OVERLAND TO ORMANA IBRADI, TURKEY.

Leaving the busy city of Atalya, we bused overland through mountainous rocky country headed into the Taurus Mountains for an overnight with a family in the Village of Ormana Ibradi, Antalya, Turkey. On the way, we stopped for lunch at Kardeni-Pide, a roadside restaurant. Usla likes us to experience different foods and here we see salads with much red cabbage.


Our first offering of a type of flat bread along with the traditional loaf bread is brought to the table with the soup.


Service here is very quick as the cooks prepare everything ahead of time in a refrigerated case within view.


Owen, of course, ordered chicken shish, but I tried the hand-made pizza, a half of one is enough for lunch, but I ate most of this very substantial pizza. Best of others I’ve tasted.


They served a type of walnut-tomato chili here as well that was delicious, in the small dish of condiment.


The restaurant owner provides a prayer room where employees can go upstairs and pray on their “break” that coincides with the call to prayer.


After many more miles down the road, Usla wanted to stop at a roadside fruit stand. He claims Turkish bananas are superior. He bought a bag for aboard the bus and they are very good tasting. And loquats to taste, new to some members from the Eastern U.S.


Typical fare at a stand here is raw peanuts and carob pods.


Citrus fruits and home canned jars of olives of various types and jams and syrups.


Everywhere is citrus fruits, melons and strawberries in season and loquats. Joan B. got a sour one but they are traditionally sweet and easy to grow.


We met and had apple tea with the Assistant Mayor since the Mayor was visiting in Antalya and we actually met him there briefly at dinner in Old Town. He said he would have his assistant give us the keys to the city.  We learned from the assistant that the population of Ormana Ibradi is 3,000 people and they have a housing shortage. People who have left, like their village because it is cool in summer and many people come here to retire. Their relatives come and visit during the hot summer months and they are trying to encourage more tourism and hotel space, which is almost non existent. I wanted to tell him that tourism will ruin this wonderful little village, (my opinion), but others agreed with that.


This beautiful chandelier with the star and crescent of the flag, hangs in the hall outside of the mayor’s office.



They have public water and gutters and farmers have wells.



Village buildings appear to be more modern than the stucco structures we saw in the first village we visited.

Usla wanted to show us a chestnut tree over one thousand years old.


It is big enough to compare with our Calaveras Big Trees, sequoia gigantea.

Early residents learned to build  with the small rocks and stones typical of the area. No grand granite blocks nor adobe available.
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Two of them in town are being preserved and restored. We were given a tour of a wood frame building that a village committee has faithfully furnished and restored to be used as a hotel for tourists.


Enjoying a meadow, was quite a big herd of goats that run wild in the mountains and return to be milked. The farmer demonstrated milking these long haired nubians, but he was so quick, I couldn’t get my camera focused in time.
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His wife posed for a picture.


Weather is chilly, windy and raining lightly. We take cover in a cafe for tea when in comes our Hostess, Hatice Sekman. (Pronounced hat-jay.) The gentleman was in the cafe when we arrived.


People came in to meet us with many questions and a lot of curiosity about Americans. The fellow in the bright blue jacket is very concerned about brain damage from cell phones and he wanted to know if we worry too? Our two doctors claim the evidence is preliminary and no one knows yet. They wanted to know ages and about our daily life. And they liked telling us about theirs. The fellow on the left is 71 and his father lived to be 94.


Usla gave us the key to the city. The joke being they had a hard time finding it because it hasn’t been used in many years. No one locks their doors here.


The rain was getting heavier and we dashed over to the Mosque to visit with the Imam.

The niche is the equivalent of an altar, aligned with Mecca, people face it when they pray.


The Imam lighted the chandeliers, sang for us and answered our questions.


Like teachers and doctors, he is assigned to be Imam for a village. He was not born in this village. His sermons are delivered from Istanbul to every Imam in the country and each Imam preaches  the same message. No one is allowed to go off message so that they don’t have rogue factions like they do in other countries. It seems smart in view of things, though my first thought was control of freedom of speech.  One person asked if he would like to leave this village and he readily admitted, with several locals present, that, yes, he would like to be in charge of a bigger mosque where he could do more good. He sang for us, in the distinct wailing chant of the Imams. The muscles in his throat visibly contracting in ways different from normal speech. It was a wonderful experience and gives me chills when I think about it. (I was not ready with my camera and was unable to record it.)


The government pays the Imams and pays to build the mosques, but this one was built and paid for by a rich donor.


It is beautiful and quite sizable for a town of 3,000.  About 20 people come to pray on Fridays.


It was pouring down heavily by the time we loaded into a bus to our hosts home.


Usla is a very talented and fast translator and we talked for an hour and got acquainted and warmed up by the fire before dinner and bed
 

Hatice fitted us all on a sort of sun porch off her very modern kitchen. We ate lentil soup, an entre with rice and lamb, salad and she makes her own walnut-chili concoction and told us the basic recipe. She also served a sort of sweetened bread that I can only compare to tender corn bread except it was made from wheat flour.


Gina with Hatice and her husband Ferhat (pronouced fed-het) During our talk we learned that her parents died when she was very young and she was raised by her cousins family. Ferhat is her first cousin, but it isn’t common to marry first cousins.  They have one daughter, age 21 who is in college now. She encourages her daughter not to wear the scarf. It isn’t required of them, but it is tradition, especially in rural areas.


Norman and Joan with the Sekmens. Hatice was very curious about us and wanted to know where we were from, what we do, our children and ages. And Turkish men don’t do dishes, “They just eat,” she said. But we noticed he picked up dishes and refrigerated leftovers. She was a whirlwind and the kitchen cleaned up in 15 minutes. We slept like logs safe and snug from wind and rain.

TAKSIM SQUARE, TURKISH BATH, FUNICULAR,TRAM

Our bus takes us to the Eastern part of Istanbul and from the window, I catch this picture of a Henna dyed sheep. It has some significance in weddings, and I can’t remember what. I thought it was a pet, but instead it is a tradition of some type.

At Taxsim Square stands the Statue of Independence. Behind is a green area where the city decided to cut down the trees and build a shopping complex and new apartments. The people of Istanbul have very little green area and people protested the idea of cutting down their park and people organized a protest in May. The City sent troops to pepper spray and teargas the crowds that reached 10,000 people. Four people were killed and the citizens are still aligned against the project. The anniversary of the protest was imminent, and the statue was taped off with yellow tape when we were there. The government is expecting trouble, but the trees remain. People hated the imperialistic manner in which it was done. The problem is still not resolved. Usla believes strongly in speaking up for what you believe or you will soon have everything taken from you. Thus he spoke loudly that folks around the square could hear him.

The square is an important cultural part of the city with an opera hall and a place to gather and hold huge outdoor events and meetings. The nearby park is treasured and the people do not want to give it up.
This section of the city is where a lot of the Kurdish people live. Renovated buildings show a layer of history built during the European Art Noveau movement and the area is central to transportation throughout  Istanbul.

Pigeons seem to define places like this all over the world.
We walked to the Tram Station then fanned out to pick a place to have lunch on our own.
Owen had chicken shish, the rest of us tried various dishes, pizza, and an eggplant salad for me.
They offered a special sticky rice type pudding with cinnamon that was quite good.

Usla warned us to line up for the tram ride to the funnicular or we wouldn’t get a seat. Our group practically filled the tram which is an old fashioned electric trolley similar to San Francisco’s famous cable cars.
A grandmother got on holding a heavy toddler and I offered to have him sit on my lap, which she gratefully accepted. He rode to our stop on my lap without any hesitation. Other’s of our group gave up their seats to others.
Joan Zucker, from our group, and Maria and Owen in front of the colorful street cars.

We walked and admired the art noveau buildings.
A little grafitti, no city escapes its taggers.

Beautiful wrought iron balconies.

Beautiful carved facades.

Though European influenced, a blend develops,  window grates with the Turkish tulip motif.

Traffic control is amazing. Lighted pillars electronically pop up or retreat with the press of  the engineer’s button.

We waited for the funicular.

Owen likes to challenge his balance. It was the longest tunnel I’ve ever ridden through.

Beautiful tiles in the station, with the tulip design that resembles the Moslem writing of the word Mohamed.
Beautiful tile mosaics of the street cars and other scenes around town decorate the station.

We got off next to the river where a tobacco salesman was hawking a device to make loose tobacco into a filtered cigarette, instantly.

It was very clever, but we Americans are so anti-smoking and we see most Turkish men smoke cigarettes or cigars.

At least the Turkish Government makes them label their tobacco products clearly.

Our intended destination is the fish market, which also has a smaller vegetable market with it.

There were many kinds of fish.
Right next to the river, they keep the fish freshened with buckets of water and ice.

Like Fishermen’s Wharf in San Francisco, you can pick what you want, someone will cook it for you and you can eat on the spot.
The only fish I recognized.

The gulls and this ibis aren’t choosy about the kind of fish they eat. Just bring it on.

We walked over this bridge to another section of town. This boy was picking up mussels.
Usla took us to a district where various members could buy walking sticks quite cheaply for hiking. They fold and fit into a suitcase. Then we went to what Usla pointed out is the only baklava restaurant in the world. They only serve baklava which is considered the best baklava anywhere.

This is the size baklava you order for a party or wedding.

A Flag motif.

Different types of baklava.

Some traditional, but for me, I find it too sweet for my taste.

I skipped but for a tiny bite of two pieces. Owen, of course, loved them, but even he couldn’t empty the plate shared between six of us.
Before leaving Istanbul, we told Usla we wanted to try the Turkish bath. Of course, you can’t bring a camera to the baths. But, this is a description. You are given a key to a locker room where you undress and leave all of your belongings except the key on a board. Then you are escorted to a sauna which is a huge marble, heated round dais where you place your towel and lie on it and people come and splash you with warm water. Faucets are around the dias and mother’s with their young children are seated, bathing them and getting them used to the public bathes as a treat.
The heat is intense. Five minutes was enough for me and I was up and splashing with cooler water.
In fifteen minutes we were led into the scrub room with our towel we lay upon a marble slab and the masseuse scrubs you with a sack filled with a foaming type of soap. Then they use a luffa to scrub you from head to toe to remove dead skin. You are rinsed and sent to the next room where you get a massage in olive oil. After that, wrapped in your towel, you relax and enjoy a rocking chair and some apple tea. Then you get dressed and pay and leave. Men are separated from women, of course, but you feel wonderful after leaving the bath.
Turkish people are very clean and they have ritual baths at time of wedding, funerals, circumcision, birthdays, engagement, graduation, for whatever reason. They are an important custom that formed from their own sense of cleanliness and a modification of the Roman baths. Wonderful. Owen resisted at first and then decided to go and was very pleased with the experience.  Me too.
More tomorrow.