day iki

Nothing like waking up to a drill through your headboard. Yes, day 3 here in Istanbul starts with an unpleasant jolt out of my Tylenol PM coma. I mean, I get that hotels need maintenance, but let's not allow people to stay in the room directly above the one where glass must be thrown against itself, burrows must be drilled, and hammers... hammered at nine in the morning! C'mon, people!

Ahem.

Yesterday was full of excitement. I requested to do a mini workout in the morning--dynamic moves, stretch, abs, and band work--in an effort to get some of the jet lag gunk out of my body before the practice with the team later that evening. Our assistant coach Gokhan picked me up and took me to the club's training facility, built solely for the volleyball program in 2003 by Eczacibasi--pretty sweet.

.....Let's take a timeout to get this word right, because it is important and not easy. In fact, I've been mumbling it over and over each day in the corner of my teeny hotel room, rocking back and forth (okay, not really.....but kind of). Turkish pronunciation is different, and they even have some additional letters including o, s, i, c, and g accompanied by little tics in various places, of which my sleek Toshiba keyboard can't handle. The "i"s in Eczacibasi shouldn't have a dot on top, which means they are pronounced "uh;" the "s" has a tic underneath, pronounced "sh;" and the "c" is like a j as in "jelly." Okay, ready? ....Ej-za-juh-ba-shuh.... Now, commence with the rocking, keep repeating, and you'll get it!

Anyway, Gokhan showed me around, let me do my thing, and upon serving me his "famous mocha" (no chocolate in Turkish mochas, just a unique steeping process), we gushed over our shared passion for coffee. I also learned more about Eczacibasi (Good job!) and pro clubs in general, especially the fact that most in Europe are set up like club programs in the states. I guess the word "club" never gave that away for me--nice, Trac. There are multiple developmental teams within the Eczacibasi system including youth, junior, and senior level teams. There is a lot of overlap, though. In fact, we have 30 plus women mixing with 18-year-old on our top, senior team!

After going over setting calls and signals, he drove me back to my random, taxi-drivers-don't-even-know-where-it-is hotel and I had lunch in the perpetually empty restaurant downstairs. I stuck to the same simple meal--salad, chicken, rice--so I'd be well fueled for my first practice. Lena, the team manager, and her boyfriend picked me up for practice, but stopped at Starbucks on the way. Having always avoided delicious coffee treats right before practice, I actually opted out of a free coffee drink, grabbing a bottled water instead.

While there we ran into two of my teammates-to-be (remember, up until this moment I was a secret!), and one of them happened to be the young one, Nesh, I was meant to replace. I was a bit surprised by their genuine smiles and positive energy as we exchanged hellos. Upon sitting down, they spouted off in intense Turkish and wild facial expressions (Nesh has big eyes like me), but Lena assured me that they were just talking about the match last night (an important one, of which they lost in four sets). Later, Nesh and I laughed about my hair as I adored her purple boots, and as if time stopped for a moment, I fell in awe once again of the faithfulness of God. The night before I had be praying for a positive encounters with my new teammates, especially with her.

We arrived back at the gym, where I met Beppe (Guiseppe Cuccarini) our Italian head coach. Beaming a contagious smile, he welcomed me in broken English. Lena then led me into....duh duh duh...the locker room. It was pretty awkward at first, but, hey, that makes sense. Who the heck is this new frizzy chick, anyway--thinkin' she can come onto our team mid season and shake it up? Shoot, team dynamics are fragile and change is often shocking, so when the elder Serbian middle Vesna introduced herself, I totally respected it and laughed along with everyone else.

"I am Vesna," she said. "Super middle."

So we geared up. It felt good to pull on my kneepads and strap in the ankles again! It's also funny that Nancy and I are the only ones to wear spandex to practice. Everyone else wears gray, cotton basketball shorts and no active ankles or tape. The team went to do a few lifts before the "recovery" ball practice would commence. Beppe called me over to warmup with one of our male trainers. "Couples," he said--which is the term here for pepper. Okay, so I won't go into all the details, but let's just say he kicked the poo out of me. It was like a 20 minute tryout burst of intense peppering, two coaches vs me on defense, and block footwork. I was red, heaving, and thirsty. Ha! It was great, though. I was still full of joy during the whole thing--not even kidding. My poor body was disintegrating, but my mind wanted to go harder!

I may have arrived here a little rusty on finesse, but I didn't arrive out of shape. I was glad to notice I recovered well during the rest of practice, not getting out of breath again. The free hitting was decent. Balls to the chest was the norm, as my jumping felt pretty good. I do need to stay off the net and get that quick timing back. All in all, practice went well, and I know I gave it everything I had!

There are many differences in how things are run out here compared to what I'm used to or what I expect. For example, players don't shag or hand balls--it's just not expected or desired at all. I find myself ready and wanting to, but also I don't want to offend by stepping out. Also, I was shocked to see how many balls fall while professionals just watch them or make only a half move. There was a lot of encouragement given among teammates, "Bravo!" and our trainer Dani's 3-year-old daughter (who speaks 3+ languages) seems to be the center of joy for everyone in the club. She weaved among players during our pre-practice huddle and ran out water bottles to us during stretching and warmup. I've never been one to gawk over other people's kids (yeah, believe it or not), but I'm making efforts to share in this joy with them. :-)

After practice, Nancy and I slapped on three bags each of blocked ice, showered, and made our way across the Bosphorus after practice with USA teammates Angie McGinnis and Heather Hughes. We met up with other Americans playing in Istanbul, a couple of the USA men's players and our other USA teammate Ogonna Nnamani, for a Super Bowl party, even though the game started at 1:30 am and most of left before. It was a lot of fun, and it was there that I savored my first (and second and third?) strogwafle from Holland.

...Now it's as if the persistent hotel workers are drilling into my skull. Time to go. Time to eat. Time to pray for 3:30 to come sooner.