When is a Turkey not a Turkey

I remember very well the first Christmas I spent in an Islamic country.

The weather in Fez on the 25th December 1971, was grey and cold. We were hungry. Our meagre travel budget hardly stretched to more than one meal a day. To Dave and me, over a couple of Newcastle Browns in the student bar, it had seemed like a nice idea. To break out of family Christmas and spend it in Morocco. Cool man! Don’t you know we’re riding on the Marrakesh Express?

Well we never made Marrakesh because we could not afford the train ticket. We had to make the best of Fez. Which on a grey day seemed a dump. The only sign of festivity was a sign in the window of a single shop in the foreign quarter.  ‘Joyeux Noel’ the letters glittered. Like a taunt. A cruel jest.

We dreamed of roast turkey, Christmas trees, fairy lights, sausage rolls. Even Brussels sprouts! I vowed never to spend another cheerless Christmas in an Islamic country.

Fifty years later. Here I am confronting my eighth Christmas in Islamic Turkey. How is it going?

Surprisingly well.

You might think that Christmas in Turkey would be a real turkey. For a start turkeys in Turkey are called indians (hindi). Hence the title of the post, in case you were still wondering. It sounds all wrong.

But Turkey is not Morocco. The Aegean and Mediteranean coastal strip from Izmir to Antalya is a bit of a playground for Western tourists and secular Turks. Girls dressed in skimpy clothes can ride scooters with hair blowing in the wind, alcohol is freely available and the living is easy. Except for the district of Kaş (surprisingly) the opposition CHP party is in charge of all the city and town halls.

Also there are many foreign resident communities. So Christmas gets a helping hand from the Fethiye Christmas market, for instance, where you can buy homemade mincemeat, tree decorations, mulled wine etc. Restaurants compete to offer the most tempting Christmas dinners.

Not this year though. Its the Year of Corona and everywhere is shut. So it is buy online (or like the amazing Special K make it out of pine needles) and celebrate in your bubble. We have our three household mountain bubble. So we joined together for a great meal on Christmas Eve. Eschewing an indian we roasted three ducks, drank some bubbles, watched It’s a Wonderful Life, talked, walked and swam at Patara during our three hour exeat window on Christmas morning. Then returned to our homes for the weekend lockdown. Solihin was there to remind us to link hands and bless our good fortune.

I am not sure if it is completely within the rules but it is within the spirit of them. All of us have committed to acting with great care in dealings with everybody else – mask, distance, avoid confinement. That way we can be relaxed and enjoy some contact between ourselves in our bubble.

It is dispiriting to see people working in fields, or riding a scooter wearing a mask. It shows complete ignorance of how the virus is spread. Japan has suffered just 18 deaths per million, without strict lockdown or mass testing. How? The Japanese understood that the virus travels through air. The government had a strategy based on medical science. The people were blasted relentlessly with a simple message; wear masks and avoid the “3 C’s” crowded places, confined spaces, close contact. They did what they were told. The source for this is The Economist, which has published an excellent article on why many Asian countries have done much better than Western countires in combatting the virus. You can find it online.

It looks like, even with the vaccine becoming available, we are some way away from being able to travel, socialise and embrace our friends and family.

The Pandemic has been and is still crushing. But what does not kill you makes you stronger. It offers us the chance to value what we have and to learn from each other: to recognise that ignorance is the biggest killer and that confronting the many global challenges that face us must be a shared endeavour.

With that in mind I welcome President Erdoğan’s message to all celebrating Christmas in Turkey and across the world and his embracing of diversity and mutual respect.

Whether it is a cynical bid to calm financial markets or a real change in direction, only time will tell. But let us be generous and welcome this unexpected Christmas present. An acorn may become a giant oak tree.

And may your bubble grow ever bigger.

Be you of little faith, much faith, different faith or no faith at all, Special K and I wish you A Merry Christmas