More on Islam, plus a life update

I got a triple dose of Turkey’s Muslim culture all at once yesterday, as within 15 minutes after arriving at Ankara Kalesi (Ankara Castle, the 9th-century Byzantine walled section of the city) I asked Bengü about head scarves, heard my first call to prayer, and saw my first circumcision party. Fortunately, the last of these did not involve actually seeing a child being circumcised. Muslims (or at least the Turkish ones? I’ll do my best not to pretend to know anything more about Islam than I really do, here) circumcise their boys at around age seven or eight, and the process involves dressing the poor child up like a little prince in a sparkly cape and feathered hat, parading him around (this was the part I saw) and giving him lots of presents. Actually, as I write this, I am looking at a framed studio portrait of my host brother Hazar in just such an outfit, complete with silver cane. (I got Hazar’s bedroom.)

As for the head scarf question, Bengü explained that many Turkish women wear head scarves, and the number is increasing because the current government looks on it favorably. Then last night we were sitting on the balcony having tea (I’ve had more tea in the past two days than in the whole six months before that, all out of ince belli bardaklar, Turkish hourglass-shaped glass teacups) and a woman in a head scarf walked up the path to our apartment building. Nursen Hanim made a scoffing noise and Bengü explained that her mother doesn’t like women like this, because they wear their head scarves as a political statement, not a religious one. Their family, it turns out, are secularists (I learned the word for secularism, layiklik). There are a lot of interesting things that could be said here about Turkish politics and religious/secular identity, but I think I will save it for when I know more.

And as for the call to prayer, if I sleep with my window open (a good idea, as there is no air conditioning), the 4 a.m. one wakes me up. I sort of don’t really mind, because it’s actually quite beautiful sounding, even though it is blared from loudspeakers. I wonder if it’s really a muezzin (is that what they’re called? I‘m sorry if I‘m totally wrong) calling it, or a recording? Probably a real person, right?

Life update: My Turkish continues to be terrible but gets less terrible almost hourly. Yesterday I saw a lot of Ankara with Bengü and some of her friends (and Hazar, who was our driver), which was pretty fun. And most important, Turkish food is really amazing. Seriously, come to Turkey and eat. Breakfast is assorted cheeses, bread, olives, tomatoes, honeys and jams with tea. I was told that’s how it would be before I came, but I somehow didn’t believe it til I tasted. It’s the best breakfast possible (except maybe, maybe grits with bacon. Maybe). For dinner tonight Nursen Hanim made red lentil soup, bulgur pilaf, a salad of snap peas in olive oil, stuffed grape leaves, homemade pickles, and sliced tomatoes and cucumbers. And then when I was doing my homework she brought me cherries. I’m glad the heat suppresses my appetite, otherwise they’d have to roll me onto the plane at the end of the summer (although all this food is pretty healthy, I guess).

Speaking of Nursen Hanim, almost every conversation with her is like a mini train wreck, as I continuously fail to understand her or convey my thoughts eloquently in Turkish. During dinner I may or may not have accidentally led her to believe that not only do I have a fiance, but he has cold feet. (Yeah, don‘t ask. It started off as an innocent conversation about Bengü‘s engagement and then all of a sudden I was the one who was engaged and trying to explain to her why I didn‘t know when my wedding would be.) Her response: “Afraid to marry a beautiful girl like you?! Dump him!”