Last song.
I can recall the first time I saw all of the students from the J19 program. And to be quite frank, I didn’t think I was going to get as close with any of them as I did. Not because of anyone or anything in particular, but it was because I went to a large school. And at a school like Northeastern where your pass by thousands of students a day, you find yourself subconsciously restricting your circle of friends to the same fab 5 that you met upon entering your freshman year.
But this experience was different. We bonded, and we bonded fast. After the first week, it was evident that making friendships was not going to be difficult. Living in the middle east was something that I’ll never forget. From the call of prayer either waking us up – i.e. Jordan, or to the call of prayer saying “GO TO BED!!”- i.e. Turkey; there were countless memories that were made and will forever be cherished.
Inside jokes were made, and made public far too often: Anthony, his souvenirs – and the glass camel, to A.I. Smith and her kitten heals. Aside from the playful times, we worked hard. Working as foreign correspondents (J19), to working as foreign photo journalists (PJ6 — wait..that’s not our official name, is it?). We reported, we interviewed, we shot, we embraced a new culture. We entered as 32 persons, and came out respectively as one. We learned what it really meant to live and die in another country.
And I think the professors, not to be forgotten, but it’s the professors who without their help, and Carlene’s 6am emails -that this trip and experience would have never bee made. Without their nurture, and with out their nagging, we would’ve just had a traditional study abroad experience – but instead we surpassed that and we became foreign correspondents.
So not to be emotional, but since I am the token gay, I felt it was necessary to make one of my last posts directed to how much I appreciate each and every one of you. I thank you all for making my experience unique and truly unforgettable.
Street-Corners & Cafes
Just like every city there’s always a hidden-gem. This photograph was taken yesterday as I explored the side streets of the popular Taksim Square. During my stroll, I discovered a photo opportunity- where inner city streets meets artistic creativity.
Panorama of a side street in Taksim Square
Melemen: Tomato Paprika Eggs
One of my favorite morning dishes:
Photo taken from Rob's plate
After scarfing down my entire plate, I took a second to analyze Rob’s plate. The Tomato Paprika Eggs begins with first a layer of sliced tomatoes- make sure you cut them in slices and not halves. Once you’ve cooked these tomatoes just enough to have the juices and chunks cover the skillet, add your first layer of choice- in this case peppers and onions. (You might want to pull out a second skillet and heat the peppers and onions before adding to the tomatoes ). Once you’ve got your tomato base and it’s first layer- add about three medium sized eggs and just let them settle on top for a minute. After a minute, add Paprika and continuously stir all layers and base to make sure everything is blended in. DO NOT OVER COOK THE EGGS. After mixing for about a minute or two, add the cheese of your choice and let settle for a good 45 seconds- 1minute.
Turkish Night Life
These past couple of days, or should I rather say, nights, I’ve had the opportunity to explore the Turkish club scene. With that, I must express that for the Turks – or at least in Istanbul – it’s all about the atmosphere.
Yes, there are bars and little pubs – quiet and quaint like the ones you could find in your locals of Boston, but to be somebody or at least be noticed, you need to attend the right clubs and at the right times.
One club in particular that seems to be a favorite is Anjelique. During an outing for a girlfriend’s birthday, I was in shock by the amount of preparation taken into consideration to exhibit a multi-level, out door grandiose palace. Surrounded by the Bosphorus (Istanbul Strait), this restaurant by day, and disco by night is decked with white tables and couches, followed by a bedazzlement of blue and white lights stemming from one of the many bridges that connects Europe to Asia.
Drinks can be relatively expensive if you’re used to paying under 10.00 American Dollars. Here, you can find the pricing to be anywhere from (20-40USD) 30-50 Lira with a bottle service starting at 400 Turkish Lira. But again, in a country where you’re as foreign to them as they are to you, it’s best to overlook the slight differences in value- by the end of the night, it’ll be the memories and shared experiences that equate to a Lira well spent.
Turkiye: First Impression
One of my professors asked me to compose several photographs on my first impressions of Istanbul. And because pictures are powerful and are worth more than a 1,000 words- I told him this would be fun, considering the culture shock. I warn you now, the photographs taken are completley biased, and only describe my first thoughts of Istanbul after leaving Amman: strange. (My thoughts and feelings have since then changed)
Subtle Acceptance
Despite my endless love for Amman, my love for Istanbul is beginning to bloom. It’s taken 5 days, 11 hours and 21 seconds for me to realize, this place isn’t so bad.
Yesterday I spent half the day commuting to the university where my class lectures are being held. For a lack of better words, let’s just say I’m absorbing the Turkish experience. I say this because the entire commute took an hour and a half – one way. We took the train to the last stop, hopped on a ferry, crossed Euro-Istanbul over into Asia-Istanbul, and then caught a mini bus to the university. Needless to say the commute wasn’t that bad; it gave me a chance to really reflect on my growth and overall experiential learning that I’ve absorbed since beginning of this trip.
Every day there is somewhere new to explore. I’d like to believe that Istanbul is similar in New York- with each neighborhood particularly different from the next, both cities are cities that never sleep. From the sticky-ice-cream man on the side of the corner, to the corn sellers during all hours of the night- the street vendors are what keeps the city going.
Last night, I welcomed a friend’s 21st with colleagues in Taksim Square. And as we reflected on how close we’ve gotten with one another, we couldn’t help but get separated from three other colleagues on the way to the bar- cementing in our minds that wow this is an actual city. At the bar, we danced, we laughed- but no one cried- and although we’re in a city that speaks no English- before the end of the night, we found our friends and proved to the bartender- we know how to have fun.
A City Called Salt
6 photo journalists, and one print journalist boarded a bus and headed an hour outside of Amman to a village named Salt- 9am
Prior to our departure, I chatted with my host mother over a nice cup of tea about her city of origin. She told me a story that you don’t hear too often- it goes a little something like this:
You know habibi, I am from Salt. My family comes from Salt. Salt was originally supposed to be the capital of Jordan, but when the soldiers came to scout it out- they saw that the prettiest girls came from Salt. But this became a problem, and the men of Salt did not like this. So they started throwing tomatoes and onions at the Soldiers to make them leave. Now the capital is Amman.
I must say- when I went to Salt, I wasn’t scouting the girls. I’m sure they are pretty, but I don’t bat for that team. And since I bat with players that are of the same sex – I couldn’t really scout that out here either, since technically it’s illegal. But no worries- a 22 year old still has other interests! And that my friend, is food.
A friend and I decided – after taking countless pictures of scenic views and sheep – to explore the local restaurants. We stopped at this one place and entered saying my favorite phrase:
“Marhaba, keef halek? Moontazz. Speak English?”
Translation: “Hello. How are you? Good. Do you speak English?”
To our surprise – and I only say surprise because we weren’t in a metropolitan city – did a man step up to the counter and say, “Yes, what do you want?” From there we dipped around looking to see what we could order. Was anything in English? No. But no worries, I’ve gotten around a city for the past two weeks without speaking much Arabic, needless to say, it wasn’t that difficult here. Therefore, the man showed us delicious meals that was already prepared and awaiting pick up.
We decided to order a half chicken, with pita, and humus, all for an amazing steal of only two dinars! For those in America, the exchange rate of the US Dollar to a Jordanian Dinar (JD) is that of $1.40 = 1 JD. Pretty good huh? They even liked us so much, they gave us a free lamb kabob.
As we were waiting, we started snapping pictures of the setting. Entertained by our enthusiasm, the cooks decided to let us come behind the counter and into kitchen. It was here we were able to really see the preparation deliciousness.
Stuffed Veggies
The other night my roommate asked our host mother, Mama Munira, to make a special dinner- and though all of her dinners are amazing and probably some of the best home-cooked meals I’ve had in such a long time – the one she made last night was especially a treat to remember.The meal she prepared was zuchini and tomatoes stuffed with rice, minced meat, and flavored with spices.
I decided to upload a couple photos, though the pics don’t serve justice- take a few seconds to check out the intricacy involved in preparing this kind of meal. I was amazed at the preparation most particularly of stuffing the zucchinis and tomatoes because of their sensitivity to puncture – mind you, neither of the veggies had major slits that were keen to the eye.
Ryan Payne's Blog 