Bears and Divorce

In April 2013 we met with my wife. We were in Barcelona, went for a training. I still was a student back then, at Istanbul University studying sociology, was able to go abroad only when everything was paid for – I mean everything: Visa, tickets, lodging, food… Those were the “rich” days of Turkey, yet I, like my family, was not among those that enjoyed it. I was working as a street musician, playing an instrument which I didn’t fancy much, and making much enough for me not to starve. I’m 37 now, a decade has passed since and my personal financial situation deteriorated – but this is another story.

Mine was love at first sight, so much so that I, after hearing that she was hungry, shared my biscuits, which I mistakenly had put to my suitcase than backpack, and starved as a result for I had been on the plane and airports for almost a whole day, and hadn’t eaten anything for all this time, not because I wasn’t served food during the flights – first I was served shrimp, on the way to Vienna where I was to change flights after a long stopover of around 12 hours, which I couldn’t even dare to taste, and then a cheese sandwich in which the cheese smelled worse than canalization for me, as a result of which I had two beers in the first flight and two more in the second, with nothing in between for I simply had no money to afford even a slice of bread, before I had a bite.

I’m a Turk from the north eastern part of the country. We don’t know how to tell that we love someone, neither we know how to show it – except one: We feed. Anyway we like to share what we have, especially food, but when it comes to showing love and admiration, we give food repeatedly. One of my aunts, for example, less than five minutes after the breakfast, starts worrying. “You’re hungry, what should I feed ye”? “C’mon, auntie. We’re just off the table, how can one be hungry” we ask but it doesn’t matter. She has two answers: “You ate as little as a bird” is one and “still, you should be hungry” is the other. The result is just as you guess: In half an hour we’re to be fed again.

Only one aunt? Come on! Another starts not after but before we’re done at the table. With all the food in front of us, and the whole fridge empty as a result, she looks at us, with a face that shows sorrow, despair, even self-hatred, she used to say, may God bless her soul, “you, oh my pashas, oh my sons, are by far not full. What should I make? What would you want me to make? How can I make you full”? Questions demand an answer, but such question is more of a comment, hence no answers.

Aunt after aunt I can tell the same story, and I believe you won’t expect my mom to be any different. The result? I’m big. I mean, big. Ever since first grade I’m called ayı, bear in Turkish, for I helped them in their quest. I love to eat and they give me what I love. I recently realized that my stomach doesn’t tell my brain that it’s full. There’s some point, which I’m expected to decide myself don’t know how, after which it’s an endless abyss: Give it the much you like and it’ll take them all. Once, back in METU, I ate around 15 kebabs in one go. Can you imagine? Well, I’m older now and wouldn’t manage that much, but I believe I wouldn’t need to stop until 7-8 at the very least.

Now, I hope dear reader, you understood how important it was for me to share with her before eating: At that very first moment, at the zero point I did the best and the much I could. Did she understand? Of course not! Damn, why is it so hard to be understood sometimes?

How our relationship came to end up with marriage is a long story and isn’t relevant here. What’s relevant is that my wife, who’s as small as a sparrow, calls me, yes, ayı. Well, ayi to make me angry – she knows Russian, hence knows the letter ı, but prefers i over ı for a reason unknown if not to annoy me.

As I like petite girls, she likes big guys. Tall, overweight, hairy, more strong than romantic albeit she wouldn’t mind the latter’s existence as well… What do these remind you?

Yes. Bears. She calls me bear but it’s more a nickname. She found bears in Korea, and she found them at every corner.

It was fun at first. These creatures, the masterpieces of nature that can run, swim, climb, and hide while having such huge body and unmatchable power under it, are designed to look cute by many. Problem? No, by no means no! I’m far inferior compared, only maybe my brain works a bit better, and I’m kinda proud to be called the same with them, if I must confess. “Ha ha! See, you like bears” it was. Then, just the next day she found another.

See how happy she is holding his hand? I, bragging about my mental capacity, was blind not to see what was coming. Next day, another bear, and again a happy wife.

Don’t take me wrong, our relationship isn’t bad. I mean, at least not that bad. It’s more like this:

But we all have a limit and the third was mine. “You’re looking to replace me, ma’am” I asked her. She laughed trying to hide what’s under and inside, but I’m not stupid. “Another bear and we’ll have a serious problem”.

The result?

Two of them? Really? Damn it, woman! Yeah, I had made my mind up. Divorce it was. Then I thought: Might this be yet another trickery of Koreans? I left her to visit a temple and palace alone and I went to the library. Yes, there I found my answer:

Apparently Koreans are putting these cute bears all around so that couples, people that have enough money to go all the way there and spend a lot, will not be happy any more and file their divorce there, spend a huge amount for the court proceedings, so that the country makes a bit more income as a result. Don’t believe me? Please take a look at the GDP breakdown of Korea:

In which other country does court proceedings amount to 1.2% of the total?

We were to go to the court the next morning, but I postponed it for when we were to be back to Georgia. I mean, why let them make even more money. No?

Good that I did it. Once we left Korea, not when we landed but even while we were on the air and outside Korean borders, she became what she was: The woman that loves only me, not some other bears as well. We’re doing fine again now but I learned my lesson, and am sharing it with the wide world, especially the guys: If your girl will be like mine, try to take it for a little longer. Making girls make you jealous and leading couples to divorce is yet another Koran gimmick. Don’t give them what they want. Keep your money in your pocket, keep your marriage happy and rolling!