Soccer in Turkey

When everything else fails, thank God we can count on soccer. Who? The Turks! The grandchildren of Ottomans, who commanded across three continents... were kinda like the US is now... The lands may be gone, but the pride is still there and it manifests itself through soccer. I've seen Prime Ministers attend games, stock market rising after major international wins, people traveling overseas to support the national team. During the ongoing UEFA European Championship, we made it to the semi-finals with an amazing, last-minute win against Croatia.

On days when there are big games with high stakes, NY Turks of all backgrounds -- bankers, tradesmen, lawyers, restaurant workers, dudes and dudettes mysteriously disappear from their jobs in midday and huddle in front high TVs in British pubs that show satellite sports programs. Then comes the screaming, the ouffs, the 'hadi beee's, the comments on the referrees, the 'kooossshh!,' and the 'agggh!' When we win, everyone goes back to work with a certain glow in their cheeks. And if we win big, few return to work, most take to the streets with horns blasting, flags flying... Tourists find this most entertaining.

Tomorrow, we're playing against Germany. I can guarantee you that every Turkish man in the NY area is going to bed with the dream of winning this game, sticking it to EU commissioners who criticize the country and teaching their American friends a few soccer tricks.

Inventing Your Old Country

I was doing a bit of a brainstorming exercise with my colleagues the other week. I asked them if they had any embarassing moments of learning a new language or whether they remembered proud moments of accomplishment. Many provided me with humbling stories. One, gave me a pre-historic group email. A six-page letter addressed to many members of his family in 1985!

My American colleague was living in Israel at the time and, with great humor, he had itemized 52 observation from his newfound old land. Two of his items struck me in particular. Whether happening to an American exploring Israel in 1985 or to a Turkish student dabbling into American college life in 1992, it was the same experience. Here, I share it with you:

#50. New immigrants have an unusually heavy psychological dependence upon the mailbox. An empty mailbox is like an empty heart.

#51. I don't know if two years is a long time, but I find myself imagining, not remembering America. "Back home" is becoming an invention. Soon, it will be a discovery.

I remember looking at the steaming apple pie that had come out of my American friend's care package. My parents cared for me too. Very much. But no pie would survive the two week mail trip...Oh well, maybe they could have tried to ship baklava. Next time!

And I remember realizing that I was beginning to forget details of my parents' faces. I mainly kept in my mind the countours I had picked from their photos. I always needed to re-adjust my memory at the airport.

Learning a new country will play tricks on your memory. Without constant stimulation about your family and your familiar surroundings, you start building an idealistic image of the old one - correcting and fixing along the way. You remember what you want to remember or what you wanted it to be. When living in an adopted country, your mind is in an invented space.