no-name Mademoiselle

To date, we have been totally useless at finding a name for our little Mademoiselle-on-the-way.

In the beginning, we didn't know if we were expecting a girl or a boy and so we had a mixed-gender list of names pinned to a kitchen shelf.

We totally thought this was not going to be difficult.

After a while, we had to come to terms with the fact that we weren't really making progress so we thought finding out the baby's gender might help (ok, so we just wanted to know - it's hard to refuse today's technology! - and I wanted to know if I was into pink for a good reason).

Anyway, the list is still there only the "girl" column is now longer. We both add a name to it when we come across one we like. We also regularly cross names off ("What was I thinking?!")

We have consulted books, websites and dictionaries, received newsletters and emails, suggestions from family members...

Nada, nil, squat. No winner on our list it seems. We are at a loss. Mademoiselle is still "bebek" most of the time. Or Mademoiselle B.

We have kept the (now dowdy looking) list and might short-list some names in the unlikely event that bebek will look like a definite Lea, Milla, Emma, Zoya, Chloe, Emily, Zoe etc. the moment we set eyes on her.

It's not only that we can't agree on a name - it's that neither of us has found the name, the one you are so 100% convinced about that you could convince your other half, the one you really love.


I can't believe how hard we are finding this!

Our criteria for the name:

• does not mean, sound like or rhyme with anything nasty in same or other language (e.g. Recently heard of "Anemique" = lack of iron in French, "Dana" which means beef in Turkish, or names beginning with "mal" (bad/wrong) like "Malena")
• is melodious yet simple
• can be easily pronounced and spelled in many languages (mainly all the ones spoken by our globally-sprawled out families)
• is suitable in "our languages" - some names are very cute in English but a disaster in French or vice versa
  
• is original yet not outrageous nor difficult to "wear"
• is suitable for a toddler, a young girl a woman and a granny (some names just aren't!)
• fits baby's surname (& so does not start with the letter B so as not to be BB)
• does not begin with S (our initials)
• if possible, it means something to us (has some kind of connection to our history)
  
• most of all: we both like it!

HELP!

30 weeks

3D images... they're practically photos!
It's a bit weird seeing these - hubs prefers the classical 2D and I can see why...

Anyway, all is well and here's the latest:

• weight: 1476 gr
• height: 37 cm *
  
• guesstimate weight & height at term (40 weeks & according to gynae): 3,7 or 3,8 kg (OMG!!!) and 52 cm
  
• dr.'s comments: "she is slightly bigger than average at 30 weeks" & "she'll be tall according to measures of femur bone"; "she doesn't have your nose, hers is more round"; & "everything is fine, call me if need be at any time".
• latest EDD: 27th July 2007 (this is the same as the very first date we were given)
• dr. is very happy with my stabilized weight gain. Basically I put on 200gr since the April check-up, the rest is all baby's!
• my blood pressure is always the good old 110/70
• next appointment: June 9th for baby monitoring (ultra-sound & heart beat monitoring to see if she is reactive to sound, movement etc.)

Time is really flying now! I can hardly believe I'll be in Geneva in 5 weeks and shortly afterwards we'll be a family of three.

* you can calculate this: Femur Length x 6 + 4 = total height (or is that length?)

Preggie books

Being pregnant in a foreign country means you don't have your usual family & friends' advice on hand and your usual reference points.
Luckily in my case, there are a couple of newfound friends who are also pregnant with whom to exchange experiences of various body changes and kicking baby stories. Hurray!

There are times though, however fun the chat (or the web-surf), nothing beats a good book!

<-- These have been my companions on this 30-week journey (so far - Hurray! Hurray!) ranging from the serious to light-hearted if totally honest & friendly.

Most fun and good bedside reads: "minus nine to one" by Jools Oliver & "Shopaholic & Baby" by Sophie Kinsella.

Liz Fraser's "The Yummy Mummy's Survival Guide" and "The Best Friends' Guide to Pregnancy" by Vicki Iovine are both a good mix of fun and practical.

Liz Fraser's book Yummy Mummy's Survival Guide is very much in there with advice on pampering yourself as much as you possibly can, while you can, explains what happens to your relationship with friends, your body image and partners, and shares tips on baby showers, what to pack for the hospital and labor.

Vicki Iovine's Best Friends' Guide to Pregnancy was funny yet brutally honest and a very easy read-in-the-order-you-like with sections ranging from Sex and Pregnancy to Looking and feeling your best or I can't eat/ breathe/ walk and I'm scared to death.

Gina Ford's "The New Contented Little Baby Book" has me a bit confused as I read it sort of at the same time as Tracy Hogg's "The Baby Whisperer Solves all you Problems" - not a good idea! Although both are very much pro-routine (as opposed to demand feeding) their timings in getting baby into a feeding/sleeping routine are not the same and you end up trying to figure out what the differences are and which would suit you best when you can't possibly know at this stage!

I found Tracy Hogg's book easier to read with her E.A.S.Y routine (Eat. Activity. Sleep. You) and her check lists to help you determine why your six-week baby or under is crying. I liked her "Common complaints-Probable causes" and her feeding/sleeping charts.

Yours truly, novice at mummyhood, found Mrs. Ford's lengthy paragraphs hard to follow : "if your baby is xxx-ing then you must be yyy-ing, which leads to zzz-ing so you might want to try xyz-ing, however without abc-ing..." AGHHHH! What was that?! Maybe at a later stage when it all becomes a bit more real. Right now I found the best part of her book was the "Common problems in the first year" section which is brief and to the point. I am sure, however her book will come in handy later on.

Finally, "Le Guide Pratique de la Femme Enceinte" takes you through the weeks & months explaining all the possible physical changes, ailments, exercises and sizes. It is an informative but not particularly fun read.

I have recently acquired "The Panic-Free Pregnancy" written by M.D. Michael S. Broder in the form of Q&As; "an Ob-Gyn (who) separates fact from fiction on food, exercise, travel, pets, coffee, medications, and other concerns you have when you're expecting". I don't exactly plan to read this through and through, rather use it as an ad hoc reference book.

That's all for now! Any other books you can recommend? 70 days left after all...

Four Reasons Hotel in Bodrum: Review

A couple of weeks ago we decided that a week-end in Bodrum might be nice before the summer crowds move in and before my preggie tummy gets so huge it becomes unbearably uncomfy to drive that far in a sitting position....

We booked a room at the Four Reasons Hotel* found on the small hotels of Turkey website **

On the positive side:

-a nice view, the pool and the rooms were just as beautiful and simply decorated as shown on the websites
-the hotel manager spoke excellent English and French (and no doubt Turkish)
-service was good, breakfast (my favorite meal in Turkey and looks like I'm not the only one!) and dinner were yummy

Less impressive:
-the directions & map from their website were absolutely useless in getting us there
-the promised wireless connection remains yet to be found
-they've lost Serenity, and they might have misplaced Attitude too....


You see the 4Reasons' name not only plays on that of the world famous hotel chain, it also hints at four pillar qualities (Serenity, Quality, Design, Attitude) the hotel promises visitors. These are very visibly stamped on the hotel wall as you arrive, as well as on the hotel website, brochure, etc.

The marketing background of the owners makes it hard to believe they promise these unwittingly. Nor is it possible they are unaware of currently and regrettably failing to keep this promise, since they were staying at the hotel at the same time we were.

What am I talking about? Well, imagine being woken by bulldozers at 7h30am on Saturday. How's that for Serenity?

After breakfast (luckily, lower down by the pool the noise was minimal) we mentioned this little inconvenience to the hotel manager who apologised and said he would have a word with the workers. He later assured us that we would be able to enjoy our grâce matinée the next day and that work would start much later on Sunday morning.

To cut to the chase, on Sunday we were woken at about 7h45am. As far as I'm concerned, 15 minutes does not count as sleeping in Thankyou very much.

We again enjoyed a lovely breakfast but were frankly disappointed.
At checkout when asked how we had enjoyed our stay, (by the manger but with the owners present) we once again commented on the noise explaining what a shame it was that although the season had begun the bulldozers were still at work (and on a week-end!).
Regrettably, no gesture whatsoever was made in terms of a discount or any kind of client compensation. There goes Attitude....

Now I don't know about you, but when I book a hotel, I read reviews. When I am treated with a pro-active-client-service-attitude that can turn an unfortunate incident into an opportunity, I will whole-heartedly recommend the venue, write a raving review, go back and take friends and family with me. In fact, I will probably remember the place more positively than had nothing remarkable happened in the first place.
A lost opportunity my friends....

It's easier to claim Serenity, Quality, Design, Attitude than it is to live by them. On the other hand, the bulldozers should be temporary, Attitude can be regained and hopefully the rest will remain the same....

* click here and here for more about the 4Reasons Hotel
** Small Hotels of Turkey also publish a book on a yearly basis called "The Little Hotel Book"

Mummy brain

I recall thinking my good friend N. had gone nutters when she turned hysterical against her mother for crossing the street, on the pedestrian crossing, with her new grand-son in his new pram, not a car in sight but while the light was red !!!!

I also remember thinking that my sister had clearly lost all sense of proportion when she stood as a barrier to the baby blender, defending her controlling position of the "on" button, while desperately trying to position her squiggling daughter on her ever-so-slim-hip, so that her husband could not make carrot purée à sa façon, nor take their daughter from her in an attempt to help her out.

By and by, I have seen reasonable, intelligent, calm women, suddenly turn into a scarier version of the Incredible Hulk when they perceived their bundle of joy to be threatened by the environment, or worse: a family member's good intentions or a friend's uninvited opinion.
It soon became apparent that offering an unsolicited opinion, helping hand or alternative way to a new mother was totally and utterly suicidal. Oh Yeah.

Since then, the above-mentioned have had more babies and have (thankfully) totally chilled. Phew!

Now I'm kind of scared about what is going to happen to my brain in a little while.
There's no point in knowing about it. Awareness is one thing, but something clearly happens - instinct? exhaustion? wanting to be the best possible mom? - that tips your scales and makes you believe you are the only one who knows how to carry, feed, bath, etc. your nappy-filling-rose-smelling-baby.
Suddenly, you're paying more attention to every little breath, mimic and sound than to the hairiness of your under-arms (ugh! that bad?!) and nobody knows better than you whenever your baby is concerned.
Luckily, it seems to be a phase.

Then there's also the fact that all you talk about is baby, poo, nappies, sleep(-lessness)... Looks like that's already started!

I used to wonder what had happened to new-Mummies brains, conversation and sense of humor... I guess in a way it's understandable - being pregnant, giving birth, taking care of a brand new human being is rather huge and overwhelming - but so boring to others!
I guess if you flip it around we could say it's being focused?

Looking forward....

Sleepless

Seriously?
Shouldn't I be stocking up on sleep right now so as be less vulnerable to the things sleepless nights do to a new Mom?

I am pretty sure that whoever said that insomnia during pregnancy is training for later is wrong. It's like dieting to prepare for famine. Seriously. Our body is smarter than that.

Umph!

How long is 40 weeks anyway?

I've never been great at Maths - but 40 weeks... um, isn't that like 10 months?
Ok, so not every month has the same amount of weeks and so if you spread it all out it somehow works out to ...? I'm confused.

Every time someone asks me how pregnant I am I am at a loss.
At 12 weeks you're finishing your first trimester right? So logically at 24 weeks, that would be 6 months? and then 12 weeks later... at week 36 - Wait! but week 36 (3 x 12) is not 40! In fact that's just about a month early.

Keeping in mind that :

• an average pregnancy lasts 40 weeks (or 38 if you discount the 2 weeks where you're not actually pregnant but have not had your period)
• the baby is due end of July (according to most of the measurements and tests)
• July is the 7th month of the year
• I became pregnant mid-november
• so that should be 7 months + 1 1/2 months = 8 1/2 right? (to which you may add the 2 weeks of amenorrhea to make 9)
  
• which would mean the actual pregnancy lasts 8 1/2 months (but that's 32 weeks + 2 = 34!)
  
• so now that it's May 2nd (week 27) and end of July is 3 months away (+12 weeks), does that mean that we're beginning the third trimester now? (=39 weeks)
  
• and by the way, if you look at the little baby ticker/calendar above, you'll see it says there are 86 days to go - ain't that another 12 weeks!? (is that 3 months? 'cause if it is we're back to my initial question!!!!!)
  

Aggghhhh!

I know that you're probably thinking "Who's counting?!" when all that matters is that things are going well - and the answer is I AM !
I need to plan so that I
a) am allowed to fly back to Geneva
b) arrive in time to have the babe there
c) can do some antenatal aquagym classes and meet my mid-wife
d) have the impression that it's not quite as long as it seems...

I realize the babe will "pop out" (ok I'm trying to be positive and play it down - I am fully aware she will not just "pop out") when she's ready, and that only about 5% of newborns actually arrive on Due Date - but...I STILL WANT TO HAVE A ROUGH IDEA OF WHEN SHE WILL ARRIVE!

Not to mention that:

• we already have a niece who was born on July 22nd 2006 and although she lives in Singapore, it would be nice to have individual birthdates
• without wanting to sound totally superficial - I would much prefer a baby Leo (like hubs and a lot of my friends) to a Crab (although that means waiting a tad longer or at least until after July 23rd!)
  

Ok, well whatever - I just am looking forward to meeting her!

pregnancy baby pregnant 40 weeks 9 months EDD

Pregnant in Turkey

One of the cool things about being pregnant in Turkey is there doesn't seem to be a limit to the number of ultra-sounds you, the patient & mom-to-be, can have.

According to the various books, articles, blogs etc. I have read (& stuff other women have told me) in most of Western Europe and the UK, the standard number of ultra-sounds is 3 (one per trimester). Further up north (in Holland & Sweden) 3 seems to be a max. In fact, after they've confirmed you are pregnant, they send you home and tell you to come back once you're ready to have the baby... if, that is, you're planning to deliver in a hospital or clinic and not at home (not my cuppa personally, but whatever).

In Turkey, -at least, in Izmir, as a foreigner with a terrific (lady) Ob-Gyn who speaks good English and specializes in IVF babies (not our case)- we get to "go to the movies" (dixit an enthusiastic hubs who otherwise is as allergic as they come to hospitals) and see our "bebek" once a month! How's that for entertainment!?

Seriously, it's pretty cool. Not that I can compare with a previous pregnancy or anything like that. Just that I kind of look forward to seeing little arms and feet waving. After our first memorable visit (12 weeks, at which point our bebek not only actually looked like a human baby for the first time, but also gave us the ultimate pleasure of jumping up and down and doing a little jig!) I was so looking forward to the second one, (16 weeks) that I felt as though I'd been stood up when the little person slept through the whole appointment. The nerve, I tell ya!

OK, so they don't have insurance companies running their health policy either. And maybe not everyone has an ultra-sound this often. But your monthly appointment doesn't just last 5 minutes flat, with 20 patients waiting outside, and that feeling that really you can read up on your pregnancy on the web or contact a mid-wife instead of bothering the doc.

Our doctor here is available and a caring human being. And, should you have the slightest complication, your Ob-Gyn calls you at home to ask how you're doing. Not just once either. And you can call her on her mobile phone when you're not sure you're OK. And she drinks coffee, sometimes answers her mobile phone in the middle of a sentence, calls her assistants "kids" and has McDonald's for lunch 'cause she's just walked out of the OR where she delivered another baby. She has bad hair days, too - but she'll notice what you're wearing and compliment you on your looking nice today. And... she still has the time to do an educational show on national television about IVF and reproductive health in general. And... she has kids of her own.

I know a few people who have become doctors and who really wish they could spend as much quality time with their patients - but they would have to bill them a bomb and would get in trouble. I know of patients who think their doctors have muted from human to something akin to a mechanic for homo sapiens.
A few people I know have benefited from "medical handling" similar to this one, (in Serbia and Russia) and can compare it to medical experience (treatment for illness or pregnancy) in Australia, Switzerland, the UK, France or Holland. Without a doubt, they all preferred the perhaps less glamorous, sometimes bare and unadorned structure with a human touch to the fancy clinics where the doctor can hardly remember your name and you are beginning to wonder whether you have been swallowed by a file/case/number.

Sure, it means that you're not always seen on time and it can take some getting used to. But hey, I was worried about having "bebek" here, and now I'm thinking that my extremely competent Swiss made Ob-Gyn is going to seem a tad like clock-work after a pregnancy the Turkish way.


A BIG thanks to Isla, who noticed I was pregnant before anyone else and who took me to Irenbe after my first experience with the "gentleman-professor-Ob-Gyn" who nearly made me wish I wasn't pregnant in Turkey.


OB-GYN pregnant pregnancy ultra-sound baby foreign land

Week 23

Bebek* is a girl!

*No, no! "Bebek" is not a name!!! It's "baby" in Turkish!

We were hoping this would make finding a name easier - but no cigar! It's much harder than I thought...

Suggestions welcome....

baby baby scan pregnancy pregnant ultra-sound week 23

Footsies - week 19

Have not totally disappeared of the face of the earth - just really busy. All is well and growing...

Double-sided "inat"

After reading a passionately written and touching post by fellow blogger blackbird, titled Inat and a Turbulent Life, I started typing a comment in response to her post on her blog.
As some of you know –or have noticed- concision is not my forte. Realizing that my comment was soon to be as long as her post –inat is truly an inspiring subject- I decided to post my “comment on inat" here, on my own blog, and I hope blackbird won’t mind.

For those of you who are wondering what in the world inat is:

• Pronounced “eenat” it is a word used frequently in Serbian.
• My 1959 crumbling dictionary, inherited from my parents (“Stozer Srpskohrvatsko-Engleski Recnik”) defines inat as "spite", and an action “iz inata” as doing something “out of spite”.
• I'd say, inat is often used as the equivalent of “grudge” or "stubborn defiance" that will urge you to do something (or not) for reasons that in most cases will baffle the minds of those not accustomed to Serbian logic. It is a kind of defiant spirit, an "esprit de contradiction" with a touch of "mauvaise foi”.
• I believe, inat to be something perhaps not exclusively, but most definitely specifically and typically Serbian.
• In the words of Dragan Milovic (of the School of Slavonic and East European Studies, London): “an attitude of proud defiance, stubbornness and self-preservation - sometimes to the detriment of everyone else or even oneself.”
• My father, mother, sister, friends, ex-boyfriends, former colleagues and my dear husband will no doubt agree, I possess my own healthy dose of it....and it has not always served me well.
• More on Inat found on blackbird's blog and these links at the bottom of her post: "Inat: Serbia's secret Weapon" and here

Perhaps it is also worth mentioning, that in the Serbian mentality or culture as it where, inat is far from the negative, bloody-minded trait "spite" or "stubbornness" are in most other cultures. While sometimes formally frowned upon, inat can tacitly be "felt" to be a quality, the cherished trait of "sticking to one's guns" and more often akin to integrity and defiant determination than to narrow-minded stubbornness. And perhaps it is the verb "to feel" that is key here; for this has nothing to do with logic or pragmatism, indeed it is this emotional quality that perhaps makes inat endearing, if at times infuriating.

Now that I've hopefully managed to clarify the obscure meaning of inat, here's what I wanted to say about it.

Although I was not there, I'm the first to take my hat off to the inat, humor and sheer spirit displayed by Serbs in Belgrade during the bombings of '99; the postcards depicting fiery & smoke filled skies defiantly stating "Belgrade by night" or the "target" symbols sprayed on civilians' coats and bags. Inat, is certainly a force to be reckoned with and can entail immensely positive and admirable actions. It has often also made me laugh, because it is such a lofty, crazy aspect of the Serbian character.

However, in my humble opinion, besides being totally childish -if endearing- and lacking in mature judgment, inat is far from being the "well-wishing-friend" Serbs think it is.

When inat (as in Dragan Milovic’s perfect definition “doing things because someone has told you you can’t, not necessarily because you actually want to”) becomes a guiding principle, it can ultimately lead you to perpetually live your life against someone else's doings, actions, positions, thoughts.

Seriously, if you are always doing in defiance and defining yourself against someone or something, then how can you as a person, group or people ever be independent -or free for that matter? How can you stand on your own two feet and follow a path that is yours and good for you? And how vulnerable are you to manipulation because your inat makes you so predictable? (like the “Who says we cannot swim? Sink this boat!”) Your “opponents” need only to play you like a musical instrument, for you will shoot yourself in the foot “za inat”....and serve them by doing it.

Especially in emotional circumstances, inat can also lead to willful and nurtured preservation of grudges that anchor you in the past ("Da komsiji crkne krava /If only the neighbour’s cow would die”). Is it really worth your present and your future, and wasting the energy that could be devoted to making it brighter on your neighbor's stupid cow because of something that happened generations ago?

I really have a lot of affection for inat. But I truly believe, that as much as it has pulled Serbs through the toughest and potentially most humiliating moments, and spurred them on with superb dignity, humor and a kind of proud spirit, it has also been, and is to this day, their (our) Achilles heel*. Because (showing your) inat too often, becomes the objective and makes you lose sight of what really matters, what you wanted or where you were heading to begin with.

In today’s global, pragmatic, capitalistic society inat is not seen by the world as an engaging, endearing, amusing trait. Nor is it proof of integrity, strong character and determination. It is more often than not (viewed as) a stupid, proud, primitive weak spot to be manipulated and used against whoever is ready to die rather than look at the bigger picture and consider it with a little perspective.

The day perspective is valued as much as inat is in the Serbian culture -and please don't read this as selling your soul, the end justifying the means or giving in- that day, the capacity, creativity, intelligence and will of Serbia's citizens will truly take off and realize it's true potential... for -"za inat?"- it will have left the past behind.

...or perhaps it is just a question of putting the notorious "inat" to good use?

*Interestingly one's Achilles heel is often one's strongest quality, hence the glass is half full (the BBC reference to Inat: Serbia's secret weapon) or half empty...

Serbia Serbian Inat stubbornness defiance

Week 15 and magic

So we’re into our second trimester, and everything is apparently as it should be.

Funnily enough, the initial moments of “Wow” passed, as well as the occasional feeling of not owning my own body because it’s acting in weird ways it used not to, I feel like a fish in the sea & like being pregnant is the most normal thing in the world.

Which of course it is, but it’s also hugely and totally unfathomable, isn’t it? One of those things you have a hard time getting your head around. Realizing that you are growing another person inside of you and that one day, if all goes well, they will be as "big" and as "old" as you are right now. It’s like you always knew this was going to happen, but at the same time never really believed it. Like growing up when you’re little. (Well at least that’s the way I felt.) One of those things that seems totally unremarkable until you stop to think about it.

And it’s the circle thing… I’m going to be a parent, which means I am going to be what my parents are to me, to someone else. Auuehemerrr… that is weird. That’s scary. That’s well, I’m not too sure about that part.

Of course, I’m going to be my version of parent, mixed with my honey’s version, and with the inescapable twist and shake our lives and experiences will convey to our choices, actions and oversights. As my Dad has said billions of times (in a rather fatalistic, defensive and occasionally apologetic manner) we don’t make the mistakes our parents made, but we make others. I can believe that, although there’s a sometimes a boomerang effect, that brings us right back to where (what?) we were trying to get away from in the first place.

We probably all have a couple of vivid memories of things that we swore we would never do “to” our kids when we grew up and had them… (I made lists: of things to remember –or rather not to forget- of things not to do… A real Peter Pan although I desperately wanted to put childhood behind me and become an adult.) But then there’s perspective, and of course I’ve changed my mind on some of those things, but there are others… Ah well, I guess we’ll do our best. (I think it’s a bit early to go down that road right this minute.)

Anyway, it might be the hormones (I don't mean the replacement therapy ones), but being pregnant is bringing back flashes from my childhood, my teens, my whole life. I’ve always thought we carry with(in) us the 2, 7, 9, 13, 17… year olds we once were – but although these versions of me occasionally voice a point or two, now days they seem to be more vocal than ever, playing the reels of hazy long-ago snippets of my life with people who have played a role in it; Some no longer alive, whom I have not thought of in a while. Others, whose memory is much more vivid and have sometimes been embodied by living people who, it has seemed at times, were encountered and (put?) there for me as stand-ins for those who left too soon.

See? Hormones. You probably think I’m looney tunes by now.

But I do believe in a kind of magic. Maybe it’s destiny, maybe it’s God, maybe it’s the Universe, I don’t think the name matters much –I don’t think I would care if I were misnamed, as long as the concept of me …oh, oh, another one I don’t think I’m going to go down just now – sorry.

Anyway, magic… I think there is magic.
Maybe it’s in my belly, maybe it’s in the air, maybe it’s my hormone-drugged brain… But when you catch a glimpse of it, it makes you feel all warm inside and kind of happy-sad. Kind of like when you want to cry with joy or when I think of my Baba and her bordeaux shawl.

baby becoming a parent pregnant hormonal second trimester week 15

Grrr....

I know there are lots of places in the world where women are treated like less than poo (I recently heard shocking figures about France!) but this really gets to me!
I think even dear old Ataturk is turning around in his grave...


Sorry, folks, I know you're expecting an up-date on baby stuff, and I promise, I'll get to it. Right now, just know that all is fine and we are in good health at the beginning of week 14! Yay! And so far, despite the agression inducing thyroid replacement hormones I've been out on, not a crumb of violence in this home!


domestic violence

Side effects...

I forgot to mention that my sense of smell is unbelievable.
I'm pretty sure I could compete against my dog if, uh, we could uh, possibly compete... if you see what I mean.
But seriously, se-ri-ous-ly, you cannot imagine all the stuff I can smell and could really do without.
The weird thing is, my brain automatically tries to identify the smell and so when someone is talking to me I'm now wondering what they just ate/drank instead of listening to what they are saying. Agh, the mysterious ways of the brain; I guess instinct gets the priority route, whereas cognitive gets second place.

I'm sure it's great once you get used to it, but right now, I'm NOT enjoying: food shopping, going to the market, pollution, any kind of handy-work, smoke, the 7 day deodorants they sell here, public toilets (even from afar), picking up my dog's poop, newly-packaged-anything, the to-be-sold-and-sacrificed calves and lambs showing up on along the roads and in front of malls in preparation for the Big Bayram.**

What next?! (if you don't know what I'm on about but would like to, read this)

** Big Bayram or Eid-ul-Adha: the Festival of Sacrifice celebrated throughout the Muslim world, "in commemoration of the command given by Allah to Prophet Abraham (may Allah be pleased with him) to sacrifice his first born son Ishmael to Him. The fulfilment [sic] of this noble command of Allah by Abraham signifies his faith in Allah (...) In addition, like the pilgrims in Makkah (Mecca), the Muslims, who can afford to do so, offer domestic animals, usually sheep, as a symbol of Ibrahim's sacrifice. (...) Some of the meat is given to the poor -- often one third. The rest is shared among the family, relatives and friends." (source http://www.religioustolerance.org/isl_feast.htm)


first trimester pregnant in Turkey side-effects smell pregnant

BB

Bad blogger…
I’ve been so caught up in other stuff I have not written… and the longer I didn’t write, the longer I didn’t write… it’s one of those things it just gets worse.

Not that there’s nothing to write about…. Just that it’s maybe not your typical bloggin’ material. Or maybe, in fact, it is.

See, it involves something kind of big and terrifically tiny.

Something very normal, so normal in fact that it happens everywhere and all the time, and now days, age is less and less of an issue. Yet, it’s extraordinary and life changing.

Normal and life changing. Tiny and Huge. Common and Extraordinary. Unique yet as old as humanity itself.

… I’m growing a person. Currently it looks like a bean. Inside my belly. One centimeter big but it’s a revolution.

How?
Well, physically; I have fever, my stomach feels like I’ve turned into Father Christmas and my intake of calories is impressive.
I can also tell you that some of those lady like manners, well, there are times, they just have to go. You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do… what can I say? It’s nature. And I wouldn’t know what beer belching is like – not a beer person – but I’m all for making yourself feel better when you feel like you’re going to burst.

The funny thing is, you just know something is up. I felt it happen believe it or not, I don’t care, hubs can testify.
I knew something had happened, the moment it happened.
Then I knew for a few weeks.
Then, I knew as I waited the minute or two for the Clear Blue test to tell.
And I knew as I drove to the doctor’s (ha! The gyno! I do have to tell you about that… maybe in another post).

And then, once you really know, (the urine test, the blood test, the ultra sound and the doctor have told you and you’ve kind of began to understand what is happening), you tend to forget.

So much so, that while you’re in the middle of reading a book, or getting out of a car, you suddenly think: “Why the hell do I feel so damn tired, and like I weigh a ton and a half?” And then it hits you: you’ve got a baby bean inside your belly.
You wake up in the middle of the night, your bladder calling and hungry, thinking: “You've got to be kidding! I had pasta 4 formaggi a few hours ago!”

What can I say, you’re sharing your body, your food intake & your disposable energy. It takes some getting used to. I guess it’s all part of the training.
I’m the impatient type, but maybe the 9-month period is not a minute too long.

Oh, the BB? You decide. Here are a few options:
Bébé
Big Belly
Baby Bean
Brigitte Bardot (ahem!)
Big Busted (did I mention that hormones do that to you?)
But(t) Babe (that's the food!)
...


pregnant first trimester becoming a parent

Rainy London Town

Oh, and by the way.... our pre-Christmas trip to London was super!
Lots of decorations everywhere so it felt like Christmas is on its way
Loads of people bustling and walking and shopping and drinking in the open air huddled below gas lamps (beloved invention!)
Ok, London is definitely getting more expensive every year and the £ dwarfing every other currency is clearly not helping...
But everything looks so lovely and yummy and tempting. From the crisp Thomas Pink shirts on Jermyn Street, the scrumptious oeufs bénédicte at Richelieu's, the gorgeous tea tins, cheeses, charcuteries, Foie Gras and assorted Christmas hampers at Fortnum and Masons to the mixed nuts, crisps, cheddars and white chocolate covered strawberries at Marks and Sparks, it was a feast for the eyes and a thoroughly tempting shopping experience. You've got to hand it to them, the English do have wrapping & packaging (both literally and figuratively) down to a tee. I wanted to take all of it back with me.

So enjoyed the oysters and Muscat and the fish and chips too (I recommend Randall & Aubin on 16 Brewer Street, W1, Soho London)
Portobello market in the rain and running for shelter in a pub with a dripping but merry crowd!

The Christmas stalls at Covent Garden and the handy Metro Tesco's everywhere.

It's a funny feeling going back to a city you've lived in. You know your way around; some of your landmark spots are thankfully still there -although they might have changed the branding on their coffee cups and the staff is now Albanian.
While it feels familiar it also feels different; one of your favorite restaurants has given way to a whole new block of glass office buildings their escalators wrapped in sparkling lights, the formerly colorful and spicy Indian is now empty and depressing, the once scruffy mall with the dingy, but well stocked health food store, has turned into a modern complex with smart boutiques and cafés, its previously grey facade is now bright-white and garnished with trees and benches, and the student hall you lived in has been converted into something different and undefined.
Strangely, it is the informal dealers like flower vendors that have kept their habits and venues. High-street shops and cafés have come and gone. Big brands have taken over entire buildings turning them into museum-like showcases that have become weekend excursion venues for the dream-hungry consumers... Among them, many no doubt, are working poor.

Some things, happily, are the same, no matter how many years go by.
The thick air in the tube stations, whooshing upwards and outwards as yet another train moves on; the persistent emanation of rancid and over-used oil, common to most larger cities; the familiar chugging of a Black cab making a turn; the merry "good night luv" as you climb out of your cab or leave a pub...

London town... nearly a decade since I lived there, and I'm thinking it's true; time does go by more quickly as time goes by.

Christmas London Covent Garden Yummy Expat Musing

Smoking post

A while back, I subscribed to Google alerts for all things relative to Turkey. At this time of year, on top of all the EU/USA/Turkey/Cyprus articles, I was flooded with links to “how to pluck and stuff a Turkey”, “juicy and tender Turkey”, “allergen free Turkey”....

One link I received in November read: “To quit smoking cold turkey is really a fantasy in the mind of most smokers”. I thought; "here we go again, another one making a business out of the alleged near impossibility of quitting smoking..."
So I followed the link and read a former smoker's account on how he quit smoking. I have to admit, the man is honest and anything but patronizing. I was especially empathic to his recount of how emotionally attached a smoker gets to smoking.

As a non-smoker, smoker and ex-smoker, I’d like to say that:

• there’s nothing rational about smoking (starting & stopping included). Most smokers and ex-smokers know and knew how bad is for them. Most smokers agree that it is unpleasant and stinky, hate the dependency and the social pressure. Nevertheless, many continue smoking. The pics on cigarette packs in some countries, showing cancerous lungs, rotten teeth and malformed babies, don't make smokers quit, in fact I hear they have become collectable items. Many adolescents swear they hate the fact their parents smoke but light up themselves a couple of years later. Most smoker-parents don't want their children to smoke.

• smokers really do have an emotional tie to smoking so using rational arguments to convince them to quit is at best going to get you a superficial, short-lived conscious acknowledgement that you are right

• to quit smoking you have to want to

• but the emotional implications for most smokers go well beyond will power. Because smoking becomes an extension of your identity; a smoker will smoke when happy and celebrating or when sad and depressed, when concentrated or when taking a break, when bored and waiting, when chilling out or stressed, when alone and with a crowd. Smoking gradually becomes a companion to any circumstance, in fact every circumstance, success or failure, crisis or triumph- because of all this, quitting involves a re-think your self-image (I am a non-smoker vs I am a smoker/ex-smoker constantly craving a cigarette) and of the actual act of smoking (smoking is unnatural/ an effort vs it's cool/natural/part of me). In a nutshell, your belief system needs to change.
  

• the following well-meaning statements are anything but helpful and only create unnecessary fear. “Smoking is…”:
• more addictive than heroine
• much worse for you than being a bit overweight
• one of the most difficult addictions/habits to drop
• like being on anti-depressants so we’re going to give you a Prozac-like prescription to help you quit

Hello?! Do you really think that the perspective of spending your saved-up not smoking money on a new wardrobe because you can’t fit into any of your clothes is motivating? What about the perspective of needing pills to feel normal again? I don’t think so.
Not only are these things so not encouraging they are also not true!

I’m pretty sure that –beyond the implications of rethinking your self-image- a lot of smokers would quit if they could magically just become non-smokers without any of the kickbacks. So telling them about how hard/ impossible/ horrible the stopping will be is really making sure they don’t quit.
How efficient can any undertaking be, when your mind fears the very thought of it? Not to mention the fear of failure.

Not smoking is natural, so your body will welcome it and it will be totally automatic. You don’t become a non-smoker. You return to being one. Hence, you will not loose a part of yourself – you were born this way.

I don’t want to make a case out of it, I know how annoying it was to me when people asked about my quitting. I know ex-smokers who never told anyone they quit and whose offices are smoking zones, because they did not want to become the annoying, pestering ex-smoker. I applaud this although I’m not sure I’d manage it.

All I’m saying is, if you’re a smoker, that’s ok. If you want to quit smoking, or even give yourself a break and say take it up again when you’re healthily retired, you can easily do it. Please don't believe that you'll necessarily go through hell, want to kill everyone around you, put on weight, or become depressed.
It’s easier than you expect and actually really empowering because after having heard how hard it is, you feel like a champ’ when you wing it.
And because it’s natural, you won’t put on weight if you don’t need to, because there is nothing to compensate.
If you want some support, you may want to try Quit Smoking Right Now.

(N.B. I am in no way linked to this person, I don't know him, and I am not benefiting from recommending him. I just found his "program" as easy as pie and inexpensive compared to all the outrageously priced systems out there which charge the equivalent of a year or two of smoking because they're helping you. Also, it's money back guaranteed.)

Quit-smoking Stop Smoking Smoking Addiction

Art Thou Art?

Art is different things to different people.

Some like to be swept off their feet by it, stirred deep within. Others expect art to be provocative and challenging; to comment or rebel thus carrying a socio-political mission. Others still, need it to be beautiful and pleasant to live with, or on the contrary represent nothing but another smart investment.
And of course, you may have all of the above expectations although probably not from the same piece of art.

Art, whatever your expectations of it, is spreading to/ appearing on/ using (all depends on your definition of art) more and more media, from the very mundane and practical to the truly innovative and weird. Theoretically, there's nothing new to this, in fact I'm sure every generation comments on how now-days art is no longer what it used to be and how can a can of beans/ electronic noise/ swirvy incoherent colors or dots/ be art?

DNAARTNAARTAARTARTRTT DNAARTNAARTDARTDNART DNADNAART NARADT ARTDNARTNDAA DNAART NARTAD AARTDN ADNAR TNARAD DNAARTNAARTAARTARTRTT

No intention of trying to define art. I just wanted to share an interesting concept I have come across, which in its form is commonly accepted to be art (a photograph, sculpture or painting) but is in fact a reproduction of individual human blueprints.

The stuff that not-so-long-ago showed tiny, if key, differences in between what makes a human, human and not a chimp. The stuff that enabled the cloning of Dolly. The stuff that in the movie Gattaca would allow you to choose your profession or lead you to a pre-defined destiny. The stuff you inherit and that if insurance companies have their way, will cost you loads in coverage that will no longer be prophylactic if they find you carry a cancer gene...the stuff that makes you, specifically, scientifically, you - your DNA.

Now you can have a portrait of your DNA in your living room! Or your partner's. Or have them sitting side-by-side.


It's innovative, it's funky, it's colorful and supposedly what makes you, you. Is it art?
DNA11.com or dna-art.nl


ART
DNA DNA-ART

Bond is back - not!

Just back from Casino Royale, the latest James Bond film - or not.

Funny, how although I am not a huge fan, I've somehow seen just about all of them... James Bond films have become such an institution that they've been on TV again and again over the years.

Anyway, back to Casino Royale; it's based on the first Bond book written by Ian Fleming, the one that never made it into film until now. The story is supposed to take place at the beginning of Bond's career and recounts his first mission as a '00. However, it's set in today's world with Albanian terrorists and money laundering in Montenegro.

Perhaps to avoid too many clashes in chronology, the story is not obviously linked to any key political context other than the bad guys being private bankers to terrorists, so the whole film is very much focused on Bond.
But a Bond with none of the trademark gadgets from Q, no nuclear or satellite bombs to be disarmed, no over-the-top evil villain nor hallmark flirtations with "Bond girls".
Gone is the refined, suave if slightly macho 007 we were accustomed to. No more sarcastic familiarity and twinkle in the eyes à la Sean Connery and Pierce Brosnan. In his place is a blond Bond, portrayed by Daniel Craig, who looks like a boxer (not the dog species naturally) and is a violent, ruthless and cold blooded killer (ok, he has a license).
His usual elegance has been replaced by clothes that look like he's walked out of a laundrette without doing the "press" cycle (except for the scenes in the casino). Dialogues with M (throughout) and a fellow spy (opening sequence) are cold and hard, with none of the usual innuendos.

So in the end, although the scenery of Montenegro, Venice and the Lago di Como is fabulous, the stunts impressive and the plot full of somersaults, it's no longer really a James Bond. It's a 2 hour and twenty minute long thriller, with a ruthless and cold-hearted, steal-eyed and brutal secret agent, who after each confrontation and his enemies dead, is left bruised and bloody, colder and lonelier than ever.

Bond films might have reached the end of their life cycle, but they were different from all the other action/thriller movies. James Bond was the world's most notorious secret agent, and his lines might have been out-dated and sexist, but they were unmistakeably his. Sure, he would punch and fight, but there was nothing gruesome about it. Now with Casino Royale, we might be at the beginning of Bond movies that are just like any other thriller.

Casino Royale James Bond

Istanbul

Istanbul was great.
We were there on our own, not playing guide to friends, nor sharing our stay with business related matters. Also, having been a few times now, we've been to all the main tourist must-see locations, so we could just wander as we pleased.

It felt like autumn - it was chilly and windy and leaves were falling- not spring-like as it is in Izmir. Don't get me wrong, I definitely appreciate the warmer climate, but it somehow feels weird for it to be greener than ever in November. So I enjoyed the wind and the leaves and the Istanbul autumn sun.

It was urban. What is that supposed to mean? Well, there are lots of different cafés full of people reading weekend editions, sharing brunch and a chat. The streets were busy, young and old, fashionistas and devil-may-care, students and families strolling, window shopping and sitting on benches. I love urban trekking; discovering the contrasting neighborhoods and districts of a city, its shops and cafés, museums and buildings, parks and squares, and people from different walks of life. Istanbul is superb urban trekking territory.

Wherever you turn, there's a feeling of history mingling with modern chaos. Old crumbling buildings, renovations going on, trendy shops and bars siding with older börek shops or incense vendors, entire shops dedicated to baklava and other honey coated pastries next to up-market deco shops, banks next to knick-knack vendors, mosques and ruins. Buildings from the nineteenth century are by far not the oldest. Some are in superb condition, other are a threat to public safety, especially in a region often visited by earthquakes. The fact that they have not managed to turn it into a homogenous picture perfect newly renovated postcard gives it a rough class in my eyes. It's still a mess, and far from the polished glamour so many cities of historical importance seem to ooze, but it feels real.

There's an air of creativity and vibrant energy. Cafés, jazz clubs, garden lounges, saunas and shops are sprouting where you would never guess to look; behind the doors of a crumbling building and shabby entrance lies a café in the premises once occupied by the Italian Labour Association (Società Operaia Italiana), on terraces, roof tops, in court yards, basements, dead ends, you name it. Istanbul is vibrant with (chaotic) life.

People have gotten their tushes into gear and are being very creative in making the most out of things. Better still, they are often doing it with taste and not in view of making a quick buck on a tourist's need for a toilet-stop. I don't mean to sound patronizing, but it's definitely a welcome change, and I fully appreciated it. There's loads to discover in Istanbul and the fantastic thing is you have to look for it, it's not just being served on a plate according to some proven marketing recipe. In this respect it kind of reminds me of Belgrade; both cities manage to preserve some form of authenticity amidst the trendy urban imports, which makes them all the more enjoyable. Perhaps working on a budget has something to do with it?

more pics of Istanbul


Kanyon Shopping Mall Urban Shopping Istanbul Review

Potato Pita

In utter despair of the heating ever coming on again, I resolved to try heating myself from within. No, not in a spiritual way, or by doing exercise, but via good old carbs.
I tried J. 's recipe of Bosnian Potato pita.

Although tasty, mine looked nothing like her pics.

If you can do this without the phylo pastry tearing when folding the pita into "loose cinnamon bun shapes", let me know!

Off to Istanbul for a few...

P.S. the heating is now working!!!

Cold and intoxicated

Since I'm on my own - hubs being on a business trip including most of the week-end - (lucky him) I've decided to share my oh so positive thoughts with, well, whoever is reading...

I am FREEZING!

It's 8° degrees INSIDE since the heating is not working.
Tomorrow, in my best Turkish, I will try to get it to work. I'm a much happier person with a warm tush. But tonight, I'm practically sitting in the fireplace.

Now, I know 8°C isn't that cold, but try sitting at 8°C degrees for hours and then tell me that it's not that cold. And yes, had we moved to Russia, it would be much colder, but when I was last there, the heating worked.

Thankfully, at the moment, the electricity is on, which means I have light, water, and TV! Hurrah! My standards are getting lower by the minute.

On top of that, my dog has once again managed to swipe a whole slab of Swiss chocolate, if you please. He is now having a hard time digesting it, resulting in a farting bout that is truly unfathomable. So not only is the air cold, it is also smelly. His toxicity also means I cannot let him be the warm and wonderful foot-heater he can be. Umph.

That'll do for now.
Tomorrow is another day....

living in Turkey smell rant farting dog

When it gets cold...

It's the time of year when it gets cold and the rain is swishing around on the roads and gathering into enormous grey puddles that splash all over the sidewalks and mingle with the seawater the waves have landed on the shore. But I don't mind, 'cause inside my car, the heating is on and Jamie Cullum's mellow voice sooths the air, my windscreen wipers are on full blast, and I feel warm and safe in a island of mobile warmth and cosiness.

...walking into a warm, heated home, where you can finally remove your shoes, scarf and coat, and your skin swells with pleasure and your muscles relax - it's just an unbeatable feeling, don't you think?

I love being inside under a warm blanket, with my thick, scruffy, pink socks and a cup of tea when it's stormy and pouring with rain.

I love how, no matter the cold and the rain, there is a place you can go, light a fire, turn the heating up and listen to some music. Doesn't take much, but it's enough to make you feel totally protected and isolated from the aggressive cold and wet just meters away. Mmhhh...

Which is why, when it's 15°C inside, the hot water is cold, and the electricity is out - the darn weather wins and you actually feel more exposed than you did minutes ago driving along the wet streets and looking forward to coming home. Doesn't take much but when it's not available, you really miss basic comfort!!!!