Turkey

Turkey December 26

Today we get our last look at Greece. At least for now. We have run out of our 90 day Schengen stay. We are on our way to Turkey. The mountains are to our left and a wide flat plain to our right, then through a valley and the mountains and plain switch positions. Simple, vast and calming.

At 3:30 we reach the Turkish border, and yes, it is confusing! We need to buy visas...my Canadian one ($45) being far more expensive than David's. The cashier offers us candy to take away some of the pain! This is the first country we have needed visas to enter. They are good for three months but we can stay here for six months if we wish. With visas in hand, we go back to the police officer who stamps our passports...then on to the customs officer. It is a fiasco. Too many “little generals”, too little organization. A long line is forming. It is a mess and we have to practice patience big time! We have time to make it to the town of Enzine and in the dark we find a spot in a nice neighborhood for the night.

December 27

In the light of day, not such a nice neighborhood after all! We awake at 6:30 to the first prayer call from the minaret loud speakers. Breakfast of muesli, walnuts, raisins and bananas and espresso made in our pretty little stainless pot. Yikes! We are running out of coffee. It might be hard to find. Turks love tea with a lump or two of sugar...or Nescafe. Or a thick bitter gulp...Turkish coffee. We stop to shop. The little grocer has mostly sweet stuff on the shelves. (We found a blond colored Nutella-type creme and have been dipping little butter cookies into it!) Well,unsuccessful there, let's try to buy a Sim card for our phone. Vodophone. They can't help us and the manager walks us to Turkcell... where we buy one Sim for American calls (I am needing to talk to my bank manager) and another for calls within Turkey. “Would you please send your messages to us in English?” “Oh yes.” (Well, my messages come in Turkish. I have no idea what they are telling me!)

We are pretty excited to be heading toward a ferry to the small Turkish Island of Bozcaada. It is one of two belonging to the Turks on this coast. The rest, and there are many, belong to the Greeks. We drive by olive harvesting which is done mostly by the women. They work in their traditional clothing; a variety of patterns in their gracefully draped pantaloons, scarves and tops...they are dressed warmly for work, layers of vests, coats and jackets, boots and woolly socks. They shake the olives off the trees with sticks. The olives come tumbling down and land on nets spread below the tree. I see a few women with an end of a net over their heads, dragging an olive harvest behind them to a collection spot. And maybe to a lunch spot. They all gather for lunch together on the ground beneath the orchard trees. When they are finished for the day, the women are transported by tractors and trailers to their homes...often driven by women.

We pass through small villages on dirt roads, sheep with winter lambs at the roadside. Red peppers are frozen on the vine. A man peddles toward us on a three wheeled cart. His harvest is pine cones, probably for fire starters. It is peasant life. Does poor equal unhappy? Or how does one measure poor?

David and I are not rich, nor are we poor. We're a little on the low end of somewhere in between, so this VW camper-type of travel suits us well. At this point, we have all the time in the world! We are in Turkey for three months...to find a little warmth further south. No schedules. Just moving with the delights of travel. At the ferry landing we wait a few hours, just three ferries a day. One half hour on a bumpy sea. The bow scoops water on to the deck. No one seems worried so we will act the same. David strikes up a conversation with two men, business partners, in the only town on the island, owners of a restaurant and a hotel (otel). They are so friendly and helpful.

Just to be sure we are legal, we go to the police (polisi) station to ask if it is okay for us to stay in the Auto Park. We are soon seated in front of the Police Chief in his office having a long and very interesting talk. His police officer wife brings us tea in little glass cups on saucers. Two lumps of sugar and a tiny dainty spoon. We ask about health care in Turkey. “We have to pay something, but not much. Medications also. It is pretty good here.” We are interested in the structure of the Police in Turkey. The Chief tells us that there are 4000 different types of police in the USA. In this country it is all regulated. A candidate takes two years of police prep in high school, then goes on to Police College for four years. This is where they learn English. Then they are moved many times to gain all types of experience. There is another way to become a police inspector but it is capped at a certain point and more study would be required to move up to a higher position. The police are not intimidating. Their job is to keep the law and be helpful. The next question we have is, “Are you going to join the EU?” They applied to do so in the 1950s and were denied. Since that time their economy has grown and continues to. The Chief's opinion; We are doing well and do not need the EU. He thinks the EU organization will collapse in a matter of time. Oh! His little daughter is at the door to see her daddy. She is out of kindergarten for the day. The answer to our first question...Yes, you can certainly stay at the Auto Park. It is winter and you will bother no one.

The village of Bozcaada has a permanent population of 2000. It is an unspoiled place. Upon approaching by ferry one first notices a large fortress standing at the seas edge. Right in the middle of the town. There are maybe three main shopping roads. We drive off the ferry, by a lovely elementary school, children playing on the playground. Shops, their appearance unchanged for a good long time. All small. Grocery. Produce. Meat and cheese. Bakery. Restaurants. Clothing. Jewelry. And we have our hair cut at the barber (berber) on main street. The background music they played especially for us, while snipping away...a Jazz group, James Brown, Doris Day and Leonard Cohen. We walk the community streets, saying hello to many cats and barking dogs. And when darkness falls I go “home” and David seeks out WIFI at his friend's restaurant.

The next day started with housekeeping in the car park. Sweeping the floor, shaking out the down comforters. Remaking the bed. Shuffling items in our cupboards so that they fit better. And we are ready to explore the rest of the island. It is small, I think about the size of Bainbridge Island. But still, we think we should have a map with us. Stopping the van in the street to ask a man who looks like he speaks English, we inadvertently cause a traffic jam. Our victim does not speak English but he hales down the Police Chief who is in a car behind us. The Chief scurries to our help, directing traffic and says...Follow me! He jumps into the police car and we follow him to a large hotel just out of town. He is on his way to a meeting there. His driver was given the task to find us a map, which he did, and we were on our way.

This island provides 10% of the country's wine. For some reason it has what it needs to grow grapes. So as we travel we see lots of vineyards, mostly not as tidy as what we see in America. The older vines are gnarly and twisted without help from any supports. This is pretty true all over Europe, and the grapes do well. There are also new plantings in tidy rows with wire supports. We saw just a few wineries, noting some new stainless steel tanks outside the buildings.

We will drive the seaside roads around the island. Make a circle back to the town. Pine trees rule wherever we go. Here they are shaped round and full, not at all tall and slender. Like pom-poms on a sturdy stick. There are scattered homes here and there, flat roofed, reminding us of adobe. This is the north island. We see a sign to a lighthouse but the road is blocked so we turn around and head to Mitos Beach. As we go over the hill we see empty container ships off-shore. When we reach the beach we count eight ships, all waiting for a call to load something on to their decks. I wonder how long they stay out there? Could be months. We watch them change position as the wind has its way with them. I cannot imagine the anchor that holds them safe.

This beach is sandy and worth walking as there are scattered stones amidst the sand to investigate. Pick one up that catches your eye, look it over....drop it or keep it? A favorite pass time. The day is glorious and actually warm in the sunshine. We take our time. It's a wonderful place to be. We stop at more beaches. Plenty of lovely sand beaches. At one, there is only room for us. This dreamy place calls us to nap! Dipping inland a bit, we come across a forest park in the hills. This island has a bit of everything. Stopping for a while in those pines gives us a hidden place to view the slopes downward to the sea and the now miniature container ships. Looping back into town we park and walk to our friend's restaurant. Guvec. Dinner was meatballs, potatoes, and carrots in a sauce along with rice pilaf. Not too different than what we might make at home...the ingredients the same, the tastes and textures reflecting the Turkish culture. The meal was delicious. No wine served. Muslims do not drink alcohol, at least that is the rule.

December 29

A different day than yesterday. The wind has changed direction and gained speed. The benches on the beach front have been blown flat on their backs. The skies are grey. We are out of our favorite cereal so we have eggs and rice crackers with jam on top! We must find a good grocery store!

More investigating of this island. We are off on roads that we missed yesterday, starting along what might have been wetland flats. A place for grape and crop growing. Toward the sea there are very tall thick stemmed grasses with tassel tops. David tells me they are very invasive. In the wild they are lovely to me. Closer to the road there are prickly compact bumps of plants the color of sage. The more south we go, the more wild. Very few homes or hotels. There is a very picturesque beach spot with a long and natural rocky hook to protect it. Not a soul around. We cross over the middle of the island and enter town on a different road. We like it here. If it were warmer during winter we would stay here awhile, but the locals tell us it is cold.

We end the day on the docks, looking at the fishing boats with their heaps of colorful nets and floats. Solid working boats. There is a white van lurking behind us. It is the same van that we ran across twice on the roads today. I think they noticed the license plates and are sort of following us around. On the road they leaned out the window and flicked their lights at us. At that time I thought it was fun. David waved back at them. But tonight, as we park in the lot to get ready for bed, the white van appears slowly making its way down the street and then into the lot. It parks and the lights are turned out. This feels a little weird, like they are stalking us. We can't comfortably stay here so we start the engine and head to the police. David talks to the chief on the phone. We are shown to a parking place behind the station where the night police can watch us out their office window. Again the white van passes us slowly. I don't know if they saw our hiding place or not. If they did, they will probably decide to leave us alone. We breathe a sigh of relief as we crawl into bed.

The first ferry is at 7:30 am. and we are on it! Grey and cloudy, and bumpy seas. We continue our journey to the south toward Izmir. Olive groves again. Muslim women are seated in the back of a truck, bundled up from the cold, nobody talking. They are waiting for the driver to take them to the orchard.

We haven't eaten and are longing for a simple Denny's to appear. Bacon and eggs and toast. That would do it. Maybe a 'Grand Slam'! Lovely surroundings as we move along...olive, pine, and poplar trees...and green winter fields of crops. Shepherds keeping their sheep moving. A few of the sheep gambol...is that the right term? They jump in the air for no apparent reason. Are they overjoyed?

We drive on higher ground now. Peasant homes scattered. They sell what they can at the side of the road out of hastily made shelters. Something is brewing in a big pot? Jars of jam and other canned foods on shelves. Children helping. A truck is stalled. Men scratching their heads and peering under the hood. The vehicle is so old it just couldn't chug another breath. A tour bus whizzes by filled with Chinese.

We roll into a town with a 'super market'. Kucukkuyu. We are still wanting cereal. Muesli with raisins, walnuts and sliced bananas...with yogurt milk. Mission impossible. No familiar products, no English on the packages. We buy, and eat, potato chips and cookies for breakfast and continue on our way!

There are many mosques along the way. At least as many as we would find churches in our towns. They are so beautiful with their domes and minarets. I am enjoying the calls to prayer...as I also enjoy the ringing of church bells. A reminder of prayer, of something bigger than ourselves. Turkish flags fly everywhere. They are so unique. The white moon and star on a red background.

Beach Clubs seem to be prevalent along the sandy shores, closed up tight for the winter. I imagine they offer towels, chaise lounges and shade umbrellas or such... and drinks to order. Oh, and showers and hair dryers. All newer apartments seem to be built with solar panels on the roofs, and there are plenty of TV dishes on balconies. Balcony sizes are ample as it is also a place to hang wet clothes to dry. It is funny to think that there are many places in North America where it is forbidden to hang clothes to dry outside. Unsightly! I enjoy those clothes lines here...looking like multicolored flags in the breeze.

We are beside the Aegean, in the outskirts of towns. Bags of olives and boxes of oranges ready for pick-up. And larger newer stores. Furniture, building supply, motor bikes and cycles, terra cotta pots and fireplaces for cooking. Some of these buildings use lots of glass in their construction. Quite modern and western looking. In the middle of the new world remains the old. Women working in the fields, working hard like men. They are probably fit and flexible under all those flowing clothes. The faces of the men are Turkish...large noses, handsome and strong. The look of the Turk. Dark hair and a few days of beard. Then, by the side of the road, you will see a young woman without headscarf, wearing tight jeans, hand outstretched, trying to get a ride. Policemen in turbans. Such a mix of old and new in this country!

In the pine trees folks are gathered, a casket being carried through the crowd. It is a beautiful rather movie-like scene. Everyone in old world black.

Izmir, population 2.6 million. The guide book says that it will take awhile to get used to this place, the size and the sprawl and the crowding. If we were on a tour, staying in a hotel...it would be fun to walk the busy, noisy, flavorful streets, but the thought of finding a safe place for our van and making our way to the city center is exhausting! So our route skirts the city's edge. The hills are literally covered with apartments. It is a strange sight to us. Is this bad over-crowding or good concentration. I think the latter.

Eucalyptus trees have been planted along the freeway for landscape decoration until we are out of the main city and into California hills...David says this area looks like the 'boondocks' at Fort Ord. When cars pass us they turn to stare. What do people look like that have American license plates? I was thinking perhaps a good mask might be fun, maybe Kermit the Frog? We come to Kazmir. My eyes begin to burn, I cough. It is the pollution. You can even smell the dirty air. We are on our way to Alacata on the Cesne Peninsula. Our friend Hal has told us it is a special place and the New Year is a day away.

January 31, 2012

The last day of an adventurous year for us. We hope to mark it with something fun. Let's start with breakfast in the van by the harbor. It is quiet here. The view is good. A young woman smiles and waves. Wow, her boots are outrageous! Above the knee with swinging tassels and buckles. I remember the last time boots were 'in'. I loved wearing my polished terra colored leather knee high boots with jeans. Today...I wear hiking boots with my jeans. Good for my feet! Time does fly!

It is time to find the old town of Alacati. The history we read this morning...In 800 Greeks settled here, running from malaria in their country. They built this town with its Greek architecture. And they drained the wetlands and planted olives and grapes. Before the Balkan wars, 70% of the people were Greek. After the wars, Greece and Turkey agreed to a population exchange, meaning that the Greeks moved to Greek Islands or further and the Turks moved from Greece to Turkey. These new immigrants (originally of Turkish origin) were unable to adapt to the culture established here, which was based on growing olives and grapes for wine. The people being mostly Muslim could not grow grapes (no drinking of alcohol)...so they tried raising tobacco and were unsuccessful at that. The results of all of this were that the area and old city stayed poor for a very long time, the town finally going to ruins. Tumbled down stone houses.

In 2001, a woman named Zeynep Ozis, decided to purchase one home and turn it into a boutique hotel. The beautifully restored Taz Otel. Others followed until now there are 200 small hotels in the town. Each home has been turned into a shop, restaurant, gallery or a hotel and apartments. The English speaking Turkish manager at the reception desk of the Taz Otel invited us to use the WIFl. He informed us that every hotel in the old city was booked full and they were expecting thousands more to join in the New Years festivities that evening. Well, we had come to the right place!

We were parked close to one of the gates (the city is pedestrian only) where we waited til dusk to explore and join in. Great music everywhere we went. It was the celebrative atmosphere that made the evening. Kids and parents, couples. Some party goers with masques over their faces. Old men. Groups of girls, groups of boys. Dressed up, dressed down. Food and drink and music and laughter. We splurged on a crispy fresh roll filled with a spicy meat carved off a skewer and chopped into small pieces, a shake of spices on top. I can still taste it! The old vendor and his wife were so dear. She was selling corn on the cob along side of him. We have not stayed awake until midnight for years...and this night was no exception. I heard the fireworks in my dreams.

During our ramble in the streets we found a gallery showing well done paintings but it turned out that all the pieces on the wall were architectural renderings. This architectural firm was concentrating on rehabilitating the old homes into hotels and comfortable living spaces without changing the basic structures. We had a long talk with Ozgur, a young man who was managing this office. He deals with architects from Seattle. Of course we invite everybody to come and visit us in Washington.

January 1 New Years Day

We drove to Cesne that day, because we had been told it would be worth our while. Not far from Alacati, at the tip of the long Cesne peninsula, it didn't disappoint. Pleasant walks through town and down to the harbor. I actually found a yarn shop and spoke to the knitter/owner. She had a zillion knit hats and scarves on show on the sidewalk. I like to run into a woman who loves to do handwork. There is an immediate bond. She showed me how to make a hat (I think called a cloche). Like a large beret. I bought some yarn and we parted happy! Next, a stop for tea and WIFI.

All through these past few days we have been trying to find a VINN, an apparatus with a changeable country Sim card that would enable us to get WIFI wherever we go, anywhere there is cell phone reception. This means we would not have to hunt for free WIFI or sit at a cafe and pay for food or drink that we really don't want. It has been the most frustrating experience. Dealing with phones and computers can change one's personality! No one speaks English and every cell phone company gives us a different story. They like to send us to another town that they are sure can help us! This is how we arrive in Urla.

We can tell right away that this is not an electronically minded town. But, it is a wonderful place. At least the harbor where we have landed ourselves for the night. We take a short reconnaissance walk before retiring, along the harbor edge and loop back through the little old and lived in town. It is quiet here. Not touristy. Great fishing harbor which is always a plus to us. The minaret puts out a call to prayer. The yellow retriever, tied up not far away from us, howls back. Both are primal sounds. Other loose dogs, running in a small pack, race toward the mosque. It is a funny thought that they are being called to prayer.

We wake to blue sky and sunshine. The nights are cold but the day temperatures are just warm enough. A couple our age are walking beautiful Tiger Boxers along the seawall. They stop to investigate our van and find that we are home, busily remaking the bed. He is a Turk, she is German. They live here and both do a pretty good job of speaking English. He was a NATO pilot before retiring though you would not guess it. He is smiley and cute as a little button! She, Zebella, is more serious but likes to be in conversation. Her concern: “Oh, they are building a big hotel here for the Russians! They have oil money now. It is so sad to ruin a place like this. Always it is the tourist trade that wins out.”

We walk the loop as we did last night. We come to an outdoor cafe and jewelry shop. The place is decorated throughout outrageously by the daughter who welcomes us, and her papa. Outside, all in colored mosaics mixed with painted decoration, are large size boats on a sea, fishes and squids and shells. At ground level there are mosaic hills and trees and flowers. The walls are totally covered. Inside, the floors are covered in motifs with patterned mosaic tiles and stonework. A long dark stone snake wiggles toward us. Also inside there is handmade jewelry, bracelets, earrings and necklaces made by the daughter. A bench along the wall is covered with Turkish carpet and big pillows of Turkish design. Shell hangings, more boats and sea creatures in broken tile and paint. There is no spot that is not a piece of art. Through the back exit to a garden is a big albatross sitting on a silvery wood stump, decorated also with anchors and rusted chains. A mural in mosaics, covers a wall, depicting another boat on a blue sea of waves. Seagulls flying above and seals playing in the water below. There are assorted objects made of smallish stones, built into outdoor ovens, pots with lids, minarets and little tables. In a few baskets there are collections of local shells (similar to conch shells) and stones. What a sight for our eyes. Folk art of today. Delicious.

We continue to walk through the center of the old town. Cats and dogs taking naps in the sun, women carrying out their daily chores which often involves carrying a bucket. Their patterned clothing is as delicious as the mosaics we have just experienced. We meet a man in the very center of this small community. He is seated in a chair where he can see all that goes on in this village. This is his world now. He is old, large and maybe does not move well as he has a cane beside him. He hales us in Turkish. Smiles and nods are our mode of conversation. He gives us a word that we interpret to mean 'welcome from my heart'. I do not know how to spell it correctly, but when we leave him I put out my hand to shake his and say, “Alabad.” With a nod and a grin that we understood, he gave the greeting back to us.

Next focus is to find a spot for WIFI. We ask at a restaurant where we are given a harbor window seat, with place-settings removed, where our computer sits on a fresh clean white table cloth. We are the only ones in the large room, I think because it is not yet a traditional time for a meal. We are not obliged to buy anything...the manager just wanted to help...but we order tea in glass, with lumps of sugar and the little spoon. It is an elegant feeling to drink in this Turkish way.

Back at the harbor road we make lunch/dinner and enjoy the shore activity. This is a place where small boats are harbored. Mostly fishing boats. We are astounded to watch a man in hip-waders walk out into the water to get his boat which is tied to a buoy that is quite far away. The shore water is very shallow! He brings his boat back to do some repairs on the grass by the road. There are always a few fellows to help. It seems nobody has to be alone here.

Another adventure to watch. Five boys get into a very small tippy boat. It is so tippy that we figure there is water inside it from the recent heavy rains. It is still Christmas break (even though most are Muslim) so they must be off for a day of fun, each carrying a small white plastic bag. Lunch or bait? One boy takes the oars. He is not proficient at it but somehow they manage. They head toward a larger wooden boat with cabin...much to our relief. It seems that one boy knows this boat well and instructs the others what to do and soon they are off by inboard motor (a noisy one cylinder diesel), heading out of the bay, leaving their little skiff tied to a buoy.

We walk some more to take a closer look at the larger boats and the workings of a boat yard. Again, here there are mostly older veteran fishing boats, lots of blue and white paint, a link to the Greek beginnings. There are some brand new boats being built, so pretty in the natural wood, shaped to the right curve. Fishing nets are all over the docks. A few of them are being mended by deft sure hands with a tool that looks a bit like a spindle. Other nets are in heaps covered by old blankets, Turkish carpets, table clothes, anything that has no longer any use at home. Underneath these coverings, the colored nets and floats peek out. I had to have a picture...folk art. Oh no! David remembers that we walked out of the restaurant without paying for our tea! We hurry back. The manager says, “It doesn't matter. A present.”

Time to leave this town of Urla and make our way south. Nearby are the Teos Ruins, once a vast Ionian City. There is not much left to see but the graceful wide steps and still-standing fluted columns of the Temple to Dionysus. Bits and pieces of this structure and others are broken and laying on the ground. There is no one here to protect the area. I imagine much has been taken from the site.

Wanting to make our way on the smaller roads we put Dogenbey into the GPS. Hopping from one small town to another keeps us off the main busier roads. We turn at a sign for this town and the GPS lady agrees. We were not expecting such a small dirt road, but we continue on up into the hills. When we arrive we are in a very small and poor Muslim community. Alone, high in the hills. Of course we are not expected here...we are definitely from the outer world. This was a good and interesting mistake. With difficulty, we turn around and head back down out of the hills. Later, we drive through the larger coastal town of Dogenbey.

January 3

Selcuk (Selchuck). While parked the night in this city, I got up at 2:00 am. to make yet another call to Netscape, my email provider. I think this is the third night in a row, just the latest of my attempts to have my account unblocked. I have not had access for many weeks. I am told to change my browser. I am told that it is their fault and they will correct it immediately. I am told many things to no avail. This time I talk to a woman who seems to know what she is talking about. We shall see.

We stay in this city for three or four days. Walkable and interesting. And we make a few friends, mostly with the carpet sellers! One morning an English speaker stops to ask if he can help us. We are looking for WIFI. “Oh, I am on my way to my shop to open it. You can use our WIFI.” This is Murseli who manages the shop. He is Kurdish, from the ravaged south-east of Turkey. There are bombs and shooting even at this time between them and the neighboring Syria. We are told to stay away. We do not need to be told twice. Mursali came here as there was no future for him, and a job was offered through an uncle. He now works for his uncle's best friend Aydin (I-din). So before we know it a cup of tea is brought in from a neighboring shop. This small carpet shop is 'adorable'. It feels like a little living room. So cozy that you could imagine your own living room looking just like this. (I think that is the point of it!) Rugs on walls and floors, covering benches, rug pillows, small rugs rolled and standing on end in one corner. Comfy chairs and a coffee table to sit at. Here we are ensconced with computer and tea. We are left alone for quite some time but finally Mursali cannot keep back his salesman pitch. He is fun and jovial about it but it is unnerving when you are not used to that kind of pressure. We did not come to buy a rug!

It is hard not to wander and look at such beauty. Big rugs, small rugs, saddle bags, pillow covers, colorful woven strips with dingle balls hanging, even paintings and drawings. There was a small carpet we loved...an old tribal village one. It would fit the seat in the van, keep our fannies warm. It was first $700. David kept telling him that we were not here to buy a carpet. Finally, the owner, Aydin came to the shop. He needed to pay a bill. I will sell it to you for $200. We closed the deal.

Aydin is also Kurdish. He is a beautiful character. A salesman for sure, but he has a most handsome open face, kind eyes and easy smile. When he was a child he had polio and has walked with crutches ever since. Today he is wearing red. He is a noticeable pleasing character.

We asked Mursali questions about the troubles between the Kurds, the Turks, the Syrians. Sometimes we did not get straight-forward answers. But what he did say was that the Turks hold the Kurds down, though the current president is trying to make some changes. He thinks the Turks are jealous of his people...who he says are friendly, warm, hospitable and stick to their Muslim ways and beliefs. We related our story about the dog howling to the call of prayer. Hah! He had an answer for that... “It is because the dogs are afraid of the angels that hover at prayer time.” Are you married we ask? “Yes, for a year. It is the male that pays for the wedding, and I am still paying. My wife is not altogether happy as she is young and sees her friends still going out and partying.” Mursali is a fine young man who we enjoyed our time with. His sense of humor was fun, tripping me up several times, then laughing at my gullibility.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

>Camel bags hanging from a Vespa.

>Young woman dressed for work, driving her grandpa sidesaddle, with cane in hand, on her Vespa.

>Turkish? words that I recognize, how about you? AMBULANS, TAKSI, OTOMOTIV, DEPOSU, TOST, SANDVIC, DETERGIT, POLIKLINIK, FERIBOT, POLIS, OFIS, OTOPARK, KAFETERYA, SISTEM, ALUMINYUM, TREYLER, ELEKRIC, ARTEZYEN, DEKORASYEN, STADIYUM.

>Question sometimes asked...”What do your children think about you being gone for so long?” Hmmmmm. I don't really know. I do not have children. My step children are David's grown children, along with a fabulous granddaughter...and nephews and nieces are close to us. I think we all miss each other but I think what David and I are doing is important just at this time in our lives and I believe our families are happy for us. We keep in close contact.

>When asking where we might find a library. “Libraries are not so important in Europe, unfortunately.”

January 4

It is sunny and warm and a good time to take a walk through town. A woman speaks up from an outdoor restaurant table. “This is the best place! Great food and inexpensive.” This is Kathy and husband Mike and Ann, their mother. Kathy and Mike are missionaries...Living here for five years. They invite us to join them on Sunday evening in a shared church. Non-denominational. And it is the once a month dinner together...this time curry dishes are being served. It is a gift from the church. We'll be there!

It is Friday, the Muslim Holy Day. We walk by the Mosque. Outside, men are washing their hands and feet and faces. They are ready to worship. Prayer rugs go down on to the cement. Men kneel. Some are inside, some are outside the building. They are listening to a sermon on the loud speaker. Such dedication it seems. Such an outward show of their ritual and beliefs.

Across the street we watch a line of men making batches of no-hole donuts. It is fascinating how they work. The dough is scooped out of a huge bowl, rather like a very big bread bowl, into a big vat of hot fat until they are the right shade of brown, one of the men attending that job, pushing the roundish pieces down into the fat, making them brown on all sides. Next they are put into a vat of 'sweet', something like a syrup, for a short time...and the last fellow fishes them out and puts them into paper bags. Two teams are working as fast as they can. They could see our interest. Pretty soon we both had a bag of them in our hands. How much? We ask. “Oh no! Nothing! Holy Day! We give away.” They were so yummy. The dough was egg-spongy. Another fellow stuffed more bags into our hands...and he would not take them back. A nice thought and gesture on their Holy Day.

We sit in the sun with our Turkish teas. Men are playing a game. I think it is Backgammon. There are lots of games available at this 'bar'. WIFI is available. We are given the password. 18811938, the birth and death dates of the revered Ataturk. I called about my Netscape account again last night. I talked to Wendy. She said that she could see that my account was still blocked and that she would have it up in an hour. Today it works! I think it is pure random luck that finds the right person...like turning the roulette wheel...you have to keep turning til you win! I am certainly on the outside edge of this electronic age. I love the computer but I could throw it to the sea sometimes. It has such a hold on me.

We are in, and have been in, the Holy Land without realizing we were coming to it. This town is another important center. Mary, the mother of Jesus, lived here under the care of John, after the death of Jesus...a request from Jesus while on the cross. They came about 5 or 6 years after the death of Jesus. John had prepared a house for her. She died here in her house that is supposedly up near the top of one of the surrounding hills. There is a ruined St. John's Basilica in the town. Tomorrow we will visit Ephesus.

Ephesus. We drive to the parking lot and are waved to another space where we are told it is much safer, the cars are being watched. This Turk's name is Sultan. He tells us that he is the shuttle as most people enjoy Ephesus walking from top to bottom. We are at the bottom. He says, “But first I will drop you off at the Carpet School. It is government supported and all money from its sales go to children in need. You can see how carpets are made...first from the silk worm cocoon being spun into the silk to women weavers working in wool and silk.” “I would like to see that...and so would David. But know that we are not buying.” It is so interesting, every bit of it. And, yes, we bought another tribal kilim that is on the floor of our van now. We think that Sultan is waiting for us to finish but he is long gone and an employee gives us a lift to the 'top'.

This is such an amazing experience. The fact that this city is on a hill and open to such lovely views gives more to the imagination. It seems gentle, graceful. It is situated where the Cayster River meets the sea on the slopes of Mt. Pion. We wander into Curetes Street, the wide main street, first through various baths, the Basilica and the Odeum, a small tiered theater space. Curetes Street works its way down the hill past the Municipality Palace to a temple and fountain. I am portraying a whole city, but it is not. It is broken and scattered but there is enough of it so we can fill in the blanks. We explore all the nooks and crannies. Stone rooms with no doors, ornamentation, columns, partial faces and busts. Continuing down at a crossroads The Memmius Monument, the Goddess of Victory. Nike! Nike was the winged messenger of the gods, who delegated her to take victory wherever she goes. She is a white marble angel in flight.

I am not naming everything we passed, mostly what really interested me. The homes on the slopes. Beautiful homes for the wealthy, like condominiums line the street and progress up the hill. It must have been gorgeous. We are unable to see the insides of these homes as there is a great project of excavation and restoration and it is closed to the public. It would have been my highlight as my book shows beautiful frescos and mosaics.

Such a wide wonderful street to walk, to imagine the parading of Emperors and wives and soldiers and the common folks on the sidelines. It winds its way down gently, closely between two hills. We explore the public latrines (not for sissies or the modest) and the brothel (a beautiful place!) and the Temple of Hadrian. Here there is a wonderful semi circle relief of Medusa and a series of friezes concerned with the establishment story of Ephesus (Myth).

When we get to the bottom we come to the Celcus library. Tiberius Julius Celcus was the general governor of the Asian province. When he died his sarcophagus was placed in this spot. His son started to build a library on top of this grave and it is possible that the grandson finished it in 125 A.D. It is a stunning building, wide steps rising to the graceful columns on the first exterior floor. Statues grace the entrance, still standing and in amazingly good shape. This library held 12,000 roll books!

From here we turn along the white marble road to the grand theater maybe completed about 110 A.D. A few tourists are sitting high up on the stone seating which is large enough for 24,500 people. A song sails up from the stage. There is a wall or two between me and the stage. Am I really hearing singing? It was a Japanese Tour Group. Spontaneous or practiced? Another wide road takes us to the left. It is called Harbor Street. A long time ago, the harbor used to come up to meet it. Silt from the river slowly filled it in so the city is no longer on the shore of the sea.

One more important temple to mention, the Temple of Artemis, dating to the first Century A.D. There is nothing left of it except one column and a few pieces of marble. It is written by writers of antiquity that this temple was considered to be one of the seven wonders of the world. A statue of Artemis was found in remarkable condition and is in the Ephesus Museum in close-by Selcuk. She is decorated with many egg shapes as she is the goddess of fertility. She is a marble beauty. (I have to confess that in my understanding, Artemis has always been the goddess of the moon and of the hunt. The very strong warrior woman. I conclude that she must be the Greek Artemis and the Ephesus lady, Roman.???

I realize that I left out the history of this city. It is so long and involved and changing, that to me, one fact flew away while another was being read. Too much information for me to appreciate. But, Ephesus was a beginning point of a great trade road extending to Asia in the antique age. The oldest information goes back to the middle of the 7^th century B.C. In 3 B.C. building started with a series of state buildings and between 4 and 14 A.D. an aquaduct was built...makiing it the largest and most important city of the Roman Empire in Anatolia. From here, you will have to google the details!

When we reach the exit gate, Sultan is waiting for us...with a few more things to try to sell. Original coins he found in the hills with his metal detector??? Some spices, books. He already knows that we bought a rug. So now we know that he has tricked us just a bit! He is a very likable man. I think that selling to make a buck is fair play. The other side of these salesmen is that they are kind and helpful and good people. He tricked us into thinking that he was a shuttle bus for the Ephesus organization. He tricked us into thinking that going to this school was the first part of the whole experience. In fact, he brought us to the carpet company and because they sold a carpet to us, he made a percentage. The other thing is, we are naive! But Sultan became a friend anyway. He wanted a Canadian flag...I had one.... I delivered it Monday on our way out of town, to the carpet company, in an envelope. 'SULTAN...in friendship...Lou' Was there really a school for weaving there? The rugs look wonderful in the van...adding warmth and memories.

At Sultan's suggestion, we drove to Pamacuk Beach. Perhaps this might be a place to stay the night. He thought so. “There is a beach bar/cafe there, tell the owner that I sent you and he will be happy to let you park right on the beach next to him.” It sounded good but it was deserted for winter. The beach is amazingly wide and long and mostly natural terrain. It draws all the locals in the summer. But tonight it was not a place for us. The buildings were run down with winter neglect and no folks around for comfort. We went back to the safe city streets.

January 6

This morning we have to take care of a flat tire. How to do that here? No Altons or Goodyear. David went off to his friend the restaurant manager...who quickly ran out the door to follow David to look at the tire and see where the van was parked. He hailed a policeman. The policeman says...”Few minutes. Will fix.” Fairly quickly a man on a motorcycle appears, with his tools. He jacks up the car, takes the tire off and ropes it up to the back of his bike. He is not too talkative but we understand that he will be back soon. His tools are still on the road. Indeed, in about half an hour he is back. “Hole in the tire.” 50 TL...about $30.

It is Sunday. We spend some time at the bar that has become our place. A bar is a place where you come to buy a drink and relax. Most people are drinking tea. This is the one managed by the helpful man (tire trouble). There is no food. If you want to eat you are welcome to but you bring it yourself. Though, outside, when you sit at a sunny table, they do have some sandwiches you can order. Today it is not a sunny day. It is a dreary day. Most folks come inside to visit, play games or watch TV. Boys are playing a wood building block game...make a block tower, then taking turns, one by one a piece is removed. If it collapses as you are making your move...you lose! This happened several times with a loud clatter. Then they had a try at chess...with the help of several men sauntering by. And the boys were drinking tea! There is a big production movie on TV...something very Turkish. Several older couples are watching it from their tables, going through many cups of tea. What a wonderful welcoming feel. We could have stayed there on our computer all day (though I was knitting!)...and probably make new friends...maybe even challenge them to a game of something. Or learn to play backgammon or chess. All with a little cup of tea.

At 5:00 we find the church. It is nice to be among English speakers. Not all from England, but from places all over the globe. Some visiting for the day, some regular members. The leaders are from Canada. As I usually do in a service such as this, I squirm at some of the phrases used. It is a bit too 'born again' for me. “Our God is this...and Our God is that, and Our God is the only true God....” Please, you do not own God. Your God is everybody's God. The other phrase that made me jump was...speaking of Turkey...”This land is a wasteland.” It is up to them to bring God to the wasteland where there is already an ancient and meaningful religion? (One of my nephews would tell me that I am not a real Christian. Hmmmmmm. We have been discussing this for years.) I was fidgeting but I made it through. Dinner together. Splendid spread of food! And we did make some nice friends from Sweden. Goran and Ingrid. They spend many months a year on their sailboat and then stop someplace to stay for the winter. In between times they take excursions like hiking, traveling with backpacks, or taking a few ferries to Thailand. Every three years they go home to Sweden to be with their families. What a life they have made for themselves. We hope to keep up with their adventures.

January 7

We pick up our rug at Black Sheep Carpets and say goodbye to Aydin and Mursali. Before we leave Selcuk we want to check out a small village up in the hills. The village road winds downward so that its center is at the bottom. Along the sides there are shops of course. I bought some black and white patterned wool socks knitted by Sevem, the woman who sold them to me. (And they have proved to be most comfy, warm and breathable.) The village has been overtaken by commercialism. Watches, jewelry, scarves, blankets, socks like mine, trinkets, food...and why not. The poor villagers saw a way to make some money. Over zealous shop keepers met us out on the street with the hope of inciting us to view their merchandise. I am uncomfortable with the style. So we wander the outside edges and see the living spaces and life styles. A friendly little dog is our guide. This village is also well known for its fruit wines. Our guide book says that most of them are pretty awful so we pass that opportunity by.

Our next stop is a steam train museum. David checked this out and reported that there were about 30 steam trains. About 18 of them were exhibited around a turntable, on about 16 tracks radiating out like sun rays. There were engines made in many places; the Czech Republic, Yugoslavia, Great Britain and the USA, to mention some, including an engine from 1887, 68hp and an American one from 1948, 2500hp. Also, snow blowers, cranes, passenger cars and freight cars. A really good museum.

From here we drive out to the port of Kusadasi. A lovely wealthy town, monied by tourism, specifically Cruise Ships. The weather is very cold. Night time temperatures getting way below freezing. There is a wind during the day. We find a book store to stock up on a few English language novels. 1453 The Holy War for Constantinople and the Clash of Islam and the West....Roger Crowley. The other... The Museum of Innocence, Orhan Pamuk. I have read a few of the latter's works. They let us in to a culture we do not know.

We find a park to plug into electricity so we will be warm in our van.

January 8

Today is spent at the State Hospital. I am having a few problems which need care. (No they are not mental problems!) I sign in at the front desk and tell them what I need. A gynecologist. You get a number, told where the door is down the hall, and pay for a visit...80TL(Turkish lira), about $55. I am arriving just as he has gone to lunch so we wait there for one hour and a half and I am called... about the forth person in line. After that visit I am sent back to pay for his services...83TL...then on to a dermatologist and pay for that visit...80TL, getting another number and sent to another building with number on the door. My pharmacy bill was 70TL. In the gynecologist’s office there was a nurse and a recording person. They sat on the other side of his desk, using the other side of his desk, in one small room. Nothing fancy. The doc in a suit. There was a very small examination room. In the dermatologist's office, there were three women...and I don't know what they were doing, but they were there at the other side of his desk. He had an examination table and a pull curtain right beside him, if that was needed. Good and very kind doctors, used to no frills, no benefits or extras for doctors...they provide a needed service. Of course this is the State Hospital. No appointments, come if you need to. And everyone but me had cards and did not seem to pay. There are other opportunities and hospitals but the citizens need to pay extra for them. I quite enjoyed the system. It felt fair and right.

We talk about heading for Cyprus the next day and giving up some of the Turkish coastal towns until it is warmer. That is the plan.

One to one on the card playing tonight. Always we play two games. I grumble through the entire time... “That's not fair!...You are so mean to me!... I'm bored!”... on and on.

January 9

So we change our route and head more inland to get to the ferry to Cyprus, toward Mugla. Always inland there are the peasant variety of interesting things to see. Black and white cows are heading across the road with two herders in charge, one holding a stick with a piece of red clothing attached. It warns us to slow and watch for the safety of the beasts. We love to slow and watch any of the herded animals. Lots of folks are selling mushrooms along the roadside. Did it just rain and these were collected naturally as we are in a forested area? Or were these grown intentionally? In any case, there were miles of mushroom sellers selling out of buckets or tatty little stands. Little fires burning beside them. To keep warm or attract attention?

We are in beautiful natural mountain garden spaces. Large rounded stones balance on each other. Cracked, separated and shaped. A stone art garden. Cropped green grass and a meandering river. And then we move on to what David describes as Colorado. Then the road takes us downward toward the sea. It reminds me of Howe Sound in British Columbia. Snowy mountains peek over top of the lower bar ones. At the right end a range of snow covered mountains dominate. So white and pristine against a blue blue sky.

Fethiye at the sea. A working boatyard takes up much of the bay. We love boatyards! (I guess you know that.) David finds us a place to stay there. Fishing boats, sailboats, huge tourist sailing ships. It is twilight but there is action everywhere. Hammering, sanding, decision-making conversations. Teams of guys. One of the three masted beauties is lit up when darkness falls. We eat dinner. Then the carpenters begin to leave. Finally we are the only car there.

In the morning when we wake the boat folks are back at fixing and painting and rebuilding. It is sunny and crisp and clear. We take a road to a forested hump of park lands which completes the crescent of the bay. Just exploring, moseying along...looking for a breakfast perch. Three cyclists pass us, in bike garb, peddling fast uphill for the sport. A morning ride. I thought of the poor, pushing bikes laden with boxes and bags. The bicycle. What an invention! We watch rowers, their oars flashing in the sun on the glassy water. Eight single sculls and one double. A motor boat accompanies them. This was a practice time with a coach. The sun was shining in such a way that we could only see their silhouettes rocking back and forth. I was reminded that I tried this type of rowing once and it scared me to death. The boats are so skinny and tippy and the oars take practice as they require special handling...they do not meet in the middle, they go beyond each other so that they have to be carefully placed. I'll stick to kayaking.

After lunch we turn around and slowly drive through the boatyard again. The names of the lady boats...Dear Lila, Modern Gypsy, Holiday, Tarkan, Lady Buket, Oasis, Club Latoonia, Kingfisher, Woyn, Oz Neco, Asli, Aegean Queen. There is also a Coast Guard Ship.

This is an interesting city, much bigger than it looked when we entered. We are leaving in a different direction. There are lots of areas for people to relax and enjoy, for walking, for sitting, for children. My eyes do burn with pollution, I think from fire smoke, some from home chimneys and some agriculture burns. Shop contents spill out on to the sidewalks. Fabric, shoes, furniture, produce, butcher, clothing. The shops are small and repeat themselves for the next community along the same street. Every four to five blocks you will find a hardware store, a grocery store, a bakery, a pharmacy etc. People walk to buy goods. Everybody in business gets a bit of the big pie. Along this street, doing their shopping, are older twin men...white hair, red jackets...pushing bikes. It is a sight to make me smile.

Beyond town we head toward Antalya. The mosques we encounter are like folk art, each one built differently but always with at least one dome and a minaret or two. Some are white with silver domes, others painted in perfectly chosen colors, to show off the dome and architecture... some are really decorated with paint, like braid placed strategically to show off the buildings lines. Always they are beautiful.

We are climbing through a mountain pass, through white mountain walls. Pine trees are taller. The earth is buff to red. There are water faucets along the way. For horses, donkeys, old cars, thirsty travelers? The Pass registers 1300 meters, then we drop down to a reservoir and community. A sign advertising COOKED CHICKEN! A favorite for us as we don't have an oven. David stops and talks with the grocer, doing a little buck, buck, buck chicken rendition to get his desire across. No chicken here.

Road signs for oxen. We are still in high country, trees with space between, similar to Northern Idaho. Beyond it is barren, no trees. High plateaus with terraced tree plantings of small conifers. A Muslim woman, draped in black with only eyes showing, is pushing a baby carriage and leading young school children to the highway. It is her job to get them across it safely. She leaves the carriage and shews the kids across like a mother hen, daring the cars not to take heed. All are safe, even the baby.

Antalya. Population 1,450,000. Lots and lots of apartments. No flower boxes adorn the balconies, as in other European cities. Many parks. We are passing the edge of this city on our way to Alanya. We will be back to experience a wonderful old town here.

Mountains once again. Different shapes, heights, layer upon layer. Pinnacles. Round tops. Rock. Then again we are close to the sea. Not a pretty picture. Resort after resort, not particularly kept up in the winter. What must it be like in the summer. I guess if you liked this sort of vacation...but it is ugly in it's hugeness and greediness. There are some outrageous designs and colors. It would be a good project for an architect. Ideas can be taken in any direction. Just bring in the customers.

Alanya. Quite a beautiful and sophisticated city with a double harbor, the division being a high headland topped with a fortified castle. It is tourist driven, but still the feel of it is inviting and lovely, with a Turkish flavor. The tourists are English, German and Russian for the most part. We walk on the long harbor promenade. Here we meet Karin, from Germany. She has broken her hip and has come here after surgery, to practice her walking with walking sticks. It is a slow process but the weather is fair, the walk flat and the view good.

Two ladies chat from their balconies...one actually calling the other to come out to meet her. Their conversation seems quite serious. We see a sign for a FULL ENGLISH BREAKFAST. Things are looking up! But it is way past breakfast. The day started grey with showers but the sun is shining now and it is actually warm. Many runners and walkers. Three or four different Mosques send out their calls to worship, mingling with one anothers song, one call drifts down from the castle. It is really quite beautiful. A nice walk along this harbor. Boats are not easy to get to as they are all guarded behind fences... yacht club boats, tourist boats. Not the old fishing boats yards we like to hang out in.

We drive south along the sea to Gazipasa. We stop on the road when a photo presents itself. Just put the hazard lights on and cars go around. They understand. They have the attitude...'You have to do whatever you need to do...and we'll help you.' This is the land of bananas. Banana tree orchards? There are plastic bags over the banana bunches that hang at least a yard long. Is this to keep them from ripening too fast? To speed up the ripening? Keep them from the sun, from freezing? The temperature is somewhere between 55o and 65o. Apartments are colorful. Well chosen paint and design. We are a bit lost (we do not have GPS here)on slow roads among small towns. A bakery! We stop for some bread. The baker loads me up with a bunch of stuff! And it is all delicious. Some rings of thick dense bread, a small crispy loaf and some tall tear-apart buns...all still warm! We munch as we drive. These Turks are so warm-hearted and generous.

Other towns we go through. Anamur. Yenikos. Working towns, not tourist towns. Agriculture. A sea of green houses! Never have we seen so many and they are terraced far up into the hills. Often we have to stop for road construction or rock slides. David enjoys winding into and around and out all the bends and curves the natural coast can 'throw' at him. On a brand new highway above us, tunnels are being built, looking like eyes in the mountain side. A sturdy yellow machine sits inside one of the tunnels in the making. It is the same shape as the tunnel and moves along inside as the work progresses. A white wildflower decorates this area. Strawberries are for sale roadside. We stop for gas and are offered chi/tea. We accept. The drink is refreshing.

Off on the road again. Small fires are lit at the side, men stand and talk. Are they selling something? The people chat, they love to. The women, the men. Always talk, waving arms and laughter. A friend or two, some family who care. A group to be part of. I have seen along the way that this can pull you through almost anything. Love.

The land is so wonderful. I wonder where the curvy roads go that wind up the hills and through Vs in canyons. Rock faces of mixed color, orange and grey. The soil color echos the rock. If I grew up here I would love this land forever and harbor the need to return. The pines, the turquoise water.

We reach our destination in the dark, the ferry town ofTasucu. David is in the ferry ticket office. While he is there an agent comes to the van with a little cup of tea for me! The ferry will not leave until Sunday night. 'Be here in line at 10:00 pm.'

So what will we do for a few days? As everyone says around here, 'No problem.' We find a spot in the old fishing harbor. We watch the mending of nets. The people stopping by to watch, to ask questions. Other fishermen tied to the boat next to him and another next to him. They walk over each others boats to get to the dock. They discuss? They help each other with chores. A wife brings food and shopping bags of supplies. They must be going out soon and for longer than a day. A fishing boat dog is getting pretty excited as everything is being prepared for 'push off'.

We walk through the little town. Buy shrimp from the shrimp boat guy. No receipt. Just pay and go and enjoy. We buy some yummy bakery items and bread. Big fat fresh macaroons! We check out our ferry in the daylight. Hmmmmm. Looks like an old tub to me. I think I had better locate the life jackets!

We drive to the next town, bigger size. Perhaps we will find a larger grocery store there. Polisi and Gendarma are pulling cars over. Not us. They look scary as they have AK47s, automatic machine guns. We shop in a few stores and find most of what we need. We want the larder full when we hit Cyprus.