A Ray of Light

A few weeks ago I helped some friends move into a new bloc apartment. The other people helping were some of the most welcoming and happiest people that I have met in Romania. One in particular won me over and became my new best friend…a 3 year old name Amelia. Between carrying in loads of whatever, I played an array of games, including piața and hide-n-seek (she never did quite understand why I couldn’t fit in the armoire.) Since then I’ve only had one other brief encounter with my new BF, as we passed in the streets, and I haven’t had much reason to be chipper…but that’s changed and she’s done it once again.

During my tutoring session yesterday, my tutor’s wife came home and asked if my life has drastically improved since meeting Amelia. I had to sit and think for a moment because the past little while hasn’t been that particularly grand. Seeing my efforts to think, Lori offered some help… “Because Amelia has been praying for you every single day. If she forgets to say your name at a meal, she’ll drop to her knees as soon as she remembers ‘and Betsy too!’” I was brought back to life. I hope I never forget the small individual moments that make life worth waking up to every morning.

Let's Talk About Sex

Today brought many smiles. We finally implemented the last big project with which I’ll be assisting; a 10 week sexual education initiative at the school. What makes this project unique is that sex ed. does not exist in the Romanian school system…period, end of sentence. At this particular school, the majority of the students come from low socioeconomic and unstable homes that lack positive role models; and they tend to get trapped in the perpetual cycle of becoming extremely young parents. We had four groups of children, starting at 5^th grade and up to 11^th. And it’s true…kids say the darnedest things! “Doamna, învățăm cum să facem sex? (Missus, are we learning how to have sex?)” It was fun to hear what they had to say and see their giddiness in talking openly with an adult about the topic – I often had to bite my cheek to keep from giggling. The other aspect that left me in amazement was the classroom management and skill of the trainer that came today…it was like a breath of fresh air!

Taking One Step Back

After discussing my soon to be bitter sweet return home; I realized there was a deeper meaning to these anxieties that have been building up over the past few days. There is a great possibility that I won’t get into grad school and I’ll have to figure out a plan b, which I suppose would be the job route. Then I start the panic mode of no job, no money, and no car. Then I start remembering all the pesky things I don’t have to worry about here, like health insurance, car insurance, etc. I won’t lie, in terms of those things, life here has been easy; simple but easy. Peace Corps takes good care of us; it probably will be the least hassle free life I lead. Then I remember the fast pace life I left two years ago. There are aspects and activities that I miss but definitely not all the little stressors that come with it. Here I have time to take care of myself and lead a healthy life. I have the time to cook meals, exercise, and not to mention, breathe. Then I get thinking of how confident and content I have become….but only as an extremely independent individual. Will I be able to continue that when I return home? Sure I won’t be isolated anymore but will I resort to the bad habits that the fast pace life drives you to? I don’t want to get sucked back in… I’m afraid to return to how I was.

I’m anxious I won’t get into school because I’m not ready for the job route but I’m also anxious to get accepted. Of course going back to school puts you into a whole different mode but as I dig deeper into my soul…I realize the real reason is that it brings me back even further to a time I wish to never relive. Most people will tell you college was the best years of their lives….sure I had some good times but honestly, those were the worst years of my life and I really don’t care to rehash any of those days. I’m afraid to return to that mental and physical state….a constant state of falling…a state of desperation…a state of wanting out.

So all these feelings of the past are resurfacing…and I’m afraid to take even one step back, including back onto the plane, back over the pond and back to “real life.”

Nobody's Business But the Turks!

Note to Self: Get a Turkish Bath before you die! Why? Well…because it’s awkward! Not to mention, you’ve never before been so clean and smooth. Even the Turkish vendors will yell… “Hey, shiny ladies!” instead of the regular “Hey spice girls” as you walk through the Spice Market or “Hey yellow lady” to your blond friend or “Excuse me, you dropped something. No really, you did drop something…Oh! It moved inside!” while navigating your body through the Grand Bazaar.

Since this would probably be the only time any of us would endure the gloriousness of bathing in Turkey, we decided to splurge and go all out. In Istanbul, we went to Cağaloğlu Hamam and purchased the Sultan’s package. We figured we couldn’t go wrong given that this particular Hamam has been in use since 1741, has served the likes of people such as King Edward VIII, Florence Nightingale and Cameron Diaz, is claimed to be in the top 5 bathhouses in the world, and listed in the book 1,000 Places to See Before You Die.

Step one, we can have lots of fun. After selecting the Sultan’s package, we were given a kese (a coarse mitt) and led to the women’s corridor. There are cubicles surrounding the corridor lounge; and we were each led to our own little cubicle to change our cloths – we each came out of our rooms with a miniature peștemal wrapped around us and wearing wooden sandals that were so large we had to shuffle along like Geishas.

Step two, there’s so much we can do. At that point, we are each greeted by our own personal bather, who led us through the soğukluk (an intermediate room with a temperate passage from the changing rooms to the hararet (the hot room). Once in the hararet, our ladies sat us around the outside of the room next to a fountain of hot water. There we sat on the hot marble

ground in just our underpants and were instructed to pour the hot water over ourselves. This part would have been far more awkward if I hadn’t had the practice at the

Black Sea last summer. We chatted, splashed and giggled amongst our harem.

Step three, it’s just you for me. After steaming our skin for a good 25 minutes, our ladies returned in swimsuits and led each of us to one of the edges of the giant marble octagon in the center of the room. There, we were gently laid onto our backs, with someone else’s feet at my head, and my feet at someone else’s head. We then handed our coarse loofah type mitt over to our bather and she went to town. I thought that maybe we would have started laying on our stomachs while we got to know each a little but nope, we jumped right into the deep end of the awkwardness pool. “Lady, it okay?” As she scrubbed my arms I could see the dead skin coming off in massive amounts…I wondered what I would be left with. I was then motioned to roll over. However, as I sat up the small of my back suctioned to the wet marble slab and as I pulled away, it made a giant farting sound. “Lady, no problem.” Still giggling to myself, I rolled over and soon found more to smile about as she yanked my underwear down to get the top of my butt and then made them into a thong so she could get the bottom. After the de-skinning, she stood me up (underwear still in a homemade thong) and led me back over to my fountain to get rinsed off. The Geisha shuffle proved to be even more difficult on the wet ground so I was nearly hanging on my much shorter Turkish lady. During the rinsing, I glanced over to my friend who was getting water dumped down the backside of her underwear. I’m still laughing just writing about it!

Step four, I can give you more. We were led back to the marble slab for a massage and then back to the fountain for another rinsing. “Lady, Sultan for you.” Which apparently meant, lay down next to this fountain so I can give you a foam massage with a horse tail. If I had to choose one thing to do with out, it would have been that, but nevertheless, it was still wonderful. After another rinsing, she shampooed me up and surprisingly combed my hair! “Lady, you like.” We were shuffled along to an even hotter room to sit for as long as we wanted. Upon leaving the hot rooms, we were given a towel and directed back to our changing cubicles, that also had hair dryers and beds, if we so desired to take a nap.

Step five, don’t you know that the time has arrived. By this point I was so relaxed, it was as if nothing in the world could ever be a problem. We all walked out squeaky clean as if we were floating on air. Ignoring the instructions to go home and rest, we headed to the best kebab house in town. I’m sure ingesting the delicious eggplant-garlic-yogurt combination and an Efes beer was far better than resting. Thank goodness we didn’t bath until our last day (in the Turkish sense) otherwise I would have never overindulged in Apple Tea, been awed by the Ayasofya, crossed the Bosphorus Straight to Asia, been dizzified by the Whirling Dirvishes, learned Rugs 101, discovered the long-armed Ottomans of Topkapi Palace or heard the call for morning prayer.