All posts in Turkey

  • Gollum and Erdogan. Erdogan and Gollum.

    If you follow Turkish politics at all, you may have heard that a rather fantastical case is going through the Turkish courts right now. This is the trial of a Turkish doctor, one Bilgin Çiftçi, who is being tried on the charges of “insulting the president” for posting these absolutely heinous photographs on facebook.

    Sourced this blown-up version from news.com.au, who sourced it from twitter. All the versions I could find in Turkish newspapers were very small.

    Sourced this blown-up version from news.com.au, who sourced it from twitter. The non-blown up photo is also available in many Turkish newspapers.

    As you can see, these photographs compare his eminence, Turkish President Erdogan, to the power-hungry, corrupted, swamp-dwelling, broken English-speaking Lord of the Rings character, Gollum.

    There is no resemblance. Like, at all. We all know Erdogan doesn’t live in a swamp, but in a glorious palace that cost loads of money, all of which he definitely deserved.

    ANKARA, TURKEY - OCTOBER 28 2014: A general view of Turkey's new Presidential Palace. (Photo by Volkan Furuncu/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images) Source: Huffington Post

    ANKARA, TURKEY – OCTOBER 28 2014: A general view of Turkey’s new Presidential Palace. (Photo by Volkan Furuncu/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images) Source: Huffington Post

    Ah well. Dr. Çiftçi has already been fired, and rightly so. Now the only thing left for the court to determine is whether his, frankly scandalous, conduct should land him in jail for two years.

    Of course, if Turkish courts are about anything, they’re about due procedure and making sure that everybody gets a fair trial, so instead of jumping the gun and just throwing that low-life Facebook-sharer in prison, the judge admitted that he hadn’t seen the Lord of the Rings movies and ordered a panel of, erm, Gollum experts in order to determine whether Gollum is a good guy or a bad guy.

    Seriously. Why spend tax-payer dollars on this? Just throw that guy in prison already!

    The panel will apparently be composed of “two academics, two behavioural scientists or psychologists and an expert on cinema and television productions.”

    This may actually derail the case against this doctor, as fortunately for him Tolkien tended to write characters with actual psychological depth. Gollum is one of these, and although he has already been corrupted by his desire for the ring throughout the books, many of the other “good” (and formerly good) characters including Bilbo, Frodo, and Saruman fall into the same trap. It is also Gollum, ultimately, who is responsible for destroying the ring as Frodo balks at the last second. Alright, he didn’t mean to. But can you really say that he was worse than Frodo, at the end?

    Anyway, we shall see what this ‘panel of experts’ will say. You can read more about this here, including some interesting details about freedom of the press in Turkey.

    Also, I don’t want this post to be in any way miscontrued. I would never insult Erdogan. President Erdogan definitely only closes newspapers and blocks webpages that tell lies about him. His quest for truth is truly a true service to society. All hail Tayyip. You’re the greatest. The end.

  • I Would Be Humiliated!

    I was back in Istanbul this week visiting some friends. One friend invited me to his family’s house for dinner, where I was asked an intriguing question.

    “What’s the most difficult thing about Turkey?”

    For a moment, I was at a loss for what to say, both because no Turkish person has ever asked me that and because there are a lot of things I find difficult in Turkey.

    I could have talked about some of the more global problems in Turkey – corruption, women’s rights, the huge political divisions, and so on. In the end, however, I answered that what was hardest day to day were my own personal encounters with culture shock. Not knowing how to behave, whether to wear slippers, what it means when somebody buys you things, what you can say about Turkish culture as a foreigner, and so on.

    So that’s what I said. “Well, there are a lot of things that are difficult about Turkey, but on a personal level it’s mostly just culture shock. For example, men always buy me meals here. In Canada, that would probably mean something romantic, but here the culture is different so I never know how to behave when it happens.

    Friend’s brother-in-law said, “Oh yeah. One time in university, I had a friend who was a girl. She was just a friend – we weren’t involved or anything. One day after class we went out for tea. I had enough money for one tea and one bus ticket home. But I paid for both the teas and because I didn’t have the money for the bus, I had to walk three hours to get home.”

    “Then another time, I had another female friend who I also wasn’t involved with. We went out often and I usually paid for the tea, but one day she paid for it. Later on, I asked a guy friend of mine how he would feel if a girl paid for his tea. He said, “I would be humiliated!”

    After hearing this story, friend allowed me to pay for a tea for him. If memory serves me correctly, it was the only thing he let me pay for. Also, note the composition of this photograph.

    After hearing this story, the friend who had invited me to dinner allowed me to pay for a tea for him. If memory serves me correctly, it was the only thing he let me pay for for the whole week. Also, note the composition of this photograph. The chipped nail polish, the messy tray in the background, the fact that it is clear that I took this with my cell-phone camera #thisisreallife #onlyreallyterriblemakeup #nophotoshop #Iwouldbeaterribletourismtravelblogger

  • Chicken Soup for the Lesbian Soul

    This post is about one particular area of culture shock that, no matter how much time I spend in Turkey and with Turkish people, I still find challenging.

    I’m not talking about lesbianism, which I will get to later. I am talking about hospitality culture, and particularly, about when Turkish people buy me stuff. It’s not that I have any problem with people being generous, or with hospitality, or with people being happy that I’m there. All of these things are lovely.

    What I find difficult about Turkish hospitality culture is that its rules are totally different from Canadian hospitality culture. It’s like learning a new language. Moreover, unlike actually learning a language, there are few Turkish culture teachers who have also spent a lot of time immersed in Canadian culture that can instruct me on the finer points of how to feel and behave when people (read, mostly men) offer to buy me stuff or just buy me stuff without allowing me the space to politely refuse. My cultural codes play constant interference in my head, and I always struggle with making the same assumptions about gifts in Turkey that I would make in Canada.

    Oh Canada / my home and native land / your cultural norms / the only ones I understand.

    Oh Canada / my home and native land / your cultural norms / are the ones I understaaaaaaaaand.

    Here’s an example: in Canada, if a man asks you out, there are tacit codes for about how much money he can spend on you before it becomes clear that you are very interested in him romantically. The last time I went on a date in Canada, I think I let him spend $10 on me. This is low, but it was a first date and I was entirely unsure about my own level of interest, so I didn’t want him to get any ideas.

    If, however, I had allowed him to spend $30 or $40 on me, I would practically have been obligated to give him a second date, and if it had been more, he probably would have expected me to sleep with him that night. I would be allowed to refuse, but it would be considered greedy to do something like that and we likely wouldn’t continue seeing each other.

    However, if I were interested but not ready or willing to have a physical relationship, I could keep the amount of money I allowed him to spend low, perhaps pay for the second date, and by the third date have a frank and honest conversation about our mutual expectations going forward.*

    In Turkey, the first time I went out with a guy, I made it very clear beforehand that I wasn’t romantically interested in anything because I was only there for two months, and he told me that he was living temporarily at his parents’ house because he was between jobs. From my perspective, considering the fact that he didn’t have a job, and because I didn’t want him to think that I was romantically interested, we should choose cheap places and both pay our own way, right? Wrong. He paid for everything, including a fair amount of alcohol (which, relative to the Turkish cost of living, is like liquid gold.) I felt quite badly about how much money it was, and I remember him saying to me, as I made noises of protestation, “you’re a guest in Turkey,” and then “it’s basically impossible to say no to things in Turkey.”

    He was right. I have now been in this situation countless times, and I usually can’t say no. Each time, I am very thankful for the generosity but I normally feel a bit guilty as well.

    I also have trouble distinguishing between what is regular “you are a guest” gifts and what are “I like you romantically” gifts. In some ways, it doesn’t matter, because it is difficult to say no either way. Eventually I realized that the only way I can deal with this is to be clear about my expectations, be careful, and accept gifts graciously and thankfully. Then, if somebody turns out to have other intentions, I can politely tell them that I was telling the truth about what I was and wasn’t looking for.

    Easier said than done, however. I still find myself doing things to mitigate how guilty I feel about people buying me things. So, when a Turkish guy invited me out here in Georgia, I suggested we go to a place that I knew wasn’t that expensive so that I would feel better about him paying.

    Unfortunately, when we got there it was temporarily closed. He said, “Hey, I had sushi last night and it was really good. I’d be happy to have it again – do you want to?”

    In Canada sushi is not particularly expensive, so without really thinking about it, I said, “Sure, sushi sounds good.”

    Big mistake. When we got to the sushi place I looked at the menu only to realize that the sushi was approximately three times the price of Canadian sushi. So I said, “Oh, I didn’t realize it would be so expensive.”

    And he said, “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t invite you to an expensive place and expect you to pay.”

    Welp. Here we go again.

    I told him that he could order because I couldn’t even order food that expensive for myself, and he did the honours. The sushi came (it was the best sushi I have ever had) and he started making racist comments. I can’t even write them down because I don’t want to make my Turkish friends who read this blog angry.

    Shit.

    Finally, I said, “You know, I don’t agree with what you’re saying and I would prefer to talk about something else.” We changed the subject, tucked into the sushi, conversed, whatever. I already knew that me and this guy were not going to be friends, so I couldn’t act remotely flirtatious. Just politely friendly.

    Midway through the meal he said, “You know, you have a lesbian soul.”

    I said, “What?”

    He said, “I can tell you’re a lesbian.”

    I said, “I’m not a lesbian.”

    He said, “No, I promise you that you are. I have a lot of lesbian friends, and you act exactly like them.”

    I thought, “When you say “lesbian friends,” do you mean women who don’t find you attractive? Or are they actually lesbians?”

    I said, “well, I’m not a lesbian.”

    He said, “No, seriously, you are definitely a lesbian! If you want, tonight we will go out to the club and I will buy you a prostitute and you can try being with a woman. I guarantee you that if you are just with a woman once you will not want to go back to men.”

    This was preposterous. I made a face as if I were seriously considering it.

    He said, “See, you are not grossed out!”

    I said, “I’m afraid I might have to refuse your offer. I don’t like the idea of paying for sex. Also, I’m not a lesbian.”

    He said, “What’s the problem? You won’t be paying, I will be.”

    Did I feel bad when he paid for 40 American dollars’ worth of sushi for me? No, no I did not. Did I feel obligated to see him again? Also no!

    The ladies in Bend it like Beckham are as confused as I am.

    The ladies in Bend it like Beckham are as confused as I am. Although I am neither a lesbian nor a Pisces.

    On a side note, this is not the first time this has happened to me with Turkish men. The other three times, I politely refused a man’s offer to take me out only to have him ask, “what, are you a lesbian?” as though it were the only possible reason I could possibly refuse to spend time with such a stud.

    I always have to bite back the urge to say, “not usually, but your Mom is special.” In Canada, it would be a mild burn. In Turkey, it might get me beaten up.

    *The amounts differ depending on the relative income brackets of the two people going on a date, and there is a threshold where you cannot safely assume romantic intent, which is usually about the cost of one coffee or beer.

  • Going Viral or How I Try to Give Slippers the Slip

    I have a cold. I’ve had it for a little over a week. No need to be concerned – it’s a small thing, a little throat scratchiness and a bit of fatigue at the end of the day. Nothing major.

    How did I get this cold? A virus, obviously. But not according to everybody I seem to meet. For them, I have this cold because I am cold.

    This is actually an Ebola virus, not a cold. But it looks cool, doesn't it?

    This is actually an Ebola virus, not a cold. But it looks cool, doesn’t it?

    In Canada, I walk around in bare or sock feet all the time. In Turkey and the Caucasus, a mark of a good host is that they will give you slippers upon entering their house. These are often cheap plastic affairs of the wrong size, sometimes with a high heel, and I am more comfortable without them. Usually I accept them out of politeness, take them off at the earliest opportunity, and then forget to put them back on. At some point somebody usually notices.

    Host: Hey, you aren’t wearing any slippers! Did my mother not give you any?

    Me: Oh, ah, uh, yes, slippers. Well, you see, in Canada we don’t actually wear them. Not that much anyway. She did give me some, but I just forgot about them. It’s a small and insignificant cultural difference, but I really prefer not to wear them. No problem.

    Host: But, you are going to get cold.

    Me: No, I swear I’m not cold. I’m perfectly comfortable.

    Host: Yes, you are going to get cold, and then you are going to get a cold.

    Me: No, don’t worry, I won’t. I won’t get a virus from not wearing slippers.

    Host: You don’t get a cold from a virus, you get it from being cold. Here, I’ll go and get you some slippers.

    Me: I guess I’ll just get them myself.

    At the end of this conversation I feel like I am spitting on my hosts’ hospitality by not wanting to wear slippers; believing that their guest is doing something unhealthy in their home and not doing anything about it might make them feel as though they are a bad host or as though it is their fault that I have fallen ill, and I don’t particularly want them to feel that way.

    (Oddly, this concern does not extend to smoking, which has been known to cause far worse chronic and potentially lethal respiratory problems, but hey. Cancer, chemo, cold, chicken soup – they all start with ‘c’ so they can’t be much different.)

    Anyway, I also don’t want to create more work for my hosts by making them chase me around the house with my neglected pair of slippers. So usually I put on the damn slippers and then forget about them again, and then I do the same dance at every place I go to in the hopes that I will eventually be able to get away with my rebellious discalceatism.

    When I finally did get a cold, I had another version of this conversation.

    Host: Didn’t my mother give you slippers? You must have gotten the cold from walking around on the cold floor.

    Me: No, it’s a virus. I’m sure of it. Canada is very cold and we don’t just all have a cold all the time. I’m definitely sure it’s a virus.

    Host: No . . . I’m sure. It’s because you’re cold.

    Me: Okay, fine, I’ll wear the slippers.

    I have given up on convincing people of the scientific impossibility of colds being related to actually being cold.* If the fact that I am from one of the coldest countries in the world, have lived in a city that was regularly -40 in the winter time, waited every day for the bus in said temperatures and did not perpetually have a cold does not convince them, I’m not sure what will.**

    *Obviously I can recognize that being extremely cold and having hypothermia will compromise your immune system and make you more susceptible to catching cold, but inside it is always above 17 degrees.

    **This anecdotal argument is actually a logical fallacy, but it is not only me. All Canadians do not spend from October to April with a cold. I am confident that these results could be backed up with science.

    photo by:
  • The Cult of Ataturk

    The first time I came to Turkey to live, I was living in Izmir. Life in Izmir was a constant barrage of Ataturk paraphernalia. People had decals of his signature on their back windshields, tattoos of it on their arms, and pictures of him everywhere – on the wall, on cell-phone cases, on their transit cards, key-chains, you name it. Reading a book about Ataturk in public got me many approving comments and people would stop walking to comment and show me their tattoos/keychains/cell phone cases, etc.

    Once, while at the beach in Cesme I saw a woman splayed out on the beach, blond hair seductively spread out on her towel. Her bathing-suit area was barely covered by a black bikini. She had Ataturk’s signature tattooed on her pelvic bone, angled towards her vulva like a Freudian exclamation point.

    This is an Izmir transit card. The writing says, "Oh Turkish youth, your first duty is to preserve and defend Turkish independence and the Turkish republic."

    This is an Izmir transit card. The writing says, “Oh Turkish youth, your first duty is to preserve and defend Turkish independence and the Turkish republic.”

    From other people, I heard about a fancy dress display in Izmir where the dress on the right was a big Turkish flag and the dress on the left had a giant decal of Ataturk’s face.

    Ataturk's face on a Turkish government building in Istanbul

    Ataturk’s face and signature on a Turkish government building in Istanbul. Izmir is the epicentre of the Ataturk fan base, but his cult extends into many other parts of Turkey.

    This was just my introduction to the Cult of Ataturk in Turkey. Izmir is the epicentre of this, but Ataturk’s popularity ranges far and wide among people of a few different political stripes. Although these people are predominantly secular or secular-ish, the range of their political beliefs can include everything from hoping for Turkey to become more aligned with European ideals (yea) to virulent Turkish nationalism (and it’s bastard child – hating Kurds and Armenians) (nay).

    “But I don’t know anything about Ataturk!” you say. Here is a crash course, because I am less here to talk about the history of Ataturk as I am to talk about his current legacy in Turkey. Mustafa Kemal Ataturk was a military leader who became the first president of Turkey in 1923 after securing military victory against the Allies. He is known for implementing a series of reforms in Turkey. This included changing the writing system of the Turkish language to the Latin alphabet and proposing new ethnically “Turkish” words to replace Arabic or Persian loan-words; secularization of the government and country including banning religious-based attire; and providing civil rights for women.

    Sounds okay, right?

    Ataturk also was a major figure in the Turkish nationalist movement, which gave Turkish people a great common identity but was less beneficial for some other groups living in the former Ottoman Empire, such as Greeks. Much of the “Turkification” of Turkey can be attributed to Ataturk’s efforts, and people who espouse his ideas int he present day are known as “Kemalists.”

    Let’s get back to the matter at hand. When I talk about “The Cult of Ataturk”, I’m not being hyperbolic. As one friend from Izmir explained to me,

    “Back when I was still a believer [in God], every time I imagined God he had Ataturk’s face. And it wasn’t just me. I’ve spoken to other friends about this and they’ve said the same thing.”

    I already believed her, so imagine how unsurprised I was when I had a similar conversation about a month later.

    “We, in Turkey, we need to go back to what it was like under Ataturk – not with any of this Kurdish people playing the victim stuff. When I was a kid, Ataturk was like GOD!

    Ataturk postcards I picked up in North Eastern Turkey

    Ataturk postcards I picked up in North-Eastern Turkey

    A few weeks before this, I had been to the Ataturk mausoleum in Ankara with another Turkish friend. This mausoleum is, no joke, like a Greek temple of the gods, all pillars, statues, polished stone, gardens, and carefully tended grandiosity. We got there late in the afternoon and weren’t able to go into the museum. My friend said, “too bad we couldn’t go into the museum. The last time I was there, and I could see all of Ataturk’s things and his books, I – I really felt something.”

    Ataturk Masoleum

    We got there right at closing time, and soldiers were shooing people out. I snapped this picture as a soldier stared daggers at me for not moving fast enough. Usually, this area is full of throngs of people.

    The other part of the “Cult” part of the “Cult of Ataturk” is most Turkish people’s unwillingness to criticize him or his legacy, even just a little bit. Another friend in Izmir told me,

    “Ataturk is such a huge figure in Turkey, and people treat him like he was beyond reproach. Even my friends are like this. For instance, I think Ataturk was mostly a good guy – but human. He did some good things, but he wasn’t perfect so he did some things that also weren’t that great. But I can’t even say that.”

    Another friend said,

    “Turkey in general is very conservative, but in Izmir there is another kind of conservatism – that is, Kemalism. People just aren’t critical and the devotion to Ataturk prevents people from seriously examining their attitudes.”

    If you don’t believe these people, allow me to show you several screenshots or comments from a blog post that called Ataturk a “benevolent dictator.” To me, this seems fair, as the word “dictator,” applies to anybody who was not democratically elected, no matter how good at governing they are . . . right?

    According to these comments, wrong. Here is one where the person took it rather personally.

    Ataturk Comment 1

    Here is my favourite. Somehow, this ‘anonymous’ manages to hate Racists, Kurds, and Armenians all at the same time! I can only dream of one day reaching such impressive levels of hypocrisy!

    Ataturk Comment 2

    Of course, may of the comments on the site are quite reasonable, and you can read them for yourself. However, most of them are much more reactionary than the post deserves.

    The Problem with the Cult of Ataturk

    It bears saying that I fully support when people are fans of Ataturk because of the good things that he did. Even I think women’s rights and having a secular state are a good thing, and there is no doubt that many of Ataturk’s reforms were beneficial to Turkey in general.

    However, Ataturk is also a powerful symbol of the Turkish Nationalist movement, and I have something of a fraught relationship with the ideology of nationalism in general. At best, nationalist movements can gain rights for people who lack them. At worst, nationalism can create division or violence, particularly when people belonging to two (or more) previously not-so-clearly delineated groups begin to use a particular identity in order to make claims about how another group is a very bad thing, or when one clearly delineated group decides that another clearly delineated group should become exactly like them.

    To add to this, nationalism is difficult to define. In the Turkish case, does being proud of speaking Turkish count? Listening to Sezen Aksu? Eating breakfast for an hour every morning?

    When I write about nationalism in Turkey, I am not simply writing about appreciation for Turkish national culture and language, but rather about cultures of ‘us’ and ‘them,’ specifically regarding Turkish people and Kurdish people. A common attitude that I have observed among Turkish people is this: Traditional non-Turks that toe the line and act like Turks are fine, of course. Kurds, however, are not fine because (and I quote somebody I met) “Turkey has given them so much and then they complain.”

    (Again, it bears repeating before I continue that they are many fabulous wonderful Turkish people who are not like this at all, some of whom read my blog – guys, I don’t mean you!)

    But for those who do think this way, the argument goes like this. Turkey, in its benevolence, gave Kurdish people Turkish passports and the chance to be Turkish (wasn’t that nice of them?) Kurdish people don’t work hard enough and have way too many babies, so they’re poor. If they complain about the fact that they are poor, they are just ungrateful whiners. Some Kurdish people aren’t poor, so that must mean that Kurdish people in general could just be exactly like Turkish people if they would only pull their socks up and behave like proper Turkish people. This includes speaking Turkish, acting Turkish, and calling themselves – you guessed it – Turkish. Also, there are lots of poor Turkish people, which de facto means that things are definitely not worse for Kurds in general in Turkey because if Turkish people can also be poor, discrimination is obviously not a problem.

    What is especially frustrating is that many of the Turkish people I talk to don’t understand that their frustrations with Kurdish nationalism are a result of their own Turkish nationalist ideas. In the words of one friend,

    “I really hate Turkish nationalism.”

    Later,

    “I cannot even believe that Kurdish people want to take their government oaths in Kurdish.”

    If you aren’t a nationalist, why would it matter what language people took their oaths in???

    I am not particularly exaggerating the tone of this discourse. And while I think things get thornier when we talk about the PKK (the Kurdish rebel/terrorist army, depending on who you ask) because they actually engage in combat and I don’t think killing people is ever a good thing, some of the things that people say about Kurdish nationalism seem like non-issues to me. So Kurdish government officials want to take their oaths in Kurdish. If you’re not nationalist, it shouldn’t matter . . . right?

    None of this can actually be said to be Ataturk’s fault, as he’s been dead for nearly 100 years. Ataturk’s legacy, on the other hand, is a major contributor to this as Ataturk advocated for the Turkification of Turkey. And instead of allowing Turkish people to be critical of this “True Turks act Turkish” ideology, the cultish nature of Ataturk’s legacy means that people who express doubts about Ataturk’s ideology or legacy are likely to be lambasted in by similar comments to the ones found in the article I linked to earlier.

    Another problem is that Kemalism positions itself in opposition to strong religious factions in the country. One person said to me, “I don’t love nationalism, but I think it might be the only way to work against the conservative religious factions that are gaining power in Turkey right now.”

    The only way? It was astonishing to me, coming from a country whose national narrative is basically multiculturalism, that he didn’t envision a middle ground.

    Free Speech and the Cult of Ataturk

    “Insulting the Turkish Nation” and insulting Ataturk’s legacy are illegal under the Turkish penal code, punishable by up to three years in prison. YouTube has been banned several times in Turkey, allegedly because some people have insulted Ataturk in the comments. Nobody likes to be insulted, but what is this? Could this post be seen as insulting Ataturk’s legacy? As a Canadian, I am unlikely to be tried in a Turkish court, but could I be denied a visa for writing this kind of thing? I don’t know and I hope not.

    And here we are today!

    Today there are parliamentary elections in Turkey, and I have my fingers crossed into knots that Turkey will elect somebody good to parliament.

    These elections are taking place in order to try and correct a snafu that Turkey has been dealing with since the last parliamentary elections five months ago. During those elections, Erdogan’s party failed to secure a majority, which meant that they couldn’t form the government unless they were supported by another party. Everybody got very excited about the possibility of a coalition, but none of the parties were particularly willing to share the toys in the parliamentary sandbox. Because there was no government, a new series of elections are called.

    My hope is that, instead of people sinking further and further into their respective political corners, pointing fingers and screaming “You’re the bad guy! I’m the good guy!”, making it difficult to come to any sort of meaningful compromise or even form a parliament, Turkish people will elect good leaders today, leaders who will work together for some kind of unity within the country for Turkish, Kurdish, secular, and religious people alike. It’s a high hope, to be sure, but maybe not impossible.

    Polls have closed now, so I’m off to look at the news. Have a good day everybody!

  • Azerbaijani Culture II: Do Azerbaijanis Eat Pork?

    In Turkey, it is common to hear about how similar Azerbaijanis are to Turkish people. Azerbaijanis also talk a lot about these similarities, and many Turks and Azerbaijanis alike consider Turks and Azerbaijanis one ethnic group. “We are like brothers,” I’ve heard many say, “we are both Turkic peoples. We understand each other.”

    It isn’t a preposterous claim. Azerbaijani is generally mutually intelligible with Turkish, although noticeably different. And like Turkey, Azerbaijan is, ostensibly, a predominately Muslim country. Unlike Turkey, however, Azerbaijan spent over 70 years as part of the Soviet Union and, before that, much of the 19th century as part of the Russian Empire. So when I ask, “really? Are they really the same,” people say things like “Yes, but a little more Soviet. Cool people in Azerbaijan, really. But really very much like Turks.”

    The view from my window, a red star hearkening back to Azerbaijan's Soviet past.

    The view from my window, a red star hearkening back to Azerbaijan’s Soviet past. The number underneath the star is 1929.

    Arriving in Azerbaijan having been fed a great deal about all the similarities, I was expecting Azerbaijan to feel very similar to Turkey. This was not the case. Azerbaijan feels more like Turkey’s cousin than its brother. Observing in which ways it reflects Turkish culture and to what extent time spent as part of two different Russian Empires has influenced the way of life gives rise to some curious situations.

    Which brings me to this question: do Azerbaijanis eat pork? In Turkey, I have never seen even the most ardently secular of my friends touch a piece of pig-flesh. Some have told me things like this, “I’m a staunch athiest and I think Islam is a terrible influence on Turkey and the world in general, but I don’t eat pork . . . for cultural reasons.”

    In Turkey, I wouldn’t have a clue where to go to get a piece of pork, and although this food anthropologist says that there is one place to go in Istanbul, it’s pretty clear that it’s an out-of-sight out-of-mind kind of dealio. Basically, even though you can buy pork in a very few places in Turkey, it is pretty hush hush and eating or selling it openly might even qualify as a political statement or demonstration of some kind.

    (And what kind of sick person would even consider eating pork when it could undermine the most munificent sultan of Turkey, Tayyip Erdogan’s, status as the moral conscience of Turkey?)

    ANYWAY, I was surprised during my first walk in Azerbaijan to see this shop. In case the pigs on the sign and the porcine carcasses in the window are not enough of a clue for you, the sign says “Pig Meat” in Azerbaijani.

    Pork Azerbaijan
    I’ll take things you wouldn’t see in Turkey for $100 monsieur Trebek.

    Later that day I arrived at my first Azerbaijani grocery store. Looking around the cold cut section for some sucuk, I was astonished by the variety available. As I stood there, I spied an imam shopping the same section a few metres away from me. He picked up different types of sausage, and put them down. I continued perusing the selection and all of a sudden it dawned on me. Some of these sausages had labels in Cyrillic. They were the same sausages that they sell at the Russian store next to my place in Canada. And I was sure that about half of them were made of . . . duh duh duh . . . swine flesh.

    I looked around to see if I could see what the imam had chosen in the end, fully prepared for the irony of seeing him drop a nice juicy moskovskaya kielbasa in his basket. Unfortunately, he was gone, probably with some halal option after all.

    I started looking at the ingredient labels to confirm my hunch. Turns out that I was right. They sure sell a helluva lot of pork products here in Azerbaijan. After reading a lot of ingredient labels, I can tell you that a bit less than half of the sausage in this picture contains pork, and lots of it was manufactured in Azerbaijan itself.

    IMG_3018

    That evening, I went out with an Azerbaijani fellow. I wanted to know more about the culture of pork products in Azerbaijan. And so I led with a sure-thing kind of question: “Do Azerbaijanis eat pork?”

    He said, “No.”

    Then, “Azerbaijan is a Muslim country.”

    “Oh,” I said, surprised. “I saw a lot of it around so I thought that they might eat it.” I showed him the picture of the pork butcher I’d seen earlier. He seemed as surprised as I had been at his response. “Where did you find this?!”

    “Just…on the road. And I also saw a lot in the grocery store.”

    “Well,” he said, “mostly Azerbaijanis don’t eat pork. Only when they’re not paying attention to ingredient labels maybe.”

    I didn’t push the issue; I only thought “they must not pay attention a lot judging from the amount of pork on the grocery store shelves.”

    I decided to ask somebody else. She said “Well, in our meals we don’t typically eat it, but in sausage we do. Everybody knows that pork makes the best sausage.”

    So there. Do Azerbaijanis eat pork? Yes, yes they do. Unless they don’t want to, I suppose, as there are many halal options available. Unlike in Turkey, it is not particularly stigmatized.

     

  • Honey, I Trusted You

    Real or fake?

    Real or fake?

    A few weeks ago, I found myself in the east of Turkey, quite literally on the road to Damascus. And while I wasn’t struck blind and motivated to turn my back on Phariseeism, and while the readership of these epistles remains quite miniscule (alas!), the road had at least one thing to teach me.

    I discovered fake honey.

    One of my travelling mates got stung by a bee as we were buying fruit by the roadside. We were far away from any pharmacy, so I suggested she put a bit of honey on it to reap the anti-bacterial and anti-inflammatory benefits.

    The owner of the stand by the road got wonderfully excited that his services were being called for and said, “You need honey?! I’ve got all kinds of honey! Real honey, fake honey, whatever you need!”

    Fake honey? This was the first I’d heard of the thing.

    The Road to Damascus

    The Road to Damascus. The fake honey stand is barely visible on the right.

    I assumed that fake honey was another word for syrup, which can be made by dissolving large amounts of sugar and flavouring into water. But I turned out to be mistaken.

    A few weeks later I met a guide at a Georgian monastery. As he was leaving, the guide told me, “The tour group and I are going to buy honey now. They make the stuff they’re selling here, so it’s guaranteed to be the real thing. Not that fake stuff you get all the time in the stores.”

    And again, I thought, “fake honey? Really?” So I said, “Fake honey? Really? How do that make that?”

    “They put sugar out for the bees, so the bees make the honey out of the sugar and not out of pollen.”

    I didn’t know you could even do that. Was this common knowledge? I’ve never heard anybody in Canada or the United States talk about this. I would even have gone so far as to say that we don’t have this in Canada. So I said, “Wow, really? I’ve never heard about that in Canada.”

    And the guide, bless his heart, shook his head ruefully and said, “You guys are so honest.”

    In Armenia, I asked a Russian woman from my guesthouse if they have fake honey in Russia. She said, “Of course! Actually, I was talking to a guy who made it once about how he did it. They mix different kinds of honey to get different flavours and sometimes they add different things to flavour or colour the honey. In Moscow, we have honey stores where you can buy all kinds of honey – even eucalyptus honey, which is impossible because eucalyptus doesn’t even have flowers [actually, eucalyptus trees do have flowers, according to google, but the point stands – she knew way more about fake honey than I did.] It’s impossible to have two different-tasting honeys that come from the exact same region, so if you see something like that, you know at least one of them’s a fake.”

    Beehives in Northern Armenia

    Beehives in Northern Armenia

    Ah, but how to tell whether one of those hypothetical types of honey was unadulterated? Now that I knew honey could be faked, I had to know how to tell the real thing from its fake counterpart.

    The Russian girl didn’t know. The Georgian guide told me something about real honey and fake honey reacting differently when set on fire, but when I googled it to verify, all the sources seemed to indicate that this is pretty much a myth.

    When I googled “fake honey” in North America, almost all the information I found was about honeys containing additives such as corn syrup, and very little about feeding bees sugar. Is this something that North American beekeepers do as well? What actual effect does it have on the honey? Is the honey less healthy because of it? Or is the process by which the raw sugar is converted to honey similar to the conversion of pollen, rendering the sugar-based honey at least calorifically similar to pure honey?

    I’m assuming that we also have fake honey in North America, considering the fact that much of our honey is produced in other countries such as China, but would like to know more.

    Does anybody know anything about this?

  • Ankara Bombings

    As most of you have probably already heard, the Turkish capital of Ankara suffered a bombing on Saturday that killed many people. It was next to the train station, which I myself passed through a few weeks ago.

    I wish I could say that I was surprised when I heard the news, but I wasn’t. I’d been meaning to write a post about the larger political situation in Turkey, and when this happened I thought I would be able to write about it, too. But when I sat down to do it I wasn’t able to get my thoughts down in any coherent way. I was too angry and too sad.

    I realized that, although I have strong ideas about who might have orchestrated this attack and what benefits it might have brought them, it will do little for me to voice these thoughts here. The point of this attack was an attempt by somebody to make Turkey a more fearful place. No matter who orchestrated it, it qualifies as terrorism. It was calculated to strike fear into Turkish and Kurdish people, into people who support the current government as well as people who do not support it. It is an attack on free speech and political criticism, and it will serve to further polarize Turkey’s already extremely polarized political discourse as everybody points fingers at one another. It may be the beginning of greater violence than is already occurring in Turkey, although I still hold out a small hope that it’s not.

    On November 1, Turkey will hold the second set of parliamentary elections this year. I can only hope that it will elect leaders who will be united for the goal of giving Turkey the peace that Turkish people deserve. Nobody deserves to live in fear, and nobody deserves to have their right to criticize governmental decisions and values be threatened in any way. Nobody deserves to live in a country where some people are considered inferior to others. Nobody deserves to live in a country where hatred is seen as a valid response to anything. And certainly, none of the people killed in the attacks deserved to die.

  • Turkish Travel Tips III: Save Money by Staying at a Turkish Budget Hotel

    For those who made it through my ode to the Turkish budget hotel and were left wanting more, here is my step-by-step guide to checking in at a Turkish budget hotel.

    Turkish Budget Hotel

    General Tips

    1. Do not reserve a hotel online in Turkey. Many budget hotels do not have websites. The ones that do will charge you inflated prices if you book online because they know that foreigners from North America and Western Europe are not used to bartering cultures and will happily pay the quoted price because it seems cheaper than the cost of hotels in their country. If you are worried that there may not be space in a given city (you are a large party, it is a holiday in Turkey, or it is high season in a popular area for tourists), try calling the hotel instead and bargaining over the phone. You are still likely to pay a higher price, but nothing like you would have paid using a site like Booking.com
    2. Ask to see the room before you pay. Often, lobbies will appear nicer than the rooms to coax visitors to shell out more cash. This strategy will also prevent them from sticking you in the worst room in the place, which is usually small and/or windowless. Checking the room is also a good way to gauge whether the hotel might secretly be a brothel.
    3. Breakfast is always included in Turkish hotels. If they try to charge you extra for breakfast, make an angry face and find another hotel. Note: This does not apply to campsites.
    4. In places that don’t see a lot of foreign tourists, hotels are cheaper. In Iznik or Konya, for example, what you can get for the same price is a lot better than in Istanbul or Izmir. Adjust your expectations accordingly.
    5. Test the internet before you decide to stay somewhere. Budget hotel internet connections can be iffy, but they don’t have to be. You can probably get a hotel for the same price with a good internet connection, so unless you are trying to go off the grid for a bit, I suggest finding a place where the internet works. Then you can show your friends your mad cockroach exterminating skills over Skype.

    Bargaining Tips

    1. To bargain most effectively I would suggest saying, “this is very expensive!” in Turkish. To do this, say, “Çok pahalɪ ya! (Choke pa-HAL-euh yah) as though you’re reproaching the hotel receptionist for suggesting you murder a baby. Then laugh coquettishly, as if his desire to get money out of you is roguishly charming.

    Seriously. It works like a charm.

    After this, see how low they’ll go before you quote a price, because if you quote one they might agree quickly, and you’ll have overpaid. After the lowest price they quote, quote a price 5 or 10 lira lower. You might get it, you might not, but it’s worth a try.

    1. Don’t ask for prices if there is another foreigner anywhere in the vicinity. Hotel staff know that it will look bad if you get a room for 50 lira while that clueless tourist from Texas paid 150 lira. Be discreet.
    2. Peek over the counter. Often, Turkish hotels have a register book that documents how much each guest is paying for his room. If you can manage to do it discreetly it’s a great, though perhaps slightly unethical, way to gauge a reasonable price for the hotel.
    3. You can negotiate a better price per night if you play to stay several nights at the same hotel. A hotel may be willing to give you a room for 50 lira for one night, 90 lira for two nights, 120 lira for three nights, and so on. If you’re staying in the same city for a while, this is a great way to bargain too. So for example, ask the price for one night. Once you’ve got that the lowest you can go, (for the sake of argument, we’ll say it’s 50 lira) then ask, “Okay, can I pay 120 lira for three nights?”

    What if I want to spend even less money?

    When I say “budget hotel” I am actually talking about mid-low range hotels. Bottom of the barrel hotels exist too, and can be worth it if you are really travelling on a shoe-string. You may, however, be forced to compromise in the areas of internet access, hot water, or air conditioning. Make sure you ask what is included in the price. If I weren’t a single woman travelling alone, I would definitely check some of these places out.

    But bargaining makes me uncomfortable!

    Too true! If, like me, you’re not from a bargaining culture, bargaining can be exhausting. I struggle with feelings of guilt because I am paying pennies for services that would be expensive back home.

    Sometimes you might not feel like it, and that’s okay. For spending a week in Istanbul, it’s not a huge deal. However, if you’re really on a budget or spending an extended period of time in Turkey, I recommend it. Do remember that purchasing power in Turkey is different; $25 will go a lot further than it will in Western Europe and North America.

    The other thing is, as one Turkish friend explained to me, in touristy areas demand from the wealthy (Western Europeans and Gulf Arabs) drives up the prices which locks Turkish people out of the market. So if you’re looking for a good reason to bargain, this is it.

    That being said, remember that it’s just money. If you overpay a few times it’s not the end of the world. While I’m never happy when I know that somebody is intentionally trying to get money out of me just by virtue of my nationality, I also think that generosity never goes out of style. Do your best to straddle the fine line between being a scrooge and being savvy.

    photo by:
  • Turkish Culture: Kurban Bayram (Eid al-Adha) or How to Slaughter a Goat

    *** WARNING. This post contains pictures of a dead goat. ***

    Not being Muslim, I have little awareness of when major Muslim holidays fall, and so I was happily surprised when my friend Oznur in Istanbul invited me to spend “Kurban Bayram” with her family.

    “They’re planning on sacrificing a goat,” she said.

    What a chance! It’s not every day that somebody invites me to a goat sacrifice, so I gratefully accepted. Then I realized I didn’t actually know anything about the holiday, although I assumed it was religious. So I asked Oznur whether the idea of it was to give meat to the poor. She laughed.

    “That might have been the original idea, but mostly these days I think people just put the meat in the freezer.”

    It turns out that Kurban Bayram is the same holiday as Eid al-Adha, which I had heard about before. For the Christians and Jews out there, it is sort of like the Muslim equivalent of Easter or Passover and follows the basic theme of “a lamb is slaughtered in the place of a person.”

    Not Christian or Jewish? Simply confused? Allow me put my bachelors degree in religion to use (for once!) and offer a very simplified explanation.

    Early on in the Bible, God commands a guy named Abraham to slaughter his only son, Isaac. Abraham, being very obedient and devoted to God, begins to obey only to have God tell him that,while he’s actually pretty impressed with his devotion, he doesn’t actually have to slaughter his son. Instead, he can slaughter a ram that has conveniently appeared on scene.

    But wait! There’s more!

    After that, the Israelites become enslaved in Egypt and God tells them that if they slaughter a lamb and paint their door frames with its blood, they will be protected against the Angel of Death. People who do not do this, however, will find their first born son dead in the morning. After that, the Jewish people will be able to up and leave slavery and Egypt because the Egyptians aren’t going to be in any condition to chase them. The Egyptians, apparently, deserve this harsh punishment because of the stubbornness of their Pharaoh vis-à-vis the Israelites. Jewish people still commemorate this holiday as Pesach, or Passover.

    Many years later, Jesus appears on the scene and, after spreading his message, he falls afoul of the authorities and is crucified. Subsequently, his followers lay the foundations for Christian theology, which maintains that Jesus was a. God’s only son (kind of like Isaac) and b. a sacrificial lamb of sorts who volunteered his life to save humankind. Jesus’s crucifixion is celebrated by Christians as Easter.

    One more thing: In the Muslim account, it is not Isaac who Abraham is supposed to slaughter, but Abraham’s other son Ishmael. In the Judeo-Christian account, Ishmael kind of doesn’t count as Abraham’s son because he is his son via Hagar, a slave woman. I have never really understood why it was okay that Abraham accorded Isaac so much more value than Ishmael, but my theological botherations have nothing to do with the topic at hand.

    So while Jews celebrate their version of the holiday be not eating leavening, and Christians by hiding chocolate eggs and waving palm leaves, Muslims, at least in Turkey celebrate it by actually slaughtering an animal.

    Now if you thought that I might think that this is primitive and barbaric, you would be wrong. I understand that if I eat meat (which I do) it has to be slaughtered somehow, and while many a belief system has promoted things that I would consider objectionable, I honestly think a once-a-year goat slaughtrifice is neither here nor there.

    That being said, however, the literalness of the interpretation of the holiday is very different from what I am used to.

    The day before Bayram, we drove to Oznur’s family’s village in Eastern Turkey. On the way, we spied several markets selling sheep and goats for slaughter the next day. We also passed many a goat and/or sheep that had found itself being transported to its death in a variety of (sometimes very funny) ways.

    My favourite was this goat riding in a motorcycle sidecar. His last rites may have been a bit perfunctory, but he sure got a good last ride.

    This is a man. On a motorcycle. With a goat in the sidecar.

    This is a man. On a motorcycle. With a goat in the sidecar. I only wish the picture quality were better.

    That night, as we slept over in the village, the strangled cries of all the animals who would be slaughtered the next day filled the air. I don’t know how they knew they were going to die, but I have never heard a cow make a sound like that before, and I am sure that somehow it knew. This was the most disturbing part of the holiday for me.
    The next morning a few people (not me) took pictures next to the goat, and then the family dug a hole in the ground for the blood to pool, pinned the goat down, and cut its throat.

    This is the goat in question.

    This is the goat in question.

    They continued holding it down until it died about three minutes later. As near as I could tell, the whole thing was about as humane as possible. The goat couldn’t see the knife before it cut him.
    Still, I didn’t take any pictures of the goat during the slaughter.

    After the goat died, he was dragged over to the house to be skinned. To make separating the skin from the rest of the goat easier, they cut a hole in the goat’s leg, inserted a pipe and, I kid you not, blew that goat up like a balloon.

    Seriously! He is blowing it up like a baloon!

    Seriously! He is blowing it up like a balloon!

    With a layer of air between the goat’s skin and its innards, it was time to hoist it up into a tree. This took a bit of effort because goats are heavy.

    Q. How many Turkish people does it take to hoist a goat? A. Three, duh.

    Q. How many Turkish people does it take to hoist a goat?
    A. Three, duh.

    After that, they skinned the goat, removed the organs, and threw the meat into pots to be prepared for lunch. While they were working, they told me that they actually did give a third of the meat to the poor. For some reason, I felt glad and a bit relieved.

    This was the final result.

    Those things that look like ribs in the centre are, in fact, ribs.

    Those things that look like ribs in the centre are, in fact, ribs.

    Thank you very much Oznur, Ozge, and family for the invitation and the hospitable welcome!