A teacher, Jim, left yesterday, or very early this morning. It's strange not to think of him being here. But such is life on the english-teaching circuit. SPelunkers have a motto that goes "If you die, we split up your gear." Teachers, a similarly daring and courageous bunch, have a motto much like the cavers: "If you split, I get your board marker. But take your students with you..."
A teacher that used to live with me, Catharine, finally got the man she had been pining over for months. A good thing, that, but it does have its not-so-fine points. Like the fact that everybody knows. Not that I had anything to do with it. Okay - maybe a little. But, dammit, it wasn't me that wrote it on the bathroom wall.
I was, however, responsible for the leaflets.
I often sit back and wonder what the hell I'm doing. I think I'm supposed to be teaching English but sometimes I get confused and do a lesson on abstract physics.
You know how sometimes you think the day is going to be good, and you get all excited thinking that cool things are going to happen, but then the day blows and you wonder why you ever thought it was going to be a good day in the first place? And sometimes drunken TEFLers throw up on your shoes and you walk into an open manhole. But such is life.
Upon Jim's departure, I wrote him a poem. It's partly a bunch of insider jokes, but, what the hey, I'll share it here and then decide whether or not to make it public:
For Jim
Is there a song you might sing us
of Erin* and cunnilingus?
Of a blazing trail o' dolmus debris,
of our director, Boy Wonder, a.k.a. Bujie
Of getting clean in hamams so fine
the food, man oh man, would we dine
Of rowdy parties and wondrous surprises
and gossip that travels like warm air that rises
Of the Grand Bazaar with adament touts
the noise, the colour, the splendor, the shouts
Of curious Turks and Ann with her gas
and a handful o' men that kept grabbing me ass
Of poor Kemal* whose cherry got broke
and a relationship that got the big 'Yok!'
Of Tina drinking - wow what a scene
to have would up in your bed with Mr.Bean
Of hassles, red tape, no visas oh my
Of a bright full moon in the Sultanahmet sky
Of minerets probing and lahmacun baking
Of muezzins singing and dough we ain't making
Of these and a thousand reasons more
Isn't this what you came to Istanbul for?
written early Monday February 15, 1999.
* the names have been changed to protect the innocent: also I took out a rather rude, albeit funny, line about someone that I wouldn't want them to see, despite the very low likelihood of this occurring
