Happy Birthday, Self!

Last week I turned 23, but no one here knew it. I didn't really have the heart to tell everyone - "Guess who has two thumbs, a vestigial tail and a BIRTHDAY TODAY?" - so instead I explained to a couple of colleagues what Groundhog's Day was like, and how cool the Bill Murray movie was. Because it's funny and science fiction.

(It's like this with all holidays. Thanksgiving and even Christmas passed without much ceremony, because no one here knows about them. I was surprised how much I'm dependent on Christmas music, decorations, and A Muppet Christmas Carol to really recognize the holiday. My family would ask if I was lonely, and I would tell them I forgot what month it was.)

I got a call from the Fulbright program that day. They wanted to check to see if the information on my Turkish citizen number was correct. "And, by the way, Happy Birthday. You don't look 28." I agreed, and said I look either 23 or 45, depending on the beard. But I soon learned that the Turkish government has my birthday recorded as February 2nd, 1983. Since the mix up hasn't caused any trouble yet, I've decided to let them think that as I inform my insurance company to cut my monthly bill in half.

So instead of a party I bought a bus ticket to Erzurum, where a few other Fulbrighters had gathered to watch the 2011 Winter Universiade, which is the Winter Olympics for college students who are not participating in the concurrent X-Games or who have chosen to continue with their college hockey season instead of joining the American team. America did not have a strong showing. I know, because I went to the women's hockey semi-final between America and Canada. We lost 7 to 1. And all the Turks were chanting for an eighth goal.

(We, and for that matter everyone else, were not as bad as the Turkish women's hockey team, who lost all games by double digits, including a 32-0 game against Finland. I learned this from the British women's hockey team while watching the half-pipe finals. Obviously, they were extremely beautiful, and had great teeth.)

Along with gold medals, a stuffed version of the double headed eagle mascot was given to winners.  I swear, I saw the Russian hockey team cradling them.

Since Erzurum is in the extreme eastern area of Nowhere, there were not many spectators. Mostly Turks and participants. Thus, everywhere we went, people thought we were athletes, and were hopelessly disappointed when it turned out we were English teachers. However, when we never said anything, we got free bus rides, Pass Go cards through security, and even free tickets to the men's hockey gold medal game, which was almost as exciting as the women's.

At one point, bolstered by previous successes and the overall laxity of Turkish security (I think we were the only ones who bothered to buy tickets for the mountain events), I tried to push my way past security to a VIP area. When stopped, I took off my hat and pointed to my blonde hair. "AMERICAN," I said. "DON'T CARE," the guard said. So I put my hat back on and told him my friend Brobama was going to hear about this.