Is this what it means to be beautiful in Turkey?

A light-hearted reading from Istanbul’s Spoken Word on April 12, 2016.

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This is a story about one woman’s struggle to come to terms with beauty in the eyes of the Turks.

Well, the truth be known it’s actually my own struggle.

I recently spent three months in Australia where I danced in a stage show. With a month of intensive rehearsals in the heat of an Australian summer I naturally lost weight – about three kilograms.

Though, when the curtains came down on the show, my weight was not on my mind. I binged on chocolate, burgers and biscuits for a few weeks as my dancing feet rested. I no longer had to watch my waist line – and I enjoy my food!

That said, about a week before flying back to Istanbul I began to feel apprehensive about my weight, because I had to face my Turkish friends. And, I knew, EVERY TIME I land in Turkey I’d get their honest opinion about my weight:

“Hello my friend? How are you? ………Have you put on a little bit of weight?”

In Australia, you would NEVER, EVER say to someone’s face: “Have you put on weight?” To say such a thing would be highly insensitive, perhaps even insulting to anyone insecure about their extra kilograms.

But no, no, no – not in Turkey. Apparently, it could be a compliment to hear: “Have you put on a little bit of weight?”

I bet there’s a few people right now mentally sizing me up as they read this blog. And, if you’re Turkish you maybe thinking …”It sounds like she’s carrying a few extra kilograms…is she balık etli!?”

What does that mean? Some of you may ask. Well let me tell you a story.

I was introduced to this term six years ago when I came to Istanbul.

I met a Turkish guy at bar in Taksim. He was mid-30s with dark long locks and kept himself fit. We exchanged pleasantries in English – because my Turkish was terrible. He was cute and charming.

I was enjoying the conversation – right up until he started looking me up and down, and declared, “You know, you look like…”

He gazes at me with “Turkish sexy eyes”.

I hold on for a compliment that will make me swoon for this dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty.

Perhaps he will say I look like Reece Witherspoon. I used to get that all the time in bars – when I was thinner. Or may be he thinks I look like Ginger Spice. I mean, the mid-1990’s, curvier, union jack sporting version of Ginger Spice, because I used to get that too.

He repeats himself and pauses, contemplating his words: “You look like….

……balık etli.”

My eyebrows raise. I’m speechleess. I’m stunned as I translate those two words in my mind to:

Fish meat!

“I look like fish meat!?” I  exploded, moving uncomfortably – irritated by his comment. My western brain, which would never compare a woman’s ‘look’ to fish, instantly concluded this guy was simply rude and insensitive.

Although, to give him the benefit of the doubt, I calmed down and briefly reflected on the other moments where my world was lost in translation. Perhaps I did not hear him right, or perhaps my Turkish translation skills got this wrong.

I clarified, “Pardon? Did you just say I look like fish meat?”

I gasped when he answered, “Yes.”

What does that mean? My mind went berserk again as I searched for words to respond.

What fish could I possibly be?

Am I hamsi (anchovies)? Short and slender. I do have pale skin. Maybe I was shining under the lights of the bar?

Am I hamsi (European anchovies)?

Am I çupra (sea bream)? Chubby in the face and mid-section. Skinny in the “legs”.

Maybe I’m like cupra (sea bream)?

Or perhaps levrek (sea bass)? Sleek and in proportion.

Perhaps I’m like levrek (sea bass)?

Am I turbot? Flat, round, bumpy and rather unattractive to look at (but pleasant to devour).

Turbot, with a face only a mother could love.

Seeing the disgust on my face, my new friend was quick to explain what balık etli meant to him.

He tells me that, in Turkey, to be “balık etli” means to be voluptuous – to have curves in the right places, and Turkish men do love curves (he reassured me several times).

His confident explanation soon had me believing that I had indeed heard the most awkward compliment ever.

But since then, many people have said otherwise. That perhaps when people say: “You’re like balık etli” it’s actually a warning to avoid that next chocolate, burger or biscuit.

Regardless, given this experience and many others I’ve had in my travels, I do feel beauty is defined by the culture and society we live in.

Do you like your ladies lean, voluptuous or lumpy and bumpy? Like your preference in fish, beauty comes down to personal taste, and that taste is largely shaped by the society you live in. What is attractive in one society may not be in another. And, as long as I enjoy my food, and I enjoy my curves, and Turkish men find balık etli “tasty” I’m not moving to another country anytime soon.

So…who’s up for a spot of fishing this weekend? <insert cheeky bream grin here>

(Balık etli kadını sonunda bulduk = Finally we found the balık etli woman)

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