Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
never change. To test a fun cultural quirk, I tossed my dice and paused. As I remembered,
a bystander moved for me. When it comes to backgammon, there's one right way… and
everybody knows it. And in Turkey, as if a result of its ruthless history, when starting a
new game, the winner goes first.
With each backgammon game, I think of one of my most precious possessions back
home: an old-time, hand-hewn, inlaid backgammon board, with rusty little hinges held
in place by hasty tacks, and soft, white wood worn deeper than the harder, dark wood.
Twenty years after taking that backgammon board home, I open it and still smell the to-
bacco, tea, and soul of a traditional Turkish community. There's almost nothing in my
world that is worn or has been enjoyed long enough to absorb the smells of my life and
community. It's a reminder to me of the cost of modernity. And when the feel and smell
of my old backgammon board takes me back to Turkey, I'm reminded how, in the face
of all that modernity, the resilient charm of traditional cultures is endangered and worth
preserving.
Today in Turkey, the people—like those dots on the modern dice—line up better. The
weave of a mosque carpet provides direction. There's a seat for everyone, as the
dolmu
ş
are no longer so stuffed. Fez sales to tourists are way down, but scarf wear by local women
(a symbol of traditional Muslim identity) is way up. Each of my déjà vu moments shows
a society confronting powerful forces of change while also wanting to stay the same.
