The Foreign Service Journal, June 2011

A fter two years in Iran and three years in India, my husband, four daughters and I arrived in Turkey late on an August evening in 1960. We were driven from the airport to the Park Hotel at Taksim Square in the center of Istanbul, where we were ushered into a comfortable suite with bedrooms and a sitting room. We had taken a long and tiring flight fromWashington, D.C., so we were too tired to appreciate the beauty of our new surroundings until later. My hus- band departed to investigate the hotel’s famous bar, leaving me to feed the chil- dren and put them to bed. I first fed the baby and urged the other children to tell me what they would like to eat. Overtired from the trip, they whined, “We’re not huuun- gry!” But I insisted they have some- thing to eat before they went to bed. I phoned reception and asked for room service. After about 20 minutes, a waiter in a wrinkled white jacket ar- rived at the door with a notebook in his hand and a smile on his face, but no menu. I then discovered that he also spoke no English. When I fished the small Turkish dic- tionary that I had bought at the air- port out of my purse, I discovered to my dismay that it was only “Turkish to English” — not the “English to Turk- ish” dictionary that I had wanted. Out of desperation, I opened it to the first page and ran my eyes down over the As. What luck! I found the word “ahududu” — raspberries. That was our favorite fruit! So I held up four fingers to the waiter and said in a loud, clear voice, “Ahududu and Krem” (a word I knew from other travels). The waiter seemed to understand this, for he beamed and left. About 45 minutes passed. The baby was now sound asleep on one bed, while two of her sisters were sprawled on a sofa and an armchair, re- spectively, also fast asleep. And the old- est had summoned enough energy to take a bath. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. When I opened it, there was the smiling waiter holding a beautiful tray. On it was a pitcher of cream and four long-stemmed glasses containing — raspberry liqueur. I sat down and drank three of the four glasses, then fell into bed. Lyn H. Waters accompanied her hus- band, a Foreign Service officer with the U.S. Information Agency, and their four daughters to postings in Iran, India, Turkey and Libya during the 1950s and 1960s before joining USIA herself. She served as assistant cultural officer in Istanbul for three years be- fore leaving govern- ment service to teach at the Istanbul International Com- munity School. She still re- sides in Turkey. I found the word “ahududu” in my small Turkish- English dictionary: raspberries. That was our favorite fruit! R EFLECTIONS Room Service B Y L YN H. W ATERS 108 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / J U N E 2 0 1 1 iStockphoto.com/Nikola Bilic