I've returned from an exhilarating weekend in Bursa. The weekend was rather short on politically relevant realizations but long on Turkish cultural immersion, which I guess is probably worth something. I have a newfound appreciation for Turkish hospitality, which is truly incredible. The following is a chronicle of Turks being hospitable for absolutely no reason.
When we decided we wanted to go to Bursa for the weekend, we talked to a guy living in our building who's from there, hoping to get some recommendations about what to see. He told us that he was actually going home for the weekend and he'd love to help us get there, find us someplace to stay, and show us around the town. He then started calling friends in Bursa to get various family members shuffled around so that we could stay at someone's house instead of paying for a hostel. We've known this guy for maybe a week.
We elected to take a bus the entire way, which was by far the cheapest option. Murat ended up having to stay in Istanbul for a few hours later than our bus, so we went alone. Various Turks befriended us and chatted with us along the way. The most notable was one man who, discovering that my interests were primarily in the Arab Middle East, told me that Turkey was better, because Arabia had been occupied by the West for so long that the Arabs think English, while the Turks still think Turkish. My mental response to this was "Oh, you wacky nationalist Turks." We'll return to this later.
We arrived in Bursa without Murat (he'd been held up in Istanbul and wouldn't be able to join us until the next morning) and without any idea what we were doing. Immediately after stepping off the bus, however, we were greeted by three very enthusiastic Turks named Selman, Taner, and Eyup who said "Americans? OK!" and took us into town. We entered Eyup's house like the Janissaries taking Constantinople, where we were welcomed with a smörgåsbord of alcohols (by which I mean Efes, apparently the only beer available in the entire country, and wine) bought by Taner's cousin Orhan (to review, he's the cousin of a friend of a friend of our acquaintance).
After talking late into the night the topic of sleeping arrangements arose. The Turks were intending to have all of us sleep in Eyup's room while they slept elsewhere in the house. We expressed some concern about their comfort, but Selman assured us they would be fine and that there were plenty of couches and chairs and whatnot for them. The situation became somewhat murkier, however:
When we decided we wanted to go to Bursa for the weekend, we talked to a guy living in our building who's from there, hoping to get some recommendations about what to see. He told us that he was actually going home for the weekend and he'd love to help us get there, find us someplace to stay, and show us around the town. He then started calling friends in Bursa to get various family members shuffled around so that we could stay at someone's house instead of paying for a hostel. We've known this guy for maybe a week.
We elected to take a bus the entire way, which was by far the cheapest option. Murat ended up having to stay in Istanbul for a few hours later than our bus, so we went alone. Various Turks befriended us and chatted with us along the way. The most notable was one man who, discovering that my interests were primarily in the Arab Middle East, told me that Turkey was better, because Arabia had been occupied by the West for so long that the Arabs think English, while the Turks still think Turkish. My mental response to this was "Oh, you wacky nationalist Turks." We'll return to this later.
We arrived in Bursa without Murat (he'd been held up in Istanbul and wouldn't be able to join us until the next morning) and without any idea what we were doing. Immediately after stepping off the bus, however, we were greeted by three very enthusiastic Turks named Selman, Taner, and Eyup who said "Americans? OK!" and took us into town. We entered Eyup's house like the Janissaries taking Constantinople, where we were welcomed with a smörgåsbord of alcohols (by which I mean Efes, apparently the only beer available in the entire country, and wine) bought by Taner's cousin Orhan (to review, he's the cousin of a friend of a friend of our acquaintance).
After talking late into the night the topic of sleeping arrangements arose. The Turks were intending to have all of us sleep in Eyup's room while they slept elsewhere in the house. We expressed some concern about their comfort, but Selman assured us they would be fine and that there were plenty of couches and chairs and whatnot for them. The situation became somewhat murkier, however:
Us: So you guys are sleeping upstairs?
Selman: Yes. Upstairs.
Us: You've got someplace to sleep?
Selman: Yes.
Us: Beds?
Selman: No, there are no beds.
Us: Couches? Chairs?
Selman: Well, no, there are no couches. I will sleep in a chair... Actually, there are no chairs, but the floor is very comfortable.
As we'd met these gentlemen only hours before, the prospect of them sleeping on the floor while marauding Americans slept on beds and futons horrified us, and we protested. There was a terrific culture clash wherein American notions of privacy and unobtrusiveness manifested as our insistence that we'd sleep on the floor, in the hallway, or whatever, and clashed against the Turkish compulsion to honor guests, which likewise manifested as the Turks' insistence that they'd sleep on the floor, in the hallway, or whatever. In the end we split the bed and futons in the room between nationalities and crammed all 10 of us in. It was rather crowded but there was a strong sense of having come to a successful cultural compromise.
We awoke in the morning rather cramped and uncomfortable (the inevitable result of any cultural compromise). Selman informed us that Murat wouldn't be coming to Bursa at all due to some financial situation (a satisfactory explanation of this required more English than Selman possessed - all we know is that it involved Murat overseeing or regulating something and a loud sucking noise, which Selman made repeatedly in the apparent expectation that we would know exactly what he was talking about). To review again, we would be hosted for the remainder of the weekend by the friends of a very new (and very absent) acquaintance. Having settled this we took to the streets of Bursa.
We awoke in the morning rather cramped and uncomfortable (the inevitable result of any cultural compromise). Selman informed us that Murat wouldn't be coming to Bursa at all due to some financial situation (a satisfactory explanation of this required more English than Selman possessed - all we know is that it involved Murat overseeing or regulating something and a loud sucking noise, which Selman made repeatedly in the apparent expectation that we would know exactly what he was talking about). To review again, we would be hosted for the remainder of the weekend by the friends of a very new (and very absent) acquaintance. Having settled this we took to the streets of Bursa.
Incidentally, I figured out why there are no trash cans in Istanbul.
They're all in Bursa.
Our Turkish compatriots took us to see all the major historical sights of the city, including the tombs of Osman and Orhan, and finishing with a trip to one of the local hamams.
I have no idea what's going on with my mouth there. Whatever. Good times were had by all.
As we left the hamam the Turks informed us they had a surprise for us - dinner with Taner's family. We figured, hey, why buy a döner on the street when you can get a free döner at someone's house? Man, we had no idea.
We arrived at Taner's house and ascended through five floors of his extended family to the rooftop. We then got stuffed fuller than at any previous point in our lives. There were maybe seven courses of food, each of which could have been considered a full meal by itself.
As we left the hamam the Turks informed us they had a surprise for us - dinner with Taner's family. We figured, hey, why buy a döner on the street when you can get a free döner at someone's house? Man, we had no idea.
We arrived at Taner's house and ascended through five floors of his extended family to the rooftop. We then got stuffed fuller than at any previous point in our lives. There were maybe seven courses of food, each of which could have been considered a full meal by itself.
It was pretty overwhelming.
The others were staying for another night, but I wanted to return for a peace rally being held in Istanbul on Sunday. Selman, Eyup, and Taner all walked with me to the bus stop and waved me off. As I was riding back I found myself thinking about the guy on the ferry who told me that the Arabs think English and the Turks think Turkish. I now feel like I have a pretty good idea of what 'thinking Turkish' entails - making any guest feel like a member of the family (if not visiting royalty).
But what is thinking English? In Cairo I was often offered tea by a merchant, which was pleasant, but the cost of the tea was usually added to my purchase, or if I decided to buy nothing, the merchant would exclaim, outraged, "But I offered you teaaaaaaa!" Now, granted, this capitalized concept of hospitality may be unique to tourist-ridden Egypt - my few days in Jordan were an absolute delight and I got free tea in a variety of hilarious circumstances. But then, Jordan wasn't ruled by Britain nearly as directly as Egypt. In Egypt, where Western imperialism was perhaps the most long-lasting and deep, hospitality is not an end in itself but a means to achieve greater profit.
But what is thinking English? In Cairo I was often offered tea by a merchant, which was pleasant, but the cost of the tea was usually added to my purchase, or if I decided to buy nothing, the merchant would exclaim, outraged, "But I offered you teaaaaaaa!" Now, granted, this capitalized concept of hospitality may be unique to tourist-ridden Egypt - my few days in Jordan were an absolute delight and I got free tea in a variety of hilarious circumstances. But then, Jordan wasn't ruled by Britain nearly as directly as Egypt. In Egypt, where Western imperialism was perhaps the most long-lasting and deep, hospitality is not an end in itself but a means to achieve greater profit.
Is this 'thinking English'? If so, why on Earth do the Turks want to become more Western?
No comments:
Post a Comment