In which we attempt to culture ourselves.

I met Bestie for celebratory “we made it through the whole morning!” afternoon drinks at our favorite dive, which has a name but which everyone just calls “cheap bar.” One of our favorite things to do is sit around drinking shitty Turkish beer, (hint: everyone knows Effes is basically poison. Since switching to the not-appreciably-tastier Bomonti, though, Agent L at any rate has noticed a remarkable decrease in next-day gastric distress) and making grand plans, some of which, (let’s design a new course!) we follow through on and some of which (let’s write a book!) we don’t.

“I want to do more things like that,” I said at one point. “I’m serious. I’ve made the decision to stay here, you know, I’m committed. But if I’m going to stay here, my life has to be more like my life back home. And what I miss most about home, besides tacos, and good beer, and tacos, and did I mention tacos? What I miss most is music, and art.” B agreed with me. “I mean, I used to really look down on people who just drank, you know? Because we always drank while we were doing SOMETHING. I mean- yeah, you’d meet your friends at the pub after work or whatever, but it wasn’t like this frat-ey culture of ‘let’s get really wasted! And all talk about the last time we got really wasted!’ We were drinking at art galleries. We were drinking at shows. We were drinking at plays that our friends wrote and acted in. We were doing STUFF.”

B agreed entirely and reminisced about an awesome metal bar in Beyoğlu she used to go to. A mug later we were deep in nostalgia for rock clubs past, for live music that isn’t shitty covers of shitty Turkish metal songs in general.

And so, Agent L is officially on the prowl for stuff to do, and (even more difficult) stuff to do on the Asian side.

All suggestions welcome.

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This entry was posted in Drinking, Istanbul, Turkey, Yabancı life and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to In which we attempt to culture ourselves.

  1. Kelly S. says:

    Ha ha! I laughed the whole time reading this! I feel your pain in not being spoken English too. I was put on a committee to help with some fair in Mannheim last year. The only reason I was chosen was because I was American. They wanted an “American” point of view. I was assured that they all spoke English. And I am happy to report that all of the committee “could” speak English. It’s just that they didn’t. I sat there the whole effing time staring at the wall. I would make a comment in English and they would say oh, yeah, and speak English for all of 30 second and then slip back into German. You want my American point of view? You all suck.

    • agentlabroad says:

      Haha! People who think ex-pat life is glamorous don’t know how much time we spend making mental grocery lists while people have completely incomprehensible conversations around us.

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