Fighting Culture

It was bound to happen.

My stomach is a mess in a country in which stuffing your guests with sugary treats is considered a moral and religious duty. My bowels are angry in a country in which Western toilets are replaced with a hole in the ground (aka Turkish Toilet). [See previous info on said toilets here and here, where last year I waxed poetic on toilet matters.]

Yesterday, I battled all day to avoid eating too much, explaining to all of my numerous hosts around town that my stomach was upset, that I was full, that I had already drank several glasses of tea. All to no (or at least little) avail. In total, in the time between lunch and dinner, I consumed, against my true wishes, the following:

- approximately 6 small cups of sugary tea
- one cup of sugary, milky coffee
- one crepe / pancake type thing
- one cookie
- one small glass cola
- one small glass orange soda
- one slice cake
- handful of peanuts

Now, I truly do not wish to seem ungrateful. Every single person that I have met in this town has treated me like a king, a son, or a brother (or, just yesterday, in an unrelated incident involving an enamored, slightly crazy 16 year old girl, as a potential husband). Everyone has looked out for my best interests, sometimes to a fault.

It is just that, on a cultural level, sometimes it is difficult to navigate here. As I said to Driss yesterday, "Someday I would like to walk into a house and hear the host say, 'So sorry. A thousand pardons. I have no tea. I have no soda. I am all out of cake and cookies. All I have is this big glass of cold water.'"

That, however, will never happen.

And so I continue, fighting stomach cramps and running to the bathroom, battling an entire society, fighting against all odds to keep my stomach in the least horrible shape that I can muster.