#Beattheheat

My #beattheheat challenge on Instagram originated in my I Haven’t Yet Given Over to the Sweat post. I had arrived back in my hot city after a week in the cool mountains and the heat made me grumpy. I began looking for ways to keep myself cool and my attitude chipper. I kept score between the heat and myself. It was definitely a fun coping mechanism. I wanted to compile my pics in one place and announce the winner between the heat and myself. 

#beattheheat Round 1

Maybe incorrect thinking is why I’m sweating so much lately. “I think I’m cool, I think I’m cool, I think I’m cool.” Nope. I’m still hot.

Heat 1, Cando 0

#beattheheat Round 2

Thinking cool did not make me cool so I’m getting creative on how to beat the heat. Idea #1 - sitting directly in front of the fan. Cando wins a point.

Heat 1, Cando 1 

#beattheheat Round 3

Idea #2 on beating the heat - yes, that’s an ice pack on my head and yes it helps. Cando wins a point

Heat 1, Cando 2

#beattheheat Round 4

Idea #3 to #beattheheat - a handful of M&Ms from the freezer. Cando wins a point.

Heat 1, Cando 3

#beattheheat Round 5

Idea #4 to #beattheheat - Go to Heaven Cave where the temps are cool. It worked until I had to climb back out in the not-so-heavenly temp of 100+. Heat wins a point.

Heat 2, Cando 3

#beattheheat Round 6

After my sweat bath today (1 for heat), I thought I’d try to #beattheheat by getting a fruity drink and sitting under the air conditioner at Starbucks (1 for Cando.) Unfortunately heat gained another point when after 2 hours, I left a sweat soaked chair. #yesmyfaceisthatred

Heat 4, Cando 4

#beattheheat Round 7

I gained 3 points yesterday in my attempt to #beattheheat. One point for not having sweat-soaked clothes for a whole day, one for the ability to wear the clothes again, and one for obviously not needing a shower since I wasn’t caked in layers of dried sweat. Today I got a point for finding this breezy homework spot, and one for not letting the heat steal my joy. 

Heat 4, Cando 9

#beattheheat Round 8

I tried local advice to #beattheheat by drinking hot tea to cool down on a hot day. Heat gained a point. Ending the day with sugar water over crushed ice means Cando also gained a point. 

Heat 5, Cando 10

#beattheheat Round 9

Heat gained 8 points over the weekend: 

1 for losing fan privileges in a house with no ac

1 for getting scolded for not blowing hot air on my already hot/wet head before bed

1 for sweat residue AFTER the shower

1 for attempting to nap but feeling my own body heat emanating from the bed

1 for heat headaches

1 for being grouchy

1 for purchasing already melted candy bars from the store

1 for said candy bar sticking to the package when trying to toss the soiled piece away

Cando gained 4 points:

1 for floating 3 hours in the Med and staying cool (note my awesome sunscreen streak)

1 for regaining fan privileges

1 for returning to the land of ac

1 for all the laughter this post has given me. 

Heat 13, Cando 14

#beattheheat Round 10

Heat won 1 point for melting the Reese’s cup to the thickness of paper thus making it inedible and another point for pitiful air conditioning at Starbucks. Cando won a point for scoring a whole cup of ice in a country where ice is hard to come by and another for the genius idea to ask for ice. 

Heat 15, Cando 16

#beattheheat Round 11

Heat won a point for sweat baths and a point for making me feel plum awful one day. Cando won a point for being so cold there were chill bumps, one for making it back to my city with these cooler, humid-free temps. (Check out those lows!), a point for my house being almost cool enough to go without open windows or a fan, a point for my pajamas not feeling like they came out of the dryer, and a point for having fans to use at my discretion. 

Heat 17, Cando 21

#beattheheat The Final Round

Heat gained a point for making me lose sleep one night.

Cando gained:

1 point for less showers because of the absence of sweat

1 point for sleeping without a fan or open windows last night

1 point for an air conditioner at home now

Since fall temps are here, I think it's safe to say, Cando is the champion. Heat 18, Cando 24

Walking in Nobility

“Are you not being merely human?” 

I’ve been chewing on this statement for a few days. The context comes from 1 Corinthians 3:4 which says, “For when one says, ‘I follow Paul,’ and another, ‘I follow Apollos,’ are you not being merely human?” Paul is getting on to them for choosing heroes. He basically calls it ridiculous because everyone is on the same team and it’s God who does the work. 

The question Paul asked is causing me to meditate. Being merely human, isn’t that what we are humans? So why did Paul state it that way? I think it’s because he knew that, in Christ, we have been elevated to a place of sonship, a place of nobility. Later in chapter 6 he says:

“Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.” -1 Cor 6:9-11

I think Paul was trying to remind them that they used to be mere humans. They used to be ordinary sinners but they were washed. That’s not who they were anymore. They were no longer mere humans.

A few days later, my friend was praying, asking for help to live in the reality that we have no commendation because of Christ. When we fail, we can pick ourselves back up and press on because Jesus had paid for our failures. Our failures are a thing if the past. She prayed, "It's almost as if there is this nobility that comes with following Jesus." 

Continuing in the theme of nobility, I read, 

“Who is like the Lord our God, who is seated on high, who looks far down on the heavens and the earth? He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap, to make them sit with princes, with the princes of his people.” -Psalm 113:5-8 

I was again reminded of how God takes mere humans and in Christ, makes them noble.

My prayer since then had been that I may dwell in that nobility, that I may walk and love and breathe in front of my neighbors as a daughter of the King. I don't want to live as a mere human, like my old sinning and condemned self. I want to walk in the noble newness of life. I want people to notice me from the street and think, "There's something different about her. It looks like she's not carrying around guilt and shame. She carries her head high. I want that." I want this thought of nobility to affect my thoughts too. I don't want you walk around worried and anxious wondering about provisions. I'm the daughter of a king.

Returning Home and Culture Shock

I finished up my last few days of the language sprint in survival mode. I was over the heat, over language, over the incessant going, over not having time to myself. I was feeling a little homesick too. Finally one night, I went for a walk down to the nearby lake to decompress and process the previous days. I talked to God about how I was feeling and in turn His nearness was my good. 

We finished up my last day of class. On the following day, we said goodbye to P by treating her to her favorite food, Burger King. She then took us to try “Banana Milk.” Rebecca doesn’t like milk and I try to stay away from it so it doesn’t mess with my sinuses. P couldn’t really get a grasp on this so we humored her and tried the banana milk. It was basically a banana milkshake but seems to be all the rage there.

We had dinner that evening with they guy who had organized the language sprint and his family. We were the first to do this  program so he wanted feedback on ways it could be improved. Since P had another couple coming a few days later, we spent our last night with him and his family. It was nice to be in a mostly air conditioned home with other Americans who come from my same culture. 

The following day, they took me to the airport. Coming to that city, I was able to fly out of the airport in my city. My city's airport is so small there are only certain days that have flights in and out. I was unable to fly back into my city so instead I flew to a bigger city and then intended to bus back from there. 

All smiles heading back home!

Midway through my flight, the guy sitting beside me realized that I could speak his language. He was so shocked that he talked my head off for the duration of the flight. He gave advice on how to take the metro from the airport to the bus station. I had made that trip before and knew there was a city bus that I could take. I thanked him for his help but intended to follow my own way.

After I grabbed my checked bag, I headed outside the terminal. I found another type of bus that was a little more expensive but took a more direct route to the bus station. I was disappointed when the driver said he was not going to the bus station. He said I could take the city bus. I could see it in the distance but I didn’t have a bus card and remembered that the driver gave me a hard time when I tried to pay with coins. The smallest bill I had on me was a 20 so I went to get it changed in hopes the driver would give me grace and let me pay with coins. While doing this, I missed the bus and discovered another one would come an hour later. Bummer. I was so ready to be home. 

I wasn’t sure what to do but decided to sit hoping by some strange chance another city bus would come soon. I noticed my airplane friend and hoped he wouldn’t see me. He had seemed flirty and I didn’t want to encourage him. He spotted me anyway and asked if I was lost and why I hadn’t taken his advice. He told me again how to get to the metro and what to do. Then he told me that his friend was picking him and his business partner up and they could give me a lift. He was nice but not nice enough for me to get in a car with him and 2 other guys and ride for half an hour. I was trying to figure out how to say, thanks but no thanks, when he said there was no room for me. Shew. I got out of that one.

I did take his advice and checked on the Metro. The ticketing lady said it was too difficult and I should take a bus. She sold me a 2-trip bus card for the day. I went back across the street and waited on a bus. I saw another of the transfer buses and asked again if they were going to the bus station. The stress was starting to wear on me and tears were just below the surface. He told me he wasn’t going there but went to check to see where I could find one that was. He came back and told me that I could catch one at the International Terminal. There, I verified that the bus was going to the bus station. I hopped on and waited. It wasn't scheduled to depart for another 20 minutes. While sitting there, I saw the city bus pass by. Ugh. I wasn’t even convinced that this bus was going to the correct bus station since this company travels to several bus stations. I put my sunglasses on and let the tears fall. I opened up a Snickers bar and let the American candy bar take a stab at the culture shock. After a few minutes, the driver took my money and I verified that we were indeed going to the correct bus station. I don’t know why it had to be so hard but the day only deepened my current dislike for this culture. 

I made it to the bus station and got a ticket for a bus heading to my city 20 minutes later. The ticket agent had told me where to get on the bus but I needed to stop by the bathroom first. I didn't realize he went to the bus to make sure I had arrived. He called me as I was walking toward the bus and then scolded me for not answering. 

The bus ride was nice and quiet and I rode beside sunset beauty. I somehow accidentally used a different bus company than the one I usually use. As such we took an unexpected bathroom/meal break about an hour outside of my city. This meant it took even longer to get home. I did find this awesome toilet paper tree in the bathroom at the rest stop. 

I was ever so grateful to see my city’s university, a beacon on the hill for me. The bus didn't stop at the bus station but rather dropped me off on the main road in front of it. Life here is full of the unexpected. I was grateful though to be back home, in cooler temperatures, at my house, and with friends who feel like family. 

All smiles back at home

The next morning, I left my apartment to pick up a few things from the store. My security guard, the weird single one, stopped me. He told me that I had failed to pay my building fee for two months. I told him I thought I had paid and I would look to make sure. He argued with me and said I obviously hadn't paid it because his paper showed that I had not. I told him that I would bring him the money. He then told me he had called me and I didn't answer. He told me he had gone through a lot of trouble for me and he thought I owed him to sit down and have tea with him. Ugh! I was liking my current home less and less. I decided that the next day I was staying in for a whole day to take a break from this place. It was a good choice. I even ended the day by playing a long distance game of Yahtzee with my bff. It was enough of a break to help me get back out to visit friends the following day. 

Culture Shock at the Seas

On day 10 out of the 15 of my language sprint, I went to a summer house with my family. In America, when I hear summer house, I think of rich friends with super nice condos right on the beach. I knew, from earlier discussions, that my perspective needed to change. P had told us that owning homes in her city was expensive they would never be able to own one. She said, the best they could hope for was owning a summer house by the sea because those are much cheaper. 

Rebecca and I geared ourselves up for a hot weekend not expecting an air conditioner at the summer house. We had accurate expectations. We went into the weekend with positive attitudes and smiles determined to have lots of laughs.

Piled into the car with all our bags

Happy smiles!

We arrived at the complex which consisted of lots of small homes in a small space. Once inside the house and P and her parents got busy cleaning the place. We tried to help the family but they told us to just go swim. This is a prime example of the cultural wars that happened during my 2 week stay. They wanted us to be comfortable but our parents raised us to help others with work. We weren’t comfortable because they wouldn’t let us help and they were comfortable because we wouldn’t just relax. I don’t know how many conversations Rebecca and I had trying to ascertain what would be the best way to show them love. 

After the place was cleaned up, we sat on the balcony while the mom prepared dinner. There was a nice, cool breeze there so I thought the weekend wouldn’t be half bad. After dinner we tried to help wash dishes. They refused and instead insisted that we go swim in the pool. There were only three 2-hr periods when the pool was open. The complex uses the rest of the time to clean the filters. We also learned that only 2 people from each home were allowed to swim at a time. We obliged them and swam for about an hour. After we showered and put dry clothes on, we went to the sea to walk with P and her dad. It was only about a 5-minute walk from the complex to the sea.

A view of the pool, the complex, and
the sea.

We returned around 11pm and Rebecca and I decided to go to bed. They thought we were strange for going to bed so early. Locals here go to bed much later than we do (even children) and seem to get by on much less sleep than we do. We realized that the 3 of them were sleeping on the balcony and wouldn’t be using the single fan. We asked if we could use it during the night. We blasted the thing on high and were able to sleep in that hot room. Somewhere in the middle of the night, the mom came in from the balcony and turned it off. She said it was making her ill. We sweated our way through the remainder of the night.

Around 7:30 the next morning, we got up and went to the sea to swim. We didn’t stay very long before heading back to get breakfast. After breakfast, they again wouldn’t let us help clean but insisted we go swim. We decided to take them up on the offer since it meant at least an hour of being cool during the day. Afterwards we went back and worked on our pile of homework from T. P was also trying to teach us how to tell a story so we were working on learning the story. Around 2pm we practiced our stories with P. I wasn’t in the mood to be practicing and was getting grumpier by the minute. We were sitting out by the pool with loud music playing, I felt like I was getting corrected at every turn for incorrectly saying grammar that I only barely understand, and the heat was making me miserable. Did I mention that we didn’t get any lunch that day? Locals often don’t eat lunch if they had a late breakfast. I guess 9am is late to them. 

So much homework!

After the practice session, I decided to try to take a nap. I thought it would help me get through the hot part of the day and maybe help my crabbiness to dissipate. It took forever to fall asleep because anytime I would roll over, the bed just radiated my body heat back onto me. I managed to sleep for about 30 minutes before waking just as crabby. I decided to work on some more homework before dinner. P came into the room as I was heading to the bathroom. When I came back, she declared that most of my answers were wrong. Uggh! That was my 4th page and I wondered if I had done any of my homework correctly. I was at a breaking point. She suggested that I take a break from homework so I did. I picked up my book and did some fun reading. I also reminded myself that my value comes from God, not on whether or not I can use accurate grammar in a second language. That reminder and break was the only thing that kept me from melting into a weeping mess in that hot summer house. 

Napping. We learned how to say, "My sleep came" when
we were tired.

I wasn't the only one whose sleep came. P's dad slept
almost the whole time we were there. He said he was
on vacation and that's how he wanted to rest.

At dinner, my stomach started acting up worse than it had in a few days. Not only was I feeling like a language idiot and crabby from the heat, my tummy was also rumbling. Things seemed to be getting worse. After dinner, they sent us out to walk by the sea by ourselves for a while. I think P could sense that I needed a break. Rebecca and I walked and laughed a lot about our experiences with this family. We later met up with P and her mom for a little while. 

Upon returning, I took a shower. While we’re on the subject, let me explain some bathroom frustrations. (Culture shocking?) The toilet had a bidet feature on it. A bidet is a portion of the toilet where you can spray water to clean yourself instead of using toilet paper. I don’t typically use them here because I don’t trust that they’re clean. This particular toilet’s bidet piece was sticking out and up into the seating area about 3 inches. I don’t know how many times, I sat down and jumped up because I had landed on the spout. Yuck. The shower was broken. When I say I showered, I mean I used a bucket to pour water over me. I spent my shower time  counting up my remaining days left and wondering if I could make it the remaining 5 days. I seriously considered getting on a bus back to my city the following day. I had this conversation many days over my 2 weeks submerged in culture. I came out of the bathroom after my “shower” and realized there was still some dried sweat on my neck. 

As I headed into our bedroom, P’s mom stopped me and offered to let me use her hair dryer. “No, I will not blow hot air onto my already burning body,” I thought. I politely thanked her but told her I was fine. She followed me into the bedroom and laid down a thick sheet to help with who knows what. Then she again said that I should dry my hair or else I would get a crick in my neck. She said, “I’m older than you and you should listen to me.” Had Rebecca not been there, I think I would have snapped at this point. Instead we laid on our bed and giggled for ten minutes about how funny it all was. Rebecca asked what I thought our chances were of getting to use the fan that night. She said, I probably shouldn’t ask since I have the wet head. We risked anyway and were successful in obtaining permission to use the fan on the second night. This time, we used our noggins and pointed the fan away from where the family was sleeping. We felt cooler air the whole night except when the electricity went out. Success!

I woke the next morning and was still a little crabby. After breakfast we thought that maybe P wanted to swim in the pool so we decided to swim in the sea. It was a great plan because it meant a break from them and we could make sure we got lunch that day as well. The minute we were submerged in the water, we knew we had made a good decision. We were stared at a lot but ignored the stares and instead enjoyed each others company. I am often stared at by locals. They just don't see many foreigners in these parts. After an hour or so, we went to hunt down some lunch. We found a great little place in the shade. We went back to the water and floated for another couple of hours after lunch. It was a well needed break.

We returned to the house to pack up our things since we were leaving in a few hours. I discovered that I had done a very poor job of applying sunscreen. We ate an early dinner with the family and laughed a great deal with them. The Mediterranean’s waters had washed away my crabby mood. I think the thoughts of returning to our tiny room with air conditioning helped as well. We had a peaceful ride back to P's house that evening.

I think I missed a few spots when applying
sunscreen.

Good times with the family on the balcony!

Family selfie. The dad reminded me of my
dad - never smiling.

Well we were able to crack him up in this one. 

Cooking Lessons, Pharmacies, and Body Organs

Our grammar teacher, T, invited us over to her house for a cooking lesson and more cultural lessons. When we arrived, she told us that guests are supposed to make a wish upon entering a home. We sat down and had a rest before we began cooking. She apologized several times because one of her sofa beds was stuck and she could not get it pushed back into a normal sofa. She demonstrated how it was stuck, only this time it cooperated. She told us that she wasn’t as stressed since we were Americans since Americans are much more laid back guests. She explained that if she were having locals over, especially family members, she would be quite stressed. Locals are much more judgmental about cleanliness. It seems that many come over just to see what faults they can find with their host. What misery. She said that if a guest were to come over, even if it was a family member, she would have to cancel her plans to be with them. I wonder how many times in my short stay in this country I have offended locals because I didn’t cancel plans for them?

After our rest, we went to the kitchen to learn how to make a bulgur salad. Yet again, I forgot to take a picture. During the making, a dish fell and broke. She informed us that a broke dish means that the Evil Eye (a curse cast by a malevolent glare) was there but left after the dish broke. She also showed us how she only had one cabinet with food. The rest were for pots, pans, and dishes. She said she thought Americans were so strange since our kitchen cabinets are mostly full of food. Interesting. She also thought that our kitchen gadgets are strange. Who needs an apple corer when you have a knife?

On another day, I visited my pharmacy friends again. I entered the cool pharmacy and was again met with kindness. 
“Can I help you?” the assistant asked. 
“Do you have probiotics?” I replied. 
“Yes, we have lots. What kind do you need? What is your problem?” she said. 
She then handed me some pamphlets in the local language to help me understand. The pharmacist and another worker walked over to help. At that point I had two choices. My first choice was to brokenly describe to my audience of 8 in the small, tight quarters that I was going to the bathroom a lot. My second choice was to use Google translate. I opted for the latter and discreetly showed the pharmacist the translation. She nodded her head and said “diarrhea” a little louder than I would have preferred. They sent me on my way with the appropriate probiotic, and an embarrassed smile on my face. 

Since my city is small and has little variety, I enjoyed eating at American fast food places in my language sprint city. I was also super pumped to find a Chinese restaurant close to the office where I was taking classes. One day I ventured over there and was thankful for a change in cuisine. The food definitely wasn’t equal to Chinese restaurants or sushi in America but it was a nice break. 

On another evening, T wanted to take us out to taste some local popular flavors. She told us she would first take us to eat a certain food but she wouldn’t tell us what it was. We knew from the way she was talking about it that it was an organ or body part. You can imagine what our faces looked like when this male-shaped body part showed up on our table. 

I didn’t think I would be able to get it down. Before we tried it, she told us it was a large intestine. I was grateful Rebecca went first. Before I tried mine, I realized it was stuffed with seasoned rice. I managed to get my large bite down. The taste was ok but the texture was not my favorite.

Mid-bite, trying to get it down.

Here you can see the rice spilling out

From there, she had us try an oyster. There are vendors on the streets who sell them by the piece. These also were stuffed with rice and sprinkled with lemon. I liked them much better than the intestines.

After that, we went to have a sweet treat called bicibici and pronounced “beejee beejee.” It is made of shaved ice in rose water. Banana slices and cubes of jello-like starch are added to the mix as well. The drink is further sweetened with powdered sugar.

Of course I had to give myself a
bicibici mustache!

Language Sprint - Engagement Party

I learned that often locals can have up to 3 celebrations when they are to marry. The first is the “Promise/Agreement” ceremony. Here, the couple agrees to marry in the presence of friends and family. The second is an engagement party. The first two are often in a home but at times, they can be held at a wedding salon. The engagement party often happens 2-3 weeks after the couple agree to get married. The third is the actual wedding. I believe all three involve lots of dancing. 

P had to run errands to get ready for her cousin’s engagement party. Rebecca and I headed out around mid-day to occupy ourselves. We walked a lot and sweated a lot. We finally camped out at Starbucks with a cool drink and air conditioning. We showed up at the hair salon around 6:30 quite sweaty and stinky. What could we do, we had no place to shower beforehand. We did take some wet wipes and try to remove at least one layer of sweat. 

We told P that we wanted to get the local treatment for hair and makeup at the salon. I’m not much of a makeup wearer for various reasons. I don’t like the way it feels on my face. I’m lazy and don’t want to spend the time to do it everyday. I don’t want to become a slave to makeup. I don't want to be one of those people who don’t wear makeup one day and they look awful. Instead, I like to occasionally and pleasantly surprise people rather than scare them. My biggest reason I don’t wear makeup is that I actually like the face that God gave me more than a made up one. In His making of me, He declared me beautiful. Why should I think that I can make something look better than the way God made it? If a person tried to fix up a sunset, we would call them crazy and yet when it comes to ourselves, we think we need a little work. Since I rarely wear makeup, I usually think I look ridiculous in makeup. 

Since I was here for cultural experiences and wanted to be culturally appropriate for this event, I decided to see what the locals would do to me. P told the makeup artist to give me a simple version. Here are some before and after pics. I’m glad we went basic and yes, I think I look ridiculous.

After my makeup was finished, a guy began to work on my hair. He had to dry it first because I was so sweaty. Afterwards, P suggested that he do a braid on my hair. I really like the way my hair looked at the end.

P and I at the salon

We got dressed at P’s mom’s house and then headed to the wedding. We met some of P’s extended family members while we waited on the bride and groom to arrive. During their entrance, the bride came in carrying an umbrella and danced around as she greeted those lining the entry way. The groom came in behind her and kind of “chased” her around the room before “catching” her and putting a ring on her finger. 

After that, the bride and groom to be walked around and greeted everyone. Once the greeting time was finished, the dancing started. I danced a little and then quickly made my way back to the table since I’m not a fan of dancing. After quite a bit of dancing, there was another little episode where some fairy tale-ish music was played while again, the groom walked around with a fancy shoe, trying to find his princess who had “lost” it. 

From there, the groom’s family pinned gold jewelry to the bride. Then the bride’s family threw money at the couple while they all danced. The couple pretended to cut a giant decorated cardboard cake with a sword while a giant flame burned at the top of the cake. Then there was more dancing. First regional dances from the brides family, then regional dances from the groom’s family. 

I somehow got pulled back onto the dance floor even though everything in me wanted to chain myself to my seat. There were a couple of younger girls who made it their goal to teach myself and Rebecca how to dance. Sadly, I don’t think our hips move that way. Between the heat, the hair salon, culture, and the forced dancing, I was exhausted. I was ever so grateful when P said it was time to go home.