Along the Black Sea, north coast of Turkey

I am not sure I told you that we finally named our camper van 'Daisy'. She is painted white, has a sunny disposition and a sense of adventure. Like her flower family, she is flexible in wind and rain, stands tall and proud in the sunshine and is a team player. I am pretty sure I caught a pleased smile when we told her her name.

Along the Black Sea, north coast of Turkey April 21~

We still have the problem of a leaking water pump but have located a VW dealer who can help us about one hour away. We have been stopping to fill the engine cooling water about every ½ hour. But the drive is new and interesting along the edge of the Black Sea. It is a cloudy day. Rocky shoreline. Cormorants airing out their wings. Small one-person fishing dinghies are on the calm water. There are waterfront walkways and parks and a boat harbor at every town.

The rain starts.

Someone told us that this area is not very populated. This is not what we see. It is quieter but plenty of folks live here, mostly on the waterside as hills and mountains rise behind. There are many resorts and apartments and those pretty round bushy fields persist. We ask what they are. “Yes it is tea. We grow lots of tea here”. And we see that even back yards are planted full of tea. We watch an elderly couple come from their home to their back yard tea plants, harvesting and weeding.

Women are working in gardens wherever they can find space between the road and the sea. These are apartment dwellers no doubt. Others are picking edible roadside offerings, and still others are foraging in garbage cans.

We find the Volkswagen dealer just east of Rize. Fortune, his English name, helps us. He speaks very good English. That is a relief. When you are working with car repair, you want to be able to communicate. He has a water pump, which he installs, but it takes all day to locate another part; we need a timing belt to fit our American built van. We will have to take a hotel, as our van is not available for us. It is expensive and boring!

The next day we spend time with mechanics, then in the waiting area by the 'kafaterya' where Turkish tea and coffee is made and hustled to any employee who calls with the request. We are given Turkish coffee and spend time chatting with the beverage maker. He is Kurdish, as many are from this area. He has a brother in Alabama, going to school at Auburn College. We enjoy hearing these connective tidbits from those we meet. At the end of the workday we are shown a spot in the back garage lot. Here we can spend a comfortable quiet night in Daisy.

In the morning Fortune comes to see how we fared overnight. 8:00 am. He tells us that the Turkish form of Islam does not have the tight rules of the more conservative type. It focuses on being a good person, respecting others. “The women who wear head scarves do this as a choice.” (Most women are bare- headed). He personally does not care for the new conservative president. “I think Turkey will continue to progress to a more western way of life. We have experienced this freedom and do not wish to go backwards”. It has appeared to us that Turks have reached a good melding of religion, traditional culture and western ways, but many are curious and somewhat worried about the new President's leadership.

We walk the town streets; buy bread, vegetables and water. An old fabric-weaving establishment, doors open, draws us in. Gorgeous fabrics are made on antique machinery. A punched pattern directs the shuttle. It's old and dark and interesting in here and we are allowed to wander at will. Back at the VW garage, Fortune (Ugur) invites us to lunch. We join the mechanics at tables, enjoying an hour-long break and a daily hot lunch. The food is good. We had chicken in a potato and carrot broth, rice and baklava, along with a popular Turkish milk that is very much like buttermilk.

At lunch we hear some of Fortune's story. He is the service manager here. An older brother works in the city of Trabzon and is a water transport administrator. Fortune lives with him, a 50-minute bus ride to and from work. Their family has another home where the boys grew up. It is eight kilometers from the city. Each weekend the family is together there. It is the “good life” he says: goats, chickens, dogs and cats, tea plants and hazel nut trees. A wife who would like Fortune's life style has not yet arrived on the scene.

We go to the office to pay for the work done on Daisy. She is probably 'raring' to get back on the road in her new condition! Emine, a sales department employee, helps us with suggestions of local places to go from this point: Ataturk's home in Trabzon and the Sumela monastery in the hills. Also Uzungol Lake. She gives us some statistics. This area had snow 23 days ago. It 'boasts' 320 days of rain per year, and is the top hazelnut producer in the world. The Coruh River is rated in the top 10 white water runs.

Finally, she tells us how to make a good Turkish coffee: (The best machines are Bausch and Cacilik)

         2 tiny cups of water

         2 heaped spoonfuls of coffee

         2 sugar lumps.

Boil these   together. When done, spoon the froth off the top. Pour finished coffee into small cups/glasses to the brim.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

> In our hotel lobby and the VW car showroom the blaring images of sexy music and dance videos take over: strong and 'in-your-face', more than we want to see. Much more than we would experience in North America. Fortune tells us that the reason is probably because the Turkish people were so restricted, so ruled over for such a long time.

> The north of Turkey seems quite European. Well, I guess it is partly on the European continent.

> Emine recommends a novel to me. 'Yes, I would Love another Glass of Tea' by Katharine Branning, and another, 'Theatre' (Sulfis Prompter) by Donato Carrisi.

> All the trucks have four note melody horns.

> Eleanor is a favored name at this time. I see a different spelling in Turkey, Elanur.

> Turkish words on signs: balik means fish, yavas means stop. Logistik, Tekstil, fabrik, oto.

> Traveling softens one. It takes some of the mystery away, the assumptions, the projections.

> The road construction sites have wood stick fences on the hillsides. What are those for? They do not look permanent. David says that they are placed there to hold the earth in place until the plantings take hold.

> Prayer songs from the mosques are words of ways to live your life, reminders for the day. It works I think.

> In big cities many young girls are dressed Western style. They can choose to go modern or traditional. Many men would prefer a traditional village girl for a life partner.

> Aluminum cans are stuck on trees and bush branches in several places along the road. ?

> We would like to take more side roads that point to villages in the hills and trees.

> VW Bug. All the exterior panels are different colors. It sits on top of a pillar in the middle of a road construction area.

> I have less expectations and opinions about where people should live.

> It is lovely to travel with the season: a long, long springtime as we head north.

On the Black Sea road again we are heading to the Sumela Monastery of Meryemana (the Virgin Mary). A rushing creek runs through a green gorge into the Karadaglar (Black Mountains). It is a sunny clear day with perfect spring temperatures. We see fishponds and alders: small communities on steep hillsides of crop fields. We finally spot the 13^th Century Meryemana across the canyon; huddled in a long crooked line, back walls against the steep rock face. Tall buildings of golden sand color, lots of little windows patterning rows of dark spots, much like the look of fork-pokes in a pie top. The roofs are of red tiles. The whole image is quite a sight of would-be fantasy. But, it is real! We walk the tree root stepped pathway and then climb long upward stairs. The little cave chapel is the draw. The frescoes are still beautiful if not faded, and even the graffiti is worth a look.

A class of young girls and boys has targeted us as Americans. They come to talk and giggle, take pictures with us and practice their English. “How old are you? Hello. You have beautiful eyes. Where are you from? Do you speak Turkish?” We stand for 50 photos with adorable 14-year-old girls.

ORDU. Hluk finds us on a main street getting ready for the night. He asks if he can do anything for us. He shows us to his parking lot. Instead of the usual call to prayer that is sung, we hear a spoken call to prayer. That evening we listen to Bob Dylan, his Thirtieth Anniversary Concert. “Things Will Change Tomorrow when I Paint My Masterpiece”. We sleep soundly.

In the morning a woman speaks out from the minaret! A woman! Things are changing here. We travel near to the sea on an old highway. There are sandy beaches, fish farms, rocky shores, and leafy hills beginning at the sea, and an island or two floating close to the shore. The view is like looking at Japan from our home coastlines, nothing to see but an empty horizon. Pruned tree branch poles are left by the roadside for pick-up later, poles for gardens, for stabilizing sunflowers, for climbing peas and beans, for fences. Lilacs are in bloom, the scent coming to us sporadically as we drive. Cow parsnip flowers stand on their sturdy big stocks. A cow is tethered to a tree, which shades a seated traditionally dressed woman. Air force fighter planes screech overhead. The small seashore towns are sweet grubby little places full of activity. Harvested leeks are placed in tall bundles standing vertical, eye catching! They are for sale along the road. We stop for coffee and watch a pack of dogs joyfully playing in and out of a stack of big pipes.  Tulips are finishing their colorful show, but still some cities display this beauty at their gateways. SAMSON is a large modern city with Carrefour and Migros Super grocery stores: cookies and soymilk and headlamp batteries. Other towns melt into Samson, an extended metropolitan sprawl, and big river deltas. BAFRA. A woman moves along in the road carrying something she has harvested, probably for her animals. There is a mixture of old and new dwellings.

A thick strata line of ready-made bricks piled up for 200 feet, a great texture of rotting rock. Fog has come in, making the layers of land show dimension, not the normal flat look, the Black sea below. We are coming to a long tunnel; it feels a bit like a video game. Closer and closer it comes! Can we make it through the darkness?  A string of red lights light up the right side, white on the left, seeming to narrow down to nothing in the distance. On and on until we see faint light at the end. The day is grey but the beaches dig under the turquoise blue water, serene in its color even without the sunshine. More towns: BOYABAT, SINOP.

Sinop is where our friends Harry and Hal served time in the military. It is a peninsula on a peninsula, a very pretty small city alive with neat places to explore.

April 25

In the city we find Sakary Street, which takes us along the harbor and to our overnight parking spot next to the two-mile old city walls, built in 2000 BC. Large fishing boats are moored and being worked on. We picture our friends walking this place, the wall, the market streets and the harbor. The old town still is a vital part of the community, good shops, and good cafes, retaining the flavor of its history. In would be a good vacation destination. There is plenty to do.

We awake on a sparkling Saturday morning. Sailboats are out. To get our bearings, we drive the sea road. People are out walking and jogging on sidewalks at the water's edge. There are 'Butik' (boutique) hotels and houses and apartments with wonderful views from the hillside. 

Our goal today is to find the base where Harry and Hal actually spent their time. We stop for some information at a gas station and grab some chai. Gypsy gets mixed up on her directions, on which road to take. The base has been closed for ten years; it is not in her bank of road knowledge. We are pretty sure we find it: military fencing and buildings high on a hill. It was a radar listening post in the 1960's, during the Cold War. The base has extended radar surveillance from Britain. America now uses this facility. Not too long ago, Syrian missiles were aimed and fired at Turkey. US technology was able to intercept them while the missiles were in flight, blowing them up. Turkey is such a strategic ally for the USA.

Leaving here we head west through agricultural fields and pastures. There are cows of all colors, heads down chomping, mowing; sheep with shepherds and dogs wandering on land they do not own. Snowy white ground daisies lie in the grasses, wood lots. Women are in the ditches picking natural greens and carrying them in buckets. Streams meander to the sea. Rolling hills of green, topped with mist.  Cosmos and roses are everywhere. Women are tending their garden plots, with rumps in the air, hands in the earth. Food is grown for family and for sale. Roadside tables display produce and jars of jam.

Gypsy camp tents, concrete block houses, junk and old cars scattered about. Dogs asleep in the middle of the road. Others stare at nothing. Too many dogs, not enough food it seems. Purple rhodies and yellow azaleas brighten the scene. We drive on a patched and bumpy two-lane road. More messy gypsy camps but with two good trucks parked in their midst. The villages are Transylvania-like. Pretty. Homes painted grey, and soft shades of coral and yellow.

The road now leads out to the sea. Apartments on the beach, decorated in little sparkly colorful tiles, some placed in motifs, some in patterns. Between towns we are treated to winding cliff-side roads through trees and opening to fantastic views. Sagging wood homes next to the beach. They do not hold up well, not like the concrete block structures. Gypsies on the beach, a chubby healthy fox crosses the road: Red-brown, black.

As we drive through a town, INEBOLU, a beautiful young woman walks by. She is dressed in the clothing of Islam, but with a twist. Lovely wide leg pants, contemporary shoes, fitted and stylish coat to mid thigh, head scarf neatly and creatively tied, clutch purse, accented in soft peach colors. She looks amazing! A model. Maybe she has told herself, “If I am going to dress in the tradition of my religion, I will show that I am proud of it. I am going to raise the bar.” Wow!

On we go to that area between towns; slate roofs on wood houses, terra cotta roofs on log sheds. An old boat parked next to a shed dripping in fresh hay. YUNISKOY. We are in and out of sea-misted hills and landslides. We pass wooden bus stop shelters, one housing a motorcycle for someone who lives down the steep hill. KOROGLU. A donkey is wandering in the lush green grass, plenty of fresh food. Rain hits the windshield. It does not last long. DOGANYURT. On the next leg of countryside we listen to a Frenchman, Julien Clerc, sing his wonderful French songs in his melodic raspy voice. We are high above the turquoise sea watching waves crash against the rocky cliff edge. DENIZBUKU. TASLIPINAR. More stacked poles. Wild pea. BELYAKA. HEYELAN. AYDENCIK. The Ottomans brought the local architecture with them. 'Stick' built (2x4). Service berry, dogwood, bright orange calendula, thistle, yikes, I need a flower ID book. Ladies mantle, hellebore, bracken, dandelion, buttercup, broom, poplar! YAGMERLU. CIDE. Pop.74,000. We park by the marina where all the men in town are watching a soccer match on a short field. It is 6:57 pm. Here we shall stay the night.

We walk along the beachside streets. There were lots of amenities here for the community, but left to fend for themselves when the economics took a dive. Some day perhaps it will be back to its former prettiness. Sidewalk flow along the beach side, apartments above retail stores on the opposite side. It has hints of being an old mill town. A lumberyard is still stocked and selling. It is not yet summer. The town probably hums when school is out. Dogs are asleep and dreaming in the middle of the road. For the time being they rule! The streets are lined with jacaranda trees. Vinca major, poppies and Queen Ann's lace grow anywhere they find room. Old Ottoman houses still stand in this town.

April 27

Sunday. We leave town and continue west along the shore to KURUCASILE, a university town 25 miles away, then one town after another and more rugged lovely high coast between. A wanderer, a man moving on, with his old donkey on a lead, packed with everything they need for night and day. Or maybe that is my story. Perhaps he is coming home from the store! Orchards overgrown and uncared for. A ladder leans against the fence, the fruit still in demand. A variety of wild roses. A woman with a woven basket on her back, walks with a walking stick along the roadside. Another is harvesting roadside greens with a slashing tool and carries a flat shoulder bag. Her hair is in a ponytail. She wears pants. Not the norm here. And yet another woman walking hunched, up the hill, a huge wrapped bundle of yellow flowering food for her goats. More people with woven baskets, and rubber back-baskets with tools poking out the top. HISAR, CURUNLU, primitive towns of cliff and beach. Old style haystacks in the fields, hay swished in circles around a supporting stick. Five donkeys loose on the road, feeding as they go. KARAMAN, white iris in mass above the town, so beautiful! More ladies with bundles on their backs. A very young girl dressed in a long skirt and headscarf. This is such a picturesque place. People are close to the earth. Please don't let this scene and lifestyle die, my short earnest prayer. Fog envelopes us as we move along, then we burst into the sunshine. Fog and sun alternate for half an hour. BARTIN. SAFRANBOLU. We turn inland, green trees and pastures above a river gorge. Mountain ash, starflowers, blue bells... and snow measuring poles. Three story Ottoman houses with Tudor decoration (lXlXl), sort of an 'arts and crafts' look. White plaster or tan brick backgrounds with black or dark brown decorative boards, lovely wood around the windows. White lace curtains hang in V's.

Dark, dark clouds full of rain threaten to let go of their burdens. Fifty minutes to BOLU where we will stay the night. Lightening! Wind! A big front! Heavy rain! Shepherds go about their business in the rain, soaking wet. I don't suppose it phases the sheep. Six ladies are walking with umbrellas and rain parkas. WATCH FOR DEER signs. We stop early. It is hard to see through the rain.

April 29

Last night the Imam checked on us, the man who sings out the prayers from the mosque beside us. Then the town mayor comes by. His remark to us, ”I looked in your van and saw that you were old but acting young!” He gave us candy, three pieces each. He is curious and asks many questions. “Who drives? Do you have jobs? Are you of an evangelistic Christian church? Can you meet me for breakfast in Bolu? You can use our mosque toilets if you like. No problem to stay here. The 5:00 am call to prayer might wake you. I see you are reading. Old people do not read here.” What an amazing encounter. We wake to the 5:00 am call to prayer, so beautifully sung. “God is good, come and worship.” It is sung in Arabic. Most Turks cannot understand Arabic. This is a gentle Islam.

We continue in the rain, 51ºF this morning, a long ride to the European part of Turkey, past Istanbul, across the Bosporus Bridge. Our regular and familiar overnight stop at Selimpasa harbor awaits us. In the morning we are heading to Bulgaria, leaving behind what we have become accustomed to; road signs, some language, Turkish culture, at least eight month's worth of exposure here. I must remember to practice the examples they have set for us: I must remember to be kind and helpful to everyone. Smile. Wave. Shake hands. Oh, I will miss the Turkish people. Mustard plants grow wild along the roadsides, seeds from the fields. Red poppies and green grasses mixed in. We stop to spend our remaining Lira on petro.

The East Coast of Turkey

Oh, I know that I am so far behind in this travel blog, but I promise to take you to the end of our journey. It helps me keep writing when I know someone is out there enjoying it! And my brother, my volunteer editor, is off on lighthouse duty without a connection so please, don't laugh too hard at my spelling and other fine writing details! And just to remind you, I put all the towns, villages and cities in bold so both you and I can follow along on a map. Lou

The East Coast of Turkey. April 17th~ 

We are on a 'better' ferry boat from Cyprus this time. What a relief. Before this, we have always wondered if we would really make it 60 miles across the sea to Turkey. We are in line at 11:00 but of course it leaves hours late, now 3:00 pm and we are still at dock. When we load, the cars are elevatored and lined up outside with 7 foot walls around us. The trucks are on the lower deck. Who designed this ferry? We car travelers hang out in our cars. There is no passenger waiting room for us. The truckers have their own cabins and common room. David and I are the lucky ones! Our home is with us and we have every convenience, even our bed should we need it. We are probably leaving Cyprus for the last time and we are saddened by the thought. 

We reach the port in Turkey six hours later, instead of the usual nine. A better ferry for sure! We managed to meet some interesting folks while wandering our little car deck. A Romanian family is heading back to their homeland. The father has worked in construction for years on Cyprus, making money to finish building their family home in Romania. This dream has come true and a new life begins. These eastern European countries face their own hardships. It takes a strong person to look ahead to building a better life for their family. And then we talk to a Welsh man and his wife who live in South Cyprus. So many perspectives come our way. And when darkness falls we jump in the camper and watched a movie, The Artist, and the last of Simon Reeves journey around the Indian Ocean...Java to Australia.

April 18

We have spent some time mapping our way across Turkey to the east and then north. We gas up and fill our propane tank. Once more, the American license plates bring us extra attention, in the form of a delicious sweet coffee on the house. The Turkish people cannot be kind enough. David gets Turkcell WIFI in one store, then goes next door to get a cooked chicken. The propriator brings Turkish tea out to our car for Mr.'s wife. “Miraba” (Hello) he says and I answer thank you “Tesh-oo-koo-let”. What a lovely tradition this tea sharing is. We wait while the chicken is cooked faster by splitting it and putting it on the barbecue. Anything for his customer. 

Now on toward ADANA on a three lane freeway next to the sea. White flowering Hawthorne and pink blooming bushes have been planted in the median. We are back into the old Turkey where again we see all women in peasant Islamic garb; the low crotched trousers of flower motifs, designer extravagant scarves, long sleeved blouses with vest, shoes and socks. Some work in the fields, others are walking the road to somewhere. Beautiful agricultural fields here. Citrus trees. Strawberries are still being harvested. 

Then we enter the city. Apartments! Everyone lives in apartments. Lovely friendly homes in big boxes, painted all colors. Wash hanging on flower bedecked balconies, TV dishes, barrels of water on the roofs. The women dress in a variety of clothing... a scarf with jeans, scarves with nice slacks and sweaters, scarves with dresses and some without scarves, looking like much of the rest of the world. Beyond the residences there is a fort on a hill top. Flat fields surround it. And we enter the agriculture land again. Dry creek beds. Quarries...the rock is taken and the hill is removed! Corn fields. Corn is grown for an American company centered in Iowa! Large silos. Through this all, a wide river flows. 

A gypsy camp is being constructed. A large group. Many tents. Skinny white horses find green stuff to eat. The women are sleeping in the shade of trees, their goats and chickens with them. This band has accompanying white vans to carry their heavy cumbersome stuff. The new way to move around. 

We pass by Flamingos in a field, pink with black tail feathers. Oh dear, a siren goes off when we pass through a deserted toll area. We keep going. The car begins its knocking again. So darn worrisome. We stop at another VW Service Garage. Of course once again a test drive reveals nothing. But the mechanic has brought us fresh mountain water to take with us. He is so proud of it. 

In OSMANIYE we find a computer WIFI chip at the fifth phone store. We are far from English speakers. A young boy stares at me. I smile at him. I must look foreign. I am not used to being in this role...the strange one. 

We move on. More gypsy camps, bigger and more prosperous. Camps are set up on roadsides that belong to the local governments, not private property, so they are close enough for us to get a good look at. These people intrigue me...after all we are a little gypsy-like ourselves. Their individual home tents have become camp universal... white canvas. One camp exhibited a huge tent that looked like a fantastic quilt of all fabrics and colors. Wonderful!

And we encounter a car being towed with a rope, weaving here and there. Illegal at home, here you call your friend and get it done. At home, call the tow truck...big $$$$$.

April 19

We have overnighted in a small Turkish town. No tourists here. No western dress for women. We toss stale bread pieces into the chicken yard beside us. There are about 100 of them, Rhode Island Reds and white hens with tall tail feathers. There is one elegant rooster with a very gravelly voice, sounding less than elegant. The feathered ladies who grab the bread chunks can't eat it because they are chased round and round by the others. This hilarious show keeps our attention for quite a while.

We are slow to start today. The quiet and slow pace here has affected us. The locals look at us in wonder. Curious. Serious. No smiles. One brave man, or maybe the local police, checked us out, first honking and staring at us from his car, then parked and walked to talk to us. “Miraba” says David. He got a smile and a “Miraba” back. That was the end of that encounter. But let's get out of here.

A motor bike honks in a friendly hello, I wave out the window. We follow him over the hills to a big green valley and the town of NURDAGI. Redish-brown butterflies cross the road in front of us in flocks or alone. It happens over and over. Are they migrating north? Careful! There is a turtle in the road. And then a giraff, zebra and camel...stiff statues that feel out of place. Young boys push garbage containers on wheels. They are picking up anything that they can get money for. Good idea and good work. David says that he and his buddies used to do much the same thing...beer bottles, a penny each. Ahhh. The good old days. Another choice, a paper route. Good work at a young age.

In BEYOCLU, population 68,000, there is an electric railroad...a big train just like David's electric train set he had as a kid. Traffic lights are placed further ahead. Often we stop too far ahead when first in line and can't see the light change so a friendly little nudge of a honk sounds behind us. In NARLI PAZARCIK, population 68,900, we  find an ATM just to make sure we have enough cash on us in this more sparsely peopled place. Ahh! David has been looking for a car wash and here it is! 'Oto yikama' CARWASH! It could be the first camper van they have caressed! They take great care and hand it back sparkling. 

As we pull out to the main road a traditionally dressed bent-over elderly woman is walking toward us... sack on her back, sack in her hand on the way to the flour mill. I reflect at what a different life I have been given. I somehow would like to be in her shoes for awhile, to understand how one can work so hard with the body at an older age. But the answer to that, I think, is that she does not have a choice. She needs to feed herself and children, grandchildren and family animals. So, what else is she supposed to do, but 'just do it'. 

This road offers some outrageously painted homes, many tri-colored shades of blue, green, orange, purple, red and yellow. A lone donkey walks the highway. I wonder if he knows where he is going? An orchard on red earth, new leaves just starting. Busy farmers cultivating and planting. And a sighting of snow on the distant mountains. Another donkey but he has a job to do. He has an old style wood saddle on his back. He is herding black goats. Families at road-side stands selling whatever they can. Nuts and grains and something in jars. Honey? And umbrellas! The landscape is stunning, red and green in color. I have a quick deep thought...Isn't it enough that all of us folks are all here on this earth together at this particular time? Should this not be a strong enough bond? 

BALKAR. A town nesting alongside a big lake. GOLBASSI. Depressing. Run down. Unhappy sort of place. But we move on to uplifting nature; woods, planted pines to keep the earth in place where this road was punched through. Rock, copper green and iron red. River, flowing against us as we gain elevation. A mother and son move along the road and riverside, harvesting food that grows naturally there. Lumps of old snow linger in these higher hills. Trees are now sparse. ERKENEC. This town is alive with folks out walking, kids playing. We make our lunch stop in the midst of a soft new spring green stand of tall willows. 

Back on the road we follow a truck with a bed fenced by wood railings. A young girl peeks curiously at us from between the slats. She is riding in the back on her way to help get the current job of the day done. MALATYA. Population 565,000!

The pleasant road through town shows off some nice architecture, uniquely designed lamp posts, pedestrian arched bridges over our line of cars. The 'peach' seems to be the city symbol. We pull to a stop. A truck is in our path, backing out of the tunnel to save his 'too tall' cargo. The terraine here is like Washington State's Yakima or Lake Chelan with a mosque. We stop at a dried fruit stand. Apricots and almonds. The best we have ever tasted! “Two bags of those apricots, please!” 

Still it feels like eastern Washington State, very similar to the bare powerful Columbia River gorge near Wenatchee. But the towns are not familiar. Another big one, ELAZIG. A three lane freeway travels above the wide Firat River which runs in and out of a long lake reservoir. Storks are standing and fussing about in their high-perched nests. Black wild turkeys. COVANCILAR. We stop for the night at 6:30.

April 20

A police visit last night. Bang, bang, bang on the side of the car. As usual it ends in laughter. We had been reported by a concerned citizen in the neighborhood who had led two cop cars to our white van. White van...hmmmm. The new sign of the traveling gypsy. In answer to the question, “What are you doing here?”, David says, “Well, I was sleeping until you guys woke me!” Fortunately they thought that was funny and led us to the police station parking lot where we would sleep safe for the night. This morning we leave a note for the 'guys', a simple thank you and goodbye. And we move on.

More horse and carts. More women in black showing only their eyes. Others in careful Islamic dress but with spiked heels. Motor cycles with side cars filled to the breaking point. We are in Turkey, but this is the Kurdish area. Syria is so close, but we feel none of the danger. We are happy and content participants in a land that still needs to settle, to work things out, to become peaceful. The Turks are not fond of the Kurds. To us, they are friendly wonderful people. We do not carry any baggage of history. 

We are turning north. The countries of Iraq, Iran, Armenia and Georgia border the east of Turkey. We are not far away. The countryside is like Oakland, California, or Bakersfield...brown grassy hills. Snow capped mountains are on our right. Fruit trees are just beginning to flower. Shepherds with their flocks of sheep, leading them to find patches of food that are not on private property. Anywhere the grass is green and public, unless you have permission from the property owner. 

We are stopped when a boy about sixteen comes to our car. He has an open gash on his forhead...opened and reopened, a never-ending wound. “Okay?” he asks us. He is not fully functional. “Okay”, we say, and he offers his hand to David. I touch my forhead with a sad look on my face. He comes to my side of the car and shakes my hand with much emotion...I think because I showed concern. Oh my, my heart is pierced...as we continue our jouney.

Wow, this is a big country, this Turkey. Big and varied and beautiful. We are by lakes and dams and gorges and big brown mountains. Breathtaking. Army trucks, soldiers with guns pointed at the road, looking for refugees. Traffic check. Of course, we are in a white van...we must show our papers. 

I love the manly friendship of taking walks with your buddy, arms around shoulders...men and boys. But, then I see the women at work in the fields, or taking responsibility of herding the sheep. My mind says to me...DO NOT JUDGE. So I let go and let another culture be just as they are. I do not understand their ways. I am not right and they are not wrong. 

Because of the dams, the river changes from wide to big lakes to narrow stretches of tumbling white water. Men fishing with single rods. The roads are four lanes now, through tunnels. Armored personel carriers with tank treads and guns are present on this stretch of road. Forts in use. TUNCELI. A growing nice town on a mountain reservoir. Market day. New buildings. Time to gas up. “95 benzine...full, please”. And with this we are offered tea and a free car wash...these people are so nice to us. We are definitely aware that we are to act as good ambassadors on this fantastic journey.

Continuing on, waterfalls, gorges. Colorado River, Grand Canyon-like. Tunnel after tunnel through the rock mountains, short and long, some just rough hewned. People enjoying the area, building fires to sit around, picnic food spread out. Down hill to a green valley. KANGALI. Just a few scattered homes. Men in groups around fires. PULUMER. 1800 meter high mountain village. If you want the bus to stop put out your arm. We are often mistaken for a bus and have to pass these questioning people by. “Sorry, we are not a real bus and there are too many of you.”

I smell smoke in the air, a pleasant smell. Field burning? We are moving higher. Snow capped mountains all around us. Thunder! Echoing. Military on the mountain summit. We wind downward, the rushing of water far below. Colors of the rock strata; tones of yellow, green, dark purple. The baa-a-a-a of sheep. The spring poplars show their new white-green leaves. Fruit trees greening up. Yellow green of the shorter bushes. White bare trunks of Aspen. The river plane widens and fills with crops. We are often tricked by the road and river...right now it looks like we are riding downhill and the river uphill...in actuality it is the opposite. Blackbird nests built like leafy squirrel homes, in nude trees. Thick communities, 25 per tree. 

YALACIK, a tiny poor village of little houses. Little fat cypress or juniper trees, a few remnants of snow caught hidden in a north pocket of a hill. A donkey and his owner in the middle of the road. He has a huge load of sticks. She leads him to the side to let us pass. A farmer throws grain to the earth from his sack, slowly moving in a straight line. Cows are the predominant animal here. Another small poor village but new houses are being built, about 60 of them all the same, painted in two shades of green, perfectly lined up. Boys play football in a pasture. Another shanty town. Folks living here cannot afford to leave. One town is called Dumlu. Ha! Ha! Dumb Lou. 

We turn north at ERZURUM, in the foothills. A sign points to Kayak, a ski area. We are still in a flat plain but the elevation is high. More and more snow appears on the Aliahuekber range to the Northeast. There is old snow on our level too. Spring has not yet arrived here. We head on downhill. A strange terraine of lumpy spikey brown rock appears around a bend, knobby scrub vegetation, no trees. The mountain walls are cathedral-like. One is topped with a castle! Hardly noticable, made with the same mountain rock. A very special place...brings a touch of the Spirit. 

Shades of brown strata layers, slides, a glacier green lake, then a huge full reservoir muddied from today's rains. We continue by the river. Lombardi poplars and shorter willows at our side. This area is a wonder! Pure and simple nature at its most powerful. Spectacular! Tuscan red on light brown. We get glimpses of more snow capped mountains, in the shape of plates shoved up from the depths of earth. Conifers at a 1160 meter pass. There is an area of rotten strata...like waves of ready-made bricks and ragged rock edges formed from water seepage. Baskets appear at the river sides. Sit in the basket, grab a rope and pull yourself over the river. 

We pass a make-shift town roadside. Lots of tarps pulled into shelters. Fires burning. People milling. Pea patch gardens in the middle of rock mountains. A minaret stands in their midst, made of aluminum foil.

We pull into a gas station and ask the owner if we can stay in his lot for the night. Of course the answer would never be 'no'. We pull out a movie to watch on our little notebook computer. Captain Phillips. 

April 22

The muddy river rushes downhill in a red rock canyon, cerulean blue sky beyond. What a way to start a day. Oh, oh, we seem to have a water leak. Several times we fill the reservoir with our sink water supply until we can find help. Next city, ARTVIN. There are rows and rows of car repair shops but no Volkswagen. We cannot get help here so we continue along the river gorge to the sea, the Black Sea. This spot looks much like the Columbia River entering the Pacific Ocean. Green with vegetation, steep rocky faces turn into hills and then the shore. Wild cherry trees are in blossom. Sword ferns, pink and white rock rose. What is that low humped bush on the hillsides? David thinks it might be tea. Lavender rhododendrons bloom. Alder, blackberries, ivy, nettles, elderberry all close to the Black Sea. It feels like home. I look across the sea toward the Ukraine and expect to see land. Nothing. Only a huge inland sea with one exit where Istanbul separates to let shipping traffic through. I look forward to our drive along this body of water.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

> David says that we seem to be a cross between unwanted gypsies and honored guests when we park in or near a town.

> A game David's family played when traveling. His father would ask, “Are we going uphill, downhill, straight? Look behind you, it sometimes helps.”

> Many men wear rubber boots. Always yellow.

> Many times I have seen men wash their hands in gravel.

CYPRUS, 2nd Winter III

CYPRUS, 2^nd Winter III  January 29 ~ April 17, 2014

Having said our goodbyes to our Italian friends at the Pafos airport in South Cyprus, we have stayed the night in Pissouri Bay with the quiet comfy sound of surf lulling us to sleep. It seems that our minds and bodies have slowed down. The sea is glassy. Mesmerizing. Hypnotizing. 

In the morning a little tractor goes back and forth on the dirt road behind us. Each time he comes back his six plastic boxes are filled with greens for market. The skies are sunny again today with a lovely soft wind. Sturdy, round-shaped olive trees mark this spot. Leaves of grey green, a subtle color change on each leaf side, wiggle in the breeze, showing off their vibrant beauty. The olive tree, an amazing tree I find. So pleasant to look at...and such fruit to offer.  Oranges dot the adjacent old orchard trees. Knarled old grape vines add their history and tenacity. Carob trees, green and red leaves, alive and dead. We leave this wonderful place at 12:30! At the crack of dawn!

On the road again we can see layers of the past ocean bottom in the cliffs at our side, where the hills have been cut through to allow the cars a safer more comfortable ride. Tunnels bore through some of the hills. We all race away to our destinations, unmindful of the details of roadmaking. We are on the fast road to North Cyprus. As we travel, I sometimes see a spot in the woods, a protruding rock, a sand hill, a path in the open...or I smell  pine trees and my brain works to dig deep into my childhood...and for moments I am taken back to the nature of my past. Remarkable. 

What? A range of snowy mountains ahead? It can't be. But it is sun shining on the bare white sandy sides. But, we are lost. No traffic signs for help, no signs to the border. Well, maybe there are, but everything is in Greek! We can see the north of the island beyond the border but can not get to it. Exasperating. We pass old war bunkers...or maybe they are new? Do they save them all just in case? We ask directions from many different people. It is a scream. Lots of hand signals and voice inflections all not within our understanding. And they are all trying hard to help us. 

We do get home to Samandira. It is quiet and we have only ourselves to please. For a little bit we wander aimlessly. We watch the pigeons wander the skies in groups, gracefully dipping and rising. David calls them the 'Bellapais Rangers'. They are not the pigeons I know. Perhaps they are more dove than pigeon. 

We will not have guests until March 1^st. I have kept this month of February for painting. Each day I start at my drawing table and work most of the day. It is satisfying and productive. 

March 1  a month later...

We pick up our Spokane friends, Lew and Marilynne Wilson, at their hotel in Larneka, South Cyprus. How strange it seems to be here on this far-away island with them. I draw a map as we travel to their hotel so we can make it back to North Cyprus in a more expeditious way this time. It does not work well. It is a start and stop event once again. 

The next day is a lovely slow time together. Wake up late. Doddle over breakfast. Lew and Marilynne are on their way to visit with their son and family in Beirut. We are lucky to have them for a week before they hop the 60 miles to Lebanon. In the early evening we take them to our favorite restaurant in the mountain pass, Buffavento. (Buffavento means 'not yielding to winds”.)

We have tickets to see a Chamber Orchestra in Bellapais Abbey. (Remember Susan and I sang here...alone...in this room of fine acoustics!) Mozart, Grieg and Bach. A fine setting to attend a concert of fine music. 

We like to hang out , the four of us. Don't hurry. Take our time. Maybe we will stay home today. Or maybe we will show them a few old and interesting historical sites. It does not matter, we do both, just as we feel. Marilynne and I have sung in a group together, quilted together,  watched movies together at a monthly woman's gathering, met for coffee at our favorite places, cooked for each other....and our husbands became friends. It is an easy going friendship and our week together flies by. But they must go and our time here at Samandira is over. 

The people in our lives here in North Cyprus have become so dear. Let me tell you about some of them:

> We have asked three brothers to lunch after church.  They are from Nigeria and have all gone to, or are going to, university here. Tom is the big brother feeling his responsibility for his family. The others are AK and UD. Wonderful fellows, all with different personalities but all with fantastic senses of humor. Tom is very picky about the food he eats. I have only seen him eat bananas and maybe bread, so I ask AK, the cook in their family, what I should serve. What will he eat? Well he likes chicken in sauces so David makes Chicken Stroganoff. It is a hit! They heaped their plates with rice and stroganoff and came back for second helpings. And, they loved their first taste of corn bread. They had a term... “This is not 'eating dirty'!” (I leave you to figure that one out!)

Well, through this all we laughed so hard it was hard to eat. Yes, they are beautiful black men from Nigeria. In our conversation, when I was saying that my roots were Scottish, AK said, “That's funny, I thought you were East Indian”. (Big laughter!) A bit later in the evening when the time was right, I said, “But I thought you were all Norwegian!” (More and more laughter.) Too much fun.

These fellows came from a good family. Their parents lived in France for some time. Their father, now dead, wanted them all to have good educations, even the girls. This did not go down well with their relatives. It went against the traditions of their people. So their father was pushed aside along with the family. Once it was reported that an uncle put a Python in their father's house. This attempt at his life was not successful but a later attempt was successful and the consensus is that again, it was the uncle's doing. So the eldest takes on all responsibilities of the family and this is where we find Tom in his life. He has completed his studies and his goal is to move to Canada or Sweden and rise up successfully in the shipping business. UD is in communications and media and AK in business. AK will marry a girl in Croatia. None of them wish to stay on Cyprus and they will scatter. I hope I can keep in touch. They are just the best young men.

> At 10:30 on a Wednesday morning, six of our friends arrive for coffee. The day is lovely so we are able to enjoy the garden. Chris and Heather are an Irish couple from close to Dublin. They live on Heather's family's farm. Each year they spend time away at interesting places, Cyprus is one of them. This is the second year we see them... Ian and Dorothy are expats from England. Their work has taken them to many out of the way places, he with National Cash Register, incorporating computers into their products, and she in archeology, a teacher. However, later this spring they will move back to England for support on health issues. Dorothy is also a fabric artist, author and watercolor painter... Roy and Barb. Roy is a retired Baptist minister with a great smile and friendly jauntiness about him. A truly lovely person. Barb has such style! She knows what to put together to look interesting, really an artist in this way. I always admire what she is wearing. Quiet beauty. Quiet presense with surprising conversation. We all enjoy ourselves in the early warm sunshine. An easy talkative morning. 

> One morning we stop by our favorite bakery for the brown German bread we have become more than fond of. This place is called the Food Lodge as they also have a small coffee/cafe, but their bakery is the draw. Latifa, Moroccan grown, is the baker, self-taught. She can make anything and it is always wonderful. She and her life partner, Sonya, chose Cyprus to start their business. They work hard and are much loved by this community. It is always a pleasure to  visit with them a few minutes each time we are there. Latifa is the happy curly headed baker, Sonya, the serious German counterpart, rushing here and there to make sure everything happens right. One day, while we were chatting, we included another customer, Viola. She was trying out the corn bread that was sitting on the counter, besides buying her usual bread. After a while she said...”You must come to tea, right now!” She insisted that it be now! Okay, we follow her home.

Viola's husband Michael comes to greet us, a Cypriot from English parents in the Greek south. One of those low key, can do anything kind of guys. He has done much of the building on extensions to their home and other property buildings, designed and executed a fantastic garden centered around a small pool, used for his body therapy sessions. He is also a masseuse. And a sports guy...anything on the water or in the sky. Viola is a therapist and master of many treatments that complement her work, recently back from a seminar about working with autistic children. She is an animated, pretty woman, born in Iraq, grew up in Brazil. We all like each other immediately and form a good friendship. “Would you two stay in our house when we are gone for a couple of weeks in mid March?” Perfect timing. Of course we would love to. They cook us beautiful food. Healthy food. Fresh fish, vegetables. We tell each other about our personal lives. 

> We meet Linda Smith, a slim blond woman full of enery. She attends St. Andrew's church. Her family all live on Cyprus on one crescent street, one of the few that has children and grandchildren close-by. She owns the Round Tower Art Gallery in Girne. It is a good setting to show off art...a round stone building from medieval times. Crafts and paintings and drawings by local artists. Linda is in charge of programs for the women's group of the church. She asks us if we would give a talk about our travels. It is a good exercise for us, organizing the talk and the visual presentations. We decide not to do a slide show but to tell more about how we came to be on this journey. Why did we decide to take a trip like this? What arrangements did we make to allow this to happen? Where did we ship our camper from and to? Some general comments about how this adventure has affected us. We put a large map of Europe up and quickly go through all the countries we have visited. My small book journals, much like little scrapbooks hastily put together, are put out on a table along with some of the paintings I have done while here. The paintings are all small, to be enlarged when I get back to a more serious studio. David does the talking...sometimes I chime in. The twenty women are very interested. They want to buy the study paintings. I do not want to sell the particular ones they want! Linda invites me to put some of my little paintings into her gallery. Why not?! I photo copy about 15 of them so I don't lose the images and give the originals to her and tell her to give any proceeds, after she has taken what she needs, to the church woman's group. All this, a good experience.

> And then there are the dearest of friends, Mike and Josanne Stanhope. Josanne recently retired from teaching small children and loving it. She and Mike have four grown children and two brand new grandchildren. Josanne does everything well. Competent and capable, with a flair. Mike was a Wing Commander in the British Air Force. He is still a 'take charge guy' but a totally lovely one. Both are very loving and giving and fun! These two friends are such a good match for one another. Josanne loves American pancakes. Well, David is very good at making pancakes but at home he uses his sour dough starter and a recipe he has perfected...we will have to make pancakes from an internet recipe this time. We invite some of our favorites to join the four of us for breakfast, Roley and Roger. Roley is Roland. He is roly-poly in such a lovable way. Lovely to hug and tease. Great with conversation. A buddy. And Roger, another buddy. His partner is from Canada, actually Vancouver, but sadly we never meet her because she has a job in England at this time. Roger is easy going and fine company (He used to be a policeman in Scotland Yard's Secret Service!). We stack up the pancakes and put out butter, sliced fresh strawberries, honey, syrup, walnuts and whipping cream. Added to that; ham, a baked egg dish and potatoes. Another sunny day. We enjoy our food and company around the garden table. 

> Sunday lunches. We get into this pleasant habit. John and Gillian are our leaders. This couple live here in Cyprus year round. English folks. We love the English! They also are friends from St. Andrew's and make it their business to invite new folks to coffee at George's after church. What a great mission! That is how we started making friends and going to Sunday lunches. John and Gillian would choose the venue and we would be happy to follow. Such a variety in their repetoire, from Cypriot goat to Thai food. Our usual pals at these events were John, Gillian, Mike, Josanne, Mavis, Roley, David and I...and always a few added or taken away! I have not mentioned Mavis before. She is a beauty, over 80. Such charm and a loving way. She has lived on this island for years, maybe over 30. Her husband has died but her daughters and their husbands visit often. Her home and garden are gorgeous and peaceful, as we are invited for coffee  several times. Yes, I miss Mavis.

> I find another tailor in town. He does not own a fancy store. His daughter works with him. I do not have clothes made but altered, so I can keep wearing them. I dislike shopping. I like old familiar things. I visit quite often with a new load so I get to know the tailor well. They are Turkish Cypriots and I am shown a picture of their fine home up in the hills. Each time we are there the daughter makes us the best cup of Turkish coffee there can ever be. We cannot communicate in our given languages so we gesture and laugh. I try on each piece...he takes some pins and does his tailoring and then sits down at the sewing machines. I try them on...always perfect...and they are ready for me to take home. It is a lovely experience which I will never find in at home. They invite us to their home, but unfortunately we have no time before we leave the island. 

> An art group begins. Colin and Ingrid come home to Samandira. We are house sitting Michael and Viola's. I invite Ingrid (another of my dearest friends here) and Josanne to bring their paints for a session outdoors. We have a grand time! Happy and content to be our artist selves. This begins a weekly session at Ingrid's. Our friend Margaret joins us. It is such a highlight in my week! We have no rules. We can do what we want, use any medium. We can talk about each other's work. Sometimes we put up a still life but try to extend ourselves from a realistic approach. Margaret is a good folk artist. She continues this practice. Paintings about the Cypriot people, their animals, their culture. I am bringing some of her work home with me. Ingrid does very good drawings, it is her forte, but she does not stop there. She has a wonderful sense of color. And the surprise is Josanne. She moves with the flow. Learns and tries new things. At home she paints and draws. She gains on her techniques. She does good work. And me. I am trying things I have never done before. We look at artists books and techniques. Let's try this! A freeing little happy community.

> Rosalie and Charmaine. They are sisters. We visit them a few times for tea, in their home perched high up the hill. Rosalie is the fabulous cook and baker, Charmaine is the very capable gardener....and don't get them mixed up (though I think each would really like help from the other!) They are both lovely characters of a completely different nature. They make us laugh. Charmaine loves to dig and poke at her sister because it always causes a reaction...just what she is looking for. Rosalie is soft and gentle and hates to be interrupted and corrected by Charmaine. Both of them are smart. A nephew has given them I-books (?)...a flat big screen that you can both email and take and send photographs on. They are both having a blast with them...showing us their favorite science information in amazing pictures...sending us pictures of the garden. It is quite wonderful. We have enjoyed these two and will certainly miss them. I always leave with a jar of Rosalie's ginger marmalade which we covet.

> Ingrid and Colin. Artists and Christians. I must mention that, as being a Christian is the basis of life for them. I am a disappointment in that category I think. It is not my favorite debate subject. My beliefs lie working quietly inside. It is Colin's favorite subject and sometimes we get into a friendly discussion...which leaves him pondering I am sure. He is a ponderer! We adore them. As I said before, Ingrid is an interior designer and a fine artist and...she puts clothing on her body like she is building a beautiful collage. Colin is a retired Anglican minister, but he is also a painter and a gardener. It is their home we stay in for three months. Generous! But we are so happy to have them home to play with us...even if we have to move out! Before we go to our next assignment we spend an evening together watching Philomena.

So now we move to Viola and Michael's home in Cattakoy. We go to sleep in  the guest room as they keep packing and readying themselves for a 2:30 a.m. departure for the airport in our camper van. Their home is a specialty! Custom made for them by Michael, an expert at wood working. First, they both work from here and have sections of the home or out buildings for their paractices. Michael keeps adding to the original home which belonged to his mother. He is almost finished with his massage and body work studio. It is connected to Viola's work space...and centered around a lovely small round pool and wide sitting/walking space. And beyond that a garden. Made to be low maintainance it has lots of pebble ground cover and a huge variety of trees. Some of which we have never seen before. The  garden is also decorated with pieces of interest. Two partial water urns/amphoras from shipwrecked boats that Michael has rescued from the bottom of the sea in his diving gear. And all this is on a gentle cliffside overlooking land and sea and mountains. And inside...What a commodias place for us to spend some time: good books and DVD's, original art, much of it done by Michael's brother, lots of shiny golden wood and Turkish carpets. We spend a good and meaningful time here. And we have bonded with some special people, Viola and Michael.

During this time we attended a Lenten series based on the movie Chocolat.

It was fun and mind-opening. Some things for me to think about:

> Let go of the word “temptation”, it only makes you want more!

> When you yield to those desires that are not good for you, you are not listening to your own wisdom, or the God within. And when you don't listen to yourself you are more prone to listen to others' promptings. 

> First, you must be aware that you are being tempted!

> Yielding to temptation does not mean denying yourself, but watching for accessiveness (going overboard).

> Stop and think before you move forward , fully concious of your weakness, and then make a choice. Ask, then listen to the answer.

> Stand up for your own belief but do not condemn others. Stand along side of someone in need...not above. Practice tolerance.

As you can see I have trouble most with the red arrow suggestion...food consumption!

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

> David and I are beginning to have hearing problems. One day he said, “It is the same temperature inside as it is outside.”  I said, “...same chair?” Another...this morning... “How do you spell Lithuania?” My answer... “m-i-s-c-e-l-l-a-n-e-o-u-s” !!!!!

> For those of you who have delved into Siddha Yoga, Michael and Viola had chants on CD's which we very much enjoyed. Om Namah Shivaya. Over and over. “I bow to the Lord.” “I honor God.” Om meaning, in the Indian scriptures, the primordial sound from which the whole universe evolved. 

> I have lost a pair of glasses and must buy new for reading. And I might as well have the other squished pair straightened out. If I am to function properly I must have two pairs of reading glasses. I go to CANADA OPTIC of course. Uzman grew up in British Columbia but started some offices on Cyprus where his family is originally from. He was fun to talk to. 

> Another TV series we loved, Foyle's War.

> A dinner blessing from Colin and Ingrid...”We are so grateful

                                                                To be given a plateful”.

> Sometimes Latifa and Sonya have pancake day. We met the Stanhopes for pancakes, 5 tl each. Your choice of American, Crepe or British. And with the toppings you prefer at 2 tl each.....wild berry, butter lemon, sugar and cinnamon, chocolate sauce, butterscotch caramel, vanilla ice cream and maple syrup. 

> If we want to send or receive packages here we use DHL which somehow manages to find a way to function on this non-country part of the island. DHL works from Turkey through a little cafe. Lots of things function differently here because it is not recognised as a country. 

> There is a pretty good art store here. I pick up gesso, heavy board to paint on, water color paper, pencil and brush cases, fixitive spray (however I was told to use hairspray, cheaper and works the same). If they don't have something they will get it for you.

> A fantastic copy store, equipped for everything. We go there often. MAGIC TOUCH.

> A fellow who we met at a coffee cafe told us he owns the DVD stores in the area. You cannot rent, you must buy, but they are all illegal, downloaded and packaged up. Everyone knows this, everyone buys. They are very cheap. He told us that... “The best place to start a business is where everthing in the upper government is crooked. When North Cyprus becomes a country we will be moving on to other places we have targeted.”

> A joke from Charmaine...“Life is like a sewer, what you get out of it depends on what you put into it”. Tom Lehrer

> An original joke from Dorothy Bett's... “My dad used to say that there were only 2 types of Scottish men; one group on their knees coming out of church and the other on their knees coming out of the pub”.

We ask our friend Roger if we can stay in his apartment while he is gone. He has offered it many times. So we move on to Rogers condominium apartment in another small section of Girne. It is a walk up to the fourth floor, spacious and comfortable. Roger has taken care of us...bed made, towels out, food we should eat. There are two balconies, a small one off the main bedroom and a large one with many potted plants. It is here we sit with our coffee every morning and watch the building practices of another apartment building going up. Quite interesting. Sending buckets of cement from the ground to the 8^th floor on a rope. They yell back and forth to say they are ready to send or receive. A guy crawls precariously out a window to wash it on the outside. Yikes. Can hardly look. When the sunshine goes from one balcony we can move to the other and from here look out over a massive olive grove. It is here that we also dry our clothes. A pleasant stay at Rogers. The only thing is, he was not here.

Next we move on to the Hermitage field where the pastor of St. Andrew's lives. It is lovely here, like the country in the city, surrounded by trees and flowers and not in anyone's way. We remain here until it is time to leave the island, but we take a few days to camp on beaches by the sea up northward. We follow Michael's directions to some favorite places of his. He is a diver and knows this coast. The rock formations here are exciting, many have paths leading down to beaches. We walk deserted roads with ruins of stone dwellings. David spots a hummingbird moth, the size of a large bee, his wings going “a mile a minute”. This coast is beautiful but we want to put the camper right next to a beach so we continue on to a paradise that we already know.

On the opposite coast is a favorite place of ours. We are alone. Except for donkeys who sneak by in the early morning (they pick up their legs and prance like horses in competition when they are frightened)...and a black and white goat foraging on the opposite reef morning and night...a big spider crab...butterflies favoring pink ground flowers...a big long-bodied bee zips by, minding his own business and says to the butterflies, “You guys go ahead with your program, I'm sticking with mine”...and more goats in the field. The tinkling of bells alerted us. It is the black and white goat with his group.

We take a fabulous walk on Saturday. From our little bay, we walk the natural sandstone sea-roads for quite a ways until we come to their end but notice a goat trail over the barrier and are soon on more sea-roads. Then we walk a sandy beach until we come to a dirt road heading inland.

It passes a field of oats at the end of which we follow a long thicket leading toward the road to our camp. We are walking in wildflowers. Small white stars, lavender colored morning glory, white and yellow daisies that grow short to the ground and a fluted magenta flower on a tall stock. And we sight the goats, still in the same field but this time having a 'pow wow' with the donkeys. The time here is our farewell to Cyprus. We soak it up to remember it forever. We love this island, especially the north. 

We have one night left and we have persuaded Colin and Ingrid to spend time at dinner with us, and suggest a favorite of ours, Bollywood. It turns out to be QUIZ NIGHT, and it is packed, but we find seats, order, and fill out the quiz sheets! Ingrid loves it...she is good at it...we are not. But we have fun with her enthusiasm. 

We are on the ferry to Turkey the next day.