Everyday there are small local markets set up selling fresh produce and spices. Locals drive around on tractors and old cars. Five times a day the call to prayer echoes through the rocks. People stop their toiling and then resume. We have seen amazing sights here, but often, the best parts of traveling are not planned. not written down in travel books or the internet. Rather, the most exciting part of traveling are the little things; small exchanges with people that have an impact on you.
Here are some of my favorite moments:
Casual Conversations: Sea Monkey Fishing and Ancient Tombs.
On the first day we walked to the Goreme Open Air Museum. The sun was shining, but we were chilled. After acclimatizing to the weather in Asia, the warm days here feel cold to us; you will notice from pictures that I have exactly one sweater, one wind jacket, and one pair of jeans, which have been on heavy rotation!
As we were nearing the finish, the sky opened up and the rain poured down. We ducked inside the nearest cave, an old church, to wait it out. A couple of travelers from Oregon had the same idea, and we began to chitchat. They are some of the most interesting people we've met: Hannah is an Emotional Release Therapist who travels around to learn from other spiritual disciplines. She has stayed with monks in Thailand, and shamans from turkish hill tribes. Her husband Scotte, is a seasonal worker. In the summer he is a salmon fisherman in Alaska and lives on a boat for two months. In the winter, he fishes the great salt lake of Oregon, but not for salmon. He fishes for Sea Monkeys.
If you haven't heard of a Sea Monkey, just look to the advertisements in the back of old comic books. They are promoted as a mysterious, fun-loving space pet that gets shipped to you in the mail and will hatch from little sawdust filled packets when put into water. I actually had some....
One year for my birthday, I got them as a gift from my cousin Brianne and her boyfriend Josh. Sea Monkeys (SM) are little shrimp-like animals that can survive as eggs for thousands of years. As adults they don't get very big, about the size of a pinky nail.
I put the eggs in water, and soon enough they hatched and grew. You never had to feed them or change the water- SMs can live off of their own waste and bacteria. After a few months, they became fat and floated around on my dresser in their plastic capsule. Curious, I would hover over them and stare. Their skin is translucent; organs and guts pump invisible fluid around to keep their tiny bodies working. Two black eyes stick out from their heads and bump against the sides of their enclosure as they swim. They look nothing like monkeys, but there is something sinister and mischievous about them. Over time, the water got murky and the SMs kept swimming around, getting bigger. I began to distrust them; at night I thought I could hear them splashing around. I would wake up, my room haunted. Finally, after imagining them escaping and slithering around like wormy ghosts on the floor, I decided to flush them back to the sea where they belong. To this day I I only have two fears: cats and sea monkeys.
I retold this story to Scotte, the Sea Monkey fisherman, and he laughed. He said I had some pretty cool friends to get me such a gift, and agreed that my fears are warranted; anything that can survive in outer space or as an egg for thousands of years is suspicious. Nevertheless, the SM business is still going strong.
The rain let up, and we exchanged emails and said goodbye. Before we climbed out of the cave we realized we had spent the last hour chatting over the holes and bones of ancient tombs. Only in Turkey I suppose!
Meeting The Muppets: Live from a Turkish Watermelon Stand
Our experience of Turkish locals had been clouded by the dark side of tourist capitalism. The only conversations we'd had led to the sales pitch of one thing or the other, so we were cynical. Every time we were asked the opening line: "Where you from" we were on alert.
One afternoon we walked around the markets, eating fresh strawberries and produce from local farms. As we rounded the corner, we heard the famous line. Sitting in chairs, two older Turk men slouched beside a large watermelon stand. We stood at attention, ready to decline.
"Canada" Steve answered, making sure to keep up his walking pace.
"Oy! Canada!" The first shouted.
"Canada!" The second echoed, slapping the first on the back.
"Come come come" they chimed.
We looked at eachother and cautiously approached the stand.
The first hacked into the melon with his machete, lopping off a chunk of ripe fruits. He stabbed it and brandished it toward us.
" Turkish water melon! The best! You eat, and we talk about Canada".
The brothers had been to Canada about 20 years ago. Through broken English they recounted their adventures of moving to Toronto as fabricators, and making their fortunes. Proudly, brother number two pointed to the house behind us. "We build. Now sell watermelons."
As they spoke, I tried my best to listen, but couldn't take my eyes off of them; I was fascinated with their faces. Brother number one spoke through a crooked mouth and grey eyebrows that framed his dark blue eyes. His skin had deep lines that jumped around with passionate conversation. Brother number two had a scrunched up face and I couldn't make out his eyes below a wild bush of the hairiest unibrow I have ever seen. He never looked up at us, he kept his chin down and grunted in Turkish in agreement after each sentence delivered by the first. Their side conversations always ended in small bursts of laughter. They reminded me of Statler and Waldrof from the muppets-- jovial, whitty, and sarcastic.
By the end of the conversation, we were full of fruit and laughter. The men argued with eachother to confirm details, and our politeness kept us listening although it took twenty minutes of deciphering afterward to piece together the whole story.
We were so charmed by them. A couple of village farmers who had a past filled with secret adventures that only a couple of foreign kids could relate to.
The Laundry Mat:
We wanted clean clothes, so we found a laundry service, the only one in town not run by a hotel.
After the morning drop off, we returned in the evening to pick up our clothes. Suddenly, there was an eruption of voices and hands flying around the laundry room. The three women put their hands to their faces. They pointed to the lightbulb, the clock, and the the dryer filled with our clothes. The power had gone out so they were running behind. "no big deal!" we said. We could wait.
The ladies didn't speak a lick of English. They made us tea and we sipped while we waited. Steve remembered he needed to get smaller change to pay, so he went out to get some while I drank my tea. I was now unguarded, so the women advanced.
One of the women, elderly, came and sat next to me. Her head was covered, but her bright eyes brought attention to her tanned face. She smiled, reached out, and pinched my cheeks. One of the landmarks of my Verbeek face is my "poinky"cheeks. If you've ever seen the old picture of Santa Claus from Coke advertisements with large apples for cheeks, that's about spot on with what I'm sporting. My cheeks have been the object of pinching affection many times in my life, which means I should be used to it; but, life experience doesn't do a thing to stop the rest of my face from giving away its other wonderful trait: the cherry tomato blush.
The other ladies gathered round and fingered my long waves, the result of the travel braids I wear to ward off frizz and tangles. They scrutinized my skin, gazed into my eyes and gave me a pat. Finally one woman motioned to my face and gave me the thumbs up. I looked at the grannie who grinned and she gave me two thumbs up. Mom and Dad, you will be happy to know that despite the round face and poinky cheeks, my genetics get the Turkish stamp of approval!
We signed to eachother and I learned the grannie was the mother of one of the ladies. They laughed and joked among themselves and I smiled, enjoying the energy as they skittered around the room, folding my order while grannie held my hand.
Steve came back and grannie leapt up, looking bashful. I pointed to our rings and said "husband." "Ooooh" they chorused, laughing as they inspected him with their eyes. Steve didn't get two thumbs up, but Grannie pointed at my belly and pushed us together. I blushed again. "Maybe in a few more years" I said, holding up a few fingers.
We left smiling. Grannie hugged me and kissed both cheeks as I said goodbye.
We walked off into the sunset, fresh laundry folded and wrapped in plastic. It was the best time doing laundry that we've ever had!
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