Kaitlin Travels

It’s strange - really - to have so many feelings for one place, especially when you know that your time there is limited and will soon be behind you. Turkey, specifically Izmir, has already had such an impact on my life. It has awakened even greater emotions in me, which may come as a surprise to those who know me best. The last four months have exposed me to depths within emotions that I thought I knew quite well - curiosity, fear, excitement, longing, antipathy, courageousness. 

Each day is a new and fresh kick in the face. Sometimes the kick leaves me bloody and bruised, whimpering back to my room unable to focus on anything but the countdown to when I can say goodbye. Others are subtle - they can’t knock me down. They strengthen my resolve to overcome the obstacles thrown at me and other yabancilar (foreigners). Others still are more like sweet hugs, filling me with joy, laughter, and triumph. These are the experiences that remind me of why I choose to follow this dream of mine in the first place. They remind me that it wasn't a mistake to come here. They remind me to be grateful and to appreciate everything about this adventure. 

This week has been especially good. Although negativity and pessimism have (unfortunately) defined much of my experience abroad, I want to make an effort to praise the positive moments. I’m tired of complaining. I’m tired of wishing my days away. I’m tired of putting so much emphasis on my self-worth as defined by my perceived skill set. I’m determined to keep fully immersing myself in this adventure because it will come to an end.  

Taking a step back to appreciate everything that I get to experience while I’m here helps me feel fulfilled and accomplished. In that spirit, here is a list of things that I have discovered or experienced for the first time in Turkey. They bring me great joy. 

1. Gözleme - only from the pazar, More on the pazar below. 

2. Weekly trips to the Alsancak pazar (farmers’ market 

3. Nar (pomegranate). 

4. Turkish coffee - always with sugar.

5. The word tamam. It means “okay” or “alright” in Turkish. It is the perfect response to any question, suggestion, or declaration. 

6. Lahmacun and pide (Turkish pizzas).

7. The Aegean Sea.

8. Traditional Turkish hamams (baths). 

9. Baklava. Turkish baklava uses pistachios. Turkish baklava is king.  

Every year, I - like many others - make resolutions/intentions for the year to come. Although I - like many others - rarely hold true to all of my New Year goals, I enjoy the process of making them. I look at previous years’ goals, marking which ones I have accomplished and which ones I completely forgot about. I like remembering why I made those goals and what I hoped they would bring to my life. I like looking back at the year that passed, remembering the wonderful, awe-inspiring, painful, and (sometimes) boring moments that defined my year. 

I am constantly afraid of falling into a complacent, uninteresting life. Self-reflection gives me the opportunity to change old habits and to redirect myself so that I am living as colorful a life as the one I have been dreaming about since I was small. 

With that in mind, every year, adventure is my number one priority. I want a life defined by taking risks and having extraordinary experiences. Adventure doesn’t always present itself as a trip across the world or an adrenaline rush (I will never have the courage to jump out of an airplane); sometimes, it is as simple as seeking out a restaurant/cafe/shop that I’ve been stalking on Instagram, exploring a kitschy museum, saying yes to invitations or suggestions by friends (or strangers). Adventure is taking advantage of any and all opportunities that life makes possible. Seeking it out is exciting and sometimes disappointing, but it always makes for a good story. 

This year I am also choosing to savor life. More often than I like to admit, I am constantly wishing away time. I desire so much for my future, that I let the present pass with little regret for not making the most of it. I want to be fully present. I want to appreciate and honor the present because it will pass, and I will never have that time again. Also, I am tired of endless distractions. I feel that I spend too much time splitting my attention between multiple conversations, multiple devices, and multiple tasks. Savoring will help me filter out the incessant noise in my mind and on my phone, so that I can be fully present. 

My last and most important intention for 2019 is trust - trusting in myself; in my choices past, present, and future; in my relationship; in my loved ones; and in life. I spent countless days in panic, fretting over nearly everything in my life - my career, my savings, my debt, my future. I lost so much sleep worrying over things that I couldn’t change. I spent so much time complaining to those I love about everything that overwhelms me, in turn strengthening my anxieties and giving them more power and influence in my life. And I am just so tired of it. I feel like I must always be in control of everything and everyone, which is debilitating. By focusing on trust, I will start the process of letting go and letting life be. Life has a way of working itself out, which is something that I will constantly remind myself throughout this new year. 

I am excited for 2019 - more excited than I have been for any year before. I am ready to continue to grow personally, professionally, and emotionally. I hope the same for all of you. 

I feel tired. I feel more tired than I have felt in a long time. Teaching is draining me - physically, mentally, and emotionally. For 20 hours a week, I am on display. I stand in front of a class of 20 or so students, most of which, even after 10 weeks of intensive English instruction, don’t understand me. They are generally nice, and some are actually engaged and interested in learning, but it is a struggle being their teacher. I spend most of my energy/teaching “expertise” explaining simple instructions like Please read. 

I do this up to 5 hours a day - standing in front of a relatively confused/uninterested class repeating instructions ad nauseam and trying to keep the students focused on the task at hand. More often than not, a student with randomly interject a personal question: Hocam (teacher), how old are you?Hocam, when are you getting married? Hocam, do you like gözleme (a Turkish quesadilla of sorts)? I do my best to follow my lesson plan and make sure the students learn at least some of the most important points, but after the third straight hour of teaching, I get tired. I lose enthusiasm. I start answering the personal questions. I give into the students distractions because I haven’t had a chance to recharge. I’ve expended my energy within the first hours of teaching. I have two more classes to teach, and it is guaranteed that the lesson plans, at this point, will be barely light suggestions. 

Throughout these hours of teaching, I am dealing with disruptive interjections of I don’t understand! shouted at me while I am (literally) explaining an activity or a concept. I’m actually quite adept at speaking over the cacophony of Turkish grumbling - something I attribute to strong (loud) genes. However, I am not emotionally equipped to handle endless and repetitive complaints: This is boring, I’m tired, I’m hungry, Teacher, Kahoot! 

(Kahoot! is an educational app that “quizzes” students. Students answer multiple choice questions, and the faster they answer correctly, the more points they get. They join a game and play against their classmates. It is supposed to engage even the most unmotivated students... but it is the worst. I hold this opinion only after facilitating at least 27 Kahoot! games in 10 weeks). 

What is especially difficult is teaching at a university with students that have no plans to leave Turkey and no real interest in learning English - students that CONSTANTLY talk, scroll through Instagram, and mock their classmates (and teacher) in a language that I can’t understand. It is very clear, however, that they think that my class is a joke - that I am a joke. 

It often feels that all the effort I put into creating and delivering lessons is a waste of time. The level of motivation among the students is shocking, especially considering the time and money they have invested in this school. I have never been in a classroom where most of the students don’t care to learn, but I always knew that they were “out there”. Throughout graduate school, we discussed the “myriad” ways of reaching these unmotivated and undereducated souls. All it took was the right and engaging activities, a personal connection, and a teacher-esque chutzpah to break through their indifference. It seemed that all “real” teachers could figure this formula out. 

Well, it turns out that it clearly isn’t that easy. I can’t motivate the unmotivated Turkish university student, which is a failure that is always annoyingly following me into my classrooms and through my lesson plans. It is always on my mind, making it so hard to step into one of my classrooms. It has chipped away a lot of my self-confidence, leading me to second-guess why I decided to move away to teach in the first place.   

My experience is not at all unique. Talk to any teacher in any context in any country, and we all face the same challenges. We are all sleep-deprived. We are all bullied by mean students. We all wonder why we chose such a demanding profession - both on our bodies and on our minds. 

Why teach then? 

There are these moments that make all of the challenges and problematic students and underpay worthwhile. The moment when I student opens up to you about a personal issue that is affecting their learning and seeks your comfort and support. The moment a student can finally string together a (relatively) comprehensible sentence after only speaking at you in wrongly-chosen words. The moment you get flowers and a note from a student that really appreciates you for just being their teacher. The moment when you enter the classroom, and your students welcome you with shouts of my favorite teacher! and offer you snacks (all snacks must be shared in polite Turkish society). The moment when your student recognizes you “in the wild” and gets incredibly excited and introduces you to their friends and family (or whoever they are with). The moment when you’ve given up on yourself and your ability to teach and question your professional pursuits up to this point, and your other teacher friends listen and commiserate over coffee and an oversized chocolate chip cookie. 

Will I be able to teach forever? Honestly, probably not. I’m not sure I was built for this. I have other dreams that I want to pursue, and I really miss the work I was doing before I came to Turkey. However, I will always be grateful for this experience, and I am excited to see what the next track (teaching cycle) at Yasar will hold. 

It’s almost been a month since I first walked off a plane and into my new life in Turkey, eagerly & nervously beginning this next chapter of my life - honestly a bit upset that I had followed through with this plan. Paddy and I just got engaged before I moved, and my heart longed to stay in the U.K. to plan our wedding and enjoy the immense bliss we have both been feeling since that day. I was, of course, excited to experience something different and new, but I was more anxious than anything to get my “life” started - to get married, settle in the U.K., find a permanent job, etc. I have been longing for the future, ready to start the life I have been dreaming about since meeting Paddy. I have been contemplating an escape plan, trying to come up with different ways of providing for myself so that I wouldn’t have to stay in Izmir. It turns out that the universe does not see me a fit candidate to be an online customer support representative OR a full-time online English language tutor (the “great white whale” of the English teaching community). Because I can’t seem to find suitable work, it looks like I’ll be teaching in Turkey for the time being.

I know that this feeling is all to normal and to be expected when moving abroad - it is something that I feel more frequently than I like to admit. I really like the image I have attached myself to: the woman unafraid to move and venture around the world. I like being told that I’m brave and interesting, and that I lead a life that either really excites or somewhat terrifies people. That adventurous side of me is still a big part of me, but I've realized that there is another version of me that is longing for stability. I miss Paddy. I miss my friends. I miss my family. And I have been struggling to truly connect with people, as making friends seems to get more difficult and something I just don’t want to do the older I get.

There’s been a slow and steady change, however. I am starting to feel more at home in Izmir. The cloud of longing and regret is starting to lift, and I feel myself molding into life here. I am experiencing tiny victories that are starting to show me that I can belong here. Although I have been told that I am clearly American when I speak Turkish, I can order my preferred filtered coffee (”bir tane sütlü kahve”). I also know how I like to drink Turkish coffee (“şekerli”). I can (sort of) count to ten, which makes it easier to understand prices and to buy things at a store. I can orient myself around different neighborhoods without WiFi or a map. I drink more Turkish tea than coffee, making me feel more like a local, as Turks are honestly 90 percent tea. These “wins” are encouraging and remind me of why I decided to do this in the first place - to challenge myself, to be uncomfortable, and to follow a dream.

“Welcome to Turkey.”

More accurately at this stage in the relocating process: “Welcome to the Turkish Consulate.”

On July 3, I made the long journey north to Los Angeles - at 5:30 am. Luckily, LA traffic stays asleep until about 8 am (don’t quote me on that). Bless the earliest morning commute! Also, bless the camaraderie of the earliest commuters going 25+ miles over the speed limit, desperately trying to get to their destinations before the millions of other Southern Californians got on the road. I felt like I was a part of a cool, yet super aggressive, club.

At the consulate, I was mistaken to be Turkish (score!), had to get new passport photos taken ($20 down the drain), paid an exorbitant fee that I wasn’t made aware of before (that will be “paid back”), and made friends with a couple of security guards that had to keep letting me into the building and consulate since I clearly wasn’t prepared.

I can’t believe that I will be leaving for Turkey in less than 2 months. Fingers crossed I get this visa by mail (aka that I don’t have to drive back to LA/pay the parking fees/navigate traffic in my dad’s massive Dodge truck).

It’s official - I will be heading to Izmir, Turkey in September 2018. I have been offered a position teaching full-time in the English preparatory program at Yaşar University. I’m trading skyscrapers for sea sunsets; dollar pizza for street bread; a two-bedroom apartment with a roommate, roommate’s boyfriend, and my cat (Faye) for a dorm room with a twin mattress, mini fridge, and shared kitchen with college students; my routine for my dreams. 

Why Turkey? Why not. Do you speak Turkish? No. Have you ever been to Turkey? No. This is part of the allure of this place - the unknown, the discomfort, the challenge. 

I have never felt more overwhelmed, unsure, terrified, optimistic, powerful, and motivated. This journey began six years ago, when my 20-year-old self first stepped foot into the magic that is Buenos Aires, seeking adventure, cultural awareness, and empanadas for my semester abroad. I’m finally moving somewhere outside of the U.S. - It’s about time. 

Well, crossing over the Atlantic. Come May. Or June - probably June. It’s time. It’s time I finally lived up to the personal expectation I set for myself almost 6 years ago while in Buenos Aires. I have been dreaming of a life abroad - a life of (relative) uncertainty, uncomfortabliity, and adventure. My lease is up on May 31st, and that seems like the right time to finally close this chapter on New York and venture to the (relative) unknown. 

I have accepted a position teaching adults in St. Petersburg, Russia... but I am also waiting to hear back about two university positions in Turkey (hence the TBD in my page description). By April, that “TBD” will have my next location listed proudly, if not somewhat nervously and skeptical and uncertain about the choice I had made (or that was made for me).

Throughout this process (this being only the beginning of the process - dear god), I have been full of doubt. Doubt of whether I really want to go, doubt of the options/choices that I am pursuing, and doubt of my ability and willingness to uproot my life. It’s so strange planning to leave this place I have somewhat referred to as home for the past several years - even though I’ve wanted to escape New York since I got here. There is something about this city that makes you absolutely hate and love everything that makes it this behemoth what it is - a giant garbage heap of opportunities; literal garbage; massive wealth disparity; a lively art scene and amazing food; a seemingly unsolvable homelessness problem (the people are not the problem - the fact that there isn’t enough affordable housing and programs for them is); and some of the most interesting, strange, and pretentious people in the world. 

However, I am done with New York. I had a truly unforgettable 4.5 years here, some of the absolute worst and best years of my life, but I knew this wasn’t the place I would end up settling down. Honestly, I still don’t know if I will find that place, but that’s a post for another day.