This is life.... in Turkey.

In the 3 weeks that I have been in Turkey, I have been told that I am beautiful, quite possibly, more than I have been told so in my entire life.

Great.

Who doesn't like being told they're beautiful?

I'm just not always sure it's genuine.

Not to say that people are secretly calling me hideous behind my back, rather that Turkish culture seems to be kind of obsessed with the idea of beauty.

Like, of all compliments, the one a woman would most like to hear is that she is beautiful.

Not intelligent or charming or charismatic.

Just beautiful.

I have been introduced to new students as the "new teacher who is also very beautiful".

I have been told by my students that I "have a great accent", that I am "energetic and fun", but these compliments are always followed by "....and of course you are so beautiful."

People also like commenting on my beauty to Ryan.

Again, it's not like I hate being called beautiful.  It's always a nice thing to hear. 

However, I don't think my physical appearance really has much to do with my teaching abilities.

And I like to think that my boyfriend is with me for at least a few reasons other than how pretty I am. 

It's a different culture.

And I knew going into it, that being a woman would be a very different experience in Turkey than it is in other areas of the world where I have lived and travelled.

And for the most part, Turkey has surprised me.

Before I left home, I did quite a bit of reading up on what it was like to travel and live in Turkey as a woman --

A lot of people warned against it.

A lot of people gave strict lists of what women can and cannot wear.

And a lot of people gave advice as to how a woman should act towards men.

Apparently all of these people need to chill the fuck out.

I'm sure it helps that Ryan and I are usually together, but I never feel unsafe here.

I can wear a tank top or a dress that shows my knees and... drumroll... no one cares.

And, while our interactions are limited due to the language barrier, the people here have been so kind and hospitable.

I guess it's just little differences that I notice.

I get a lot of strange stares when I am running in the park.

Maybe it's because I'm the only person running.

The number of strange stares escalated the day I wore shorts.

So now I wear pants.

And the one night that I went out to run errands while Ryan was at school, people seemed very skeptical of the fact that I was out alone at that time of night (approx. 8pm).

So maybe, from now on, I run my errands during the day.

And the "you are so beautiful" thing.

Worse things have happened.