Cocktails and a cup-er-tea

“Why would we talk about the weather? In summer, it’s hot, in winter, it’s cold. That’s it.” And that was all our Turkish class teacher was going to say about the subject. Turkish people apparently don’t talk about the weather. I cannot blame them: between my arrival in the beginning of August and, say, halfway September, the weather has consistently been 30 degrees, dry and sunny. Indeed, not really food for conversation.

Gradual change of season doesn’t exist here either. One day you’ll wake up to find that autumn has arrived. This happened to me a few days ago. I welcome the rain though, since there has been a growing layer of smog (or at least: brownish substance) hovering above town. It’s true that urban pollution makes for great sunsets (something to do with the sunlight hitting the pollution particles and being reflected, I guess), but it also makes one’s lungs go black and one’s nose go blocked. Therefore, it’s good that it rained, because that takes the pollution out of the air. On the other hand: not sure if it’s necessarily a good thing when the brownish substance comes down.

Since Ankara has a land climate, it has warm summers and cold winters. Therefore, weather can’t always be stable. At some point it must change. And it does. Overnight. They don’t do gradual change of season here: one day you’ll wake up, and suddenly summer has turned into autumn, as it did a few days ago.

The weather really invites to curl up in a chair with a warm cup-er-tea and some nice reading material on… violence against women, honour killings, or hate crime. Yes, the human rights portfolio is very interesting, but also a bit of a depressing one.

Luckily, work is not all about reading: it’s also about networking. I run to formal dinner, to reception, to social drink. I’ll speak English, French, and “show off” my baby-Turkish. I’ll get home with a stack of business cards. The other day, I went to a very nice dinner/reception at someone’s house/residence, to eat/network/drink/network/socialize/network. I spend hours chatting to diplomats and ngo’s, standing near the cocktail bar (which I only later discovered to be a cocktail bar – darn) and admiring a beautiful view over the biggest park in Ankara. When I had left the party and was waiting for a taxi, I thought I was off duty. But no: seconds before getting into the taxi, someone started interviewing me (‘Are you Swedish? – No, Dutch. –Do you work on human rights? –Yes. –Is X still working at the embassy? –No, she left. –Can I give you my business card then? –Alright.) and pressed a business card into my hand.

Yes, it’s all very glamorous, diplomatic life. The evenings, that is. In the morning, I just go back to my office with malfunctioning climate control, with my cup-er-tea and a report on gruesome human rights violations.