Somewhere over Anatolia it occurred to me that our trip from Istanbul to Batman, Turkey might not be unlike our trip a few years ago from Philadelphia, PA to Wichita, KS. As I craned my neck to get a better view of the snow-covered mountains below, which were disappointingly obscured by the plane's massive wing, I realized that I would soon be seeing another side of Turkey that I had heard and read about but had never experienced first-hand, much like when we moved to Kansas a few years ago and I discovered that the US was not all Democrats and Whole Foods shoppers.
Ten years ago when I lived in Istanbul as a high-school exchange student, Rotary organized trips for all the exchanges to the Black Sea region, Ankara and Cappadocia, and the Mediterranean Sea coast. The one area of the country we didn't go to, for obvious security reasons, was the south-east. Since then, I vowed to myself that I would go and see for myself what all the fuss, both good and bad, was about. And since meeting Umit last year, we actually had someone within the region encouraging us to come visit.
Our friend Umit is probably the most generous person that I know apart from my mother-in-law. He's the kind of guy who, when you're not looking, runs off and buys you a pushi or a cool plate because you're too busy looking around at stuff that's new to you. He's the kind of guy who will pay for every little tea, every meal for the first three days of your trip and then pout when you eventually find ways to pay for lunch without him knowing. He's the kind of guy who will walk with you the 15 minutes to your hotel, past his home, so you can have a nap, only to turn right back in an hour to hang out.
Of course, we are the type of friends who smile and nod approvingly when Umit shows us his Michael Jackson moonwalking impression, even though it really is pretty bad. We listen to him moan about his girl troubles, despite the fact that we think the girl he is in love with is a child who's not worth his time.
I know it probably sounds strange to say, but I think Jeff and I may have just fallen in love with Batman during our six days there. I know that 99% of our experiences were because of and through Umit, and we would have had a vastly different impression of the city had we gone alone. As it was, we got to see the city through the eyes of someone who loves it and who is more than happy to show it to us.
And for whatever reason that I still can't figure out, Umit loves us. Thinks we're awesome and that we rock and wants to hang out with us and has sent me at least five text messages every single day since we've been home. Okay, true, some of them I don't understand, but that's part of the fun. Me and my dictionary, we're becoming much better friends.
Jeff and Umit
Umit's family welcomed us heartily into their fold. We drank tea with them and ate dinner with them, all while Umit's grandmother, who speaks only Kurdish, lamented that if we all spoke the same language, we might have had a very nice chat.
dinner at Umit's house
It was perfect timing, being folded into Umit's family when we were. Before going to Batman, I was having a rough couple of weeks in Istanbul. All I wanted to do was go see my family, to go home, just for a week and be surrounded by lots of fun and loving people. As it was, Umit's family from the get-go welcomed us in their home and made us feel comfortable despite our different languages and culture.
I came home feeling like my need to be part of a family was somewhat sated. Living in Turkey, being so far away from my own family, has made me realize that perhaps I need to develop surrogate families in Turkey. Like some people adopt children, maybe I need to adopt a couple of families.
Mustapha, Ali Firhat, Numan, Umit's grandmother
Of course, hanging out with them was not without its surprises. On our way back from Diyarbakir to Batman, Umit's sister Yasemin met us at the bus station to head home for a 10-day semester break from university. On the bus ride home, Yasemin and I made small talk and she asked, "You're a Christian, right?" (To a lot of Turks, and Kurds, apparently, religion, weight and sex are not taboo topics of conversation as they are in the US).
Now I had already been through this line of questioning with Umit's brother Numan (third from the left in the above picture) who I don't think had ever met an atheist before. When I told Numan that no, we were not Christian, he didn't even widen his eyes. He sort of started blankly at us and said, "But you believe in god, right? A god, I mean." I gently shook my head. No, I said, we don't believe in any god. I think Numan was stupefied for a good 10 minutes after that, looking at us curiously out of the corner of his eye.
Yasemin had a similar reaction. She stared blankly at me for a moment, then grinned. "You're joking," she said. I laughed and said no, I'm quite serious. Why? she asked. Didn't you grow up with religion? I explained that I went to church a few times when I was a kid but didn't find it meaninful in any way, and that I had had more non-religious influences in my life growing up than religious ones. She seemed to accept that but a few minutes later, she looked at me earnestly and said, "Religion can make life so much nicer," she said. I patted her on the arm and smiled.
Umit's mother, Yasemin and me
I guess living in a three-bedroom apartment with eight people (Umit's parents have six children, five boys and one girl) makes one grow up with a different notion of privacy and personal space. After all, when you're sharing a bedroom with three other boys, it's not like you can blare the stereo whenever and however loud you want. Of course, on the flip side, there's always someone to hang out with, to talk to, to drink tea with. I suppose, in a way, that is something I envy.
