Writer, EFL teacher, trainer, and translator, I was born in Tanzania, have lived in a dozen countries over three continents, and describe myself as an ‘expatriate sin patria’. Wherever I go I make it my business to learn the language, get to know the local people and customs, and discover the country’s remotest corners. I became interested in writing in mid-2006, did a short Open University creative writing course and a Writers’ Bureau course, and began getting articles published in 2007.

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‘See you at Friskis!’ Kris said.

Some of you have heard about my fitness group, Friskis and Svettis. Today, I simply didn’t feel like going, but how could I let my buddy down?

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‘What to do in Ankara if you come from Istanbul.’ That was one of the first presentations offered by the participants at the Turkish Ministry of Foreign Affairs where I was training recently. They had they audience in fits. Apparently Ankara is such a dump, that the only ways people from Istanbul can survive are a) hit the shops, b) hit the bars, c)hit the station and get a train to Istanbul every weekend.

Well, I was in Ankara for three weeks, and I wasn’t particularly interested in hitting the shops or the bars. And Istanbul was simply not practical:

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To see some photos of my time in Ankara, click here:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=115252&id=664241054&l=7e08daf47c

I would love to spend another three weeks in Turkey - not working!

Yesterday, after work, I was asked by a Turkish calligrapher to do a voiceover for his next exhibition. I'd never done a voiceover before in my life, but the text was so beautiful I couldn't refuse. Here it is:

No one knows dancing like him. Swirl, lift, dip. The routine continues. Swirl, lift, dip.
This is what Osman Sahin does to relax. Dance. But he is no choreographer, he is a calligrapher—one who has mastered the art of Classical Turkish-Islamic calligraphy for over twenty-five years. He calls his calligraphy style “the dancing of the pen.”
His eyes, eagerly glued to the paper, anticipate his next move. His hands lift with each pen stroke, gliding to the rhythm of his breath, rising with every new thought and slowing to the pace of his heartbeat.

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