Pebbles From Paradise

Irem recently remarked just how often when we visit the cinema or collect DVDs the films are about weddings. “You’re the one responsible”, she says, “You look out for them.” Strangely, although I am a many married man and usually I detest attending weddings, I realised that she is right. Not only do I collect films about weddings, I also commissioned a picture of a wedding for our bedroom wall.

The reason for my fascination is, I believe, that despite two past marriages that ended badly, and also a very enjoyable second ‘bachelorhood’, my current marriage and family surpasses all expectations, probably because I have few!

But a marriage of mixed cultures isn’t easy. Not only does one have to deal with the differences in family background, or class, that are common to most marriages, it’s also necessary to deal with National norms and values.

Sometimes it’s harder for the wider family members to accept the ‘alien’ than it is for the couple marrying to adjust to differences in diet and other behaviour.

In Turkey the family is very important, and the extended family keeps in touch not just through weddings and funerals, but also through interminable phone calls throughout the days and nights. Sometimes I wonder how Turkish Society managed prior to the invention of the mobile telephone? I guess in the old days there was less migration to other cities, or countries? Perhaps people just wrote letters?

If you are thinking of marrying into a Turkish family be warned. You will have to suffer ‘the ordeal of meals’.

Turkish hospitality is endemic, your hosts will force feed you with delicacies wherever you go, and hosts who are part of your spouse’s extended family are the worst.

When being introduced into the family, a ritual involving multiple plane, rail and bus journeys occurs. You might have to consume as many as six hearty meals a day if you are not to offend your hosts.

Later it improves and indeed as you are taken into the bosom of the family you find that you have acquired many places where you can stay, or even drop in to watch television.

Last Christmas the TV failed at mother-in-law’s home in Istanbul. This was a matter of huge consequence since I had been watching the adventure of Diarmuid Gavin as he prepared for The Chelsea Flower Show. Relative Ali Abi, and his fiance Meltem, came to the rescue inviting us to watch his flat-screen and eat a banquet.

And very good it was too!

Kindly note: Abi, (pronounced Arby) really means elder brother, but it is frequently used as a term of respect when greeting a man who is slightly older and especially when artisans are greeting patrons. Men who are considerably older are greeted as Amca (pronounced amjar), which means ‘Old Man’ in The Ancient Mariner sense, rather than that of Bertram Wooster. Anyway if someone calls you Amca it’s probably time to go to the barbers. Get a sharp haircut, have your nostrils plucked and your ears singed. You will be greeted as Abi once again in no time at all.

This entry was posted on Thursday, September 1st, 2005 at 12:18 am and is filed under This Wonderful World, Turkish Culture, Weddıngs. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.