Neile's Turkish Holiday

July 6th

Jim's birthday

as transcribed from my journal

 

	The view from the terrace where we have our breakfast.
	The four of us at Jim's birthday breakfast on the terrace.

 

Stopped at Süleyman's and Christina and Matt paid for the carpets they had chosen. The night before Süleyman had made us promise to come back in the evening so he could throw a birthday party for Jim (since this was the day of his 40th birthday) and Christina (since this whole trip is in honour of her 40th birthday). Since our car rental reservation had gotten messed up, Süleyman helped Matt arrange for a rental car with one of his friends. The friend drove the car to us and then we dropped him off at a huge hotel and headed to the Ilhara valley.

 

	A view of the Anatolian plains: rich, fertile fields. (Doesn't this look like a van Gogh?)
	A Turkish traffic sign, which apparently translates as, approximately, "Don't be a traffic hooligan". The roads were full of traffic hooligans. And horsecarts. And tractors. And trucks. [Christina's caption: "Matt is reminded not to drive like a hooligan (janavar)".]

 

Retreated around to a restaurant overlooking the valley and had lunch on a balcony.

The view from the restaurant of the Ilhara Valley, which shows how different it is from its surroundings.

 

Then we drove back down to the park entrance and walked in.

The ticket to the Ilhara Valley.

 

Just shortly after the beginning of the path there was a sign pointing up a side path to the cliffside to the Chapel of Saint George. Jim and Matt climbed up, Christina followed, but when they reported that part of it was hand- and foot-holds in a rock, I decided not to follow any further (because of my stupid ankle). They found 19th-century graffiti in the chapel there. I went back down to the main path, and walked along beside the creek looking for the perfect alignment of tree--to rest my back on--and rock--to put my swollen foot on.

Walked through an open area and picked a few wildflowers to press in my journal. Scared a few frogs into the water. Looked for a four-leaf clover to give to Jim and found only three-leafed ones. Very happy wandering around alone with the sound of the water to keep me company, the tree (some pistachios clearly planted in ranks). The feeling in the valley is wonderful--different from other places you might think similar, like the fairy glen in Scotland--something to do with the greenness of this deep valley in the rolling hills--you can rarely guess it's there when passing along the top and then only by knowing it's there and looking for clues. And all the caves above in the cliff walls where the monks lived and built chapels and painted scenes of their god and generations that have lived there since and still live there--living lives that despite the modern world are not substantially different from that of their grandparents. Still lots of hand labour, of donkey carts (beautifully painted--frequently with the blue eyes that ward off the evil eye, or pastoral scenes of just lovely designs.)

 

	The pistachio-tree-lined path alongside the river. We speculated that this might be the model for the Garden of Eden. [Christina's caption: "The most inviting path in the world. What world is it in, anyway?"]

Christina, Matt and Jim caught up to me, having had fun pretending they didn't know where I might have gone--that I could have been in trouble, been kidnapped or eaten by bears.

Me, Christina and Matt in the Garden of Eden.

 

Jim and I settled against a tree in the grass, and I sewed a button back on my dress while Jim read the Lonely Planet Guide. Christina and Matt walked a ways up the path until they were stopped by boulders fallen across it--difficult to clamber over.

The boulders have all fallen from the steep cliffsides.

 

Later we found a good spot to dangle all our feet in the water--good for my ankle--then Christina waded a bit.

One of the parks guards who patrol the valley.

 

Headed back to Süleyman's and got there around the promised time--wine and many toasts done with it, then dinner: salad, a local stew that came in little clay pots, Turkish pizza, plates of fruit. Beautiful local flowers on the table. Then a friend of Süleyman's who lives near San Francisco now but was visiting came over with his saz and started playing. One of Süleyman's employees played a drum like a tabla and with a similar name that I can't remember.

They made Jim and Christina dance one dance with them, and the men played and two of them danced--one song, the rest tunes. Süleyman's nephew's Belgian fiancé just watched and laughed.

Then they brought out a cake with a candle and we all had pieces. It was banana, of course.

A sunburnt Jim at his birthday party.

 

Shortly Süleyman came in and said a man from Turkmenistan had come by to sell him some carpets and did we want to see them. First they laid the carpets on by one on a stack then eliminated them, placing the especially good ones out around the courtyard. Süleyman bargained for the ones he wanted, then laid them out again and offered them for an amazing deal to Christina and Matt to take home to Taiwan to sell. An awkward discussion followed, where Christina tried to explain how complicated it would be to do that, and how she'd have to find out the rules for doing it before she dared attempt it. Süleyman very disappointed as he wanted to do this favour. All very painful. Long explanations.

We walked up the hill to the pension. What a 40th birthday for Jim between the valley and the evening!