and more family

not an easy job . . .

After three four months in Ankara and blood sugar consistently over 200, my Baba was a new man in Kusadasi.  He was busy in the garden every day - sometimes doing useful things like planting and trimming, sometimes making trouble (like buying MORE trees), and sometimes just doing things because he's bored.  He weeded the area across our road, sawed off a branch, burned the grass, and relocated the olive tree.

More Baba's pace

I thought I would get a chance to rest with my parents off to Greece (or Egypt, depending on whether they got on the right ferry), but this was not the case.

I had a car, for the first time every in Kusadasi, and I good advantage of this . . . and so did Baba.  I did grocery shopping, took Baba on his errands, went for coffee with my sister-in-law, and worked around the house at my father-in-laws bidding.

My parents were coming back Sunday night, and my sister was also arriving Sunday night from America.  The times conflicted, so Hakan picked up my parents.

I hadn't been driving this whole time living in Turkey, and especially after having a baby - I wasn't trusting my focus.  I brought my Anne with for support.  The airport was a little over an hour away, but I was tired of my sister before we even left the parking garage.  It was not a good start . . .

I never realized before how much my sister needs to manage EVERYTHING.  First, it was her suitcase.  It was huge.  It was a problem because the stroller was huge, and our trunk was bursting at the seams on our road trip to Kusadasi.  I paused looking at the trunk, wondering what we would do.

"What are you doing?" my sister asked.
"Thinking about how everything will fit."
"It will be fine."
"I'm not so sure about that - mom and dad have a lot of stuff too."
"Well, let's not worry about it now."
We loaded the stuff in.  I took the car seat out and strapped Teoman in the center seat. "Aren't you not supposed to put babies in the middle?"
"I think its okay."
"I thought you weren't supposed to," she said.  "Does Anne want to sit in the back with Teoman?"
"She'll sit wherever you don't sit, she'd rather you be comfortable."  Sherah took the front seat, while I sat in the car, debating whether to nurse Teoman now, or just go.
"What's wrong."
"I'm debating whether to feed Teoman now or not."
"Feed him now."
"Except we've been here almost an hour."
"Don't you have any money?"
"Not that I want to spend on a parking lot."
"Why?  How much is it?"
"Seven lire an hour."
"How much is that in dollars? I have dollars."
"I don't know how much that is in dollars.  I don't make dollars anymore."
"Let's just go then, he'll be fine."
Yes'm.


We pulled out and I scanned the signs for the way home.  It was dark and everything looked different.  Not to mention my mind was on the little one and being pestered like a gnat at the same time by my sister's incessant questions.
"What are we looking for?"
"The road to Selçuk.  But not the toll road."
"Why not?  Don't you have any money?"
Yes.  We established that.  "No, I don't have the pass card."
"Can't we just buy one?  I'll pay."
With your dollars?  "No, we can't."
"Why not?"
"I don't know why not, they just don't sell them at the booths."  While we were driving, I followed the wrong sign, and saw the sign for the toll road, which meant I missed the turn for the parallel road.
"Let's just stop at the gas station and buy one."
"They don't sell them at gas stations."
"Are you sure?"
"No, but this is what Tolga says.  This isn't America."
"I'm just asking.  Let's stop at the gas station anyway and ask."

Just ask.  Like its that easy to ask in Turkish how to get to Kusadasi without taking the toll road.  I don't know how to say that in Turkish.  I pulled over at the gas station and checking the map and calling my husband about directions.  I was worried my sister would distract me into getting into an accident, so I decided to take care of my other worry and nursed Teoman.  We continued down the road, a different and slightly longer way home.  I have no idea if I was following the speed limit, which is problem because its all computerized - the catch you by camera and mail you the ticket a month later - but I was  so distracted . . .

"This reminds me of Mexico."  (She doesn't really like Mexico).  "Watch out for the cow. This reminds me of Uzbekistan."  (And then later . . . ) "This reminds me of Oman. (She likes Oman, it's exotic).  Look at all these cute cafes.  I want a beer."

Get me home, get me home, get me home...