All over Turkey: Village Life....

Recently I was lucky enough to get out into some really small and remote villages in Turkey. I say lucky as I think it’s a special experience that not many would get on a standard holiday to Turkey.

My partner and I had promised his sister in law (known as Yenge in Turkish) that we would go to her village to visit her mum and see where she was from. As she had been asking me to go for about 2 years we thought it was about time to fulfill our promise. On the way to her mothers’ village, the small town where my partners’ mother was bought up is en route, so we thought we could kill 2 birds with the 1 stone and visit family in both locations.

The drive from Demre to the first little village was beautiful. We drove along a river that ran through a valley mined for granite. There was nothing in there except these huge mining sites and the river lined with trees that were all the colours of autumn. Just before lunch, we arrived at the village that my partners’ mum is from. Her sister in law still lives in the family home, the same home where my partners’ mother and all her siblings were born and raised. Although the house has obviously had some modern adjustments made to it, it still has the original internal wooden doors and internal wooden roofing. His mum walked us around the garden and told us stories of her childhood, the neighbours and her family. She was telling us how her mother had gone back to work when she was a small baby, so a lady in the village, who had also just had a baby girl helped out by being a wet nurse to her. My partners’ mum grew up with this girl who was born to this woman, and she still lives in the same house. We went to say hello, but found no one home. In good old Turkish village style, the front door was not locked so we just walked on in to check if maybe they were in but hadn’t heard us - as you do!

This village was tiny and there were really only a handful of homes and people making up the village. As we were walking past another really old home, that seriously looked like it could fall down, my partners mum asked me what I thought of her old home and village, maybe thinking I was bored or not really impressed. But, I loved it!!! My own grandmother grew up in the same street her whole life. She was born in the house that sat on the corner of the street and progressively moved down the road, eventually settling in one of the houses where she had her 11 children and ran a business with my grandfather. I used to love going over to their house as it held so many memories and history of my heritage. I remember the day the family had to sell the property; it was a very sad day indeed and I still like to drive past to take a look in.

Later in the day we continued on with our drive and headed on to visit Yenges old home in her village, up in the mountains. In summer, people head up to this village to escape the heat and humidity of Demre, so the population can be around 50 to 100 people. But in winter it’s a little too chilly in the mountains and the right climate back in Demre, so most people come back leaving the population of this town to only be about 5 people, Yenges mum being 1 of those. As we were driving up the mountain, I asked if there were any shops? No! Is there a doctor? No! Is there a mosque? Of course! Yenge was telling me that when she was growing up there would be a local bus that would go to the near by towns once a week to get supplies for everyone. You would give the driver a list and some money and he would deliver your shopping back that night. Her family lived off and still lives off the land as much as possible. Yenges mum has chickens, orange trees, pomegranate trees, grape vines and grows her own vegetables and herbs. We sat and had tea, ate some sweet pomegranate the size of small watermelons and enjoyed the crisp mountain air and the sound of silence. Out here, with no neighbours and a population of 5 in winter there is seriously NO NOISE! Bliss….

I noticed that Yenges mum had a TV but I was still wondering if she got bored? Considering she lived off her land, looking after her garden and making all her own syrups, sauces, jams and preserved foods, I was sure she probably didn’t have too much time for boredom, but she then proceeded to show me how she does spend her time. Yenges mum is a mean knitter and can knit little baby jackets from memory with the use of no patterns. She also can make kilms, a Turkish style of carpet. She was proudly showing one to me, which I was obviously admiring because it was stunning, before she ran off and found another one for me and proceeded to give this to me as a gift! To say that I was embarrassed was an under statement and I fought to accept it. These carpets are sold in carpet shops all throughout Turkey for small fortunes! But when true Turkish hospitality is shown to you in this way, it is ruder to not to accept a gift than to accept. So after a small battle, I graciously accepted it and feel very lucky indeed. Although nothing is ever given in the expectation of something in return, I am now not so sure what I could ever get for her in return that could have the same value of a such a beautiful hand made gift!

This is not the only gift I have been given from Turkish family over the last few years! For some reason they all feel like they need to shower me with gifts. Please don’t think I am saying this and complaining, I certainly am not. However, at times I am abashed by their sense of hospitality and can find their generosity overwhelming. On my first visit to my partners’ family his mother gave me some beautiful hand embroidered headscarves. These were kept under lock and key in his mothers’ special glory box. She had been making them since she was a young girl and was holding onto them to hand out to people for weddings or for family on special occasions. I was allowed to go through the hundreds of them and pick out some for my sister, her kids and myself. Since then I have been given numerous of these beautiful scarves that the women have sat and made over time. They are usually pretty floral scarves that they have hand embroidered the edges in matching colours and beautiful patterns. These are beautiful mementos of my time here in Turkey and the people I am lucky enough to be meeting along my journey.

I loved our day out visiting these tiny villages. Again it reminds me that I am in a foreign place. When you live in a tourist town, as in Fethiye, you sometimes forget where you really are at times. I like to see and be reminded of how life really does work throughout the majority of this country and this was a real insight back into it. I feel very gracious to be accepted into their homes and be treated so welcomingly.