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Cay
From book project Cay, Tavla, MyslenkyThe Turks are above all hospitable people and tea is the foundation of their hospitality. Everyone you encounter will offer two or three glasses, which you cannot refuse. Having already drunk too much is no excuse as they drink cay all day. Every stove has a small pot of leaves and tea atop a large pot of water. Glasses are filled in varying proportions of tea to water according to some tea drinking hierarchy. Old men are at the top. All tea paraphernalia is miniature. Cay is served in a tulip-shaped glass on a fluted saucer with a little spoon and a lot of sugar. The tea is too hot to drink, the glass too hot to hold. In the back of his friend's mattress shop, Suleyman and I tried to determine what day it was. He banged on the wall three times and grinned but wouldn't explain. A minute later the (c)ay man came with our three glasses on a swinging tray. Normally we'd drink four glasses an hour, except in tea houses. There men endlessly drink tea, smoke cigarettes or water pipes, and play backgammon. You wonder when they work. They've played tavla all their lives so they don't look at each other or pause to count. As one rolls, the other moves. There's a way to roll and a way to move; after hospitality, Turks have style. Mindy is very lucky and always rolls doubles. This way she can even beat Turkish people. When she's beating Suleyman, he always says, "Valla, Turkancigim, you are very lucky." She beat me about two hundred times in three weeks, but once I caught on, all she could say was, "Valla, Jalecigim." I played with Cenap after Hazim wouldn't pay me, and I threw his dishes out the window. Neither Cenap nor I spoke, and I became dyslexic. I drank beer and smoked cigarettes until I stopped shaking but I still couldn't count. Finally, Cenap said, "Bet-ty, PLEASE." View images: from book project Cay, Tavla, Myslenky © 2004 Beth Zonderman |
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