An Example of Turkish Generosity

Sometimes the people here in Turkey make me feel like a terrible human; they have a social level and a generosity that is beyond me. I will try to explain, using a story as well as pictures, because some of us are visual learners. I'm an olfactory learner, so I just had to be there to get it.

Last Sunday a few friends and I wanted to go to a hamam (Turkish bath). We were walking in that direction when we decided to stop for a short lunch. This was maybe around noon. Then, around four, I realized I was still smoking hookah and playing backgammon with the cafe owner. What happened, you might ask. I ask that same question every time I shake my eight ball. And all it says is, "Maybe."

The people here in Turkey are gracious beyond words. Basically, Ur, the owner, offered to teach me backgammon. Then he had his waiters continually bring tea and coals for the hookah. The pace here in Turkey is dialed down to 3 on a scale of 3 to 10. When I got anxious about making it to the hamam, Ur said, "Do not go today. Tomorrow, come back here, and I will take you to my hamam." Of course he said this in Turkish, and it took my group probably three minutes to translate.

(Not only did we get the hamam invite, but Ur also invited us to be his guests that night, watching the rivalry match between Turkey's two big football clubs. When we came back, all but a few of the tables had been taken out of the restaurant, and the chairs had been arranged in rows facing a projector. Ur still gave us a table and served us dinner. After the game, when his workers were mopping the empty floors, Ur served us tea and would make vague comments about how handsome I was. I don't say this to emphasize my good looks, but to stress that Ur and I had a relationship that almost made me uncomfortable. When we walked together, he put his arm through mine, which is a common practice in Turkey but in America it is something we call gay.)

On Monday we came back to Ur's restaurant, and after some tea (there is always tea), he ushered the girls in our group into his car, and had one of his waiters run two blocks to flag down a taxi for the guys. It seemed like a normal task to the waiter.

The hamam itself wasn't a 15th century marble building - it was in the second basement of a Mall of America type building. It wasn't much to look at, but when a 250 pound mafia don-esque masseuse is trying to rip the skin off your back, you're not really looking around. Since I still don't speak much Turkish, the masseuse gave up talking and started slapping me when he wanted me to move. Ur came in a couple times to check on me and talk to the masseuse. I finished maybe ten minutes after everyone else, which makes me think that Ur requested the special "Extra Pain" option.

But take a minute and consider - this man took two days off to cater to a group of punk American twentysomethings; he gave us free food and tea, and then took us to a Turkish bath. He adopted us, for no reason at all, other than hospitality is in his culture.

When we finished, we all went back to Ur's cafe to play more backgammon. After our games, Ur was quiet. Suddenly he said something, which our group's sole Turkish speaker interpreted as, "He said he will miss you the most," pointing to me. We laughed, and Ur spoke again; "He said you think it's a joke, but he's serious." At this point I was confused, because all I did to communicate with Ur over these two days was use funny faces and charades. I was a little embarrased, so I made another funny face. Ur smiled and said something else, to which our translator said, "I'm not exactly sure, but I heard 'Cass' and 'donkey.'"

Draw your own conclusions.