Turkish Man Night

Last Friday I was in my office, attending to important business - I had to repel the Ottoman invasion of Colorado, on the video game Age of Empires III. Often my co-workers will stop in briefly and remark about how hard I work. "It is true," I say, hiding my computer screen. "But if not me, then who?"

I was creating villagers to harvest wood when Murat, a Turkish grad student in the English department, came in and sat down. I quickly shut my laptop. It turned out that Murat was bored, and after he asked to watch me play Age of Empires III (how did he know?), I said, "Maybe you would like to go to town?" He stood up immediately. "Yes - we go."

This was around lunchtime. Murat and I had already agreed to go to Akdamar Island together, where there is an old Armenian church, on Saturday (see picture on the right, of Murat, myself, and the famous trash can). As we walked out of the English department, I knew what going to town with Murat meant - this meant sleepover.

In my few weeks here in Van, I have discovered a trick I like to call the Trap Door Sleepover (TDS). Basically, as you and a friend recline in a tea house, or walk through town, maybe ride the bus together, or share a meal, at one point the friend will say, "I insist you stay with me tonight." I'm not sure about Turkish culture, but sleepovers for me went out of style after Billy the Blue Ranger left for the water planet in the original Power Rangers (think 1996). However, it is still very popular among twentysomethings here.

Murat's only roommate is Memed, who is a police officer in Van. Turkish police officers must serve two to four years in eastern Turkey, where, apparently, no one wants to serve because of either the violence or the boringness, I couldn't get a straight answer. Memed spoke no English, but one thing was clear - he was getting engaged on Saturday. I told Murat that in the U.S., before marriage a groom's friends would hold a bachelor party. Memed liked this idea.

We kicked off the night with warm bologna pizza, cold fries, and oversized chicken nuggets. It was what Memed wanted. Then we went back to their apartment to watch the Eurocup qualifying match between Turkey and Germany. And we did it like men; Memed prepared the hookah, and Murat boiled more tea than was healthy to drink. We watched that match from cushions on the floor, smoking Arabic tobacco and drinking more tea than it's possible to pee out in four days. I'm still feeling the effects.

At one point in the match (after a German of Turkish descent, Mesut Ozil, scored on Turkey - "Traitor," Memed and I agreed), Memed had to let his fiance into the apartment, and they went back to his room to talk about the engagement. An engagement in Turkey is more of an agreement between families, where the two families gather and promise certain things to one another. After the door closed, I asked Murat what the Turkish phrase for "man card" was, but we could not come up with anything that carried the same weight. When Memed came back, I let him off easy with a "are-you-serious" stare.