My Turkish Engagement Ceremony

September 15, 2015

The salty Turkish coffee. The cutting of the rings. Requesting the bride’s hand in front of the whole family.

Getting engaged in Turkey (nişan) is more than just popping the question in a romantic spot. We made the video below to help shed some light on this modern version of a centuries old Turkish tradition.

Video: Sureyya Yılmaz Dernek

Editing, Subtitles & Commentary: Ezra Mannix

Have you ever passed an attraction in Istanbul, or (insert famous place) in your hometown that you’ve never been to and thought “Hmm, I really should go there, you know, while I’m living here…Eh, one of these days”?

That’s how I felt every time I passed an Okey salonu (Okey room) or kiraathane (which literally means “starkly lit, tackily decorated storefront coffeeshop filled with unemployed men serving bitter tea and overpriced sodas”).

The ıstıka, or okey tile holder.

The ıstaka, or okey tile holder.

The game of okey had always been something that I though I was going to learn one of these days. I was never in any burning rush to learn it. I always figured my time would come, that I would be in a social situation, with, say, my Turkish in-laws at their summer house, sitting around on a lazy evening in the dog days of summer, when one of them would jump up and say “hey, let’s reenact the Battle of Galipoli!” then someone else would say “nah, we don’t have enough plaster cannon balls…I know! Let’s play okey!”

You can hear the sound of okey being played all over Turkey: the gentle clicking of the off white tiles on cheap table cloth or felt topped tables, as a one of the players mixes them around in circular motions with his hands, as if he were waxing the hood of a car with a tissue. The tiles are played from the ıstaka, a two-floor holder of wood, like a double decker Scrabble tile holder. People then seemed, to my untrained, passing eye, to be laying the stones down in patterns, as if playing dominoes.

Actually, the game is really a tile version of rummy…yes, that rummy you played in Mr. Van Ness’ 8th grade homeroom. The object is getting straight sets of all your colored tiles, be them in different numbers, same color (suites, in cards) in numerical order, or three of the same number, different colors.

The twist is keeping an eye on the joker, the wild card, aka, the okey.

Except if no one explains to you, or doesn’t use the article the while explaining a game, you can run into problems, as I did the first time the tile “hand” were laid out before me on the ıstaka:

My wife Zeynep pointed to an upturned red 3 tile in the middle of the table.

My wife: So this is okey.
Me: Why is it okay?
Her: Because we picked it randomly, so…
Me: Okay, but are my other tiles not okay?
Her: No.
Me: Why not? They look fine to me.
Her: Yes they are fine, but they are not okey.
Me: Ah, you mean the okey piece?
Her: Yes! You got it?
Me: Okay.

Me: So what if I get the okey, and I pass it on accidentally to my opponent?
Her: No, that’s not okay.
Me: It’s not? I thought you said red 3 was the okey.
Her: It is!
Me: Okay, okay, let’s just play already.

I think we had this conversation at least three times that evening, leaving me more confused than when I started.

For some reason I had the idea for all these years that it was mind-numbingly simple game. I think a bitter expat told me that once. I suppose it isn’t very complicated. In fact, it involves about 40 percent skill and 60 percent luck, so there is a lot of things that are out of your control, but there is a fairly high degree of skill going once you get in to the team level (four players, you team up with the person sitting across from you). You can play defensively, passing tiles to your neighbor he doesn’t need, even if you yourself need them, and so forth.

Mixing the okey tiles before a game.

Mixing the okey tiles before a game.

Another bizarre thing about the game is the way the tiles are randomized to ensure fairness. Instead of shuffling them 32 times and having the opponent cut the “cards”, each player stacks the tiles five deep, and puts the stacks into rows. Then each person gently plows them toward the middle, rendering the ıstaka multi functional roulette shuffleboard thingy.

Then comes the Byzantine (Ottoman?) process of distributing tiles to the players. It goes a little something like this. The person to the right of the “dealer” roles the dice once to determine who to distribute the first stack of tiles to, then he rolls again and counts that many stacks to his left, and gives the second stack to the same player, then he goes back the first number of stacks back to his right and adds one and gives that next stack plus four to the left again and gives those two stacks to the next guy. Then, the person counts how many times he/she has eaten liver in last year and divides that number by the number of the last okey tile, or something like that…You get the picture.

When it was my turn to deal, my father in law basically guided by hand like a kukla (puppet). I still say swishing the tiles around and picking 14 is the best way, I mean, we aren’t card counters from MIT.

Once I got the hang of the game, it was pretty fun. Similar to Mahjong and Rummikub, okey can be very competitive, yet it is entertaining and doesn’t take itself too seriously. It’s fairly straightforward, but a game can turn on one wrongly discarded piece.

Tournaments are held in kiraathanes and summer house complexes (siteler) all over the country. Tavla seems very one dimensional by comparison, so if you get bored of backgammon, and your Turkish father-in-law opponent is basically moving the pieces for you because you are playing too slow, try okey.


Carrying their pride: girls walk toward Cihangir...and a "TOMA" (water cannon).

Carrying their pride: walking toward Cihangir…and a TOMA (water cannon).

I was in a buoyant mood on Sunday afternoon; buoyed with patriotism from the news of the past week: marriage equality, Obamacare standing pat. I hadn’t felt that proud for America in a long time, and I was transferring that pride to my adopted second home, Turkey, looking forward to the 20,000-plus in attendance for what was billed the biggest Pride parade to ever take place in the Muslim world. It was a glorious, not-too-hot summer day in Istanbul. Breezes from the Black Sea, good vibes…. Then…

“Don’t go!” my wife messaged me as the Metrobus groaned and galloped over the Bosphorus Bridge.

They were shutting Pride down, the parade, Istiklal Caddesi, everything, she wrote. Flashing to the event page on Facebook, I found frantic “iyi misiniz, arkadaslar?” (“Are you ok, friends?”) posts and comments on the actions of the police, who were not allowing the protestors to go to the main promenade.

Tear gas, rubber bullets — memories of 24 months ago flashed in my mind.

Back to real world of self expression in Turkey.

Revelers move to Cihangir

Revelers move to Cihangir

Defiant, I went there anyway. I was too late for the water cannons and rubber bullets. Probably for the best.

Pride shines through the darkness

Pride shines through the darkness

By the time I exited the metro station at Taksim, the cops had already formed a human chain around the Ataturk victory statue in Taksim Square and Istiklal Caddesi. The atmosphere was decidedly non-festive. People, however, were funneling down Siraselviler Caddesi, so I followed them, toward Cihangir, the indomitable bastion of progressive Istanbul, right?

What I found was not defeated protestors cursing the police, more like season veterans clearing their throats of tear gas residue — and then, smiling, defiant revelers.

What I found in the central Cihangir square in front of Firusaga Camii was smiling faces, signs saying “get used to us, we’re here!” “there ARE trans women!” Chanting. Singing. Jumping up and down.

...not before being sealed out by a human police chain

…not before being sealed out of Taksim Square by a human police chain.

Walking down the avenues, I saw blond tourists from Europe, couples meandering the streets, students — including one from the conservative university where I work — music (yes, “It’s raining men!” played at one point, stoking memories of countless parties from my 20’s), great costumes, people from all walks of life.

While it all made me realize how far Turkey has to go before catching up to Europe and the U.S. when it comes to marriage equality, there was a victory of another sort in Istanbul on Sunday. You won’t read about it in the headlines, and rightfully so: canceling an approved parade for no discernible reason is wrong, and Al Jazeera, CNN, etc., were right to put it on their homepages.

But the less reported story, which made me smile, was that pride won.

In Turkey, it’s always 2 steps forward, 1.8 steps back with these sorts of things. But that tiny step kept Istanbul’s link to the biggest civil rights movement of our time alive and smiling.

Indomitable Cihangir, Indomitable Istanbul, Indomitable Pride.

Vendors selling Pride paraphernalia.



Istanbul Pride 2015 Cihangir




Cihangir square pride

Pride silver hair

saudade hüzünlü ahtapot

The saudade/hüzünlü octopus, by Rukiye Uçar.

We crave you, we miss you, we yearn for you
Your eight legs of heaven
Portuguese octopus!
Jump in some rice
or olive oil
for us              –Zeynep & Ezra

Seems like we ate octopus in some form every day during our recent vacation in Portugal: usually chopped up in bit size chunks, drizzled with virgin olive oil, served cold. Once, at a Fado night in Lisbon’s Alfama district, it was mixed with rice, a light and garlicky tomato sauce.

So, on honor of the octopus and her 8 delicious legs, which both Turks and Portuguese love (it was on the tourist menu, at least), I thought I’d write about similarities between my adopted country and Portugal.

8. Yearning for the past — Melancholic nostalgia is so strong in both cultures that both have a word for it: saudade in Portuguese; hüzün in Turkish. For the Portuguese, they yearn for the glory Age of Empires of the 15th and 16th centuries, when Portugal’s tentacles (hey-oo!) of trade and conquest stretched from Brazil to Japan. Turkey’s, of course, is all about the Ottoman glory days — which happened around the same time — and its centuries of land based conquests from the gates of Vienna to the Bab el-Mandeb. Saudade is expressed in Portugal by means of fado.

The Porto waterfront on an early June afternoon.

The Porto waterfront on an early June afternoon.

7. Waiting for the savior — Both countries revere strong leaders, and according to a couple Portuguese people we met, at least, Portugal is waiting for that great noble leader to take them back to aforementioned glory days. Portuguese wait for another Alfonso I, the brash first king of Portugal in the 12th century. Some Turks yearn for Süleyman the Magnificent, the Ottoman conquerer at the apex of Ottomania. More recently Turks wait for a benevolent dictator like Atatürk, and the culture of head strong, confrontational leaders explains the popularity of Recep Tayip Erdoğan. Portugal had Antonio Salazar, who was, like Atatürk, a learned and authoritarian leader — albeit far more controversial. Both men presided after times of chaos, Salazar’s being after the first republic, when there were 44 governments in 16 years. Atatürk , of course, came after World War I to resuscitate a devastated Turkish society.

6. Futbol! — Yeah yeah, futbol is big EVERYWHERE, you say. What I mean is the similarity of their respective top-heavy domestic leagues. Both have a “big three” which have won nearly all domestic first league titles. Turkey has the big three Istanbul clubs, Galatasaray, Beşiktaş and Fenerbahçe. Portugal has Benfica, Sporting Clube de Portugal and FC Porto, which of course, is located in Porto, the second largest city.

5. Lower Brittania — White, pasty bodies hop off the plane; lobsterbacks hop back on. Droves of British tourists and retirees form contribute to a huge portion of the GDPs of both nations. About 2.1 British nationals visit Portugal every year, 2.5 million visit Turkey, according to official statistics.. In Turkey, it’s Marmaris, Kusadasi, Bodrum. In Portugal, it’s Lagos and the south coast.

4, Brain Drain — There was a brief period of hope that Turkey would be a boom country around the time I came to Turkey, but especially now, secular Turks are leaving, fearful of an intolerant, religious, authoritarian regime and sluggish economic growth. The outflow started in the 1960’s with German guest worker programs. Portugal had a similar exodus in the 1960’s of people fleeing Salazar. But those emigrations in both nations were mostly poor, uneducated. Now, it’s the educated human capital which is leaving. Apparently, London is the most popular destination for young Portuguese. Hey, at least Portugal is in the EU.

3, Climate — Both have Mediterranean climates. But both also have a number of climate zones for being relatively small countries. The moist, maritime climate of the costal regions of Portugal is like the Black Sea. The Douro Valley is classic Mediterranean. Lisbon feels like Istanbul: the metropolitan area is at the confluence of Mediterranean and continental/maritime zones. Sintra (north of Lisbon) and Sile/Agava (north of Istanbul) are green and cloudier places influenced by the Black Sea and Atlantic, respectively , while the Princes’ Islands and Lisbon’s estuary fronting areas have distinct Mediterranean feels.

2, Complaining — Ok this one is a bit of reach, since everyone loves to complain. But like the Turks, Portuguese can complain about their culture all they want, but you are better off not complaining too much if you are a foreigner! The sun is shining, there is delicious seafood and wine, but the Portuguese will still find something to complain about, or so I have been told!

This tomato has the portuguese cross! Ay, maria, it's a miracle!

This tomato has the Portuguese cross! Ay, maria, it’s a miracle! (Octopus and rice at Fado night in Alfama, Lisbon)

1. Food! — Did you think I was going to end with anything else? I’ll start with seafood, as it’s the theme here. Hand it to the Portuguese for more creative culinary creations, like octopus rice, but the staple is throwing the fish on the grill, eating it as it looks when it’s alive, as it is in Turkey with balık izgara. Cod, now no longer found in Portuguese seas, is everywhere, but so are common fish found in Turkey, such as sea bream, mullet, etc. There’s loads of olives, too, of course, not to mention mezze/tapas culture (our octopus salads are quite similar) called petiscos in Portuguese, and long slow dinners over a bottle and some conversation.

Turkey could use more of this. Viva viniculture! (Pinhao, Douro Valley)

Turkey could use more of this. Viva viniculture! (Pinhao, Douro Valley wine country)

However, I will end with two key differences, things one can learn from the other: First

Turkey: wine! Learn from the Portuguese example (something unlikely with this government) by refining the wine making process. And Portugal: Breakfast! Any Turk or Turkey expat will very soon miss the royal breakfast treatment of a serpme kahvaltası, with the cornucopia of morning delights. Gulping an espresso and devouring a croissant is too continental for my blood! (but I love the amazing espresso!)

Did I miss anything? Leave it in the comments below!

How to Marry a Turk

May 25, 2015

Editor’s Note: This post is intended for Americans marrying Turkish citizens in a belediye nikah salonu (municipal wedding hall) in Istanbul. For other nationalities, other cities in Turkey, or if you want your wedding officiated offsite, kolay gelsin, I have little experience, but if you ask in the comments, I will try to help. -EM

Congratulations! You are going to say your “evets”, and maybe dance the halay and pick up a few gold coins. It’s May and wedding season, so I thought it would be a good time to help those in need with the rather the bureaucratic process of getting married in Istanbul.

Just after our wedding ceremony at the Maltepe Evlendirme Dairesi (municipal wedding hall).

Just after our wedding ceremony at the Maltepe Evlendirme Dairesi (municipal wedding hall).

If you are reading this, you may know that there is some running around to do, and maybe you’ve asked a friend or coworker who is married to a Turk, but you still aren’t totally sure how to go about it.

The first step is to make a notarial appointment at the Istanbul U.S. Consulate located in Istinye on the European side, up the Bosphorus in the Sariyer district (ways to get there).

It’s the first step because the appointment slots fill up fast (there are none available Friday afternoon). Wait periods are long: they can range from two weeks to well over a month. At the time of writing, the appointments for May were fully booked, and the time slots for June hadn’t been made available. Fill out the PDF affidavit at the consular site, print it and bring it.

At the consulate, you will wait anywhere for 5 minutes to an hour (you have to leave your cell phone, so bring a book). You will say an oath swearing that you are not married in the States. The process requires a passport, the PDF form, and $50 cash.

After that, take the affidavit to the valilik (mayor’s office) in Cağoğlu near Sultanahmet. You will get an apostille stamp on the second floor of this sad, dark, bureaucratic building. It’s free.

Meanwhile, you or your Turkish spouse-to-be will arrange to have some medical tests. Turkish citizens just get an evlilik testi. For the American’s, it’s not so simple. American men need to get tested for akdeniz anemesi, or Mediterranean anemia (at least I was asked for that, not everyone is). I had it done at a private medical test lab on Bahariye Caddesi in Kadikoy. Any private lab offering blood tests should be able to do it. It was about 100 TL and took about a week to get the results back. Some clinics, such as the Rana Bese Saglik Polikligi in Kadikoy, can do it all in one shot for at least 200 TL. Call for confirmation.

For regular blood tests, I went to a free clinic run by the Maltepe Belediyesi (municipality). They take chest x-rays (also required), and simple blood tests.

We aimed to save money, so we ran around more. It’s worth paying more to get it all done in one go if you can. Have your Turkish significant other call around to different hospitals and clinics if you are unsure.

After receiving the blood test results, the Mediterranean anemia results, the x-ray image, and making a bunch of passport-sized photos, we went to my spouses family’s local aile hekimi (family doctor). These are located in the saglik ocağı (health clinic) where your future Turkish spouse maintains residency. These neighborhood doctors are determined by the government according to official residence. This site can help your Turkish partner locate his/her family doctor if it’s not known. You can make an appointment over the phone (recommended) or drop in.

After this, you take the health report form, affidavit from the consulate, passport, residency permit, plus the administrative fees and passport-sized photos (ranging from 100 TL to more than 700, depending on the size of the hall rented and the day of the week/time) to the belediye nikah salonu (municipal wedding hall) where your Turkish spouse lives.

NOTE: If you want to get married outside of your Turkish spouse’s ilçe (district) of residence, you take all the above forms to the your local evlendirme dairesi. They give a special form giving permission to marry outside the district, and you take that plus the administrative fees to the district where you want to tie the knot. Both bride and groom must be present at both evlendirme daireleri to get the forms.

For example, my friend Damla and her husband wanted to get married in Maltepe, but there residences were Kartal and Fatih districts, respectively. So they both submitted their required documents to Kartal’s marriage hall, then took the special form to Maltepe and paid their fee.

Some municipalities ask for a birth certificate (Kadıköy did, Maltepe, where we got married, did not), so it’s good to have this as well. Some may ask for a notarized translation of your passport. I got this and wasted 100 TL, neither Kadıköy nor Maltepe required it.

The tricky thing for us was the timing of the whole procedure. Because we wanted to get married at a large marriage hall on a summer weekend, we had to make an appointment at least a few months in advance, but appointments can only be made a maximum of six months in advance.

So you need to start the process early enough that all the documents in order to give yourself a few months time to snap up a desired summer weekend time. However, all marriage documents are only valid 6 months maximum. So there is a time window. Compounding this is the fact that Ramadan falls smack in the middle of summer in this decade, and nearly all Turkish families wouldn’t prefer attending marriages during Ramadan — especially if booze will be involved in the düğün (reception).

Also, check with the belediye (municipality) where you plan to get married to see how far in advance you can reserve a ceremony date. Most are 6 months, but could be less, which could make your window of time to get all the documents ready even shorter.

(Of course, if you wouldn’t mind going in and signing the papers at 2 o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon, then this doesn’t apply to you.)

For example, if you are planning to get married on a Saturday in August — and you need to tell Aunt Greta back home the exact date — given the wait times at the consulate, it would be best to get an appointment at the consulate for February or March, meaning making that appointment in January.

Good luck!

PS: The Turkey Travel Planner has some nice general advice on what to do.


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