to adapt to the local fare and bacteria, and we have almost three weeks of classes under our belts.  Since our first weeks of teaching are worth a separate entry, this one will focus on our living situation here in Gaziantep.

Gaziantep University is situated in the rapidly developing southwest outskirts of Gaziantep, giving us the dichotomous experience of living in a 6,000 year old city that is constantly under construction.  Our apartment buildings, for example, are in two neighborhoods on either side of a major road that leads to the main entrance of the University.  Convenient!  Except that to reach each other, we must cross the massive trench running down the middle of the road.  Someday the trench will be an extension of the city’s light rail line; right now it reminds me of the chasm between Littlefoot and his mother after the earthquake in “The Land Before Time.”  But I digress.

Thanks for giving me a leaf I can’t eat because of its emotional significance.  Now I’ll go make friends with an ungrateful triceratops.

The messy progress of the light rail trench is matched by construction of new apartment buildings, the sizeable mosque [In Turkish, Cami, “Jah-mee”] in the photo above, which is next to the other Fulbrighters’ apartment building, which is also still under construction.   This in addition to new sidewalks, etc. makes for a dusty, noisy, somewhat treacherous environment, but all this chaos abruptly ceases at the pastel walls of our apartment complex. 

Turns out it's pronounced Ahtah-John, because it's in Turkey.

Atacan Residence, as it is called, is a sizeable, three-year-old complex of four eight-story apartment towers interspersed with mostly-quiet courtyard space.  We have laundry, a convenience store with most immediate needs (including water-cooler-style drinking water kegs and propane gas tanks for our stovetops), a small exercise room, and a highly affordable restaurant with indoor/outdoor seating, decent food, hookah, and a dude who plays guitar most nights.  It’s a nice place. 

Convenient indeed.

Quality of life in the complex is high, and the apartments are decent.  They have two rooms – a decent-sized kitchen/living room and a completely separate bedroom – plus the bathroom.  And there’s a roughly 3’ x 5’ balcony off the bedroom, so that’s fun.   Here's a look around.

 From the door.

Entry, with Iowa/Decorah love, and the only place to lean a guitar that doesn't block a door or heater. 

Kitchen area, with propane stove (propane in the cupboard) and bottled drinking water.  

Living room zone. Decent.

Bathroom.  Note the not-at-all-contained shower, discussed later.

I have two beds.  They don't quite touch when you push them together.  So it goes.

Desk zone, with representation on the door.  Note the pictures of the family and college roommates, also the Turkish books I never study.

And directly next to my desk is the balcony.  Only very recently cleaned of pigeon dung.

The only things that still feel a little alien are the propane tank-fueled stove and the free flowing shower.  The former probably wouldn’t have seemed strange if I had grown up frequenting a cabin as most of my Minnesota friends did, but I didn’t, and it’ll be a few more weeks before I stop picturing Die Hard type explosions every time I light a burner. 

As for the shower, there is no curtain or basin present to contain the water flow, so it just kind of goes all over the bathroom and dries throughout the day.  I may rig up a curtain rod to section things off such that it’s just the toilet that joins me in my bathing, but for now it’s whatever.

Also worth discussing: the trash.  At first I was concerned at the small size of the trash can, cause, well, you can see its size next to my miniature fridge in the kitchen picture.  Pequeño.  But it turns out one of the janitors comes every other day to take your trash, which makes the small size just fine and as a bonus ensures you have some form of regular visitors.  Score.  

The most frequent trash collector is a man I assume to be the main custodian, Veli.  Veli is great.  He is short, barrel-shaped, bemustached, extremely friendly, and loud. Each morning the courtyards and courtyard-facing apartments of Atacan are filled with the rings of the complex manager’s cell phone and the full-voiced yells of Veli – yells about what, I never know.  Clearly audible in my seventh floor unit, with the windows closed.  At first it was a little annoying, but now it’s quite cheerful.  I’ve written a very short song about Veli in Turkish.  It will be on the youtubes soon, and I will surely link it here.

That about sums up our Gaziantep life.  Up next, Gaziantep University and the teaching life of a bottom-feeding, foreign instructor at a large university. Sneak preview: I have no authority, and it's great.