Weekend Recap! New Digs!

06.07.12 - 10.07.12 (Cambridge, UK) - Weekend Recap!

Friday

After returning from Norwich and doing a lot of walking, I am ready to have a day in, with nothing but reading and watching Wimbledon on the agenda. When I wake, I realize that this is not going to happen. The Barlas house is full of commotion. In the hall, Berfin is busy with laundry. In the kitchen, Nurten is baking and clattering pans and running water into the kettle. Bayram is cleaning the living room, he dashes through the kitchen to the garden, clutching a table cloth. He

As I enter the kitchen, Nurten glances over her shoulder 

"Chris, you shower," she says, then adds, "quick." Her tone means "as soon as possible."

"Oh, alright," I say.

"There are people coming. My friends." She is struggling to find the words, but then gives up and waves them off, as though they were rotten smells. "Ugh, I never know word. Lunch ready in thirty minutes."

Soon after I'm finished in the shower, the guests arrive. They are eight or nine strong, aged from six to fifty, a group of hugs and European kisses. A young boy named Dennis takes one look at me and tucks his hands under his arms. I can tell Nurten is telling him to be polite, because he then looks at me and says hello.

Brunch is one of the more awkward events that I've yet experienced. I am the only one who does not speak Turkish, so I am the only one who is quiet. I fill my plate and eat silently, listening and trying to decipher the tones and the body languages of their words. They all laugh at a joke and I do too, desperate not to be excluded. To them, I must appear completely ridiculous.

The day is spent reading (I do manage that), but then I meet up with Ahron at the Portland. One of his friends, Alys, the bassist for Bev Kills is having a going away party (she's moving to Essex, just one hour away - right). It's then that I realize that in attempting to travel light, I forget my camera back at the Barlas'. The sum of the evening is this: good conversation and good drinks - well okay drinks that sort of taste like water mixed with the urine of a guy who drank his own urine. Everyone is dressed like a pirate, for some reason, and when we find our table -- soaking wet from the recent rain -- Ahron tells people what I've been doing and then they want to hear about the manuscripts that I'm working with; I try my best not to bore the shit out of everyone, but fail miserably. There we all are, Ahron, Rory, Ben, Ashley, Mr. G, Jenny, myself, and Juliet. There must have been ten people sitting at a table meant for eight..I get in a good conversation with Ahron's bandmates Rory and Ben about Americans' stereotypes of Brits. I say I can't think of a whole lot, but that most Americans think British people are smarter on the whole than Americans. Rory says something about us thinking Great Britain is full of communists and I say I've only heard that ever said in jest. Ben says that there's a stereotype of Americans that we don't know sarcasm.

"Sarcasm, huh? Never heard of it," I say.

Around eleven, Ashley decides that we're going to tell about the weirdest and most awkward place you've ever had sex (sorry, Dad and Mom, it's all in the name of journalism), but when we get to me, I don't have anyplace particularly weird or awkward to confess - not up to their standards anyway. These stories are not ones that you just repeat in idle blogging, and I will leave it up to you, dear reader, to imagine the most bizarre, categorically insane ways one might, and we'll leave it at that. The conversation, as you can imagine, only degrades from there. I make it home at about one-thirty in the am, after a thoroughly enjoyable night.


Saturday

I spend the morning recovering: I shower, I drink three cups of coffee, I return to bed.

The Olympic torch will approach Cambridge this evening via Newmarket Road, and I decide that my plans for the day will be to go see the torch. I text Ahron and ask him if he is planning on going to see it.

He texts me: "I wasnt planning on it tbh. Mom n pops say you're welcome over for fish and chips tonight."

When? I text. 6:30, he texts back, but you can come over whenever.

Looks like the place.

Ahron lives about a mile outside of Cambridge in a pretty nice neighbo[u]rhood. When I arrive, I meet Ahron's parents, Eddy (hope I'm spelling that right) and Debbie. Ahron and I hang out in his room and talk about music, games, and life in general. At some point, we get on the topic of Eve Online and Ahron shows me his blog he used to update for his pirating days. After we talk about games that used to be difficult, we decide to go back through our favorite Genesis games--Golden Axe II, Sonic and Knuckles, Earthworm Jim 2--until we've either 1) had enough, or 2) got completely bored. I feel like playing old games for nostalgia's sake was just what I needed. But doing this, we miss the running of the Olympic torch down to Parker's Piece. Oh well.

Ahron wants to show me his van. We head outside and he asked me if I saw it on the way in. I say I think so.

"It's the big ugly thing parked on the street."

I say it rings a bell. When I see the van, I realize that I'd taken a picture of it before (see above). Ahron slides the door open. The interior has the unfortunate odor of wet dog.

"It's kinda rank," he says. "And it's not very comfortable, but we'd sleep in here when we were out at a gig. I sleep in here sometimes. It's my first car so, y'know, I like it."

He points out the triple-bunk that one of his bandmates built.

The Control Mobile. "Control" is the name of Ahron's band. So, you might call this the band-wagon. Har har har...

 We stay up drinking coffee, beer, and playing games on his PC. We watch some Black Adder where Rowan Atkinson and co. bend and distort history like Silly Puddy. I head home late and snap this picture somewhere between Ahron's house and the Portland.

Nice photo, Chris. Don't quit your day job.

Sunday

To be honest, not much happened Sunday. Ahron and I decided to hang out again and we chilled at his place and watched some more videos. Ahron makes dinner for us--a chicken salad and fries with some delicious garlic mayonnaise, a recipe that he stole from CB2.More games, more Black Adder. As I go home for the night, I listen for cars zipping by, for bike wheels on the pavement, the unmissable sound of snail shells exploding under your shoes.

Monday


Back to work. I'm at Corpus again today, working with MS 100. This manuscript is going to kill me, I swear it. Fortunately for me, I work hard and get everything done with this manuscript that I need. I head to University Library late in the afternoon (about 4pm) and get a few more pics of that very manuscript.

After work, I eat at the Barlas'. Ozzy,23, Bayram and Nurten's son, talks to me about his plans for holiday, how he's saving up money by working extra hours. I get a text from Ahron who says he isn't busy. As I get ready to leave, I say goodbye to Ozzy.

"You have your umbrella. You're a local now," he smiles.

Heading to Ahron's place is a relaxing walk. We play some more downloaded Roms. At about twilight, Ahron drives me to "the biggest Tesco's in England" (or maybe he said East Anglia?). I buy a handful of European candy bars and a bottle of wine Spanish Merlot..

When I get back to the Barlas', I find Bayram up, watching Predator 2. I hand him the bottle of wine and tell him that the bottle of wine is for him.

"Well, it's really for Nurten, because she said she loves wine."

He laughs and smiles. "Thank you so much, she loves wine, she will love it. Right now she is not here, her friend's family member die and she is helping out there, she is so busy." (Later I would find out that their friend's house is an hour away on foot and that Nurten had walked it a few times that day.) I tell him that hopefully the wine will help out later on.

We talk for a little while, and then I'm ready to retire. I leave Bayram where I found him, lying on the couch, just as Lieutenant Mike Harrigan, played by Danny Glover, bests the malevolent alien menace in single combat.


Tuesday

Today, I'm moving out.

I head to Corpus Christi early, get a bunch of work done, eat an overpriced pasty, and check out of there at about 4:30.

I'd finished up work with MS 139, and there's just one more for research at this library. 

.

Today, there are people everywhere. The colleges have signs that say "No Visitors" so they crowd by the entrances, snapping photos, all of them speaking a different language.

Ahh, Seattle. You've left your footprint everywhere.

When I get home, I go up to my room and pack my things.

Alright, everyone, back in the bag!

As I cross the street with my things, Nurten rushes out.

"Chris, I made food. You should eat something."

"I will," I tell her, "I'm just dropping off my bag."

She looks satisfied, and goes back inside.

The new digs.

Gwen is a professional room letter. This sign is on the West-facing wall of my room.

And this? This is Gwen's cat, Neo. Hello, Neo.

 Gwen turns down an opportunity for a photo for when she's dressed a bit nicer, and after settling some initial business, I head back to the Barlas'. I see that Nurten has prepared a large plate of noodles and chicken and broccoli. She looks a bit forlorn, tired. She says she was up very late and walked home early in the morning from her friend's house. We both sit down at the dinner table, one more time, and eat together. I dig in. She does too. It's as though it's a race that I didn't know we were having. We shovel the food into our mouths, or chins get covered with the sweet Turkish oils. We don't bother reaching for napkins. We just keep eating. "I am so hungry," she says. "I am too," I say, and we laugh. She jokes  that she's going to be shouting "Where is he Chris?" when I'm gone. There's a sadness in her English, emotions go much deeper than grammar. But she's tired, certainly it's partly that.

"Thank you, Chris, for the wine. You are very polite," she says. "You are a very polite person."

We finish our plates and then Nurten gets up and goes back to cooking. I place my house key on the table.

"I now have more to cook. Berfin's friend is coming soon," she says. "Sometime, you come back and have coffee and tea. You come see us."

"I'm just across the street," I say. I give Nurten a hug, then go out the door and across the street.