G Takes to Turkey

G is getting used to being part of a Turkish family. First, he's got the slipper thing down. He has 'bahce' (garden) slippers and 'house' sliooers and he knows to take off his shoes upon entering the house. He also puts his shows on in the entrance or outside on the porch. He's figured out the Turkish mom's ultimate rule: What's outside, doesn't come inside!

Now he mixes up his cold water with room temperature water and doesn't ask for ice. He helps clean up the table and folds my mom's table cloth, offers to take out the garbage and succumbs to the one last piece of baklava forced into his mouth by persistent, generous hosts.

He does well here. He fusses over his tan, where he'll eat, where he'll sleep and then how long he's going to keep his tan. He affectionately calls me 'ekmek' (bread) as he tells me it's time to go eat 'yemek' (food). He takes to life here, this G. And people who meet him take to him.