A Not So Turkish Life

My body and me…

..we have a love/hate kind of relationship I’ve been working on solving for surpassing 10 years. It yo-yos in weight, I limit its food intake accordingly. It’s a separate entity in itself.

Ironically, the weeks leading up to our positive pregnancy test, I’d finally felt at peace with my body. A combination of exercise, healthy eating, a re-evaluation of my wardrobe (read:throwing out teenage sized clothes) and a lot of prayer had left me in a place where I could look in the mirror and think, you’ll do – which may not sound wonderful but was a lot farther on than six months before. My body and I were if not in sync entirely, on the way to getting there. I’m currently 19days post-partum, 6kilos heavier than pre-pregnancy, hungrier than ever and out of clothes.

Traditionally, Turkish women (or women married to a Turk!) stay home with a new baby for 40days. It’s a time for healing, for bonding with your baby, for adjusting to life as a Mum. It’s one of those quirky traditions that makes me love to hate my adopted homeland while simultaneously bringing about other traditional Turkish quirks that I soak up with ease. It’s a juxtapositional world, this expat life.

Turkey’s renowned for hospitality and the same kindness extended to and talked about by tourists is one I’m lucky enough to experience almost everyday in my neighbourhood in a variety of ways but most often, this hospitality extends itself through food. Have you ever watched Desperate Housewives when a new neighbour is moving onto the street, when Gabby, Susan and co. all come out in force, invariably carrying hotpots and pies? A Turk would fit in well. Since bringing our baby home, we’ve been inundated with food and gestures of kindness from neighbours we’ve yet to officially “meet”. Boreks, cakes and snacks have poured through our door, fresh from the oven ready to be spooned into our grateful let’s-eat-quickly-between-feed mouths. Such hospitality is not going to help with the weight loss, but it’s sure going to make those 40 days more enjoyable!

Our landlady suffered a stroke three weeks before we moved in. We’ve never met her. She set the food-ball in motion…

Eline salik. Allah razı olsun.
(Health to your hands. May Allah be pleased with you -Thank You.)

This entry was published on 04/04/2011 at 16:14. It’s filed under Food to Feed a Soul, Life and Faith and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: