Cevahir, etc.

There exists a mall in the Şişli (read: SHEESH-lee) neighborhood of Istanbul that towers above all others in Europe. The Cevahir mall spans a total of 4.5 MILLION square feet and features nearly 350 stores, a two-story food court, a multiplex movie theater, and a small amusement park, all within the confines of its walls.

The mall has a strictly European feel to it, and the stores tended to be high-end American or European establishments. Consequently, some of the prices were just as--and in some cases, more--expensive than the stores at home. For example, most stores boast huge promotional sales, such as every item in the store being 50-70% off, but when than makes the shirt 75TL, it's not exactly a deal. I did find a couple good deals on shoes and shirts, though, and thus now know of a few good places to get nice clothes cheap. I know that other shopping centers in Turkey have the same stuff for a lot cheaper, so I'm resisting until I find such establishments.

The food court was a mixture of the hilarious and the surreal. Two-thirds of the eateries could be found in American food courts and included places such as McDonald's, Burger King, Sbarro, Pizza Hut, and the like. We also found numerous kiosks that sell "Magic Corn," or "Corn in a Cup," which amounts to yellow corn you buy by the cupful, as the latter name would suggest.

The weird part, though, was seeing the Johnny Rockets diner: a shiny diner complete with American food and oldies music as well as everything in English. That is, except for the wait staff, who dressed for the part but were clearly imitating a culture that is quite alien to them. I think the weirdest part of the whole thing was just having to grasp the concept of something so American being put into the middle of Istanbul, Turkey.

After our shopping trip, I went out with a couple guys to meet up with some Turkish friends of ours for someone's birthday. I knew only a couple of them, but we were all soon very good friends. They all treated us with such hospitality and friendliness that we (the three exchange students) felt as if we were old friends with these people. A couple of them said I looked Turkish and even said I had a really good Turkish accent when I speak. Although I'm sure it was the alcohol talking in most cases, I still appreciated the compliment!

A concept within Turkish culture which I have grown quickly to embrace is closeness between friends. You walk up to a group of people and you generally hug them, and even if meeting for the first time, shake hands and kiss on both cheeks. When everyone is together in a restaurant or a bar, everyone has their arms around their friends at times as a sort of gesture of friendliness. Although some outsiders find this compromised "personal space" uncomfortable and even weird, my friends and I have noticed it is unfortunately and decidedly lacking in American and Canadian cultures.

In the spirit of compromised personal space, our shuttle ride back to the university was packed because it was the last one. We were all standing cramped to avoid having to taxi back to campus. I was talking to all these people around me, some of which I had known before and others I had met previously, and at one point I had this sort of epiphany: three of the guys with whom I was talking were named Can (read: John). Of course, this name is relatively common in Turkey and translates to something meaning roughly "heart," "soul," or "being," but I found it pretty surreal that I was, again, in Turkey, in a conversation with several people who share a phonetically similar name with me.