Ashure, ashure.. it is sweet curiosity that brings you to my door every time

I'm not sure but I have the suspicion that there is some kind of Ashure contest going on in our building this year.
A few days after I wrote in my earlier post about the tradition of Ashure, one of my neighbour's knocked on the door. It was the small woman from second floor, always looking a bit shy to me. In her hands a tray of little colorful bowls filled with warm ashure. It was the same woman who handed out this pudding last year as well.

When I opened the door I excitedly said out loud: 'Ooh, Ashureee!!'
I could not have made her happier.
She stretched out her arms as I took a bowl off the tray. She told me to empty it into one of my own bowls so I could return the red and white porcelaine one to her. Which I did, of course. And as I walked into the kitchen I was granting her a couple of moments to take a peek into this differently decorated 'yabanci kiz' (foreign girl) home. A quick satisfaction to her great curiousity as I am sure of, but at the same time probabely feeding it even more.

I know for a fact that all women in this building, without exception, are dying to get a good look inside our home as they have heard us renovating a couple of times since we moved in and stories go around that we have 'American doors' (we just repainted the wooden ones into white and replaced the glass) and customized furniture (true.) There is this tea gathering they have every so often, called 'çay günü' where the women visit eachother in turns, serving tea, homemade cookies and pastries and.. another thing I know for a fact, chit chat and gossip like champions all afternoon. I have been invited a few times in the beginning, but kindly declined every single time so they stopped asking at some point. Disappointed and maybe also just a tad tiny bit insulted. They even asked B a few times to tell me to come, who's very amused by this cat and mouse play between me and 'the women' by the way. I try to make up for it with my friendliest smiles and greetings whenever we cross on the staricase or elevator. The hidden goal of these gatherings is to outshine eachother with the best recipe's, greatest assortiment of snacks and cleanest household of all. I asked around and people confirmed that this is actually what it is all about. And the tricky part is: once you're in, you're in. Going around in circles from being invited to invite the others.

So. The only chance for the women (who are all much older than me btw) to get a glimpse for now is to knock on the door for whatever reason. And at this time of the year ashure does the trick. So far I always had one and the same lady at our door every year. But right after she passed by this year, the women from the top floor rang the bell.

Two days ago, as I had forgotton something in the apartement and ran back into the building, where the tall woman with her stern looks from first floor stopped me in the hall. 'You weren't there yesterday. Where have you been?' she asked me firmly. The woman who brought me ashure two days before was next to her, pushing a baby in a stroller and giving me a shy smile.
'Efendim?' I'm sorry? I asked, slightly intimidated buy her strict tone and direct question.
'You weren't there yesterday. Where have you been?' she repeated the the same phrase in the same strict tone.
'Yes, yes.. I wasn't there'. I had no intention to inform her about my whereabouts.
'Why do you ask?' I asked.
'I passed by with Ashure, but you didn't open the door' she said, sounding somehow reproachfully.
'Ooh.. really? Maalesef, what a pity. Sorry I wasn't there but thank you so much anyways', I said warmly and touched her upper arm in an attempt to support my words with a kind gesture. It helped, she even smiled a bit.
'If you want I can bring bring you some later' she offered.
Unfortunatley, I wasn't going to be there later I told her. I had to quickly run up to grap my phone, B was waiting for me outside in the car.
She said tamam and something after that that I didn't get and stepped into the elevator.
I know.. I'm a bit of a a tough one and not an easy neighbour for my turkish female neighbourhood.

Today then, again, the door bell rang. Another offer of ashure from a woman I almost never see and don't know on which floor she lives but I really like her friendly face. She offered two bowls, one for me and one for B. The bowls were from aluminum so I could keep them. But I did have to carry them one by one into the kitchen she said, because they were warm. So I did. And because I like her I offered her to step inside in the meantime. But she didn't move. Not sure if she didn't understand me or if she refused to come in with shoes on. Taking them off was quite impossible with a tray full of ashure in both hands.

10 minutes later the door bell rang AGAIN. Ashure? I saw a man through the peephole so most probabely not. He asked me to remove our car so they could pass with a truck as they were moving. Not sure if they were moving in or out. I put my shoes on and took the stairs. On the first floor I passed the friendly woman with her ashure tray, now talking to the tall, strict woman from the other day at her door. I didn't slow down, just said 'merhaba' as I passed quickly and turned the corner. Just as I reached for the front door I heard her shouting out:
'Onu kaçirma'! Don't let her escape! I was going to bring her ashure'.
'I have just brought her some' I heard the friendly one say to her, sounding very content. I imagined her looking a bit triumphantly while rubbing it in to this grumpy old lady and I had to smile, glad though that I got away pretending I didn't hear her.

Now home again, and waiting for another knock on the door any time..

I must say, I do feel pretty safe and proctected in this building. The chances that something might happen and they would not notice are equal to being hit by a comet. They keep an eye on me from every floor, may it be a curious one, and feed me with yummie stuff like ashure. I've decided to bake some ginger bread christmas cookies next year to return the favor. I will offer them a little cellophane bag of yammie stuff (something that they can't compare with their own bakery!) in return for a bowl of ashure. To let them know I do like them despite not wanting to take part in their gatherings. If you say no to kind people who mean well, make sure you sugar coat your refusal properly.