Tag Archives: getting married in Turkey

How to Marry a Turk

Editor’s Note: This post is intended for Americans marrying Turkish citizens in a belediye nikah salonu (municipal wedding hall) in Istanbul. For other nationalities, other cities in Turkey, or if you want your wedding officiated offsite, kolay gelsin, I have little experience, but if you ask in the comments, I will try to help. -EM

Congratulations! You are going to say your “evets”, and maybe dance the halay and pick up a few gold coins. It’s May and wedding season, so I thought it would be a good time to help those in need with the rather the bureaucratic process of getting married in Istanbul.

Just after our wedding ceremony at the Maltepe Evlendirme Dairesi (municipal wedding hall).

Just after our wedding ceremony at the Maltepe Evlendirme Dairesi (municipal wedding hall).

If you are reading this, you may know that there is some running around to do, and maybe you’ve asked a friend or coworker who is married to a Turk, but you still aren’t totally sure how to go about it.

The first step is to make a notarial appointment at the Istanbul U.S. Consulate located in Istinye on the European side, up the Bosphorus in the Sariyer district (ways to get there).

It’s the first step because the appointment slots fill up fast (there are none available Friday afternoon). Wait periods are long: they can range from two weeks to well over a month. At the time of writing, the appointments for May were fully booked, and the time slots for June hadn’t been made available. Fill out the PDF affidavit at the consular site, print it and bring it.

At the consulate, you will wait anywhere for 5 minutes to an hour (you have to leave your cell phone, so bring a book). You will say an oath swearing that you are not married in the States. The process requires a passport, the PDF form, and $50 cash.

After that, take the affidavit to the valilik (mayor’s office) in Cağoğlu near Sultanahmet. You will get an apostille stamp on the second floor of this sad, dark, bureaucratic building. It’s free.

Meanwhile, you or your Turkish spouse-to-be will arrange to have some medical tests. Turkish citizens just get an evlilik testi. For the American’s, it’s not so simple. American men need to get tested for akdeniz anemesi, or Mediterranean anemia (at least I was asked for that, not everyone is). I had it done at a private medical test lab on Bahariye Caddesi in Kadikoy. Any private lab offering blood tests should be able to do it. It was about 100 TL and took about a week to get the results back. Some clinics, such as the Rana Bese Saglik Polikligi in Kadikoy, can do it all in one shot for at least 200 TL. Call for confirmation.

For regular blood tests, I went to a free clinic run by the Maltepe Belediyesi (municipality). They take chest x-rays (also required), and simple blood tests.

We aimed to save money, so we ran around more. It’s worth paying more to get it all done in one go if you can. Have your Turkish significant other call around to different hospitals and clinics if you are unsure.

After receiving the blood test results, the Mediterranean anemia results, the x-ray image, and making a bunch of passport-sized photos, we went to my spouses family’s local aile hekimi (family doctor). These are located in the saglik ocağı (health clinic) where your future Turkish spouse maintains residency. These neighborhood doctors are determined by the government according to official residence. This site can help your Turkish partner locate his/her family doctor if it’s not known. You can make an appointment over the phone (recommended) or drop in.

After this, you take the health report form, affidavit from the consulate, passport, residency permit, plus the administrative fees and passport-sized photos (ranging from 100 TL to more than 700, depending on the size of the hall rented and the day of the week/time) to the belediye nikah salonu (municipal wedding hall) where your Turkish spouse lives.

NOTE: If you want to get married outside of your Turkish spouse’s ilçe (district) of residence, you take all the above forms to the your local evlendirme dairesi. They give a special form giving permission to marry outside the district, and you take that plus the administrative fees to the district where you want to tie the knot. Both bride and groom must be present at both evlendirme daireleri to get the forms.

For example, my friend Damla and her husband wanted to get married in Maltepe, but there residences were Kartal and Fatih districts, respectively. So they both submitted their required documents to Kartal’s marriage hall, then took the special form to Maltepe and paid their fee.

Some municipalities ask for a birth certificate (Kadıköy did, Maltepe, where we got married, did not), so it’s good to have this as well. Some may ask for a notarized translation of your passport. I got this and wasted 100 TL, neither Kadıköy nor Maltepe required it.

The tricky thing for us was the timing of the whole procedure. Because we wanted to get married at a large marriage hall on a summer weekend, we had to make an appointment at least a few months in advance, but appointments can only be made a maximum of six months in advance.

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A Boat, a Train Station, a Look to the Sky: Our Turkish-American Wedding

Wedding Maiden's Tower - Kız Külesi
On the morning of my wedding day I looked to the sky, searching for an omen. Black clouds, rain clouds, wind, sun, certainly they all have significance, right? The weather WAS a bit iffy, black clouds and wind, not too bad…yet. If it rains on your wedding day, that’s supposed to be lucky, right? But sunny skies are what you need for an outdoor wedding. Can’t have rain on the wedding day? Alanis Morisette now plays in my head. It’s like raiiyaiinn…on your wedding day! What? Really?

Chattering monkeys in your brain, Ezra, chill.

Waking up with mom and dad

My divorced mother and father both stayed at our small, hot (by American standards) apartment on wedding eve — and reminisced about their own marriage — but my future wife didn’t.

Around 9 am, I went out with mom to forage for some breakfast, which turned out to be some good and expensive su boreği. “It’s kugel, basically,” I told my mother, trying drawing a similarity between this Turkish breakfast food and its Ashkenazi Jewish, carb-filled cousin. You need protein, Ezra, I thought to myself, got a long day. It was windy. What does wind mean? Does it mean an unstable marriage? Winds of change? We are going to be on a boat! People’s hair is going to fly. Oh no!

Relax.

You have it easy, Ezra. Your bride may be thinking all these things and wearing a lacey tent and a pound of makeup. I couldn’t help but feel bad for Zeynep, wondering how she was doing.

Bless Mehmet, Zeynep’s “witness” at the ceremony, my “father” at my engagement ceremony, and one of our best friends. He arranged to have our friend Cengiz pick us up at 11:30. As we had breakfast, I tried to remember all the things Mehmet said at the meeting the night before the big day: Make sure you have plenty of 5 and 10 lira notes, because kids will stop a wedding car festooned with flowers for a little extra coin. I knew kids asked for money on the street on a wedding, but didn’t know they’d risk life and limb to stop a car for it. Make sure to have a lot of cash on hand for other miscellaneous expenses. Tell the parents to sit all together at the ceremony…

It must have looked strange to see a man walking around at 10 am in a 1000 TL tux, going corner store to corner store, asking if people could break 50 and 20 TL notes. I wondered if they knew why. Turks often pick up immediately on these kinds of things.

Cengiz came and my mother, father and I loaded in the car for the drive to the parents’ house. We a bit late as per request from Mehmet, who was acting as the intermediary between bride and groom. In Turkish tradition, a brother is a gatekeeper at the bride’s home. He doesn’t let the groom pass until he doles out some cash to show…well, I’m not sure what it shows, a gesture of good faith I suppose. Mehmet told me to have 50s and 100s ready. Zeynep doesn’t have a brother, though, so the job fell to the cousin, Özgür. To our surprise there was no one stopping our way so we entered and sat down in their modest apartment, in Istanbul’s Maltepe district. Homemade Turkish örek (pastry) varieties greeted us, and some çay.

Then it happened. After the suspense, there she walked in to the living room. My bride. I could describe here her dress, her hair. But to me, she just looked like a bride. My bride. I cried.

She was nervous, asking me to play with her hair. We were pretending to talk, lips moving for raw footage that the videographer could put into a montage. After the first of seemingly endless photos, we made our way to her aunt’s wedding car. In Turkey wedding cars are draped in a large ribbon with a bouquet placed on the hood. When the bride and groom leave the house, everyone on the street claps and there is often a motorcade of several cars taking relatives to the wedding, horns blazing all the way.

We were off to the Wedding Factory. For those who don’t know, most couples married in Turkey are officially married in an evlendirme dairesi (official wedding call), usually in their local districts. A young population, a shortage of these district wedding halls, and a summer Ramadan means from May to September, couples are slotted one after the other at 15-minute intervals, an assembly line of life altering moments.

Hair touch up at the wedding hall in Maltepe.

Hair touch up at the wedding hall in Maltepe.

We were whisked to the bride and groom waiting room. Other couples were either coming up before us or entering back from their own wedding to catch their breaths and gathering their belongings. Zeynep’s hair guy graciously followed us around, touching up her quaff as needed. One bride was wearing a full body white dress and white hijab, another an open backed dress showing tattoos on arms and back. This is Turkey.

After a predictable snafu with our “waiting for the couple” music, we entered through what I thought was an elevator door, but was really the entrance door to the Star Trek Enterprise flight deck. We were greeted with hearty applause. The room is a glorified conference hall, with cushioned seats facing a table that looks set for a panel discussion more than a wedding. But this is a socialist, decidedly non-religious looking affair. In fact, religious weddings in Turkey have no legality.

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