Winter Wonderings

It finally feels like winter here. Yesterday the air smelled deceptively of snow, but it turned out the heavens were only brewing cold air and freezing rain. Unless it is the bone chilling cold of the winters I grew up in, I refuse to believe I need a hat and gloves. In my mind Istanbul is still the sweltering city I came to over four months ago now. This is a new side of the city; the hard to catch a cab, swaddled under layers of clothing, can-see-my -breath–so-cold-side. It is a sort of cold that is usually thawed out by Salvation Army bells and decorations in the Marshall Fields windows (before it became Macys) and shopping for presents that will likey be returned before New Years. In recent years the cold only means its getting dark earlier, there is slush on your good boots, and your bus is delayed, you’re eating more and worrying about getting fat, or feeling motivated to go to Bikram yoga to work it off and feel warm for awhile. I do not much like this cold side of Istanbul that lacks the perks of winters I know, but then again I’ve been chasing warmth for many years.

I am headed South tomorrow, but I don’t know if Cyprus will be to Istanbul what Miami is to Chicago. The holiday coincides with Kurban Bayram, which traditionally is a day for the sacrific of cattle. My students gave me chocolate and told me eating sweets is what the holiday is all about. I’m sure it is both, or neither.

At a British hosted holiday party, some Turks asked my American colleages what their Christmas traditions were. Going shopping? Gorging ourselves at the dinner table? The beach, someone offered. We go to the beach and toss the frisbee around. That’s a nice tradition. Anyone can participate. You probably don’t have to be of a particular sex or age. It does not involve the ritual slaughter of animals. It does not involve a particular set of beliefs, like reverence to the frisbee god or frisbee commandments. The closest thing to a tradition I can think of is celebrating my mother’s Christmas birthday. Traditions seem passe, don’t they? I could give you a litany of what Jews do on Hanukkah, or Christains do on Christmas, but as for myself, well, I am not sure if there are many things I did then, plan to do here in Istanbul, or will do in the future.

The value of a thing comes in its repetition. There is nothing intrinsically special about the act of hanging ornaments or lighting the menorah. It is sacred or special precisely because it has been done before; specifically with the people you care about.

I am working on Christmas day, but there are plenty of holiday parties and events to keep me busy. I went over to Joanna’s to put up her fake Christmas tree. We listened to carols and ate hummus and beyaz penir (a cheese similar to feta) sandwiches on olive cibatta. I drank tea instead of diet coke, and eventually got a cab home in the freezing rain.