The ‘sinema’ experience

‘Yesssss, the film’s in English Madam’. Thank god. Didn’t imagine that the dubbed version of Inception would have quite the same impact. The unamused box assistant stared at me for a while after my small burst of joy and in a confused defence of dignity I stared back. What the hell is going on? Couldn’t bear it any longer. ‘One ticket please’. ‘Yes, I know’ she said ‘…but what seat do you want?’

Right then…il communicado there princess. There is no need to patronise me with your advanced laser-beam technology or whatever the hell it is that you’re pointing at.

Said item, is in fact a screen placed in front of the box office assistant, facing the customer, blinking colourful lights, while the assistant is sat further back in the shadows of inferiority. The hatred on the girls face now makes complete sense. I too would be a bit disappointed if my boss had chosen to place a computer at the forefront of the business over me. The computer only has one function: it helps you get a sense of the seating arrangements in the screens.

After 5 minutes of bad vibes, I headed toward the snack bar unsure if the receipt I was given worked as a ticket. A few seconds later, I got my answer. Yes. It’s a ticket, which you scan at a set of highly efficient barriers in order to continue your cinema experience. So far so good. I’m getting the hang of  it.

However, the snack bar cast clouds over this moment. No sweet popcorn!? What the…? This sucks. Salt it is then (reluctantly so). It doesn’t matter, because I’m excited about this film and it’s going to be very good.

The seats are brilliant. Like real armchairs, with no folding mechanism and mini lights at the side of each to show people what number it is, which is very considerate. There’s plenty of leg room too and people can get passed without me having to stand up.

Lights out.  Two trailers and some adverts later, the film begins, bang on time.

This is brilliant I’m thinking to myself. What a great story. Oh how much I’m enjoying myself…oh and this quite critical in the film and…

The screens cuts to black, the lights go up…”10 MINUTE BREAK” flashes on the screen.

Halfway through the film, right in the middle of a chase scene they stop the film for a fucking piss break.

I ask you, where in the world does this happen?

Turkey is the answer.

Ping pong

It’s been over a month since I jumped ship (temporarily, I think) and left the uncertainty of life in London, only to stumble upon loopholes in my personality in Turkey. Whilst the heat of hell may have something to do with these mild brain irritations, I’ve decided to blame all confusion on dual nationality. Just hear me out…

Speaking two languages has it’s perks: like being able to charm the local kebab shop in London with Turkish linguistics, thus securing a 20% discount for this ability; or like shaming the dark lords of tourism in south Turkey by tricking them into thinking they can scam an English speaking person, this time securing a 40% discount on chosen goods; or like having your friends believe you have a real skill.

The difficulty isn’t in the language but in the cultural ping pong played by people like myself when the two worlds collide. Imagine a boxing ring…red guy on the left, blue on the right. Someone usually wins and the other is struggling to stand. This is the challenge. I’d like both to win but it’s proving a bit too optimistic.

My mind is a jumble of two very different sets of knowledge and information, none of which will come in useful and even when it tries to, doesn’t quite fit right. ‘You’re not from around here are you?’ is the standard pity speak when I attempt to join any mildly interesting conversation- as I can not explain what I mean in Turkish clearly (same problem with English back in the UK). No. No I’m not but thanks for kick-starting my day with dread and isolation.

Life here is kinda like this everyday…lots of why’s and ‘ohhh’s and some ‘nevermind’s: it’s a constant analysis of who I am in a bid to try and help me become more Turkish and ignore some of the ‘British’ choices I made in the past that contributed to this awkward identity crisis. Sod it. I’m awkward.

I can get frustrated, angry or upset by the finger pointing…and sometimes I do. But frankly, It’d be much healthier all round if I could just share some observations of the ping pong game.

Onwards…