Ey Türk Kası, sen çok yaşa...

I made my international debut in Ultimate a few weekends back. A group of mixed foreigners in Istanbul have been playing twice a week for about the past year. It was started and is led by a small group of Americans, but they have drawn a fairly large crowd of Turks and other internationals from the big city. They traveled to their first tournament this past spring. They went all the way to Austria, only won one game, but had a blast doing it. They had so much fun, they decided to enter a tournament in Germany this fall.

That's where I come in. I met some of the players this summer and they mentioned the tournament to me. When it became obvious that the EU and some injuries were depleting the team, I was presented with the opportunity to play with the team in Germany. Of course, I jumped all over the opportunity.

We flew out of Istanbul late one Thursday night/early Friday morning. Everyone was in high spirits, but a delayed flight out of Istanbul bit into the enthusiasm a bit.

A rocky landing woke everyone up when we landed in Frankfurt, but we were all pretty tired. We drove for a few hours to a town called Heidelberg. Heidelberg is famous for being the place where the Heidelberg Confession was written. It has a cute little old town and a fairly well preserved castle overlooking the city. It was our first stop and we took the opportunity to walk through the old town and visit the castle.


It was a great time for team bonding and for disc tossing. For those keeping score at home, I think there were half a dozen buildings hit,


a few road signs,


two parked cars, two moving cars,


one river,


and no tourists hit (though it was close a couple times).


Heidelberg loves a hammer!


From there we drove on to the town we were staying in (I don't remember the name). It was a quaint little German town and we had a wonderful and very gracious host. We had a very good meal of sausage and sauerkraut in a restaurant that just dripped with personality (or sausage grease). Our meal was interrupted by this man though...


He came into the restaurant and sang a little song before going on a monologue in German. Come to find out, he was just giving out the evening news to the local shops. Why he needed a battle axe to do that was beyond me. After a good night's sleep, the tournament started up!

It was a cold, cold morning. Coming from Adana, where the highs are still over 90 some days here in late October, having lows in the single digits (Celsius) was hard to deal with. But all the excitement of finally getting to play some ultimate kept me warm.

Andrew teaching me end zone plays with Oreos.
As did my snazzy ski cap, which bore the marks of good hustle, and thick chalk lines.

You can't teach heart.
We played extremely well, if I can speak for the team. Everyone was hustling and playing smart. Our offense ran smooth, relying on short, precision passes for most of our scores. This was mostly due to the wind we had that first morning and the fact that one of our handlers (me) was very rusty. Though the team played well, I felt like I was out of the flow of the game for most of the day. I was always a step behind on defense, out of position on offense, and my throws just did not do what I wanted them to. But, despite my poor performance, we were 4-0 at the end of the day. Enjoy some pics from day one.

Everyone is cold, but happy.
Our cup resulted in two Callahan's the first day.
Good hands resulted in lots of points.
Rock resulted in the destruction of scissors.
Which led to victory.
Which then led to drinks for all.
Which led to everyone's Türk Kası (Turkish Muscle, aka Beer Belly).
The best part of the weekend was the camaraderie. Not only did our team really bond well, but we bonded with other teams as well. There was a team from Germany made entirely of native English speakers named Mother Tongue that we really hit it off well with. After an emotional feeling circle and throwing down on the dance floor for a while, we all got cleaned up and headed out for a nice dinner of sausage and sauerkraut with Mother Tongue.

You played well today Matt, please don't cry.
Yes, over 30 years later, it's still ELECTRIC!
They should've drank more.
I say that because Mother Tongue was our first game on Sunday. You would've thought we were the ones hung over by the way we played. We got crushed by them, and by the Junior National Team, and by Dreisden. That's right, after going 4-0 on the first day, we got beat pretty soundly by all three opponents on Sunday. We were all very tired, having left it all on the field Saturday. But in our defense, the only three teams that beat us were the #1-#3 teams in the tournament. We played the Junior National Team in the third place game and they came away victorious leaving us in fourth place. 4-4 and taking home 4th place isn't bad considering that most of the team had only been playing for a year and that their last trip to a tournament only resulted in one win. We were a little disappointed, sure. But in the end, we were very happy with how we finished. We played hard, we did our best, and we had a BLAST doing it. The pictures just can't capture the perfect weather, the festive atmosphere, or the incredible bonds that were formed during that weekend... but I'm going to put a few up anyways.

It seems that Dreisden was watching when we ran our cup.
But no cup can stop this.
We'll play anybody, anywhere, anytime.

After another great feeling circle, a shower, we hit the road headed home. We ran into some nasty traffic and had some fun tossing candy to a car-full of Mother Tongue players.

3 out of 4 ain't bad at that speed.
Yes, we lost to them.
We also passed time by playing fun car games. After a weekend being together, having a ton of fun, and toughing out some grueling games, I was not prepared to hear some of the stories that came up (Sorry Ken, but you just don't have the legs to be wearing a dress).

The smiles on our faces cover up the pain in our legs.
We arrived at the airport just in time for me and Ally to sprint through to the check in counter and catch our plane before it took off. Special thanks to the kind Turks (aren't they all) that helped us in the airport. But that was when the greatest tragedy happened. They wouldn't let me bring my twelve pack of Dr. Pepper back with me. So what is there to do?

Here's to you, crappy airplane laws.
Share! They wouldn't let us take it on, so everybody grabbed a can and toasted Germany for such a wonderful weekend.

Crappy airline laws kept the desk worker from enjoying the moment with us.
We made it to the gate just in time to toss the disc around for a few minutes and climb on board. All in all, it was one of the most fun weekends I've had in a long, long time. It was great to meet all the guys and gals from Türk Kası and share the field of Ultimate with them. Friendships were born and memories made that will last a lifetime. Hopefully this is not the last time I get to toss the disc around with the fine folks from Türk Kası!

What you've all been waiting for... for a month now.

Exactly one month later, I'm updating my blog. I'm afraid I've lost most of my fan base by now, but hopefully there are still a few of you out there.

As usual, travel was the first thing that threw me off. It always gets me off my usual schedule. Then, a sudden surge of motivation prompted a lot of work for me here. And lastly, a group from America showed up for a few days, took up all my time, and ran me in the ground.

But I'm back, and I hope to catch you up on the all the latest excitement in my life here.

"Technologically Advanced" and Three Things I Never Thought I'd See Here

Supposedly this is how our mayor described our city to some journalists recently. He was asked why he had stopped the traditional morning drums for Ramazan. Back in Ottoman times, drummers would roam the streets before daylight to wake the people so that they could eat their mongo breakfast before the sun came up and their fast started. This tradition has been kept to the present day, as witnessed by the lighter sleepers on my team. However, our mayor wants to make it a thing of the past. He says now that most people use these new fangled things called "alarm clocks" that people don't need the drummer. We're technologically advanced now.

And since this man obviously knows that you have to back up your words with actions, he made sure to prove just how advanced we are...



See what I mean? What? You don't see it? Well look closer. That's right, we now have line markings on our streets! We're definitely on the cutting edge of all the latest technology, trends, and fashions. Just days after proclaiming our modernism to the world, we finally put some physical markings on our roads. Unfortunately, though this picture was taken a few days after the markings were laid down, you can still see the lead car straddling the center line. Apparently the people are quite sure how to use all the new technology that we have. Maybe the mayor better keep those drummers going after all.

And finally, three shockers from the past week...

First of all, just hours after I noticed our newly painted roads, I also noticed a shining red Ferrari parked just down the street from my house. It was parked in front of a really nice desert restaurant, and, of course, had it'd blinkers on. Apparently that's the technologically advanced way of not getting a parking ticket. Putting on your blinkers is like a force field that protects your car from all traffic police. Unfortunately for some of my coworkers, that device hasn't been installed in our company car.



Secondly, it rained today. No, I mean for real, there was water actually falling from the sky for a good half hour or more. It was amazing. I can't remember for certain, but I think this is the first time it's rained since Paul's second journey. I could be wrong though, I never can remember if that boating accident he had was on the second or third trip.

And lastly, one thing that I wish I had pictures to prove, because I don't think anyone will believe me until I can show it to you, but I was actually in the praise band at church this past week. By "praise band" I mean the Korean girl on her keyboard, the Shark beating on the drum, and I on the guitar. The Pastor called me up Friday night at 10 and asked if I was free Saturday afternoon. I was, so he asked me to come to the church. He wanted me to play guitar with the Korean and if we were good enough, we would play on Sunday. I guess I auditioned well because after about an hour of practice, the Pastor left and said that he would see the next day up on stage. I won't lie, I pretty well stunk it up. On the loud songs, the drum and the singing was so loud that I couldn't hear myself play and therefore I had a hard time staying on beat. I flubbed a few chords while I was playing and the Korean threw me off once by going back into the verse when I thought we were going into the chorus again. But we ended on a song that I not only really like and know all the words to, but one that I can play really well. So even though we were sloppy through most the set, we really had a great encore to finish the day. And yes, as far as I know, I am going to be a permanent member of the praise band, believe it or not.

Mixed Bag of Thoughts

First of all, Ramazan is here. It's the month when Muslims don't eat from sunup to sundown. This really doesn't affect me a whole lot. For starters, there are a lot of people that don't keep the fast here. All the cafes and restaurants are still open during the day and no one really thinks a whole lot about a foreigner chowing down. It's fairly obvious I'm not a local (see the Hawaiian shirt picture). The only pooper is that at night, if you go out, there will be people at the restaurants waiting for the go ahead to eat. It kind of forces you to wait too. So even though it's only an hour or so later than I'd normally eat, it is a little bit of a hassle.

On the positive side, I'm hoping that this month of heightened spirituality will spawn more discussions about sin and the need for repentance. That's what I'm praying for anyhow. There are a handful of people here that I have had the pleasure to spend significant amounts of time with and, therefore, share significant portions of the Gospel with them. It's really nice to hand someone a Bible who has more than likely never even seen one. It's also really humbling to know that without a miraculous work of the Spirit, they won't receive a word it says as truth. So I'm hoping the Spirit of the Lord will be moving in this place over the next few weeks and that I'll be faithful in my preaching of the gospel of the grace of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ.

I jammed my finger pretty good playing basketball this morning. It's already swelling and turning colors. I've avoided major injury since I've been here, and for that I'm very thankful. In fact, with the exception of Stevo going through the window, our whole team has been spared serious bodily harm over the past year. We've been sick and had colds, but no one has really gotten hurt. Praise God for that and pray for those that have been given a different cup to drink from.

It's nice to be in decent shape physically. I say decent because I have a long ways to go before I'm in "good" shape. I'm starting back up at the gym and hopefully getting on a running schedule soon. I want to be in good condition for life in general, but specifically for an ultimate tournament I've been invited to at the end of the month! I met some guys and gals from Istanbul that are taking a team to Germany to play in an ultimate tournament and I've been invited to join them. Not only is it going to be a great weekend to play some ultimate and hang out, it's really inspired me to try and get a game going here in town. Maybe the next time there's a tournament close by, I can take my own team.

And speaking of teams... HOW BOUT THEM TIGERS!?! 2-0 with two pretty solid performances. We dominated FSU in the first half and the defense stood strong to preserve the win for us in the end. Last week was a long scrimmage against University of Louisiana Monroe. Our offense was clicking a little better while our defense showed signs of fatigue and lack of emotion. This weeks opponent provides us with the same problems, and one that I never thought I'd see.

We're playing 1AA (I refuse to use the new names) Furman University. Furman is a wonderful little school that is only maybe 45 minutes from Clemson. It's really hard not to like them. Yeah, they're stuck up rich kids for the most part, but it's a Baptist college. It's hard to hate a school with a mascot like the Paladins, mainly because no one knows what a Paladin is. Plus, they've always kind of been like Clemson's younger brother. They're a solid 1AA team, and because of that, they have the support of most the state. But they're just not on the same level with us, and have always, and will always, take a backseat to us. I'm sure the defense will hold their own, but I would not be surprised if we come a little flat again. I don't see Furman being able to hang with us in the long run though. We will win, and win soundly, somewhere in the 55-20 range.

But the thing that really hurts my heart, that I never thought I'd have to worry about, ever, is this... there is a chance that both teams could come out in purple today. That's right, a few years ago the boys started mixing in purple jerseys and purple pants into the uniform rotation. It was, for the most part, bearable. However, last year, with GameDay on campus, on primetime ESPN, hoping to make a statement, we came out in this:


Now picture that on the field with these guys:


And what you have is the recipe for a full fledged technicolor disaster! But hopefully we'll be up big by the second half and we can get some of our backups some reps in a real, live game setting.

Desert Bar, He's going to marry, and a Fashion Faux-Pas that Worked

First of all, let me say that the Kantepe stories could continue forever. I could tell you about almost taking Peterman in tennis, though I had never actually played tennis before in my life. I could tell you about a fun game of Presidents, which may be the worst game ever invented. (I say that because I couldn't win) I could tell you that I am still undefeated against my friend Adem in tavla, but then I'd also have to tell you that my goutlu friend from the West Coast pounded me like a cheap lamb rump roast from Migros. I could tell you about all the new and good friends I
made. But the thing that seems to be sticking with me the most is the desert bar.






Oh how I miss thee! Thy high towers of cakes and thy great plains of baklava. Thy soft, white, puffy clouds of creme floating in a sea of chocolate goodness. Oh how I love thee, let me count the ways...



But seriously, I miss that sweet little ending to every meal. And since the rest of the food was pretty crappy, it became the majority of every meal. I don't think I ever left that cafeteria without eating at least two different desert items. I'll remember you fondly.

So tonight I go down to the barber shop to hang out with the Barber and the Hawk for a couple hours. I figured that I would get there just in time for chai, which I was, and get some good conversation, since tomorrow is the start of Ramazan. I got what I was hoping for and a lot more. The Barber was giving a guy I know a haircut. The Barber told me, "He's getting married." Well hot dog, congratulations. But, it's a little late in the day for that isn't it? Come to find out, he's not getting married yet, he's just now meeting his future wife. His family had picked him out a good'un and he was getting to meet her for the first time tonight. He was getting the full treatment from the Barber and then there was a long discussion about what he should wear, whether he should wear cologne or not, what the best smelling cologne is, how much should he wear, when should he put it on, etc. It was an interesting discussion and a cultural experience. I knew that's how marriages worked around here, but this is really the first time I've had any first hand experience with it.

And I think I broke some fashion rules tonight. First of all, I've heard from people in the past that wearing Hawaiian style shirts overseas is a clear cut sign that you are definitely a tourist. Given my desire to fit into the culture, I figured my flowery shirt days were over (I don't remember them ever starting honestly). But one day I was at a store here that I check from time to time for cheap clothes and they had a good looking Hawaiian shirt for 6 YTL (a little over $4) and I couldn't pass it up. I've worn it a few times and hadn't had any bad "look at the foreigner" moments yet. But tonight I was stretching it, by wearing a summer shirt in mid-September. Granted, the highs are still in the 80s around here, but it's noticeably cooler.



So why did I wear it tonight? It's a mixture of my laziness and bad luck. I haven't washed clothes in a week or so and today, when I had some time to do just that, the water was out (actually it was out the past two days, so I have an excuse for not showering this time!). So I was out of short sleeve, collared shirts. I wore it, bravely, and charged right into the barber shop without looking back. And wouldn't you know it, I got a compliment! I know I sound like a girl gushing over a compliment I got from a guy on the sidewalk in front of a barber shop, but in a culture where criticism is considered commonplace, getting a compliment is a golden moment. It's even better when you feel like you're taking a risk and it pays off.

100th Post is a Sad One

If I was thinking, I would've planned things a little better and had something a little more cheery or light hearted to post on my 100th. But I can't overlook the biggest thing that has happened recently.

Crack and Miss Kitty left today. They took another job that I'm sure they will not only love, but really excel in. It fits Crack's giftings and abilities perfectly and it puts him in a situation where he will be able to positively influence a lot of young men in a very critical stage in their lives. Miss Kitty will, of course, just be a magnet for any and everyone around her. I have no doubt that she's probably got some chai on now for some sweet little neighbor lady. She'll never get unpacked because every sister, friend, girlfriend, mom, aunt, and cleaning lady that's near them will be at her house wanting to talk.

Hopefully I'll be able to post some of their stories soon, since I'm sure it won't take them long to start making friends, sharing life and the Lord with them, and having a ton of fun at the same time. It was hard to see them go. They've been as good to me as anyone ever has. Their house was always cool (thanks to the AC) and their hearts were always warm (thanks to Jesus). They'll be missed incredibly.

Kantepe

I guess I ought to explain why this place got it's name as "Blood Mountain."

The place is called Kartepe, which translates as "Snow Mountain." It was a quaint little resort that is probably pretty nice in the winter. However, in the summer, it takes on a more imposing appearance.

Just about every evening, and some days, the place was shrouded in a thick fog. It's up on top of a hill (obviously) and the wind would whip through, making it slightly chilly, even in the heat of summer. And with it, it would bring this thick fog that would turn the quaint ski resort into something that looks like it should be featured in some sort of horror movie.

And that's when it hit me. With a slight play on words, a small budget, and a good imagination, we could really make an awesome horror movie up here! Turn Kartepe into Kantepe, which means "Blood Mountain," and you have the perfect name and location for a good horror film. The fog set it off perfectly. Plus, we had a perfect assortment of characters that are fit perfectly for the different stereotypical horror movie roles.

First we had BC, the Mexican, who fills the role of "minority who will be killed first." We had a couple of candidates for "computer nerd who gets whacked playing video games." Adem and Peterman, that'd be you, sorry. Then we have the loving, good looking, morally upright, suave, and debonair star, me. For some reason, there were a lot of people putting in for the role of mass murderer. Apparently there is some pent up rage among a lot of my friends. Watch what you say to ex-pats in Turkey.

Of course, like in all good horror films the mass murderer finds creative ways to take out the entire cast, save for the stunning lead character and his beautiful and faithful costar. Unfortunately, interest in the stunning costar role was extremely limited. So, due to budget restraints (we had none), time restraints (had none of that either), script problems (didn't have one of those either), and the lack of a full cast (one more thing we didn't have), the filming never got off the ground. I still think it would've been a hit and brought back the slasher genre from it's long hiatus. We'll never know.

It was totally worth it.

Write this down, because you won't hear me say this very often, but a meal that cost me almost $9 was totally worth it.

Since it would cost a small fortune to get the entire V-family up to our vacation spot, they decided to drive the V-Van all the way up there, the entire 10 hours. That means that we had to cram two adults, 4 children, me (the awkward man-child), and all our luggage for the week and a half that we'd be gone into the van. Luckily, Big Papi had that covered. He bought this snazzy canvass luggage holder thing for the top of the van. After filling it up and strapping it down, we were ready.



We left at the butt-crack of dawn, at an hour when I'm not even a Christian yet (stole that line from Mark Driscoll, hope you don't mind). With four boys that always want to hear a story or joke, I knew I'd have to be ready to talk at any hour of the day, even if I wasn't totally conscious. But honestly, it was really a great ride. The boys were, as usual, extremely well behaved. And to make things better, they brought this monster pillow that I quickly bear hugged and collapsed on for the entire drive to Ankara.

And that's where the heaven's opened their gates and let the blessings come pouring out... all for just $9. Arby's. God bless that man, or woman, that invented the roast beef sandwich. It was worth every dime I paid for it.



The rest of the trip was uneventful, but enjoyable. You could feel the excitement building as we climbed the hill to Blood Mountain.

Kickoff in Death Valley

I just want to say here, quickly, that I am so excited that I've already had to run to the bathroom once and feel almost sick to my stomach because of nerves. Clemson is about to kickoff the 2007 football season in Death Valley against Florida State.

Optimism is high. Expectations may be even higher. With that in mind, and knowing my mental state, I'll have to say that this is probably not the most well thought out post I've ever put on here, but it's probably better than the one after the BC game last year.

I'm saying it now, we BLOW OUT FSU tonight. 37-17. You heard it here first.

We also go undefeated and beat USC 120-3 in the national championship game, but that's for later.

GO TIGERS!!!

Blood Mountain

I spent this past week at a place that I'll affectionately, and fearfully, refer to as "Blood Mountain." That's not it's actual name, but if you could've seen the fog rolling in on it's cold breeze, you'd understand. It wasn't a place for the faint of heart.

Besides the eerie cloud effects on almost a nightly basis, you had the food. There is only so many ways that you can prepare chicken and rice, and trust me, this place tried them all. We also had packs of wild dogs that roamed the premises. Big dogs, little dogs, short legged dogs, long haired dogs, we had them all. And as bad as the main dishes were, the desert line at this place was phenomenal. I put this in the "dangerous" section because of the impact it may end up having on my dental hygiene and body mass index.

On the positive side, we got some great time to fellowship with people from all over the country. Seeing old friends and meeting new friends was by far the best part of the week for me. We also got some solid teaching from our leadership, which is comforting and challenging. Singing songs in English, especially some classic hymns, is a blessing that I don't get very often. And the wonderful people from the States brought cookies and snacks that you just can't get anywhere around here. Oh, and don't forget about free afternoons! Time to nap, chat, and play should be a part of every day.

I need to get out of the house and go visit the Barber and some other friends. But rest assured that there are plenty of stories to be told. Tonight, as I hopefully listen in on the beginnings of the college football season, I will try to pass on a story or two.

My Stats For the Past Week

In the past week, I've had some great and some not so great times in the sports arena.

First of all, soccer. My teams were 2-1 this week, with one big win, one close win, and one bad loss. I had a single goal in the first game, two goals in the second game, and a single goal in the third game. I will say that there were a few near misses. A few that just missed the post or hit the post. There were also a few other near misses, as in, nearly missing the ball entirely. I have heart. Unfortunately, you play soccer with your feet, not with your heart. And my feet just don't do what I tell them to sometimes. I feel like I am beginning to understand the flow and strategy of the game, but I have yet to find the skill to implement the great ideas I have. Because of that, I think my turnover to assist ratio is a little off at the moment. But despite my short comings, I continue to give it a 110%

Basketball was a different story this week. I was wore out! For some reason last week, I just did not sleep good. Every day last week I was either up late, waking up early, or both. Come Saturday morning, I had nothing left in the tank and it showed. I'm usually about a 75-80% shooter from the 15-20 foot range, but I couldn't hit the broad side of a barn this week. We played three "halves" and the first and third halves I was ice cold. I did hit a streak in the second half and saved my stats and got our team back in the game momentarily. But in the end, it was just too much. Not enough sleep on my part, good ball movement and hustle on the other team's part, and a lack of defense and conditioning on my team's part proved to be too much to overcome. In the end, despite having a one man advantage, we lost.

In other news, I was 5-1 in backgammon last week and undefeated (3-0) on XBox football on my last trip to the V house.

And since I've been talking sports for the whole post, I thought I'd include something for the ladies. Here's looking at you Lane Marie.

The Big Anniversary

As of Sunday, August 12th, I've officially been in this country for a year. To sum up how it feels, I will steal a little from a guest we had.

We had a volunteer group come to visit our church for a while. The big group left and four people stayed behind, three girls and one guy. The guy stayed here in our apartment. Last week, as their time was winding down, I asked him how he was feeling. This was his reply:

"I'm tired, HOT, and bored. I don't feel like we've done anything the whole time we've been here. This language is hard. The people are hard. I've been sick on and off the whole time. I'm the only single guy and I am staying way over here, apart from the group. I'm lonely and I just want to go home."

You know, unfortunately, that's the way it is somedays. I ain't going to lie and say that everyday that I'm here I'm just juiced about the opportunities I have. Some days I would gladly trade them for a little AC and a chalupa. Our guest really summed up how I feel a lot of times.

But unfortunately for our friend, he doesn't get to see the other side of life here. He didn't go with me downtown Friday (though I offered) when I got to share the Gospel with the Bartender. He asked for a Bible, which I will take down there sometime this week. He never went down to the barber shop to see how the Barber and the Hawk like to goof off when nobody's in the shop. He never got to the point of juggling four or five suffixes on the end of the same word. He didn't go out to eat with me, the Anti-girlfriend, Miss Kitty, the Botanist, and Crack the other night. He didn't have a family like the Vs to go hang out with.

You can spend days listing things about this place and this time that have been hard, discouraging, uncomfortable, and just plain unwanted. But you can spend just as much time listing things that I would've never seen, heard, said, or experienced anywhere else.

I would've never sweated through 130+ degree weather without an AC. But I also would've never put a Bible in the hand of a man who has never even seen one. I would've never eaten a steady diet of lamb meat. But I also would've never been given the name Mustafa. I would've never been as lonely as I've been here. But I wouldn't have found the family I have found here either. I would've never seen men weep for their brothers who have been killed. And I would've never shared those tears. In short, I would've never become the man I am today.

The list could go on for hours, but I will stop. I have to go share a message that I'm not sure I will ever fully understand, in a language that I am sure I will never fully understand, to a man who has never heard anything like it. After that, I'm going for a nice juicy kebap with a dear friend and his Turkish buddies. It doesn't get much better than this.

Now that's a good question.

Here's one that I don't get asked very often...

This past Saturday I went to teach at the language school where I have been working for the past month or so. It was mid-afternoon when class ended and I walked across the street to the bus stop. Since the temperature has been up around 130 degrees recently, I found the only shade around. It was just a small tree and there was already an older man standing in it, but you know what, it's hot dang it. So I jumped in there with him. For reasons I'd rather not explain, I was softly singing a song by The Police to myself. The old man turned and gave me a head nod to say hello. He looked at me for a second longer and asked, in Turkish, "Are you an Arab?"

Now granted, all he knew was that I was singing a song in a foreign language and that around here, Arabic is a lot more common than English. However, he did know one other thing. He could plainly see that I am 6'3", pale as a ghost, and that I have a red beard. Any one of those three would be enough to make you question my Arabness. But there was something, and God only knows what, that made this guy wonder.

Oh Sweet Jesus

For some reason or another, most likely my tattoo, I have picked up the name "Jesus Christ" from one of the guys we play basketball with. He's a great guy who means no disrespect by it, which is hard to believe since he's a socialist and an atheist. But I genuinely believe him when he says that he respects us and respects Jesus and his teachings. It still doesn't take away from the comedy of it all.

And things reached a new level last weekend. It was hot as blazes in the gym, yet we still managed to play a full court, five on five game, to 131! It was actually two games, one to a hundred, then one to thirty one. But don't forget, it was FULL COURT and at least 90 degrees inside the gym. I'm not the best player out there. In fact, I may not have been the 10th best player out there. But I can hit a jump shot from the free throw line with amazing consistency. I just ask that you don't expect me to get any closer or any further away. But the really funny thing is that after almost every shot I made Sat, as we were running back down the court, our friend would say to no one in particular, "Oh sweet Jesus!"



That afternoon, I had a headache that put me down for a while. I headed to a friend's house to sleep in the AC for the night and got some medicine from another friend and got to feeling better. I've been fighting this same battle all week. It's so hot that any time outside robs you of all your energy. I've taken afternoon naps twice this week and have been successful in my attempt to stay inside between the hours of 12-4. Today that is changing. I'm using my day off to go do some advertising in another city. Hopefully I'll get the same response from some of them!

Friday Night Fights

Actually, it was Sunday night, but the action was just as hot.


The story is that I was over at the V house playing all day Sunday afternoon. I went out with the V boys and some of their friends to have a little home run derby with a plastic bat and ball. I was pitching. I forget who was batting, but we were all having a good time none the less. I was in the middle of my wind up when a little red car came driving through the small field we were playing in. He was going a little fast and obviously not on the road. He passed us and went across the basketball court where a Turkish neighbor was shooting hoops with his boy. I saw the Neighbor give the Driver a "Hadi ya," which is the equivalent of, "Hey bud, what the heck are you doing?" The Driver parked his car in front of his house and the two started jawing. The Neighbor made his way into the street where they continued their conversation. Stevo prophesied, "They're going to fight." I assured him that it was okay, the Neighbor was a calm guy, and that's just the way Turks talk. They're a little high strung. A few pitches later and the Driver was inside his gate and the Neighbor was walking away. A few shouts later and the Neighbor was now inside the gate and they were talking again, just as heated as before.


Then it started. I heard something and looked over in time to see the Neighbor take a hard shot to the face. I threw the ball down and took off running. The Neighbor took the Driver down and they were out of sight, behind the Driver's car. When I turned the corner, the Neighbor was on top of the Driver and he was pounding him. I mean, he was really driving it home. I ran over, pushed the Neighbor off, and put the Driver in a hold that I hope my FBI Arrest Control instructors would've been proud of. It was then that I had to do the hardest part of all... start barking orders in Turkish. I told the Neighbor to go home and then told the Driver to go inside, sit down, and relax. After the Neighbor was out of sight, the Driver wanted to pick up the stuff he had dropped when the fight started. In the bag he dropped were three Efes Pilsen beers. He offered me one, but I politely declined the offer.


Later, the Neighbor thanked me for "rescuing" him. I had to laugh. "It wasn't you that I rescued. It was that other guy!" I replied. Even though I broke it up as soon as I could, the Driver still had a cut on the back of his head, blood on his ear, and what looked like a massive shiner building. Stevo wanted to know who was winning when I got there. I told him that no one wins a fight. Jesus said that those who love peace will be called Sons of God. Remember that kids. Remember that, and fear the beard.

Speedos, the 4th, Transformers

Yes, I bought a Speedo. It's culturally acceptable here. I am a young man, in his early twenties, and in relatively good shape. I'm exactly the kind of guy that should be wearing a Speedo. I figured it would be better than wearing the American Eagle "gym" shorts that were given to me almost five years go. I don't have any pictures of me at the beach wearing my Speedo, so let this tag be proof enough.



I bought the Speedo because we were going to the beach for the 4th. I'm not a huge beach fan, especially here. I don't like the sand, the way people are instantly nastier at the beach, and the way salt water stings your eyes, gets in your mouth, and makes you feel gross inside and out. These things are all amplified here since: the sand isn't clean and stays at a constant 1000 degrees farenheit, despite being hairy myself, Turks can take hairiness to a whole new level, and the fact that the Med is ten times saltier than the Atlantic ever dreamed of being. Factor in the fact that we're on a Southern facing shore and you have taken away the best thing about the beach, the waves. There are no waves here, hence robbing me of my only joy at the beach. Plus, I was still peeling for the last time I went to the beach with my expensive bottle of Turkish sun "screen." I still say it is sun attractant, since the only place I wasn't burned was the only place I didn't apply it.




But anyway, I enjoyed the fourth. There were 30 of us foreigners there, if you count the children. We had a huge feast thanks to all the families. We snagged some tables from a local hotel and some umbrellas and before you know it, we had a real party going on. Mix in some awesome frisbee action, American pride songs, Nivea's SPF 40 Children's Formula sun screen, three paddle boats, and one sea turtle, and you have yourself a 4th to remember.

Then on Friday night, the moment we had all been waiting for arrived. It's their war, but it's our world.



The Transformers finally made it to Turkey! A little background for you real quick. I LOVED the Transformers growing up. Though everybody else talks about He-Man or the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or whoever, my love was the Transformers. I loved the cartoons, I loved the toys, I loved the story. When I was a freshman in college, I downloaded the 1986 Transformers animated movie to my computer to watch it whenever I wanted. I loved, and still love, those things. BUT, I realize that not everyone shares my affection for those robots in disguise. In fact, I've come to realize that most of my "friends" here seem to look down on me for having a vivid imagination and wanting to relive happy childhood memories in my young adult years. So with that, here's my honest thoughts on the movie.



It was horrible. The acting was bad, the plot was as simple as any movie could ever have. The special effects weren't all that great. They changed too much. There were too many humans. The robots didn't have enough personality. I could go on and on. The biggest thing is that the changes they made in the characters were not necessarily for the positive. With the exception of Optimus, almost all of the characters, when transformed into Robots, looked horrible. In fact, I thought it was weird how they rarely showed the Decepticons in anything but fight scenes, where the action was too quick to really get a good look at them. Secondly, the draw of the movie is the fact that it's about the Transformers, not the humans. There were too many human story lines in the movie. Focus on the robots. That's what people are coming to see. If they wanted to see preteen love stories they would've gone to watch the next Olsen twins movie. Also, stick with the story line of the original series. You don't have to reinvent the story, it was good already. And the fact that you avoided what was probably the second biggest conflict of the whole series is disappointing. Besides the Optimus vs. Megatron feud, the next biggest conflict of the cartoon series was the relationship between Megatron and Starscream. Starscream's character was changed way too much, was barely mentioned in the film, and their story line was avoided entirely with the exception of a one liner from Megatron. Unacceptable. You're making a movie about a series that's twenty years old! You shouldn't change that much. If the story wasn't good, people would've quit watching and caring long ago. Stick with what you've been given. And I guess that's what bothers me the most. This movie was set up to be a huge success. There are TONS of fans like myself. Young adults that remember watching the cartoon as children and are nostalgic about the days of transforming cars into robots that defending the earth from the evil Decepticons. Everyone has that theme song memorized. Everyone knows what Optimus looks like. Everyone can still hear that high pitched squeal that was Starscream. We still try to imitate Shockwave's voice. Why was all this changed? Stick with the program and it would've been a cult classic.

But they didn't. The only thing that saved it for me was knowing that they weren't going to stick with the program months in advance. Thanks to Mark's ability to track anything down online (it's good to know an Asian), I have had some behind the scenes peaks at the characters and plot line. I knew it was going to be a disappointment. I beat my expectations into a pulp. Thanks to that, I was able to enjoy the good points of the movie. First of all, there were three things that were thrown in for the old fans. First of all, when you first meet Bumblebee, at a used car lot, you realize that they have changed him. In the cartoon, he's a yellow Beetle, but in the movie he's a Camaro. But he does pull up next to an old Beetle and slam it with his door. Nice touch. Then the human character uses a line with a girl where he says that she's "more than meets the eye." A clear allusion to the old theme song. And finally, the biggest treat for us old fans, was hearing Optimus Prime's voice. They got the same guy to do his voice for this movie as they had for the 1986 animated movie.



So as a final grade, I give it a C. If you weren't a fan of Transformers before, you won't like it. If you were a fan, you will be annoyed by how much they've changed. If you're past puberty, you'll find the subplots boring at best, stupid and aggrevating at worst. Maybe they'll do another one in a few years, stick closer to the original story line, do better with character looks and personality, keep the humans out of it, and really make a movie that the true fans can be proud of.

America, the Series- Part 3 "I've now been awake 48 straight hours."

Friday around 8 am, we pulled into Memphis. It was a little anticlimactic, since we got lost within a couple blocks of my buddy's frat house. But once we made it, we said our hellos and our "I can't believe you pulled this off"s. Then we did the usual chit chat, trying to catch up the last year of life in fifteen minutes. But once the newness wore off, which didn't take long, unfortunately, for my friends who are used to sleeping on a regular schedule, beds were found. But at this point, I've already been awake for 36 hours, I'm excited to be in America, to see one of my best friends the day before his wedding, and to be able to speak English freely with anyone I meet. I wasn't sleepy.



So instead I volunteered to help Paul move into his new apartment. He already had everything loaded in the big Uhaul, so it was just a matter of driving over to the new place and moving the stuff in. The Turk decided to come too, for no apparent reason. After a short, maybe 20 minutes, panic, when Paul thought he had lost the keys to the truck and I had to find them for him, we were off. His new apartment was on the third floor and the Memphis heat and humidity had already descended upon us. It felt like we were moving furniture around in a hamam. Paul had to go do the paperwork on the apartment, leaving me as the only truly able bodied man in the group. It only took a couple hours, but in the heat, and with me being the only one really doing any heavy lifting, it went by slowly.



After moving, we hit the showers, and then we hit lunch! It was my pick, since I'm the foreigner now. Mexican or Chick-fil-a were my requests, and there was a Mexican restaurant nearby! It didn't take long to put away four baskets of chips, two bowls of cheese dips, four bottles of salsa, and four Dr. Peppers. That was before we ordered. The over/under was set at a dozen Dr. Peppers, for those placing bets on my drinking habits. I didn't quite make that mark due to the peculiar habit I've picked up from Turks of not drinking while you eat.



Once I was full on burritos and refried beans, we headed to the tux shop to pick up the duds. I'll just go ahead and admit, I was pimped out. I look good in a tux! If you won't take my word on it, the two ladies that worked at the tux shop will be sure to back me up. I was working it.



Friday afternoon I finally got to meet the bride as well. She was, as I expected, way out of Paul's league. She was nice, clean, well mannered, and good looking. All things my buddy Paul is not. How he pulled it off is beyond me. I was also introduced to the bride's maids. Usually I handle these things with style and class (they don't call me C-Love for nothing), but seeing as how I was on about hour 38 of not sleeping, I just tried to keep my mouth shut. Apparently I had been talked up due to the fact that I was coming from Turkey and because of my chosen profession. But having not shaved, nor slept, in a few days, lowered expectations immediately.



The rehearsal went pretty much as planned. I tried to deal with the fact that even though I came all the way from Turkey to be at the wedding, I was still relegated to being a second tier friend, not making the exclusive "on stage" club, but instead, pretending to be content with my "second stair from the bottom" placement. Thanks Paul, it meant a lot, you jerk. The rehearsal dinner was at an awesome restaurant. Steak with some sort of crawfish gravy on top. Made the whole trip worth it. We ragged Paul some, and tried to avoid any incriminating stories. It's hard to do with Paul, and I may have crossed the line talking about how he ran from the Pendleton Police and then broke in to my house through the window in order to hide from them. But you only get married once!..... hopefully.



We did go down to Beale St. afterwards, but nothing really happened. I had been awake for a little over 48 hours at this point. I think I reached the 50 hour mark before bed. But, Paul and I had a serious conversation while everybody else just goofed off. My mind had already focused on the task at hand: Making sure Paul actually went through with this thing.

America, the Series- Part 2 "I'm going to Graceland."

Well, that's a lie, we didn't actually go to Graceland, but we did go to Memphis, TN! The whole point of this trip home was to ensure that my good buddy Paul did, in all actuality, marry the girl he told me he was going to marry. I had my doubts about the whole deal, but by the time I found Gouge in the Atlanta airport, it was too late to turn back. So to Memphis we went.

I thought the three of us, myself, Gouge, and the Turk, would be riding in a four door Ford Focus. Seeing as how we had to pick up a fourth guy, Hunter, in Chattanooga, it seemed like a decent option. However, the Turk thought it would be much better, since it's only $10 more, to rent a convertible. At time, I was just excited about being home. I was glad to see Gouge. I was glad to see black people. I was just glad to be there. But it became quickly evident that the convertible might not have been the best idea.

Clue #1- My luggage alone took up all free space in the trunk when the top was down, meaning that there'd be no way to get three more guy's stuff in there and still ride with the convertible open.



Clue #2- When I noticed that Gouge's knees were pretty much in the back of the Turk's seat. This worried me because I have Gouge by a few inches and because the Turk was the shortest one of us all, therefore his seat was the farthest forward. I knew that once someone else got in the front, and I was in the back, it'd be uncomfortable.



Clue #3- I was in the front seat, with no one behind me, and it still didn't provide adequate leg room. I began to miss my big red limousines immediately.



But the ride wasn't that bad. The Turk and I discussed Turkish politics, which is complicated enough to make most foreign diplomats suck their thumbs, Turkish culture, and all it's wonderful intricacies, and finally, Turkish cuisine. I had brought home a few bottles of Cukurova's finest salgam for everyone to try. It was a big hit. Kind of a like a left hook to the jaw.



Just west of Nashville we decided to stop for some grub. I was on about hour 20 of being awake and had eaten nothing but airline food in that time span. Needless to say, I was in need of some Waffle House!



That's pretty much what it looked like. Oh, the heart warming glow of that yellow sign! Oh, the smell of greasy foods upon greasy foods being cooked, served, and eaten! Oh, the slurred ebonics of our distinguished chef and hostess! I was finally, and truly, home.

Only one problem, they were cleaning the grill. No biggie, we'll all get a waffle, drown that baby in syrup, and drink Coke with free refills like it's going out of style. About half way through our dinner, the nightly entertainment began.

It seems that one big, fine woman was upset with her romantic interest and decided they needed to talk about it outside. Unfortunately, sometimes talking just doesn't solve all your problems. The lady threw down on this guy. She was wailing on him, throwing punches, slapping, and clawing. She threw her keys at the dude, her cell phone, her weave (well, maybe not), but you get the idea. When the poor guy finally made it into his car, she started to pound it. She gave it numerous, perfectly formed, mule kicks. And she left her mark. There must have been at least two or three big dents in the side of this guy's car. He had to leave with a couple hundred dollars worth of body damage to his car, a few days worth of scratches and bruises to his own body, and the knowledge that his boo was eating waffles with some other dude while he had to drive to IHOP with his tail tucked between his legs.




The waffle itself was worth the money. It was great to get free refills for the first time in a long while. And the after dinner show was more than I could've ever asked for. We paid our bill and hit the road before the real fireworks started. At the rate we were going, we would be pulling into Memphis just after sunrise.