What I Learned in Turkey.

As I write this I am sitting in a fancy pants cafe in Taksim Square at 12:37pm. I was supposed to be on a flight to Madrid this morning at 10:15. Going to the wrong airport is generally a bad idea however, in Istanbul they are on different continents. Literally. Having been in and out of the Europe- side airport over half a dozen times now I got up this morning and left three hours in advance with confidence. Arriving at Ataturk only to discover my flight was on the other side. I didn't think to check this as I just flew the same airline in and out of there a few days prior. My heart sank, and I jumped in a cab. 8:15 am. 150 lira later I missed the check in closure by a matter of minutes. This was bound to happen eventually. Of all the flights and all the trips I am actually surprised this hasn't happened more often. So I go to the counter only to find out it will be $280 to fly tomorrow (more than twice the cost of my original ticket). Shenanigans ensue and the end result is a ticket with Turkish Airlines at 7:20 pm tonight. It was the most cost effective solution in the end. But of course it's back over to the the airport on the Europe side. So I found myself a swanky little cafe and a delicious cheeseburger to kill some time. I think it's safe to say this will be my biggest learning experience from my time in Turkey, and certainly my most expensive. I do however, have a few tidbits to share with you about what I have learned or relearned on this trip so far: Fresh cheese, tomato and cucumber for breakfast every day is amazing. Don't knock it... The kindness of strangers exists here too. From the taxi driver who could feel my stress and offered me gum to the man on the subway who offered a tissue and a smile when I sneezed. My "don't F with me" face still works. If you go to Pamukkale by yourself by bus with all the nationals will give you funny looks. It's still better than dealing with tour groups though. Also, if you stand on the side of the road the shuttle back to Denzali will pick you up. For 3.5 Lira. "No problem." When you ask for directions in Istanbul people will do everything in their power to help you. Then send you on your way saying, "If you can't find it, just ask anybody!" Which is totally true. And even by the third or fourth person giving out wrong directions you can't help but smile for their efforts. Be gracious and kind, always. Except to the guy at the taxi stand who informs you where you want to go is 25 lira (something you already know) but today's special price is 70 lira. See "F off face." People are inherently good. From all faiths and backgrounds. I met a young girl on the Mediterranean cruise I took. Her family is from Iran and she Loved me. She would come by and fix my towel or sit near me. She asked my name at lunch and she, along with her entire family were as sweet as they could be. Don't judge those books by their covers. Unless they're just an A hole. That happens sometimes too. Also do not be even a second late for the buses or shuttles (turns out planes are included here too), they don't mess around. Lastly, and most important of all go with your instincts. I usually know how I feel about a country within the first few hours, and from the very beginning my gut told me this place is special. It's true. Now I am going to go sit at the airport for 5 hours and be the very first passenger to check in. Madrid or Bust.

Coming Up for Air

I think it's clear from my last post this whole expat thing isn't always rainbows and butterflies. I think it's important to be honest about this. Facebook and Instagram photos are great and all, but this is my lifealot in the past 6 months and wouldn't trade it for anything, regardless.. Getting on that plane to Turkey was a good feeling. My first afternoon in Istanbul I napped with the door open and the sea breeze coming in off my top floor balcony. No mosquitoes, no sand, no barbed wire or bars on the windows, no gates or guards. Just clean, safe, fresh air. Getting out on my own is my way of shaking the loneliness that comes with being a vagabond. I am at my best when I travel, usually alone, all the while loving to meet as many people as possible along the way. I firmly believe you meet more people when you are on your own. A single person is more approachable than a pair of friends or a couple. The freedom and independence that comes with that is my drug, and I am hooked. With all that said, Turkey: Wow. I am not sure where to start but I think my photos speak for themselves. I am thankful for family and friends to visit along the way and the hospitality that has been extended my way means more than they probably know. I leave for Spain in two days, which is incredibly exciting. It's like visiting an old friend. I lived there almost a decade ago and my 20 year old self is most certainly a different person than my near 30 year old self. It should be interesting. I am currently mulling over the idea of starting another section of my blog for when I take trips. As with most things, I require some time to ponder. I am considering starting a forum to share my stories in more detail and give a few of my secrets to other fellow adventurers. For now it's a day of laundry, rest, travel and on to country 2/3. This may be hard to believe but there are things I miss about Niamey: My babies (JD and George), Coca- Cola in the glass bottles, and my own bed. In the mean time, I know how lucky I am and am going to make the most of the next month.

Surrounded by People, Lonelier than Ever

It’s the eve before the last day of school for the year. It’s hard to believe I have been living in Niamey for 6 months. It seems like I arrived just yesterday, and like time has flown by all rolled into one. It’s hard to describe this place to people on the outside. It truly is like another planet. I know I have said that before, but I don’t know how else to put it into words. The past 6 months have been full of joy, adventure, perspective, lessons, pain, loneliness, adultery, tears, accusations and coming to terms with a lot of realities. I am not sure what it is about this place that has forced me to look inwards so much. Maybe it’s the fact that I am alone in West Africa and hate to admit that I am not indeed fearless, but human after all. Being a teacher is the most thankless job in the world, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I learn from those kids every day and am thankful for this partial school- year. Getting to know families, colleagues and locals. You have to walk a very fine line in this community between all of these dynamics. You may work with a friend whose child you teach and who is on the board of directors. It can be any combination of this finely knit web and there’s nowhere to hide. With that said after really struggling emotionally for the past month or so, I had a realization recently. Talking with a friend on skype, and pouring my heart out, it hit me. You can be surrounded by people and feel lonelier than ever. There’s a reason why there’s an actual saying for “three’s a crowd.” This realization came when I thought about my upcoming trip and how much I am looking forward to being alone. In the past if I felt like the outsider I just did my thing. Or had amazing friends. Coming into life as an expat in Niamey while so many people are in a transition of their own,through no fault of their own, you become an afterthought. Once in a while that’s okay, but when it’s all the time even the strongest of us can be brought to our knees. BUT I am Megan Keach Goddammit and I chose this. Not for anyone else, but for myself. One more week and I will be in Turkey. After a 6 week trip through Europe and Morocco I will return to Niamey with a fresh start. It is a bizarre thing going from this place to the developed world, and back again. Spring Break was a week spent in Paris and one night in Istanbul. More lessons learned. More adventures. Friendships tested and made stronger. People surprise you for the better. Sometimes for the worse. The way you treat them in return or when no one is looking is the true test. The thing about travelling the world alone is you just never know if you are going to feel like the luckiest person in the world, or the loneliest. It is not a gamble I am willing to give up anytime soon. Don’t let the edited photos and exciting posts fool you. It comes with a price. One that is ultimately, priceless.

Getting Settled

It's hard to believe I have been in West Africa for just over 3 months now. As with any move it takes time to adjust to your surroundings and build friendships. I am just starting to feel like I have a life here, and in a few months that is going to change again. Most of the people I spend time with will be leaving in June, and I will be spending 8 weeks over the summer bumming around Europe. When I return to Niamey in late July there will be a new set of teachers and transplants from various organizations (embassy, marines, DOD, etc.) Here we go again with the revolving door of new faces. Part of the life of an expat I suppose, and those who take the "glass half full" approach see it as an opportunity to have more friends. After so many transitions, leaving Korea, traveling, spending the holidays at home, and arriving in Niger I have done a lot of growing in the past 6 months. Relationships I thought I held dear have evolved and changed and some I was unsure of have been solidified. For better or worse, people sometimes surprise you. The common denominator in all of this is myself. A support network is invaluable but if you can't rely on yourself you will just set those around you up for failure. I had a very brief meltdown about a month in to my time here. Locking myself in my room on a Friday night and having a good cry was a needed reminder that I am in fact, human. A chat with a dear friend whipped me back into reality when she reminded me "You're there to learn and grow, and you're better than that." A much needed buck-the-eff-up was all it took to snap me out of it and appreciate celebrating my 29th birthday in West Africa. With all that said, this place truly is another planet. A friend and I have started playing a game when we are out and about, called "Normal." It goes something like this, "men throwing dirt up multiple stories with a shovel: Normal. Camel: Normal. Chinese man doing aerobics in the middle of the street (sand) at 7am: Normal." Yep. That pretty much sums it up. Occasionally when I am at someone's house or working out I forget where I am. The moment is often fleeting as I promptly step back into reality and remember I live in a place where the goat to people ratio is questionable. Most social activities are spent in people's homes partially because of security restrictions, but mostly because there ain't much to do here. One of the main points of interest is a National Park called Park W. A few weeks ago my roommates and I went for the weekend. We had so much fun we are going back in April with more friends. The park spans three countries, Niger, Burkina Faso and Benin. The landscape is made up of the Sahel, which is easily confused with the Savannah. Just imagine watching a Nat Geo special about "The Bush." We saw warthogs, baboons, hippos, many species of gazelle and deer, monkeys, wild dogs, and even got to see tracks of the rare West African lion and hear them hunting. For me the elephants were the highlight, of course. Except for the part where we almost got trampled by a startled elephant thanks to some D bags from Turkey. Particularly ironic as I was wearing my "Ivory is for Elephants" t- shirt that day. Maybe that's what saved us. A little adrenaline never hurt anyone, right? Right. Our guide was actually what saved us as these people who showed up were doing everything wrong to agitate the elephant, and he made sure we stayed safe. We will be asking him to join us for the weekend again in April. The weather has begun to turn hot, with highs in the 40's C and reaching triple digits in F (108+). From what I keep hearing this is just the beginning. I am really sick of hearing "it's a dry heat," even though it is. 108 doesn't feel that hot, I know that is hard to believe but all I have to compare that to is hot season in Thailand and let me tell you 42 in Thailand felt a lot worse. For now I am enjoying the people around me, getting to know myself again and counting down the days until spring break in Paris.

When You Say it Louder and Slower, I Still Don’t Understand

I have come to a few conclusions as a traveler. One is that the world would be a better place if everyone knew what it feels like to be the minority. The second is that people universally talk to foreigners like they are idiots. When you are the one speaking to someone who doesn’t understand it doesn’t seem so idiotic. However, when you are a foreigner and have no idea what someone just said to you it doesn’t matter how slow or loud you repeat yourself, I don’t know what you are saying to me. Like the time in France when I couldn’t successfully order a royale with cheese on my own. So the next logical conclusion (especially for Americans towards foreigners), is if you are in my country you should speak my language. Okay, fair enough. The reality is that even the best intentioned foreigner just might not get around to it. Immersion only works if you get a clue. I am certainly guilty of this. I can’t tell you how many times I have said “I really need to learn Thai, then it was Korean, and now it’s French. My bad, it’s my job to communicate in your language, not the other way around. I at least try and in most places aside from NE Asia find people to be very forgiving if you make a hint of effort.

Today, after school I had my first experience on my own in Niger. Tiff drove and I went into a pharmacy by myself. She had gone to pick up a prescription for me and they gave her the wrong amount so we decided to go back, and just have them redo it. Turns out they just hand you back the piece of paper when you pick up your meds. So we pull into the sandy parking lot out of a chaotic roundabout teeming with motorbikes and horns honking. She explains to me that when I get inside I need to go to the right first and hand them my paper. If I don’t push my way up to the front other people will and I will wait forever. Then they will fill it and I will go to a glass window on the back wall to pay and pick up. Right, okay, sounds simple enough? I promptly walk in and go to the glass window first. A man behind me whispers “psssst” and points to the other counter. I look at him totally confused but still trying to maintain my “I got this” attitude. The women behind the counter are dressed in all white from headscarf to toe. They mumble and grunt as people come up. As soon as I make my way to the front it seems as if all of them disappear at once. I wait and wait until a woman takes my paper. She types a bit on her computer and says something to me, shaking her head, “You don’t have it?” I reply. She repeats herself then looking irritated, writes 5600 on a sheet of paper (the currency here is CFA). “Ok” I nod, “Merci.” She doesn’t look impressed. Now I go back to the other counter and see that they improperly filled the prescription again. I start to try to tell them and a woman next to me chimes in speaking English and translating for me. I repeat myself again. “I know, I am explaining it to them” she politely reminds me. “Merci,” “Beacoup.” I guess I thought if I said it over and over they would get it, see how that works? They tell me to pay and go back to the delightful woman I saw first, then come back. “Okay” I mutter hesitantly. There is now a much larger crowd of people surrounding her counter. Not to be confused with a line. I thank the woman for her help, probably to the point of annoyance. Then make my way over to the crowd. The woman looks up from her computer and says “come” motioning to me. I walk up and show her the paper and the package of medicine. I just point to the numbers in the hopes she would cooperate. She nodded, typed a bit, and motioned her hand toward the payment window. In the mean time before leaving, the woman who helped me came over and checked in to make sure I had been successful. Kind strangers are really the best, on any continent. I paid without saying anything. I handed the woman a few crumpled up bills looking at her helplessly and she accepted, giving me change and a receipt. I mumbled a thank you and promptly got out of there as quickly as possible. If you ever need to be put in your place just walk into a Nigerien pharmacy. I felt like I had no clue what was going on and I was at the mercy of the people around me. Probably because that was just the case. I felt like I have all these preconceived notions about what Africa is going to be like, and now I am really here and I have to figure out how to get the things I need on my own sometimes. I was nervous and intimidated. I could have had school send a driver to pick up what I needed and deliver it to my house. That would not have taught me anything about life here in Niger, or myself. It doesn’t matter how many places you have been or how many times you have walked into a shop by yourself. New continent, new ballgame and you better be up for the challenge or you’re not gonna make it.

Perceptions

Perception. It’s a funny thing. With a fresh pair of eyes we try to configure our new surroundings, but first impressions are not always as they seem. The reality of a new people, place and culture rarely matches up with the images we have in our heads. As I boarded the plane to Niamey in Istanbul I struck up a conversation with an 8- year old American boy. He asked me if I have ever been to Africa and I replied, “No.” “Well, he said, “However you think it’s going to be in your head, it’s different than that.” When I asked him if he thinks I will like it, he thought for a moment, then answered, “It depends on what you like.” Not only was I taken aback by his words of wisdom, but with the likelihood he was absolutely right. As I write this I have only been to my house, the house next door, and school. Later today we will gather at the Ambassador’s residence for a promotion ceremony of a teacher’s husband. Social events of any kind are particularly appealing as we don’t get out much. The reality of living in a fishbowl still hasn’t fully sunk in. With that said, it’s not as I imagined it to be. I feel safe in my home, and the daily bomb sweeps of our car at school have become routine. It’s hard to imagine, I know. The people here are warm and friendly in demeanor. In a matter of a few days I have seen acts of kindness that are few and far between in many other places. The reality and perception of an immediate threat are not the same. With that said, I do not plan to test the waters on this, but for purposes of sanity believe it’s important to understand the difference. What I thought I knew about the world and life in a Muslim country have been proved false. Preconceived notions we carry with us are often toxic. If you say you don’t have them, somewhere deep down, and they don’t surface in your thoughts if only for a moment, you are lying. We all do. The difference is whether or not you are willing to admit it, and break past those barriers. It’s only when we are honest with ourselves that we can face our fear of the unknown and cease to be afraid of what we don’t understand. The house I live in is by far the grandest place I have ever resided. We have a pool in the front yard and a gardener. My bathroom is over half the size of my first apartment and the first night I got lost in the many hallways. There are four bedrooms and mine is well furnished and comfortable. My favorite part of the house is the grand staircase that leads to the roof. From a design perspective it is a horrible use of space, but just like the pool in the front yard and the 24 hour security, it is a display of wealth in this culture. Before you go thinking that I am living like the “other half” bear in mind how much we go without. The power goes out almost daily, along with the internet. We are restricted to only certain places in the city and mostly just our house, school, and the embassy. I am not allowed to get mail. That means I can’t order any of the things that aren’t available in this country. We bring in our own coffee, laundry detergent, cosmetics and toiletries, bath towels, sheets, furniture, kitchen supplies, etc. If you are willing to push the boundary it is amazing to see how adaptable a person can be. Those things I always thought I couldn't live without are no longer things. The images in my mind of how Africa would be and life in a Muslim country have changed. It's only when we push the boundary and explore that we truly begin to understand the world we live in.