When I was young, Thanksgiving was usually hosted at our house with a small mix of relatives. I don't even remember which ones - I think from my mother's side. It was a fun, except for the days (or was it weeks...) before spent cleaning everything. My mother put us to work - and while I don't remember doing anything exceptional, I just remember hating it. If there is anything my mother gets embarrassed about, or obsesses about, its cleanliness. She washes towels after a couple of uses, she has tons of cleaning rags, she has packages or tissues in all of her purses, jacket pockets, and drawers. She regularly washes and changes sheets to the point where we've all grown up obsessing over clean sheets. (But I couldn't tell you the connection between clean sheets and Thanksgiving dinner - it was all a part of the pre-day great clean up). I love a clean house - but even now - with all of us grown and gone - I can pretty much guarantee the washing machine (or dryer, or both) is running at their house.
Well, that is not the case here. Or it is - but it's different. It's not washing clothes and towels and sheets that are important. The important things for a Turkish housewife to have when hosting guests are: clean windows, clean curtains, and cake forks.
After Teoman was born, Anne insisted we get special dishes for guests and cake forks. I was reluctant to spend the money for guests that were unlikely to come - we had more pressing expenses at the time, but I relented for the sake of her and the culture I now live in. Food is central.
Tolga is a selfless person as it is - but when it comes to food, generous preparations are the norm. It's like a holiday when guests come over - or when we go somewhere. Fun, but a little stressful. Guests sit on the couch with small tea tables being brought out and plates of salty and sweet - cookies and biscuits and types of crackers are served. Each plate is filled. It's not a cup of coffee or glass milk and cookie. It's three or four five different cookies, two or three or four different non-sweet biscuits, börek or cake or both. And tea of course. The host serves everyone, sits down but has to get up again before the first bite to refill tea glasses.
This is also why my American friend and I feel so relaxed around each other. We get our own glass of water, we may or may not eat together, we feed each other's kids if they want to eat. It's no big deal. There is no expectation to put on tea or coffee, but we do it if we want or because we want to. Sometimes, this is my experience with close family and close relatives but it really depends on the person - some relatives will jump in the kitchen and help, when our guests came last week - Tolga served the tea and made his male friend help.
So last week, when we were at the park - I didn't think twice about offering the simit we had brought. Not because I'm Turkish, but because I'm practical - we have extra, little kids from around the park starting coming by and staring hungrily, no problem. (All Turkish kids love simit). Another American sat on the ground near us. I had just met her and she pulled out the classic American food: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, on sliced bread cut into your squares, kept in in a Ziplock bag. None of those things have I ever seen in a Turks possession. She pulled out a container of hummus too (surprisingly, also never eaten here in Turkey), and dipped mini carrots in it to snack.
I didn't think twice about her actions either, however Tolga pointed out later - even if she had brought the food for herself, even if there wasn't enough, even if it wasn't a food that can be shared because your dipping into - she should have offered her food first to others. This is the expectation of the culture - everyone does it. I've taken the gesture for granted as just nice. Even natural. Someone is eating, they always offer to share - it's normal among friends. But it's normal among strangers too.
Sometimes, lots of times, I'm so embarrassed that our first thought is not of others.
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