Fortune Telling and Get to Know You Games

On Sunday, Mark (the only other American at my university and thus the guy I'm confused for all the time - we all look the same) and I were invited to dinner by a trio of giggly girls. This is one of two groups in my conversation class who behave like thirteen year old teeny boppers. Besides being in their thirties, I guess this isn't out of the ordinary.

Sevda invited us to her house for dinner with her and her husband, and sisters Selma and Gushen helped prepare the meal. I know these names for a specific reason.

The week before, Sevda had invited me to lunch with her and the two sisters. While in the car, I discovered that all three girls loved LOST, and we compared favorite characters (Jack - don't make me BARF) before Sevda said, "The ending, it was not - suitable." When I tried to share how I felt about it, she cut me off with. "It was bad."

Anyway, while I was chewing my kebab at lunch, Sevda leaned across the table and said, "What is my name?" I heard her but acted like I didn't understand. I was stalling, because I had no idea. She knew my game immediately, and tried a different question. "What's her name?" she said, pointing at Gushen. I had to shrug. At that point I knew she was going to ask about Selma, too, whose name at the time I had no idea about, and there was nothing I could do to stop her. It was excruciating, until one of them accidentally called me Mark.

After dinner on Sunday (where Sevda dumped, no lie, half a pan of fried anchovies on my plate and told me not to worry about the bones), we sat in the most ordinary Turkish living room I've seen yet and had Turkish coffee. This stuff is thick, like one of those disgusting health smoothies, and leaves dredges that you're supposed to be able to read fortunes from. Like tea leaves, if tea leaves looked like the throw up of a dog that ate a black rubber bone.

Sevda took my cup and sat across from me. Eventually she started telling my fortune, with the sisters helping at certain points. It started out tame (you miss your family, you will have visitors soon, you will know fear - that last one was in a demon voice), but as it went on - and it went on for a good fifteen minutes - she started to get bolder and bolder. It became a Turkish version of MASH, that childhood game that told you where you would live and who you would marry. It turns out I'll get married in Greece in five years, before studying French in Paris. I don't want to bore you with the details, but I will say that I am psyched about retirement - ON THE MOON! I tipped her two lira to predict that last one.

I'll Be There In Two Months

To celebrate Thanksgiving, a good majority of the fifty Fulbrighters in Turkey are gathering in a couple of cities and having dinner. They even have actual turkey birds, which took quite an effort to track down. I was excited about attending one of these dinners until I learned that Van is at the end of the universe and in order to get from the end of the universe to the Black Sea or western Anatolia you must pay hundreds of lira. That's why there are so many people in Van. They can't afford to leave.

However, one of my students, Ahmed, invited me over for dinner. He had no idea it was Thanksgiving, and I had no idea what his name was (I actually don't know many of my students names, but people here always call me Mark, after the other American in Van. Some people call me Cats).

Ahmed is in his late sixties, and so is his wife. The first thirty minutes of my visit were set aside for photo albums. Ahmed showed me his three daughters, as well as his three grandchildren (triplets of his eldest daughter and her Spanish husband). It was odd to see him in that context. In class, I only knew him as the older opinionated guy who would not shut up, who when I tried to cut him off would speak louder to finish a point. But I found out that he was not only a grandfather, but a cuddly old man. From pictures. I found that out through pictures.

Ahmed is Kurdish, like 90% of the people in Van, and his wife served us a traditional Kurdish meal until the third time I said I was full. She didn't eat - she hovered, until one of the two plates were empty, and then laid down more meat.

You can't just have dinner here. They won't let you leave before you have tea, and tea usually takes an hour or two. Two, with Ahmed. He did most of the talking, and it was actually quite fascinating - he talked about his family, which has 1000 people in it. No lie, unless that's a translation error on his part, and I don't think it is. I wrote out the number '1000' and he said, "Yes, one thousand." He talked about Turkey's problems. At one point his neighbor Hamdi, an Iranian, came over, and we talked together. Hamdi had the cutest little girl with him, who everyone kept referring to as a boy. Turkish people have a lot of trouble with third person singular pronouns - in English we have he/she/it, but in Turkish there is only one article for all three - so I didn't think anything of it. I told Hamdi how cute his little girl was. It turned out it actually was a boy.

After two hours of tea, I was ready to go. Actually, after one hour; it's a pleasant strain to communicate with someone with the level of English Ahmed has. However, as I got my coat on, he went into his room and came back with a traditional Kurdish scarf, which he gave to me, and he said, "If you ever need anything, call me, and I'll be there in two months."

It was quite sweet, if confusing.

Then, as I was finally leaving, Ahmed opened the door and there was Hamdi, with a plate of anchovies for me. Ahmed clapped his hands and helped me take off my jacket. He told me I couldn't possibly leave now.