What I Learned about Friendships with Nationals from Backgammon

From Wikipedia.org

Little did I know what I was getting into when I offered to play backgammon with Yeşim. Her eyes gleamed as she leaned forward and rolled the dice.  By sheer instinct she expertly moved the pieces along without even having to count or think. She won 6 games and let me win one.

Backgammon is the national board game of Turkey. You see people sitting on the street playing, and you hear the click of the dice as you walk past cafes. I learned backgammon as a child and am familiar with the rules, but believe me, that doesn’t cut it when it comes to Turkish backgammon!

Yeşim came over at 3:30 for a bit of advice and prayer.  We spent the afternoon drinking tea, eating cake and talking.  After we prayed together, I asked if she wanted to stay and help me make pizza and eat dinner with us.

In the afternoon, I was the abla (older sister) offering advice and prayer. When I got out the backgammon board after dinner, the tables turned and Yeşim became the expert.

What's That Tree in Your Living Room?

“I like your New Year’s tree,” says my neighbor as we sit drinking coffee in my living room.  “You have it up so early, too.”

“Um, thanks,” I say, “We actually put up the tree to celebrate Christmas.”

“Christmas!” she responds, “We celebrate it too on December 31^st.”

I go on to tell my neighbor that we celebrate the birth of our Savior on December 25^th, and that it’s a different celebration than New Year’s Eve. I try to explain in a few words what it means to me. I also feel pretty foolish because there’s not a tangible connection between Christ’s birth and the green tree with the lights and decorations I have in my living room.  It really does look more like a New Year’s Tree. My neighbor is right!

10 Keys to True Cross-Cultural Treasure: Friendship

Last week I wrote about my treasures: Turkish friends who grace my life with laughter, love and loyalty.  Ironically, missing out on this treasure would be all too easy. A great privilege of living overseas is life-enriching friendship with people from other backgrounds, but it’s easy to miss out due to challenges like:

Language barriers

Cultural Misunderstandings

Overwhelming responsibilities: juggling home, family, language learning, 

ministry

Fear that they might not like me

Cross-cultural frustration (Holding on to “MY” ways, looking down on theirs)

Insecurity

My first year or so in Turkey, I felt isolated. I found that after my neighbors’ initial expressions of hospitality and friendship were over, I wasn’t sure how to make friends with them. At the multi-national church we attended, I felt insecure about approaching Turks.  Would they want to be friends with me? Would they see me as just another foreigner anxious to practice my Turkish or “minister” to a national? After all, any foreigner might be here today and gone tomorrow, so why should they open up their hearts and and lives to me?

Faltering First Steps

I started with small steps I could manage. I’d gulp hard and force myself to take the first step, walking up to another mother at the park or knocking on a neighbor’s door. At church my husband and I started by inviting local believers to our house for a meal. I felt an affinity with single women in their late 20’s and early 30’s since I’d married at age 31 myself.  I’d take a deep breath and call one of them up just to ask how they were doing.

Time

Most good things in life take time to grow, and my friendships with Turks were no different. As the years have gone by, God has given us a rich harvest of friendships with people we trust and appreciate, people we can laugh and cry with.

Here are some keys to cross-cultural friendship that I’m still learning myself:

1. Don’t be afraid to reach out and take the first step.  If you haven’t seen them in a while, don’t wait for “them to call you.”
2. Be humble and willing to learn and serve. 
3. Keep any complaints about their country to yourself 
4. Be flexible to do things their way sometimes.  Where I live, this means being open to spontaneity, as in “Can I come over right now?”
5. Give your relationships time.  Building trust can be slow business.
6. Be honest about your own struggles (I believe this is one of the greatest keys to impacting the lives of national believers.)
7. Approach them as equals, people who can encourage you.
8. Visit them in their homes. In our corner of the world, it is normal to call up and ask if you can come over.  This was hard to get used to, but we suspect new friends are initially more comfortable receiving us in their home than visiting us.
9. Don’t let uncertainty about how to receive visitors or what to cook hold you back from inviting people into your home. You won’t be perfect, but you’ll learn. 
10. Don’t take it personally if they refuse your invitation the first time. They may truly be busy or they may feel unsure about you. Give it time and invite them again!

Warm, positive relationships with Turks open the door to greater understanding of differences and give me more tolerance for the frustrations of living here. 

Question: What has been your experience with cross-cultural friendships? 

You might also like: 
Sisters Across Cultures
What Turkish Coffee Reminded Me About Establishing Friendships

Drums at 4 A.M.

Wake Up Call
The booming drum beat woke my husband and me at 4 a.m. on Monday, a reminder that it was the first day of Ramadan. As I lay trying not to wake up, I heard the lonely drummer walk up one side of our block and down the other, the beating drum growing fainter and then louder again as he turned the corner.  If I’d gotten out of bed, I would have seen kitchen lights flicker on in the darkness.

Fast

For us the 4:00 a.m. drummer is a minor nuisance, interrupting our sleep.  For our neighbors who are fasting, it is a call to action.  Women rise to prepare the pre-dawn meal and everyone drinks as much water and tea as possible before 6 a.m. to be able to make it through the day until the evening prayer call at 8:30, which signals the end to the fast.

Fasting from food and water is quite hard, if not dangerous, during the cruelly hot and long August days. Housewives and retirees tend to sleep a bit more during the day, but many working people keep to their regular schedule, despite the sleep deprivation caused by getting up at 4 in the morning.

Festivity

It’s a month of hardship but also revelry; the 8:30 iftar is a festive meal.  Special dishes are prepared; dried fruits and baklava are eaten.  Grocery stores set up Ramadan displays stocked with dates and ingredients for Turkish sweets.  Television commercials feature special products. Restaurants offer iftar menus. Some people actually gain weight during this month of fasting.

This month is a tangible reminder of the pervasive presence of Islam.  Amazingly many people who do not practice their faith during the rest of the year make it a point to fast during this special month. People spend more time praying and reading the Koran. It’s a special time for giving to the poor. 

How my life changes

Many fellow ex-pats don’t like this month.  Some say that they sense heightened spiritual darkness and oppression.  By 5 o’clock in the afternoon tempers flare in the markets, on the streets, and on the buses. Caffeine and nicotine withdrawal has got to be hard for this nation of tea drinkers and smokers.  

Here’s how Ramadan affects me. I try to:

1.  Lay low and rest a bit from visiting friends during the day. Many of them are fasting, but if I go visit them, 

they will insist on offering me food or drink.

2.  Look at it as a time to focus on praying for our friends.

3.  Be aware of spiritual influences.  I don’t like to look for the devil under every rock when things go wrong, but I remember James 4:7. "Submit yourselves, then, to God.  Resist the devil, and he will flee from you."

4.  Thank God again for my salvation.

5.  Crank up the music and worship Him!

6.  Look at Ramadan as special opportunity for dialogue with friends. It’s easy to bring up spiritual topics right now.

7.  Be careful about eating and drinking in public. Many locals don’t fast, and it’s not illegal here to eat and drink on the street, but I want to be respectful.  This means we don’t eat family meals on the balcony any more.   

T i  This is a picture for you of the most overriding current event going in my corner of the world. It will continue until August 29^th. Would you consider joining us to pray for a special touch for these dear people who represent 1/5 of the world’s population? 

gg

Taking Hospitality with a Grain of Salt

Blessed is the man who can laugh at himself, for he will never cease to be amused. 

This proverb is one of my favorites. It reminds me not to take myself so seriously.

Last week I wrote about hospitality mishaps, and this reminds me to take things that go wrong with a grain of salt.

Being able to laugh at myself certainly helped me during a recent catastrophe. My husband and I had guests, and when I stood up to re-fill the tea glasses, the slip I was wearing under my skirt mysteriously slid down in perfect ring around my feet!  I won't go into that story now, but I'm pretty sure it broke the norms of hospitality in any country, not just here in Turkey. (I still can’t believe that really happened.)

On a more serious note, one thing I appreciate about living here is the chance it gives me to learn more about hospitality. Turks are some of the most generous and gracious hosts I've ever seen. Hospitality is a virtue and an art, whether it's a casual visit over Turkish coffee and a piece of chocolate or a dinner with 10 different dishes. I've learned a lot about how to receive guests in my home, but honestly I sometimes feel pressured to somehow live up to Turkish standards, and If I compare myself to them, I'll always fall short!

Here are some helpful lessons I’ve learned:

• Relax and be yourself

I'll never be the Perfect Turkish Hostess (P.T.H.), and that is okay!  Instead I try to relax in and be who I am. The P.T.H. is elegantly dressed and serves delectable treats while she chats effortlessly with guests. She probably only exists in my head. I'm much better at being myself than at striving to put on a show of elaborate hospitality that just leaves me feeling stressed.

• Keep it simple

Sometimes it feels like I’m forever in the kitchen preparing food for meetings or for guests.  This is a warning that I’m striving too hard to be a P.T.H., and I’d better simplify things instead. I've seen Turks get out a simple assortment of nuts, fruits and bought cookies for visitors. That’s a lot easier than baking a cake.

• Focus on your Guests

I can't prepare a 10 course meal and be happy and relaxed when my guests arrive. What I can do is a salad, main dish, rice and maybe a vegetable or soup. If I keep things simple, I'm more relaxed and able to actually enjoy time with friends.  

•  Find a Middle Ground

I want to be cross-culturally relevant, so that Turks can relate to me. I try to do some things their way. I can kiss my guests, offer slippers, pass around lemon cologne (if I remember) and make Turkish coffee. But on the inside, I’m still American, and I need to be myself as well. For example, a few weeks ago, I had to gently explain to a guest that I needed to leave, something that a P.T.H. would try to avoid. I find that most of my Turkish friends are extremely understanding and kind when I do things differently.

• Laugh at yourself when things don't go as planned

During the Classic Turkish Moment I wrote about last week, when I found myself serving a dinner I’d made for 4 to 9 people instead, I laughed.  What else could I do? Keeping my sense of humor helps me to continue enjoying cross-cultural life and time with my friends.

After all, isn't enjoyment what gracious hospitality is all about?

Still breaking the rules after 10 years!

I did it again. I broke a cardinal rule of Turkish hospitality: “Never, ever suggest to a guest that it’s time to leave.” How embarrassing. After 10 years here, I still break the rules, and it leaves me feeling like an Inept, Insensitive Foreigner.

Stand up my Husband or Kick my Guest out?

My friend Zühal was coming for breakfast between 9:30 and 10:00 a.m., so it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t have enough time to make it to a 2:00 p.m. prayer meeting. At 10:30 the breakfast table was set with eggs, tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, cheese, and bread, but no Zühal! I began to feel uneasy. By the time she arrived at 11:00, I knew I had once again overscheduled myself.  Apologizing profusely for being late, she walked in the door with a huge, well stocked tote bag, and her daughter announced, “We’re going to stay here with you until it’s time for swimming class.”

During our breakfast I was torn.  Should I skip the prayer meeting to stay with my guests?  That’s what any Turk would do.  My husband, however, would expect me to make the prayer meeting a priority. 

In the end, I let her know I had to go. I wondered if she connected the fact that she’d been an hour late with our time together being cut short.  I doubted it.  I made a mental note to allow 5 or 6 hours in my schedule when I want to invite her over: one hour for her to be late and four hours for our visit.

Classic Turkish Moment

(How I learned to cook for a crowd even when expecting two guests.)

My blunder with Zühal reminded me of one of my Classic Turkish Moments, during a two year stint in Istanbul 20 years ago:  It was 8 o’clock, and my 7 o’clock dinner guests, Nesrin and her mother, hadn’t arrived.  I stirred the spaghetti sauce, tossed the salad one more time and called to see what had happened. 

“Taner just got home,” Nesrin said. “He has to take a shower, so we’ll be late.”

“All right, I said.  “See you in a little while then.” But inside my mind was spinning. Taner? Why would Taner come?  I’d invited Nesrin and her mother. As I hung up the phone, a light dawned.  Nesrin had invited her brother and his family as well.

I made a mental adjustment.  Okay, instead of 2 guests, we’ll have 5.  I can do that. I opened the fridge, scouted for more ingredients and realized there was no way to make more spaghetti sauce. I got out more salad fixings, found an extra bag of pasta, and put more water on to boil.

They arrived at 9:15, 2 hours and fifteen minutes late.  Nine people came through the door taking off their shoes as my roommate and I kissed and welcomed each one. Nesrin not only brought her brother and his family, but also her aunt, uncle and cousin.  Now the dinner that I had cooked for two guests was looking very small indeed.  As 10 of us gathered around the small dish of spaghetti sauce at the table, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

This happened 20 years ago, but things haven’t changed. 

I still meet with surprises and sometimes feel like I don’t quite measure up. Do things like this ever happen to you where you live?  How do you handle it? All I can do is accept that fact that I’ll probably never be the perfect Turkish hostess!  I’ll write more on that next week.

What Turkish Coffee Reminded Me About Establishing Friendships

My neighbor took me totally off guard.  All I wanted to do was to drop off a plate of cake for her kids at the door.  My afternoon tea guests had just left, and I was thinking about cleaning up the kitchen, getting chores done and cooking dinner. What WAS I going to cook for dinner?

But Ayla said, “Meltem and I are going to Kahve Diyari for Turkish coffee in ten minutes. Why don’t you come?” I looked at my watch. Almost 5 o’clock. No way could I have dinner on the table at 7.  I was too tired.  Too peopled out already.  

Then I thought, “Why not? Haven’t I been looking for the opportunity to spend time with my neighbors? The world won’t end if dinner is late.”

Our one hour coffee date ended up being a serendipitous ending to my day.  I laughed to learn that Ayla and Meltem had already had coffee at the same café at 11 a.m. that very day. We sipped our coffee in the 5 o’clock shade, enjoying the breeze and talking about our summer plans.

That cup of Turkish coffee started me thinking about friendships. Ayla and Meltem have been neighbors for 10 years.  They drink coffee together every morning at 11 a.m., usually at home. They shop together, go to the doctor together, and eat breakfast every Thursday with a group of women they’ve known for 20 years.

Maybe that would be too much togetherness for an American woman like me, but Ayla and Meltem can teach me a lot about community and friendships. Turks live in tight knit communities, and it’s easy for a foreigner to feel like an outsider once the initial show of Turkish hospitality is over.  Cultivating friendships across cultures is challenging and takes time.   Here are some keys that have helped me.

Take the First Step

Don’t wait for people to approach you.  If you want to develop friendships, be willing to pick up the phone, and make the first call.  Step out and knock on someone’s door, or speak to a stranger at the checkout line in the supermarket.  Call someone you haven’t seen in a long time, instead of waiting for them because “it’s their turn” to call you.

This sounds obvious, but sometimes it takes a bit of courage. Living in Costa Rica, El Salvador, and now Turkey, I’ve often had to force myself to be bold and take the first step, but I’ve been rewarded with many friendships as a result.

Be approachable and available

Whenever possible, I try to be open to people approaching me spontaneously. This means being flexible and ready to set aside my agenda for interruptions, even if it’s not always convenient. I hope this communicates to my friends that I value them.

Build Bridges

I look for common interests: hobbies, children, jobs, cooking, books, and vacation spots.  If I’m lost for conversation, I just ask people questions and listen!

Give Relationships Time to Grow

We moved to a new apartment building a year ago, and although I knocked on a few doors to invite neighbors to my house, they rarely came. I thought they didn’t like me!  Slowly people have gotten to know us, and they’re more open to us.  I’ve realized that not everyone opens their hearts as quickly as I do to new friends.  Growing friendships takes time. 

How do friendships and community develop where you live? Do you have any advice for me about growing friendships?

Criticizing our Hosts? Or Learning from Them?

Criticizing

When you live overseas, it’s easy to fall into the habit of criticizing everything you find different or challenging in your host culture.  In Turkey, foreigners complain about bureaucracy, disorganized traffic, lack of planning, people arriving late, people arriving early, or people not showing up at all.  It’s easy to see the negative side of everything.  I should know.  I just spent one and a half hours waiting in two lines in order to apply for a new cell phone account.  It was my third trip to the cell phone shop in one week.

Cultivating Wonder and Thankfulness

Instead of grumbling about my host country, I want to cultivate a sense of wonder and thankfulness for God’s allowing me to be here.  Recently I wrote about life changing lessons I've learned from Turks.  Last month I had several “Where else but Turkey?” experiences that reminded me again to appreciate the kindness and generosity of Turks.

• At the bakery one day I was caught with no wallet and needed to buy a box of cookies.  The counter person said, “Don’t worry.  Take the cookies and just bring the money the next time you come.”

• In front of our neighborhood police station, I asked the officer on duty if he knew where there was a photocopier.  He said, “Oh, I can make these for you right here. How many do you need?” And he gave me free copies on the police station!

Recognizing Kindness

Last month I sat in the crowded waiting room of our neighborhood public health clinic, just 40 minutes before closing time.  I had a hacking cough. Would the doctor even see me?  It seemed like a long shot.   I didn’t have a health card, and there were about 6 patients before me. Would this doctor be willing to wait on a foreigner who wasn’t even registered with the health system?  I waited until the door opened and peeked in.  I saw a pretty blonde doctor in a white coat.

“I don’t have a health card,” I said, “but I live in this neighborhood. Can you see me?”

“I have too many patients,” she answered.  “Come back tomorrow morning.”

“But tomorrow is Saturday,” I protested. “The clinic is closed.”

“Well, wait outside, and I’ll see if I have time.”

The minutes crept by.  Patient after patient went in and out. Finally the doctor called me in.

“Can I have your Turkish id number?” she asked.

“I don’t have one,” I answered. “I’m not a Turkish citizen. I have a residence permit, but our numbers are different.”

The Doctor spent 10 minutes trying to type my information into her computer, but my residence permit number didn’t fit into the system.  She called another doctor. For a minute I thought that even after the hour wait, all was lost since I didn’t fit into the computer system. 

She finally gave up and said, “What is it you need?”

“I’ve been coughing for two weeks, and I just want to see if I need an antibiotic.”

So she examined me, wrote a prescription and handed it to me with a smile.

   

As I left, I thought about how I could either be frustrated over the hour wait and the confusion generated by my residence permit number, or I could be grateful for this doctor who was willing to go the extra mile at closing time to serve a total stranger.  She was someone I could learn from.

If you have travelled or live overseas what have you grumbled about? What have you learned?

Turkish Delight: Life-Changing Lessons

Last weekend I had another Turkish moment.  I was squeezed in with 13 people at my neighbors’ table, savoring her delicious chicken noodle soup, awed by the spread in front of me:  stuffed grape leaves, okra in olive oil, carrots in garlic yogurt, and some ten other dishes. Everyone was talking at once, a soccer game was blaring on television, and the kids were running around the house.

“You haven’t eaten anything,” our hostess lamented.  “Have some of these spinach pastries. All of this food has got to be eaten!”

After dinner when the ladies retired to the kitchen for Turkish coffee, I smiled to myself, remembering again how much I love Turks.  I came here to share God’s love with them, but they have changed me in the process. The longer I’m here, the more I appreciate what I have learned from them.

If you came to have coffee with my neighbor, she would surely offer you some Turkish delight.  I have a different offering for you this week:  little tidbits of Turkish style wisdom. These are life-changing lessons Turks have taught me.

·         Make Relationships a Priority

Turks live in community. Friends and family talk to each other almost daily and see each other often. (We Westerners would probably call this co-dependency.) At my neighbor’s dinner gathering, two of the couples had also gone to breakfast together the same day.  The women visit each other every Thursday.  They are lifelong friends who live in community.

·         Be Available to your Friends and Open to Interruptions

Many Turks will drop almost anything if friends call and ask, “May I come over right now?” As a Westerner I program and schedule my life down to the last hour, and I have a hard time putting aside my plans for friends who call to ask, “Are you free now?”  I wonder how many serendipities I miss when I’m not open to interruptions?

·         Make Room for Spontaneity in Your Life

Once my husband and I had plans to have dinner with a younger Christian couple. One hour before our dinner guests were set to arrive, my close friend Esra called.

“We haven’t had water in our apartment for 3 days. Can we come take showers at your house?”

I thought for a minute: Not only would our quality time with the couple be ruined, but I would need to then feed Esra’s family as well.  I asked her if she had any other options and explained that we were expecting guests, but I’ve wondered what lovely chaos would have resulted if I’d said, “Sure, come on over!”

·         Practice Hospitality

Turks can teach us the gracious art of hospitality, whether it’s offering a dish of nuts and dried fruits or a 5 course meal. The important thing is opening our hearts and our homes to friends.

·         Make Time for Slow Food and Slow Life

My favorite slow food is sarma.  It takes me 3 hours to make the filling and stuff the grape leaves. I tell myself, “I have three hours to enjoy cooking. I don’t have to hurry through life.” But I haven’t really learned this lesson because I only make sarma twice a year!

·         Respect Your Elders

When was the last time you kissed an older person’s hand?  Turks do it all the time.

So that was my box of Turkish delight for you. These are some things that make me love Turks.

If you have travelled or live overseas, what have you learned from your hosts?

Cross Cultural Living: A Chance to Embrace Humility

When you first move overseas you’re less competent than most children in your host country. You can’t speak the language right. You don’t know how things work or where anything is. You lack the know-how to get simple jobs done. You can’t even cook a meal that people will like. (See my last post.) Living cross culturally puts you in a humbling position of weakness.



Occasions to be Humbled


Living in Turkey for 10 years, I’ve had many occasions to be humbled. Here are a few:

• One day in the kitchen years ago my “Turkish mother” showed me the right way to chop a bell pepper. The way I was doing it was wrong. I smiled and silently began chopping the pepper her way, but I was fuming inside. Why does it matter how I chop this pepper? What’s with her? I wish I were more mature.



• Another time at a Bible study group, I handed out the new songbooks I’d had made. We took an offering to help pay for the books, and one of the members announced to the group, “We shouldn’t ask foreigners to do jobs like this. Betsy got ripped off.”



• One night at my folk dancing class our group finally mastered a difficult new dance step. I smiled to the woman next to me and said, “I think we’re finally getting it.” She repeated, “I think we’re finally getting it” in an exaggerated American accent. Ouch.



• Later that same evening, an American friend Brenda and I were talking with a group, and several women laughed and made fun of Brenda’s accent. She turned as red as a beet! I didn’t care so much about one person imitating me, but I was upset by a group making fun of poor Brenda! As we left dance class I thought, “We really do not need this. We give up everything to come and serve the Lord here, and what do we get? People making fun of our accent!”

Why do situations like these bother me? They hurt my pride. Being taught to chop a bell pepper when you’re 28 can be humbling. Being told you got ripped off is humbling. Being teased in front of others is humbling. My pride rebels, and I have two natural reactions:

1. To justify myself. I KNOW how to cut a bell pepper. Or I don’t deserve this treatment.


2. To compare my country to Turkey. In America people would never make fun of a foreigner’s accent. Yeah, right. Think again.


Chances to Grow


In reality, these situations are small chances to grow, but I have to choose my attitude. I can cling to my wounded pride and become resentful. Or, even though it goes against everything inside of me, I can choose to adopt the same attitude Jesus had. “He made himself nothing,…He humbled himself.” (Phil. 2:7a,8) Jesus wouldn’t take it personally if someone made fun of his accent. He would just smile and keep loving that person.

His Word reminds me, “Clothe your selves with humility toward one another because God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” (1 Peter 5:5) Okay, Lord, I ask you for grace. The next time I’m reminded that I’m a foreigner, help me to thank you for the chance to embrace humility. Help me to have the same attitude Jesus would.



Any comments?



Check back next week when I'll share “What I Can Learn From Turks.”

Lasagna in a Karniyarik World

 

I was nervous and excited about my very first dinner guests in Turkey. Would they like my lasagna? I hoped so since I didn’t know how to cook Turkish food.

 We were eight people around the table: our neighbors Murat and Selin, their children Ceren and Necat, Jose, me and our two children. As Jose prayed to thank God for our visitors and our food, I looked doubtfully at the beef lasagna with basil tomato sauce and melted cheese. It looked great to me, but would they like it? I cut it and served it carefully onto each person’s plate. I felt butterflies rising in my stomach when I noticed Murat staring at his plate, his forehead furrowed over piercing brown eyes.

 “What do we do with this?” he asked, looking at the lasagna.

 “Well,” I said, “What do you mean? Um…we eat it.” My children Andres and Camille giggled and whispered to each other.

 “Oh, I just wondered,” Murat said, “How do you eat it? Do you put yogurt on top of this? Do we just cut it with our knives and forks? What is it?”

 Oh great, I thought. This evening is off to a brilliant start. Everyone at the table, including Jose, looked at me waiting for an explanation of what lasagna was and how to eat it. My face went red, and I felt irritated inside. Even if he’d never had lasagna before, at least he could be more polite about it. My enjoyment of the dinner I’d worked to prepare was spoiled.

 Murat and Selin managed to eat the lasagna, and they said how good it was, but I could see that their children had a hard time eating it. They looked relieved when the meal was over, and I poured glasses of familiar, steaming Turkish tea.

 When at last everyone left, I remembered Murat staring at his plate. Did he not realize how embarrassed he’d made me feel? What was wrong with me anyway? Couldn’t I even cook a decent meal that my new friends would like? My face flushed all over again with embarrassment.

 By the next day I was able to laugh about it, and after 8 years the lasagna fiasco has become a part of our family lore. My son will repeat, “What do we do with this? What is this?” And we all laugh, remembering Murat’s puzzled expression.

 I enjoy living overseas, and generally Turks are extremely gracious to foreigners. However, sometimes I struggle with being an outsider who always speaks and does things differently. I remember the old Sesame Street song, “One of these things is not like the other. One of these things just doesn’t belong.” Maybe the Turkish Sesame Street would have had three plates of Karniyarik (stuffed eggplant) and one plate of lasagna. Sometimes I feel like I’m that person or thing that doesn’t belong.

 During my 8 years in Turkey I’ve committed more cross-cultural blunders than I can count, like the time I showed up at an all women’s tea with my husband. I used to agonize over my mistakes and how silly they made me look in front of other people, but over the years I’ve loosened up. I’ve learned the following:

• Just be yourself.
• Relax and don’t worry about doing everything right.
• Don’t take things too seriously.
• Learn to laugh at yourself.
• Enjoy differences rather than be bothered by them.

 Since I’m here, I might as well enjoy being that lone plate of lasagna hidden among all the other plates of karniyarik.

If you live overseas, I’d love to read a comment about one of your cross-cultural fiascos.