a brief catalogue of things that I have witnessed and some things that I consider true, Part One

A)The Turkish Landscape

The turkish landscape has been for the most part various versions of the California of my childhood; that is, a dream landscape, in which all of the mountains are taller, the sea more blue, the forests punctuated by the bones of ancient cities, the ramparts of crusader castles jutting from ridgelines, sinuous roads that pass through villages of squat stone buildings, waterfalls splashing straight into the sea.

B)Some of the Turkish People That I Have Seen

There have been people clinging to strips of shade, eating. An old woman wearing a headscarf, baggy pants and a baggy shirt of patterned fabric hands me two slices of watermelon. While I carry them back to share with Iris, children laugh at me. There have been many children. They run unsupervised, ride bicycles, play basketball, swim. Gangs of children that probably know every narrow way between crumbling houses and past the mosque and through the gardens and between the two cemetaries bordered by tall stone walls. There have been teenage girls whose regard is potent and stern. They sit on benches in the shade and watch everything. When you are out of sight you might hear their laughter, which is very high and sweet and yet also goblin-like. There have been men wearing button up shirts and vests and slacks and dapper caps heading to the mosque and playing cards or backgammon or a turkish game called okey. These men that I have seen have deeply creased skin that feels very leathery. They shake hands gently and are quick to nod hello. There have been so many younger men sitting outside their shops and inviting you in for tea. They smile a lot. They will talk to you if you want to talk, and for the most part they won't seem to mind an awful lot if you don't buy anything. There have been entire families sitting in parks and grilling meat and vegetables, making salad, smoking, carving melons. There have been very many people who could be people in any place, Cleveland even or Danville CA. There have been men selling simit which is a tasty bagel like sesame bread and also men selling corn that they will roast and salt for you. Only in Istanbul however have I seen men selling cucumbers that they will peel and slice down the middle and copiously salt by spreading the salt inside with their sharp knife. There have been people with very long scythes out haying. Their skin is dark. They smile and wave. There have been lots of hands holding prayer beads. Not so many beards. Not so many mustaches as I'd expected. Kerchiefed women sitting at windows. Men sitting by the water sipping beer. Tea drinkers. Fishermen. An old woman with shriveled hands who keeps the public toilet clean comes up to us while we wait for a dolmuş and hands us two small yellow plums.

C)Sheets in Turkish Pansiyons

You are rarely given more than one sheet, and that one is a top sheet used as a bottom sheet so that it comes untucked quite readily thus allowing your skin to contact the mattress that you hope is okay for you to touch but do not know.

D)Yeşilada

The village of Yeşilada which you will be familiar with from earlier entries is a wonderful place. It is wonderful for many reasons but I think that one of the underpinnings of its wonderfulness is the structure of the village itself. It is quite touristic, attracting people from turkish cities and many international tourists as well. However, the tourist facilities are all along a ring road that hugs the lakeshore for the entire island. Restaurants, pansiyons, restaurant-pansiyons. But just inland from this road, if you follow the tiny little lanes that at first glance appear to be private walks up to private homes, you will soon discover that there is an entire village in there, and all of its roads are these tiny little winding walks, and that if you follow them the place really gets bigger and more intimate at the same time. You see over low partly crumbled walls the bright fruits and flowers of carefully tended gardens overseen by feral cats with gemlike eyes. You see very old houses made of stone and timber. You see where the people live. You walk across a square shaded by a big mulberry tree, perhaps running one hand over the rosemary hedge. So at its heart Yeşilada retains a traditional identity, keeping the fast growth world fueled by tourist money at the periphery. It is a wise setup, I think.

E)Aşure

I am running late now to return to the pansiyon with the remaining ingredients for aşure, a traditional dessert that Birsen and her family are making for us. They have soaked chickpeas and whole wheat and have been boiling them all morning. When I get back they will add dried apricots, dried figs, raisins, milk and sugar and cook it all into a thick pudding. Later they will add pistachios and we will eat it.