Yesterday I learned that a serious face on a Turk often hides one of the nicest people you could ever hope to meet.
My sister and I had lunch at the Para Palace Hotel, where Agatha Christie wrote "Murder on the Orient Express." We arrived after lunchtime but before cocktails so we enjoyed the patio nearly all to ourselves. Our server was a very serious woman who seemed almost annoyed to be waiting on us. After we ordered dessert she came back with spoons and cautiously asked, "are you sisters?"
My sister and I both smiled our big, straight-teeth, personable smiles and said yes. Those smiles opened the door to her smile. We found out that she is from Istanbul, has twin four-year olds, and that Turks live by a personal commitment to hospitality. She offered to take our picture, and then agreed to be in a picture with me. She chatted so long with us that she worried she might get in a little trouble with her boss. She was one of the most genuine people we met, and it was all initially hidden behind her serious demeanor.
Later that day we headed to dinner at Balikci Sabahattin, a fish place popular with locals and tourists. Boy was it crowded! There were several groups of people waiting for tables, some very anxiously. I watched one woman repeatedly ask various waiters how much longer her party would have to wait (I'm pretty sure that she was not American, for the record). Not wanting to be difficult, I patiently waited for the owner to have a free moment.
Once I saw that the owner was available, I approached him and smiled. Now, according to my guide book it is not recommended for women to smile at men in Turkey because it is seen as flirtatious, but I can't help it - I smile at everything. I politely told the owner that there were two in my party and that we should have a reservation. He nodded and I told him that we would be waiting by the edge of the patio. I returned to my sister and we patiently waited, enjoying the atmosphere and, of course, the people watching
I'm not sure if it was because we had a reservation, or because we were so polite, or because we were dressed up and smiled, but when the next two person table opened up the owner bypassed several other groups waiting and called us forward. We were seated after waiting only a few minutes clearly much to the chagrin of the others waiting.
Upon being seated another gentleman in a checked shirt, possibly the owner's son, came over to our table. I said "merhaba," which is hello in Turkish. He smiled at me and then said something in Turkish to my sister. Now, neither of us speak Turkish beyond basic phrases and whatever he said was not basic. My sister replied, "pardon?" to which the man in the checked shirt laughed heartily while winking at me. I have no idea what he said, and I'm not sure if he was just testing us to see if we were locals (apparently my hello was very convincing) but he went on his way chuckling to himself. He was replaced by a very stoic waiter, and then fun for the evening was seemingly over...or so I thought.
We had an incredibly delicious dinner which included fish, mezes, salad, and two presents - an extra meze and a dessert with apricots and the best ice cream I've ever had in my life. Both culinary gifts were bestowed upon us in the same stoic fashion that our server had exhibited throughout the whole meal, though his generosity was very much appreciated.
When we had finished our meal, and were leaving, I stopped to thank the owner and let him know how much we had enjoyed our dinner. My sister and I said goodbye and were walking out when our very stoic waiter called to us, "excuse me. Excuse me."
We stopped and he came up to us and said, "he is a policeman," pointing to the man in the checked shirt, who stood several yards away grinning and obviously not a police officer.
"He needs to see your passports,"our waiter continued, as he broke into a huge smile.
My sister and I both laughed. I wonder how much the man in the checked shirt bet our waiter to say that to us, as it definitely felt like a dare. I winked at the man in the checked shirt and we said goodbye. As we walked away we could hear the laughs of the waitstaff, which mingled with those of my sister and myself. A police officer - classic! I would have never pegged our waiter as a prankster, and his silly joke was the perfect way to end an amazing dining experience.
So then next time you encounter a very serious person, especially a Turk, don't be too quick to judge. There is probably a very personable if not hilarious person lurking behind that stoic demeanor.
Oh, and a big smile never hurts either.
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