Hitting the Pause Button...

Westmont in Istanbul is taking its scheduled four-day break here at the mid-term.

Students are all staying in Turkey spending their time enjoying their favorite parts of Istanbul, exploring some new sites, seeing the things they've been putting off, and going on day trips outside the city.

Pray for rest, relaxation, and safety.

Check back here soon for a new video update!

Gürüşürüz!

Draw Me A Map...

For some more visuals as to our trip, check out this super cool map charting the places we've been:

Thanks, Keaton.

A True Cross-Cultural Experience...

An integral part of the Westmont in Istanbul program is giving back to the city that has been our home for the last month (we're five weeks into this things already!). We have been doing this by going into the city on Wednesdays and serving with various organizations.

One of these opportunities is for a group of our women to go spend time at a home for Armenian girls.

Leah Sadoian wrote this piece about her first experience at the house last Wednesday:


“Serving God Through Service to Others”
or, How Justin Bieber Managed to Save What Could Have Possibly Been an Awkward and Ridiculously Uncomfortable Next Seven Weeks.


I’m not a big fan of Justin Bieber. In fact, I don’t really think I am a fan at all. I once learned how to play his first big hit - “Baby” on guitar as a joke but never thought it would prove useful in any situation. However, this little skill potentially saved me as I, and a handful of girls headed to the Armenian Girl’s Home this past week for our first day of our service project. 


For the next seven weeks, a group of us girls will be doing a service project with an Armenian Girl’s Home, which houses girls from kindergarden age all the way up to high school. These girls are not orphans, but rather come from unstable homes. In other words, we were being sent to simply love on these children, show them kindness they may not see otherwise, and spend time with them for an afternoon once a week.


The initial moments went something like this. There were 8 of us American girls on one side of the room, and then about 40 Armenian girls standing on the other side. None of us were saying anything. We introduced ourselves in Turkish, while the girls did the same in English. To be honest, it was a bit awkward and uncomfortable. Eventually we worked our way into the crowd, sat down with some girls and got to talking. The conversations seemed forced a bit, with limited language capabilities and the girls being shy. I met two girls who after a bit of coaxing from Sosi started to ask different questions to me which ranged from, “how old are you?” to “what is your ethnicity?” And then, the kicker question. “Do you like music?”

For starters, I LOVE music. I told them just that, and they replied the same, and began rattling off names of American singers and popular American songs, mostly hovering around tween Disney Channel stars. That’s when I first though of J. Biebs. “You like Justin Bieber?” I asked them. They eagerly nodded. I immediately jumped up and got Dana’s guitar out of her case, and sat down next to them. It was then I realized the entire room had gone silent. And I mean, like so-quiet-you-could-hear-a-pin-drop silent. Suddenly I felt extremely nervous. I asked if they wanted to hear Justin Bieber. They eagerly nodded once again. 

I looked around at the others American girls as if to mentally beg them to sing along with me in case this all went terribly wrong. I started singing “Baby” by Justin Bieber (if you’ve never heard it - go watch the music video. Please.) and as the American girls joined in, I saw smilies starting to form on the faces of the Armenian girls. Some of them were actually singing along! As we got to the first chorus, every single girl in that room was singing along to the words of good ol’ J. Biebs, in loud and proud voices. I caught Anna’s eyes as the girls were belting out the song and she couldn’t even sing she was laughing so hard!

From that moment on, through dinner and our time with them afterward, they girls were latched on to us. They did our hair, asked us more questions, read us our fortunes after drinking cups of Turkish coffee, and then asked for pictures as we said we had to get going. It was almost impossible to leave these adorable girls, who in their own way had been just as much as a blessing to us as we were to them. We promised we would be back next week, and that the fun would continue. As we bid them good-bye and stepped out into the cold (and now snowy) Istanbul night, my head was spinning.

Turkish Delights...

We spent the two weeks travelling the Western and Central regions of Turkey - studying the ancient cities of the Roman empire, Byzantine ruins, some of the churches of Revelation, and some of Turkey's natural wonders.

Obviously, some excellent pictures were snapped.

Here's a taste of our trip from students' eyes:

Whitney Pierson showing off the facade of the library in Ephesus.

A gorgeous Laodecian sunset caught by Annelise Nystrom.

Some students (from left to right: Joe Bagdanov, Keaton Hudson, Whitney Pierson, Anna Botzong, Lauren White, Benjamin Bisson. Back Row: Peter Harmon [looking peculiarly like the cookie monster]) recover from a snowball fight in Central Turkey.

Ben Siverly explored a covered archway in Pergamum.

Cautiously, visitors walk on the calcium deposits in Pamukkale (photo: Ben Siverly).

A Video Update

Want to see what our semester has been like?

Keaton Hudson put together a little preview for all to see.

Check it out!

Open Your Arms...

Emilie Whitman wrote this excellent reflection piece after dwelling on some of the large - and small - aspects of everyday life in Istanbul - and the history of this incredible city.

 A Cup of Turkish Çay

“...The will to give ourselves to others and to ‘welcome’ them, to readjust our identities to make 

space for them, is prior to any judgment about others, except that of identifying them in their 

humanity.”  - Miroslav Volf 

Walking in to the Aya Sofya for the first time can only be described as breathtaking. It was 

huge, spectacular, a magnificent feat of architecture. It was a contrast of old, new; dilapidated, 

restored; traditional, modern; promising, hopeless; Christian, Muslim -- a host of contradictions, just 

like Turkey itself. The church-now-mosque was one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen. 

But before walking in to enjoy the splendor, I read a little plaque beside the doors to the main 

domed sanctuary. It explained that this was the farthest point that common people could go during 

Byzantine times. Only emperors and priests could enter through the doors. Did the people of 

Constantinople burn with resentment that only a select few could even step into, much less enjoy, 

this awe-inspiring building that should have been open to thousands of worshippers seeking Christ? 

Christine D. Pohl writes in Making Room: Recovering Hospitality as a Christian Tradition that “...Even 

those of us who do not depend on hospitality for basic needs know something of the joy of being 

welcomed warmly. We also know the pain of being excluded.”

 There are a plethora of pomegranates here. Pomegranates to be juiced right before your 

eyes, their tart juice savored immediately. Then there are pomegranates to haggle over with street 

vendors; pomegranates to slowly pick apart for breakfast or a late night snack. The nature of the 

fruit is such that you are forced to eat the pomegranate slowly, seed by seed, pinched between your 

fingers and lifted into your mouth so you can taste even a little bit of its flavorful and distinct juice. 

 I’d been admiring the skillfully crocheted jewelry displayed in a shop window near our flat in 

Istanbul every time I passed by...so one day after Turkish lessons, I dove out of the cold and into the 

little shop with a singsonging “Merhaba!” that surely identified me as American.  I was greeted in 

return by a quiet, gravelly voice from behind a counter too tall for the aging woman who ducked out 

from under it. I slowly looked around the shop, admiring, murmuring “Çok güzel!” as I fingered 

leather shoes and softly patterned dresses around her boutique. She watched me patiently. I asked 

her about the jewelry I so admired, the necklaces shaped into stunningly lifelike grapevines and the 

earrings that looked like hanging berries and the rings decorated by exquisite little flowers. She told 

me that she designed them all herself and pointed to each piece in turn, explaining in broken 

English how long each one had taken to make. I lurched into rudimentary and fumbling Turkish, at 

which she grinned toothily. We exchanged names...and then almost immediately, she said, “Sit! Çay!” 

We sat together in her shop, drinking the steaming tea (from the small Turkish glasses just the right 

size to keep the çay hot while one drinks it) and munching on tiny biscuits. She asked me about what 

I was doing in Istanbul, and I found out from her in bits and pieces (aided by a trusty TurkishEnglish pocket dictionary) how she was half Greek, half Turkish, and practiced Christianity, not  Islam. Her husband and her children were all Muslim, I learned. “Problem var,” she said, nodding with a sad smile. She explained that it was very hard for Christians and Greeks to survive here in Turkey, even in a city as tolerant as Istanbul. She took my dictionary and pointed to the word for “cruel.” We sat there talking about marriage, survival, money, and Islam (at least to the best of our abilities in our respective snippets of Turkish and English). She made more çay. When I had to leave she kissed me on both cheeks and said, “See? Now you are Turkish!” 

 Later that same day I came back to introduce a friend and fellow traveller and immediately 

she sat us all down again with tea and we talked and laughed together. We told her about our recent 

escapade in trying to find a laundromat, after which she immediately offered to wash our clothes any 

time. She showed us more of her jewelry designs and pictures of her grandchildren on Facebook 

(yes, elderly Turkish women use Facebook). I couldn’t help thinking how kindly she had opened up 

to us, and was touched by her generosity in sharing time and tea with us as young foreigners and 

strangers. We had heard that Turkey is known for its culture of hospitality, but the experience with 

my new-found friend showed me a snippet of what this really meant. 

 This was by no means the only experience of our encounters with the hospitality of the 

Turkish people...with them, coffee, company, and conversation are never lacking. Some of the boys 

have made friends with the seventy-year-old janitor of a nearby mosque, and he has a couple of 

times treated them to tea, introduced them to all his friends, and treated them like brothers despite 

their age and nationality. Our group has also developed friendships with a tiny little kebab restaurant 

which we frequent regularly and loyally for chicken or lamb pitas; one of my favorite moments of 

the morning is the cheerful hello that the man who sells fresh orange juice outside our apartment 

and I exchange every time I walk by; and the owner of the small grocery nearby is always willing to 

practice Turkish when we try to buy bread or toilet paper. 

 That’s another thing. People here are usually very enthusiastic to help us practice our Türkçe. 

When a few of us trekked into the Egyptian spice bazaar behind the Yeni Camii one night, we made 

friends with a vendor named Mehmet (“Like the conqueror! It’s a very common name in Turkey”), 

who gave us samples of dried mango and dabbed amber perfume on to our wrists. He took us 

through his stall and pointed to different objects in turn, teaching us their names and repeating the 

unfamiliar words till he was satisfied with our pronunciation. At a little thrift shop one night, we 

talked to a man who said that a group of us should come by twice a week and he would teach us 

Turkish slang because, he said, “You’ll never really know the language unless you know this slang.” 

He told us about what the best Turkish radio stations to listen to were, and told us about life and 

business in Istanbul. We had been trying on a few things in his shop and as we were getting ready to 

leave he gave them to us, saying, “Gifts for you. Come back and visit soon!” 

 I was struck by how all of these experiences would rarely, if ever, occur in the United States. 

Obviously, our country is not devoid of generous people; but there is something innately and 

passionately hospitable about Turks. If a young Turkish student walked into a Starbucks in America, 

never would they be offered free tea and language lessons, or even welcoming conversation. Even as 

an American, I have never really been offered friendship in a shop -- not even, particularly, in the 

places that I might frequent. And heaven forbid an American shop owner giving away something 

without a price, or reaching out to someone who glaringly looks the foreigner. 

 Where is our hospitality? Where is our radically Christian neighborliness, our generosity in 

entertaining the stranger or acquaintance? I think we like the idea of hospitality, but rarely have I 

experienced it in the United States. I am not referring to entertaining guests or friends; this is indeed 

an important and beautiful aspect of kindness and warm reception, but a culture of hospitality goes 

beyond this; it actively reaches out to the stranger. Henri Nouwen writes that hospitality is “the 

creation of a free space where the stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy. 

Hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place. It is not to 

bring men and women over to our side, but to offer freedom not disturbed by dividing 

lines...” (Reaching Out: Three Movements of the Spiritual Life, 71). This perspective of hospitality is all the more meaningful as we are here in Turkey, dialoguing with Muslims of very different shades of 

faith.

 I know that this observation of hospitality is by no means a new or unique one; I will not say 

what has been said by much more competent writers and theologians than I on the recovery of the 

tradition of hospitality; I will not give you scriptures to chew on about this topic, because I think 

that you should find them yourself. Work for them like picking out the seeds of a pomegranate. 

Seeking and finding the conviction to make changes in one’s life is a labor-intensive process. But this 

is me handing you the pomegranate. This is me trying to digest some of the cultural richness that we 

have been experiencing here in Turkey. 

This is me asking you to open the doors of your Aya Sofya. 

First Impressions...

The following are little pieces of reflections from students and leaders regarding their first impressions of various bits of life in Istanbul.

                                                                                             

Program Assistant Dana Zacharia updates friends at home about seeing the students for the first time in-country:

Last week, the students joined us and I remembered why I was so keen to take this job (one of many reasons). They nearly exploded when they saw this place in which they will be living and studying and adventuring for the next three months. To know that I get to take part in this challenging, formative, and eye-opening time in 22 students' lives is truly a profound honor.

We started Turkish lessons last week and had our first guest speaker - a renowned Turkish journalist, Mustafa Akyol - who whet the students' appetite (that they didn't know they had) for Turkish politics. It was exciting to see them genuinely interested in a topic many of them said they could care less about.

I am also starting to hear talk among the students about God, Islam, Jesus, Christianity and what it all means. The first encounter with the much feared and much misunderstood Islam can and will be a rude awakening for some and will start them on a journey that will shape them and their faith forever. I have already heard students talking about how they have turned back to the Bible for answers to questions they didn't realize they couldn't answer. That excites me.

                                                                                             

Kristabel Stark reminds us that even the smallest little interactions can have huge impacts:

//Stranger
I walk into the music shop and I feel safe. It’s not that I fear bodily harm on the street, but as I step along the cobblestone street full of people and a few intermittent cars and the smell of cigarette smoke and kebab shops and muted European clothing and averted eyes, I am afraid. I am afraid that I do not know who I am. I am afraid that nobody knows who I am. The biggest fear is this: I am afraid that they know me as something different than I know myself as. Who is right? My mind fills with unanswerable questions, like memory-laden dreams so easily forgotten.What does it mean to know? Are we ever anything more than perceptions to each other? 
But I push the glass door of the music shop open, and there is a violin on the wall and I ask the lady behind the desk if I can play it and she hands me a bow and I play Meditation from Thais. And even though my fingernails are way too long and the violin is made in China and it’s flat, I am safe. Because this is empirical. This is the sound of bent airwaves, the sound of years of solitude, the sound of the history of me. And even though I am far from home and something of an abstract concept, there is peace in this place, in my heart, for this moment. I am safe.


                                                                                             

Keaton Hudson comically, and accurately, describes a visit to a Hamam (turkish bath):

SLAP!

You are quickly brought out of your dreamlike state to the sting of a sharp slap against your back. Followed by another one. (At least in Peter Harmon’s case). Fortunately the beatings are followed by a scrubbing. The same man who motioned for you to lie before him on this piece of marble, is now scrubbing you with an instrument that can only be described as a large mitten with something like pumice stone on the exterior. The scrubbing is more thorough than any bath you ever received as a kid. Dirt and dead skin flake off of all parts of your person, looking like black eraser shavings. It crosses your mind that you can’t remember the last time you have ever been this clean. 

Once the scrubbing had been done on both front and back, this same fat hairy Turk barks at you to sit up - and pours warm water all over you. The feeling is cleansing. Now it is time to lay down, this time on your back first. You watch the hairy fellow leave, then return armed with something akin to a wet pillow case. Confused and bewildered at what comes next, you have no choice but to lay in wait for what’s in store. With a quick, brief gust, the fat man exhales air into the pillow case - and suddenly it looks like a massive soapy cloud, descending upon you like the thunderheads behind me as I type. Did I mention I can see both Asia and Europe from my window?

Wringing out the pillow, the fat, wet man completely blankets you in soap and suds - and suddenly this bulbous bloke is more like a gorgeous goddess. The thick, hairy, leathery hands this man owns have turned to heavenly angel-princess hands. The feeling is indescribable as his hands move everywhere (and I mean everywhere), scrubbing, massaging, tugging, pulling, cracking, rubbing every part of your body. You want this moment to last forever. 

East Meets Westmont...

The following pictures are all taken by students.

This is how Westmont sees Istanbul:

Keaton Hudson took this stunning shot of the Blue Mosque (Sultanahmet Camii) surrounded by the columns of the Hippodrome with the Hagia Sophia (Aya Sofya) in the background:

Annelise Nystrom shows off the incredible view from her flat in Galata:

Anna Botzong explored the underground Basilica Cistern and came away with this fantastic picture:

Hoş Geldiniz!

Welcome to the official Westmont in Istanbul blog!

This is a forum for the program to relay our happenings, and for the Westmont community to reach out to our program. We are extremely excited to be able to show our community just how amazing this fledgling program really is!

Posts will come from the entirety of the Istanbul community: students, leaders, professors, and maybe some guest content.

Be on the lookout in the near future for pictures, poetry, videos, journal entries, site information, general group musings, and more!

Stay tuned,

Gürüşürüz!