(Mis)Communication

Prior to moving to Istanbul, I knew it would be challenging to live in a city where I didn't speak the language . . . I just didn't know *how* challenging. It is hard to do even the most basic errands without the ability to communicate. For instance, I once got lost trying to walk to a (relatively) nearby mall. I knew how to ask where the area was, "Nerede Levent?" But when the woman answered me in a flood of Turkish directions, I had not a clue what she was saying. Since the woman seemed to be going in the direction I wanted to go, I trailed her like a little dog for a few blocks, and eventually I found my way to the mall. Once I get to a mall, shopping in the stores also proves challenging. I can ask for the price of something, "Ne kadar?" But there are so many other shopping-related questions that elude me. Sometimes I will speak a little Turkish, and the salesperson will mistakenly assume I know more of the language than I do. I once tried to explain to a nice young man that I did not speak much Turkish. I had two similar phrases in my head, and what I said to him was a mixture of both. I meant to say, "I only speak a little Turkish," but what I said was, "I only speak a little Turkish water," or something to that effect. The poor salesclerk looked utterly confused, but I had made my point effectively. Although I desperately wish I knew more Turkish, at times it turns out for the best. While attempting to find the dry cleaning shop, I unwittingly entered the tailor's shop. He found a hole in my husband's pants that I did not know existed and fixed it for me. Considering he's a tailor, I'm sure he usually charges people for such a service, but I was such a clear yabancı (foreigner) that he didn't charge me and even helped me find the dry cleaner's. In a metropolis where I barely know how to communicate, I am thankful that I have one powerful secret weapon: an adorably cute baby. Normally, Turks are not very polite. Perhaps most notably, I once saw a car pulling out of a driveway bump into a man walking in front of it, and another time I watched in surprise as a motorcycle whizzed between me and another pedestrian on a crosswalk. Turks are not door-opening, pedestrian-respecting, walkway-yielding kind of people. But when it comes to a mother with her baby, they will go out of their way to be thoughtful and kind. Nevertheless, I can't wait till I can speak more Turkish! I am starting language lessons on Saturday, and I couldn't be happier. While I appreciate the humility I've acquired over the past month as I've made one communication error after another, I'm ready to move on to greater linguistic heights.