trip journal 1

1:40 pm, Sunday December 6th

i'm headed slowly through the mountains now- the valleys opening up at moments with humbling sights- the plains here in the valleys, the icy brooks running through them and the snow-capped mountains in the distance have me thinking of glaciers and tectonic plates.

-just now we've slid into our first tunnel, cutting through a rocky hill- in these plains I see sheep and lamb and mountain goats and cattle, followed by young boys with long sticks- I want to take a picture of them but i've already revealed myself as a yabanci, helpless in communication if i wasn't, by chance, sitting right behind a highschool english teacher. i am a foreigner, but don't want to reveal myself as a rich foreigner yet- a student of mine told me not to fall asleep cause someone would nab my wallet, an exaggeration from a suburbanite Turk, but i think i'll be careful- anyway the beauty of this orange light on the thin grasses running up hills and my slow crawl through them would be lost in whatever picture I might take.

-on the train some are reading the papers, sleeping, studying for tests, losing themselves in the scenery, and two 30 something men are taking turns in their double seat to pray, kneeling and stretching towards Mecca- i read Samuel Butler's highly pastoral introduction to Erewhon and think of myself in the novel- biding my time as i move slowly through the mountain to a city so large and busy in comparison i can't really believe it.


to be meat and a person from tüpbebek on Vimeo.

4:25pm
humanity, children, beer
an old woman found the only non-Turk on the train to scream at- waking me from my daze- wanting my seat for reasons unknown, practically jumping into my lap. was i in her seat? did she have no seat and so demanded mine? did she have a mental disorder? my new english speaking friend calmed her and offered her his seat. and i soon learned of her bad knees and her sudden need to rest- after a few minutes, she made her way to the back of the car, with another woman, and the help of the high school english teacher and some other young men carrying her bags.

-later two young girls approached him, 10 or 11, trying to read his english essay. i handed them Erewhon and they flipped through it curiously before proclaiming they “do not love english.” i asked their names. they wore long pink and bright green dresses and had matching boots and socks- shy but unafraid to approach foreign strangers. i'm committing myself to learning more Turkish because i want to communicate with children. in these moments- K, my friend taking the women's bags, and the two strangers next to us moving over in their double seat to fit K- i saw the train come alive- smiling, together on our journey and in this moment writing i'm content but not drunk, after K bought me 2 pints of beer and mercimek soup. i'm lucky here, in this seat, in this company, on this grinding train, next to these humbling mountains.