A Merry Muslim Christmas....

In answer to the most common question that is so gently presented by my sensitively thoughtful cherubs; no, Muslims do not celebrate Christmas. But what are those Christmas trees and Santa figurines doing in all those antique carpet store fronts you ask? Alas! They celebrate something but its not actually Christmas... its new years eve. Yes, news years eve.....is well, Christmas. Isn't globalisation sneaky and advertising clever! They do all the same things (minus baby Jesus under the chimney) they have presents, the big feast (where yours truly took charge of the turkey), a fake tree, and even those cute bell earrings with green and red ribbons tied in a bow (Memories are flooding back of my favorite auntie swanning around with a pare of these neatly tucked into each ear, and playing the role of Mrs clause oh so well).

So, as a foreigner expecting to have to go through some kind of rehab whilst suffering with drawl symptoms from Aussie Christmas fever, i was quite... well, id like to say excited, but more confused. In many ways i relished in the fact that i was somewhere soooo different that they didn't 'EVEN' celebrate Christmas. Shock! Horror! However, even though they don't celebrate the birth of Christ (not like we really do either), they bloody well celebrate Christmas!

So by the end of November, i have my man putting the pressure on with family presents, i have mum 'in law' (oops a bit presumptuous) asking me to do the turkey (i was tempted to turn up with a ham just to throw a spanner in the works) and jingle bells repeatedly playing on the radio!
Whats a culturally confused girl supposed to do? Just roll with it.

And so i rolled with it. We did the Christmas dinner on new years eve. I whipped up a turkey as if it was straight from my own back yard and seasoned it like i was Betty bloody Crocker. We did the presents 'ceremony', each person with their own time slot, we kissed and hugged and shed a little tear. We read our cards allowed, mine half in terrible Turkish and then even more terrible English. We cracked open the booze and didn't waste any time letting down the guard of family formality. We sat down at an intense spread of Turkish tasties and pastries, and braced ourselves for the ironically named dish, the Turkey. The mother of all meats went down well and so did Sal's reputation.

There were six of us- Yucel, Aysen, Utku and Ezgi and her new boyfriend, Mert, who i took under my wing as the 'new comer' and decided to educated him on a woman's worth (yes- i had few wines). We had pappa on one end sucking down raki (ouzo), mamma on the other being the hostess with the mostess and the two kids with their pissed partners on either side. Yes, it was a merry Muslim Christmas, and even though it doesn't quite measure up to fresh prawns, sunset swims and my brothers beer bellies, it still stood strong ground as a bloody good Christmas.

And who would have thought.