I spent the summer of 2009 in Paris as an intern at an interactive art museum for children. It sounds glamorous, but it was mostly me cutting out shapes and realizing that my French wasn’t very good. Constant paper cuts aside, I did my best to blend into Parisian culture. I took the métro, wore black tights under my shorts (très-chic at the time), rolled my eyes at tourists from my homeland, and ate unpasteurized cheese daily. The pinnacle of sophistication, right?
No? Okay, let’s go with "aspiring snob".
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| As you can see, I did an impeccable job of blending in. |
One cultural habit I loved about France was la bise, which is when two people kiss each other on the cheeks as a greeting. I tried to bring it back to America, but it weirded people out and the elegant double kiss eventually faded to a single peck reserved for my close friends and family.
So I was pleased when I moved to Turkey to discover that kissing as a greeting is everywhere.
In France, la bise routines vary slightly by region, but the rules are pretty straightforward. They even have the polite phrase, “on se fait la bise?”, which means, “shall we give each other a kiss?” and carries the subtext “you don’t have to feel awkward and can totally say no, so don’t worry about it, because it’s not a big deal either way”.
Cheek kissing in Turkey is ANARCHY.
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| This is me everyday. |
It’s not simply a matter of knowing if you should kiss someone, but you have to ask yourself the following questions:
How many kisses and/or hugs?
Do I go right or left?
Is it a kiss or more like a double face bump?
Where do your hands go?
Should hair be moved for easier cheek access?
I'm serious, anything freaking goes in this country.
Sometimes people kiss the air, sometimes it’s lips on face, or sometimes it's just cheek to cheek. Sometimes the kiss is audible and sometimes it’s a silent pucker. Sometimes the embrace is a double chest bump that looks like an indecisive hug. Sometimes men greet each other by simply touching their temples, like they’re exchanging secret information through osmosis. Sometimes it's a handshake-hug hybrid.
A few weeks into my new life in Turkey, I started to miss the formality and simplicity of bowing in Korea.
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| I have been both people in this scenario numerous times. |
Over the past couple of years, I've developed a strategy. When greeting someone I don't know very well, I smile, chuckle awkwardly, lean in slightly, and let the other party take it from there. If you opt for this route, it’s important to keep an open mind and know that anything could happen.
There are also times when there’s a receiving line of people (i.e. at a party) and you kiss the first three because you know them, but the fourth person is someone you’ve never met. In this situation, you should let out an awkward “haha” that roughly translates to “I don’t know you, but I just kissed the three people before you and everyone ahead of me kissed you, so I guess I’ll kiss you too.” The person will then emit a nearly identical “haha” which means “I get it. Just go for it”.
It happens all. the. time.
Not long after I first came to Turkey, I went to my friend Cemre’s henna night (a sort of bachelorette party, but infinitely better). I was the only foreigner there and I met at least thirty of her relatives. Each time I extended my right hand and said, “Merhaba”, the family member would clasp my open palm, pull me to his or her chest like an impatient tango partner, plant two kisses on my flushed cheeks, and say “Hoşgeldin”.
“Merhaba”, I’d repeat like a dazed moron.
That night and her wedding remain my two favorite days in Turkey. Probably one of the most wonderful weekends of my life. With each forceful hug, my cold American heart got a little bigger. I arrived a stranger to everyone except Cemre, but I left feeling like family with these lovely people. It was incredibly touching, you guys.
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Me and Aylin (one of the first people I ever gave a Kiss-Kiss-Hug-Hug to) on Xmas
I just really like this picture. (Photo by Maria Korneva) |
If a gift is exchanged, someone is leaving for more than a week, someone returns from a vacation longer than five days, or you meet a good friend whom you haven’t seen in a while, you need to do a Kiss-Kiss-Hug-Hug. Just follow these six easy steps to avoid embarrassment:
1. Place your hands on the other person's shoulders
2. Kiss* their right cheek (on your left)
3. Kiss* their left cheek (on your right)
4. Remain on the right side and hug†
5. Switch back to the left side and hug†
6. Release
*The kissing can be replaced with short dialogue, including, but not limited to: "Merhaba", "Nasılsın?","Hoşgeldin", "Hoş bulduk". Sentences may not exceed three syllables.
†Back rub with right hand optional
It's simple.
The Kiss-Kiss-Hug-Hug took me months to master. I finally got the hang of it after I had to do five of them in rapid succession, when I brought my co-workers in Yalova Christmas presents from America. With the combination of a gift exchange, returning from a trip, and a holiday, it was mandatory.
If there were a movie montage of me mastering greeting culture in Turkey, this would be its climax. (The song for the montage would be Gimme Some Lovin' by Spencer Davis Group, in case you were wondering.) When I perfectly executed the final Kiss-Kiss-Hug-Hug with Gülseven Abla, the woman who cooked and cleaned at the school, I expected people to start applauding, confetti to fall from the ceiling, and a big banner to drop down that read, "We knew you could do it, Laurel!" No such luck.
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| This was taken at the height of the "Gangnam Style" craze. |
It's also common in Turkey for young kids to hug and kiss their teachers. My elementary students in Yalova were very affectionate. We had a "Kindergarden Cop" dynamic going on; me, the unfeeling foreigner and them, the crazy yet lovable children. This class in particular would all shout, “Laurel Teacher!”, whenever I walked into the room and would then maul me with germy hugs and slobbery kisses. You know, the sort of thing that would be a guaranteed lawsuit in America.
Clive, an Englishman to the core, hated getting physical attention from his students. Whenever a child would wrap him in a warm embrace, Clive Teacher would stand there, rigid as a pole, looking completely miserable.
"I hate when they do that. It makes me look like a paedo!", he'd tell me after one of these encounters.
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| I love you, Drake and Francis, wherever you are. |
Speaking of Clive, I've known my best friend in Turkey for nearly three years. In the course of our close friendship, we’ve told each other secrets, gone on adventures, and called each other in times of crises. We even got pet ducks, undoubtedly one of the worst decisions in either of our lives.
In all this time, we have shared exactly three awkward hugs.
When Clive found out that he was accepted to METÜ, one of the most prestigious universities in Turkey, it was probably the best news of his life. He called me on the phone and was overjoyed. Upon seeing him an hour later, I gave him a tentative congratulatory double pat on his shoulder. I could tell that he was genuinely very moved.
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Burcu and Clive
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Clive and his wonderful girlfriend Burcu came to Istanbul for Christmas. At the end of their visit, I walked them to the bus station. I’d only met Burcu a few days before, but we got along really well, so I went in for the Kiss-Kiss-Hug-Hug. I turned to Clive, lightly placed my hand in his shoulder and said, “Take it easy, Clive-O”.
Burcu looked confused and said, “Clive, what are you doing? Give your friend a kiss.”
Clive visibly recoiled.
We looked at Burcu and then at each other.
“Nah. That’s okay”, we both said.
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| Clive is Olivia Pope in this exchange. |
But, I digress from the kissing culture at hand. Here are some day-to-day Turkish situations you might find yourself in.
If two women between the ages of 18-40 are being introduced by a mutual friend, it is acceptable to double kiss.
If the relationship is of a professional nature, but you are Facebook friends and have commented “Afiyet olsun!” on their picture of homemade mantı, which they in turn “liked”, you may kiss on both cheeks.
If you see a friend somewhere you aren’t expecting to see them, pucker up.
If you go to a person's home, even if it's someone you saw earlier that day, you need to give them a double hug or some variation as you cross the threshold. You just do.
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| This was the nicest wedding that ever was or will be. Trust me. |
I was at a coworker’s wedding a few months ago and as the newly married couple was making its way from table to table, I stood up with my friends. I’d never met my coworker’s wife before. I started getting nervous and talking out loud to no one in particular.
“I never know if I should kiss someone or not. It seriously stresses me out”, I whined.
“We don’t know either”, my friend Dilek said behind me.
I spun around to see if she was serious.
“Wait? Are you serious?”
“Of course”, she said and shrugged.
"[Insert string of expletives here.]"
I was shocked. I was so certain that all Turks were born with a gene that told them when and how to greet other people. They always seem so relaxed and confident about it.
Relief swept over me. I still felt awkward, but it wasn’t quite so overwhelming knowing that my Turkish friends were just as uncertain as me.
When the beaming couple arrived at our table, without thinking, I gave the groom a double hug and the bride a double kiss. It was impossible not to mirror the happiness radiating off of these two wonderful people.
In that moment, I felt so lucky to live in a place where a firm handshake or one-armed hug is insufficient for expressing warmth, happiness, or gratitude amongst friends.
