In this post follow some photo’s from my trip to Turkey in May.

First some photos from a wedding we attended; the sister of Esma’s brother-in-law got married, and we attended the wedding ceremony. It lasted short, and they didn’t have a party, so we were in and out in, say, 45 minutes to 1 hour. It was still special to see a Turkish wedding, though.

From left to right: the sister of Esma’s brother-in-law (in Turkey, one adopts the entire family and relatives of the other when one marries - they become about as important as one’s normal family and relatives; which means very important indeed), the groom, the bride, Esma’s sister Leyla.

This one is, basically, a family portrait. Missing are Melike (Esma’s niece) and Ömer (her brother-in-law, and Leyla’s husband). From left to right (back row first): Esma (my darling), me, Leyla (Esma’s sister), Mert (Leyla’s son), Saadet (Esma’s mother) and Mesut (Esma’s father).

Esma’s (and therefore mine) nephew (Leyla’s son) Mert. He’s a very sweet, and energetic four-year old. He runs around all day long. He, like every other (Turkish) boy loves his mother tremendously. He also loves Esma very much; when she and I sit close to each other, he tries to sit in the middle and / or to get her attention. Recently he asked me “you love Esma very much, do you?” on a sad tone. I said “yes.” He looked sad, but was OK shortly later.

Mert calls me “Abi” which, roughly translated, means “older brother.” In Turkey, however, it means more than that. Turkish culture is very hierarchical. Those who are younger have different names to call those who are older. Every name, like Abi and Bey, signifies age-difference, and therefore respect. “Abi,” then, is a term that means that I’m older than he is, and therefore not on the same level, but I’m not exactly a “Bey” either. To illustrate: he calls me Abi, I call Esma’s father “Bey.” I call Esma’s brother-in-law “birader” (literally translated “brother,” but it, again, means more than that - it’s on an emotional level), but his sister and her husband “Abla” and “Abi” respectively (older sister, older brother). The last step, then, is to Esma’s parents who I call “Siz” (You), Hanim / Bey (Mrs. Mr.), or - after marriage - “Anne” and “Baba.”

These rules are, generally, not to be messed with. As said, Turkish culture is very hierarchical. One is supposed to show respect to one’s elders at all times, and in all possible ways. I am, for instance, not allowed to smoke in front of Esma’s father (even though he smokes himself). According to traditional culture, I am also not allowed to sit with my legs crossed in front of him.

Esma’s niece (Leyla’s daughter) Melike and me.

ANKARA

Anitkabir (I wrote about this yesterday or the day before): Mustafa Kemal Atatürk’s mausoleum. My friend in Ankara, Fatma, took me to this grand place and showed me around. It was very impressive.

The building is the mausoleum; it’s very big, and very beautiful. In front of the building you see a big flag of Turkey made out of flowers.

Same building, obviously with me in front of it.

Inside of the building: this is where Turks come to pay their respects to Atatürk, the founder of modern Turkey. His body actually rests in a room below this tomb.

Atatürk’s car.

My friend, Fatma, standing on the path that leads visitors to Atatürk’s mausoleum. She standing next to one of the many stone-carved lions on this path. As you can see, the stones are separated from each other (grass is growing in between them). I have been told that this was done on purpose; it forces the visitor to look down (in humility).

Sadly for Turks my feet are bigger than theirs. As such, I had no trouble walking.

The carriage on which they moved Atatürk’s body from Istanbul to Ankara approximately 15 years after he died.

Tomorrow more photos from both Ankara and Izmir.