So for now I'll enjoy this bit of free time, really the only time I have all week that no one wants me to do anything for them. I've filled out most of my income tax forms, loaded the pictures and movies from the camera into Photobucket (an hours-long process given the very slow Internet), played some time-wasting computer games, caught up on my friends' blogs, had a cup of coffee, and brushed my teeth. I've learned how to fill my free time more wisely, I think.
I need to start taking notes for things to post about. I should allow myself shorter, less planned-out posts. I had all these things I wanted to mention, but I've forgotten them one by one. Probably a lot of it was complaining, so perhaps it's best. LE still doesn't nap, though he's started sleeping if he's on my chest. This works fine if I want a little nap too, or if I feel like reading for an hour or more, but it's not ideal if I have to pee or if I don't want to spend up to three hours a day lying down. Even though I've baby-proofed a large portion of the house so that he's free to scamper around unsupervised (sort of), LE only wants to be next to me, with his hands in whatever I'm doing. All day. So blog posting is needlessly challenging.
On to other things. One of my regular commentors (who I don't know in person but who always has interesting things to add) challenged me to find out why the türban is called that, and why they're tied in the way that they are. So I set off to learn this, bit by bit, in whatever snatches of time I had. Last weekend when BE and LE were off at the in-laws, I searched the Internet the entire two hours looking for an explanation in English (I found a lot of references in Turkish, though most were in language too colloquial for me to understand well). I was interested anyway, because the word türban in Turkish has to be a borrowing (from French, I guess?), and in English 'turban' refers to something completely different, like what Sikhs wear or what I do with my towel after a shower.
So even though I read all kinds of interesting, enlightening, annoying, and downright righteous commentary and information about headscarves in Turkey, headscarves in general, Islamic dress codes, and Islam, I couldn't find much about the history of the türban in Turkey. And I can't remember the web address, but some of the most interesting and cogent discussion about headscarves was on the Turkey thread of a football forum. So I gave up and asked BE. Asking BE about anything to do with religion in Turkey is always a risk because he's in a constant state of nationalist fury about how the Muslims and the Americans are working on destroying his country, and it's sometimes hard to get the information I want without a two-day diatribe about something else.
But he obliged. As it turns out, Hürriyet (a newspaper) had an article on just this topic about a month ago. It's in Turkish, but the story BE told me (and I'm telling it here as he did) is sort of an abridged version. Apparently, the whole style of türban can be attributed to one woman, named Şule Yüksel Şenler. Her brother left the village and got religion while he was away. He came back home and tried to push his family to become more strictly observant as he had, but none of them listened except for Şule. So she decided to start covering her head, but being young, she found the existing style of headscarves ugly. Instead, she went with a more fashionable look based on that of Hollywood film hotties like Audrey Hepburn and Sophia Loren, so something like this...
...became something like this...
... though I don't think Audrey Hepburn ever looked like a character from Alien Nation in profile.
There's a lot more to be said on Şule and her life, but I'm not going to be the one to say it. Still, the word şulebaş (şule-head) exists in Turkish describing the style of headscarf she helped to popularize.
After telling his story, my husband said, "Guess where Şule is today?"
"Vakko?" I asked.
"Nope," he said, sitting back in his chair with a satisfied smile. "Bakırköy Mental Hospital. She went crazy."
You learn something every day.