Yogurt Shock

I've only been here about a week, and I find myself acutely aware of my habits and my American-ness already. The difference that's most frustrating to me is the fact that I have a much different diet than most Turks--than most people--really because I have some kind of allergy to wheat and because don't like red meat (with a few small exceptions, I haven't eaten it in 14 years). The wheat allergy hasn't been diagnosed or anything like that, but what I know is that when I eat wheat bread I usually feel awful. I can sometimes have little bits, or even a cookie or croissant from time to time. But if I have it every day, it really starts to wear me down (I'll spare you the details, gentle reader).

Unfortunately, Turks eat bread with EVERYTHING, much like Italians and many other Europeans. And it's really, really good bread. At first, I just grinned and didn't say anything about it, but since I don't have my own kitchen yet, I have to eat out almost every meal. As a result, when we're ordering meals, I have to state my preferences. And when my preferences are odd, people ask questions. When I don't eat bread at the table, for example, people wonder why because it's SO unusual. I don't want to make a big deal out of it, but I don't want to feel sick either.

Yesterday I met a student who was vegetarian. VEGETARIAN! I mean, wow. I gave up hopes of that possibility. And I don't need to be that extreme anyway. But just the fact that she was willing to stand up for her dietary preferences made me feel like it was okay to stand up for my own--even if that means that I can't immerse myself here as completely as I like. So I decided that if I don't have a choice, I'll suck it up and eat wheat or red meat, but if I do have a choice, then I'll choose what's healthier for me (this won't be as big of a deal once I have a kitchen either).

I have now experienced two moments of what happens when I assert my preferences. The first was when I had a low-blood sugar attack. It happens rarely, but lack of sleep, jet-lag, more caffeine than I'm used to, and not enough food, all combined to make me shakey, irritable, and in need of food in a real hurry the other day. One of my colleagues was walking me around (okay, it was Vançin, the colleague our department head assigned to me to be my guide for a few weeks). Anyway, I told him I needed to go to the canteen immediately. He kept dawdling, introducing me to people, etc., and I kept saying, no I need to eat NOW. So by the time we got there, I had all kinds of wierd needs. I didn't want wheat, I needed protein, and I wanted something fresh. So I ordered a hard-boiled egg, watermelon, and a can of juice. The staff at the canteen stared at me with wry smiles, and Vançin just shrugged his shoulders.

"What? What's the big deal?" I said.
"It's just so unusual, that's all!"
When the waiter brought out a plate of bread and I refused it, his jaw dropped open. "But, but...why?"
That's when I finally explained.

The next night, we went out to iftar (the meal where you break the Ramadan fast at sundown). Vançin was very kind to go somewhere where we could eat rice and where I wouldn't have to eat red meat (or waste the meat on my plate...which I only did once!). It was very kind of him. At every iftar, they have a small plate of dates, and then sometimes cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, and apricots. But last night they had apricot preserves. Later, with the meal, they served a small bowl of yogurt (yogurt originated from Turkey, did you know that?). One of my favorite snacks back home is plain yogurt with preserves on top, especially apricot. As soon as they set the yogurt down with dinner (which was meant to be eaten with the white-bean stew and rice we had), I spooned a dollup of apricot preserves onto my yogurt and took a bite.

Vançin looked at me in horror. "What are you doing?!" he said.

I just laughed and told him it was something I had back home. "You've never tried it?" I said. "Aw come on, try it!"

He laughed and shook his head. "But it's totally surprising. Unthinkable. I would never combine these two things!"

Me: It's just apricot preserves and yogurt, what's the big deal?" (I taught him "what's the big deal the other day, so he knew what it meant). "Don't you ever have honey on your yogurt? Or sweetened yogurt in general?"

Vançin: "No! I have never heard of such a thing!"

I pointed to the preserves. "Come on...just try it. I try all of your food, so why can't you try one of mine?"

Vançin looked at me, then around the room and hesitated, then laughed. He carefully dipped his spoon into the preserves, drizzled them onto his yogurt, then took a careful spoonful. He closed his eyes and nodded his head. "I taste the preserves, and I taste the yogurt, and then there is a third taste created by the two..." He wouldn't tell me if it was good or bad.

"This is so unusual!" was all he said.

I just laughed, thinking of all the odd things I probably eat that he's never had before. But I was glad that I was authentically myself too, instead of just trying to fit in. I think it's important that I'm myself here--as much as is appropriate, anyway--so that there's a real cultural exchange. It's easy to forget our own roots when we travel, but I think the locals here are just as curious about me as I am about them.

Why not give them a good show?