Prince Albert.

I can only say that it was about time for a compliment yesterday on my Turkish. This may be the hardest thing I've ever done, living in a place where I cannot totally communicate with those i came to do just that with. The Turkish language is so hard for me, but I'm pressing on. BUT...yesterday i hadn't met with my language helper in a couple weeks and she made a comment on how my language was improving! She had invited herself over for tea! So my first day in the apartment, i went and bought a tea pot and put on my hostess apron--not really, but i do have one, don't you worry. (smile.) The compliment was a treasure to me seeing as how the week had already gone as far as language was concerned.
Earlier this week, we were ordering food from a nearby restaurant (everyone has these little motor bikes--including McDonald's--that they will deliver to your house, if you can give them enough information to find your house, that is.). So we're ordering dinner. We saw the delivery man--i won't reduce him to a delivery boy--drive by the apartment and from where we were on the balcony, i couldn't tell but am quite sure he had a confused look on his face. He made a few doughnuts in the street, but then turned and headed back to the restaurant. I had to call them and figure out how to tell them our food had come and gone and never made it into our hands! I couldn't figure out quite how to get this out...so in the process, i ended up calling and hanging up on the restaurant twice. Yes, that's right. Not once, but twice. My mom or dad, i can't remember which, used to tell me stories about how in the olden days, they would call grocery stores and ask, "Do you have Prince Albert in a can" and the reply would be yes. Prince Albert was some kind of brand of food sold in a can, i assume. When the reply was yes, they would say, "well, let him out then." Yes, that's right. Because of my Turkish, i have been reduced to a prank caller. Go figure. I'm working on it.
While I've humbled myself to share these language blunders with you, I'll share another. This week, I got a new pair of shoes. Everyone here wears Converses, so i got a white low top pair. I'm convinced they make me look more Turkish. The first day i wore them, i was with my language teacher at the phone company and a lady came up and asked me to help her fill out her form because she had forgotten her glasses. My teacher kindly told her i was a yabanci (yuh-ban-jee) (a foreigner) and she would be glad to help her. Any who, back to how i got the Converses. I bought a size that i realized was too small earlier this week. I didn't realize they were too small until I got home; however. So i went back confused on whether a size 5 1/2 was a 36 or a 35 1/2. In Turkey, there is no size 35 1/2. I was sure there was. I was sure an American size 5 1/2 (yes my feet are miniature)= European size 35 1/2. There actually is no size 35 1/2. I learned this. I tried on a size that fit perfectly convinced i knew it was a 35 1/2. I went to the credit counter to do the exchange. My shopping vocabulary is not the best, i knew: "exchange...i want to do this". i went back to the man who was helping me and told him i wanted the 35 1/2. He kept telling me there wasn't one. I told him, i had just had them on my feet minutes before. Finally after little discussion and much pantomiming, I realized the obvious, that there is no size 35 1/2. I needed a size 36, I had tried on a size 36, and he had a size 36 that i could exchange for. I was so embarrassed. I had tried to very insistently in broken Turkish tell him that size 35 1/2 certainly did exist, I had just tried it on in front of him, and i wanted to buy it. Help! One day, there will be a day when I get it. So, you see, the compliments really were needed this week.