Person to person, hand to hand... In 1958, I took a summer between my Junior and Senior years at the University of Southern Mississippi and went to Europe. And I spent a month in Turkey without learning much Turkish. One day out walking in Istanbul, I asked a young Turk, in an army uniform, directions to some place. He smiled, hestitated a moment, and then took me, literally by the hand, and walked with me to that place. I have to tell you that I felt pretty uncomfortable as we started off on this walk (in 1958, at least, American men didn't hold hands or show much affection in public -- especially to strangers). So, I kept looking for an excuse not to hold hands, such as to blow my nose, or to scratch a non-essential itch... But the soldier kept taking hold of my hand. Finally, I said what the hell and just started to enjoy it -- and there we went, walking down the street, holding hands, swinging arms to and fro, like everybody else. Years later, when I started to learn Turkish for real, I did it cold Turkey so to speak. I went to a tea house in Sinop and sat and watched how people did things. And when I heard the expression, "Bir çay yap", I noticed that this caused the waiter to bring a small glass of tea on a saucer. The next time the waiter passed by, I uttered the magic words and got my own glass of steaming hot tea. I enjoyed that tea -- and it may have been apparant to those around me... Turkish tea is still the only tea I really care for -- my favorite was and still is the Ada çay or Island tea (a peppermint flavored kind of Sage tea). When I finished my glass of tea and prepared to leave, I offered the shopkeeper some Turkish money. With a friendly wave, he said, "Sizin para burada geçmez," and, smiling, he ushered me out the door. I could tell he meant well, so I went along. But it wasn't until I got back home that I learned for certain, with the help of a phrase book, that the shopkeeper had meant, "your money is no good here". I stayed good friends with that tea house owner and when I left Sinop, after a year, he presented me with a two hundred year old 'nargile' (water pipe) made of Bohemian crystal. I have it still and it is a sign of pure friendship that remains unduplicated in my life... After my Turkish improved, I'd sometimes have a little fun -- teasing Turkish youngsters. For example, I might see a group of schoolgirls -- on there way to morning classes. I'd stop them and remark "Ne kadar sevimlisin," or "How cute you are". Turkish custom dictates that one should accompany any compliment, especially when made to a child, with the word "Masallah" -- to protect the youngster from the evil eye that might bring misfortune. And the kids know the custom from an early age... (Click here to see where we've mentioned Masallah before...) But I'd press on and ask them how they liked school, what their favorite classes were, did they study English, etc.? I could see the children squirm, because they were worried about the evil eye and that I hadn't said, "Masallah". When I'd prepare to part company I'd finally say, "Masallah" quite off-handedly, and they'd be so relieved that they would curtsy! But "Masallah" isn't just for kids... I'd also have to recall the phrase for grown men, for example, whose new suit I might compliment. They'd grin, thank me for noticing, grin some more, tilt their heads, look at me from the corners of their eyes -- and wait for me to utter the all-important Masallah, to protect the suit from evil doings!!! TK (December '98)