Desert Bar, He's going to marry, and a Fashion Faux-Pas that Worked

First of all, let me say that the Kantepe stories could continue forever. I could tell you about almost taking Peterman in tennis, though I had never actually played tennis before in my life. I could tell you about a fun game of Presidents, which may be the worst game ever invented. (I say that because I couldn't win) I could tell you that I am still undefeated against my friend Adem in tavla, but then I'd also have to tell you that my goutlu friend from the West Coast pounded me like a cheap lamb rump roast from Migros. I could tell you about all the new and good friends I
made. But the thing that seems to be sticking with me the most is the desert bar.






Oh how I miss thee! Thy high towers of cakes and thy great plains of baklava. Thy soft, white, puffy clouds of creme floating in a sea of chocolate goodness. Oh how I love thee, let me count the ways...



But seriously, I miss that sweet little ending to every meal. And since the rest of the food was pretty crappy, it became the majority of every meal. I don't think I ever left that cafeteria without eating at least two different desert items. I'll remember you fondly.

So tonight I go down to the barber shop to hang out with the Barber and the Hawk for a couple hours. I figured that I would get there just in time for chai, which I was, and get some good conversation, since tomorrow is the start of Ramazan. I got what I was hoping for and a lot more. The Barber was giving a guy I know a haircut. The Barber told me, "He's getting married." Well hot dog, congratulations. But, it's a little late in the day for that isn't it? Come to find out, he's not getting married yet, he's just now meeting his future wife. His family had picked him out a good'un and he was getting to meet her for the first time tonight. He was getting the full treatment from the Barber and then there was a long discussion about what he should wear, whether he should wear cologne or not, what the best smelling cologne is, how much should he wear, when should he put it on, etc. It was an interesting discussion and a cultural experience. I knew that's how marriages worked around here, but this is really the first time I've had any first hand experience with it.

And I think I broke some fashion rules tonight. First of all, I've heard from people in the past that wearing Hawaiian style shirts overseas is a clear cut sign that you are definitely a tourist. Given my desire to fit into the culture, I figured my flowery shirt days were over (I don't remember them ever starting honestly). But one day I was at a store here that I check from time to time for cheap clothes and they had a good looking Hawaiian shirt for 6 YTL (a little over $4) and I couldn't pass it up. I've worn it a few times and hadn't had any bad "look at the foreigner" moments yet. But tonight I was stretching it, by wearing a summer shirt in mid-September. Granted, the highs are still in the 80s around here, but it's noticeably cooler.



So why did I wear it tonight? It's a mixture of my laziness and bad luck. I haven't washed clothes in a week or so and today, when I had some time to do just that, the water was out (actually it was out the past two days, so I have an excuse for not showering this time!). So I was out of short sleeve, collared shirts. I wore it, bravely, and charged right into the barber shop without looking back. And wouldn't you know it, I got a compliment! I know I sound like a girl gushing over a compliment I got from a guy on the sidewalk in front of a barber shop, but in a culture where criticism is considered commonplace, getting a compliment is a golden moment. It's even better when you feel like you're taking a risk and it pays off.