Being a chicken in Turkey..Part 2

I push off from the curb and followed the road down the hill. Older men were sitting on chairs and watching the world over chai, horse drawn carts were transporting farm workers home and people where everywhere, crossing the road whenever they wanted. While trying to negotiate speed bumps and animals, I was looking at the signs trying to find one that would make sense - ‘otel’ or ‘paysion‘ anything that could serve as a bed that night. A car behind me started to flash it’s lights so I moved over to the side - I had been going slowly so thought that it wanted me out of the way. Again, the car flash and charged past stopping in front of me. A male jumped out with a broad smile….ahh…don’t tell me????? Could this be Zeki and Ardil’s friend???!! Note to self….it turns out that there are fountains at each entrance into town.

Fethi couldn’t speak English, but he knew my name and so I followed him through the twisting lanes to a back street motorcycle repair shop. Three lads covered in grease were all over the bike in seconds pointing out the bits that needed obvious work…(errr…the three holes in the muffler included!!!) and Ardil was on the phone conveying messages from me to the them about what needed to happen - oil change, brake fluid change, chain and sprocket change and check the engine as it had been running rough. Before I knew it the spare parts I had been carrying where unloaded, my bags where unclipped and put in the back of Fethi’s car and I’m away to visit his friend Kadri at a shoe making shop. A group of would be shoe makers are having a lesson when I arrive, but I’m sat down and begin the first of many chai sessions that would occur that afternoon. I amused the class with horrid attempts to speak Turkish and then we leave for the local school that Zeki had arranged I would teach the children English.

Kadri (right) and Fethi - apparently it's not
the done thing to smile in official photos

I’m taken to the school manager (Principal) and it feels a little awkward as I don’t know Turkish and everyone else only knows a small amount of English. Chai is offered again and two of the English teachers came in to speak with me. It’s arranged that we go to see the District School Director and I feel like I’m back in school and have been summoned to the Principals office. I know I haven’t done anything wrong, but you always feel tinges of guilt from the times when you had J . Entering the District office I make the fatal mistake of saying no to chai - “I have water with me, I’m OK thanks” - as I had not eaten anything that day I was going into sugar overload and thought it best to go without. It was only when I had six men standing around looking like they didn’t know what they were going to do, that I asked one of the teachers in English “did I just make a mistake?’ he was ever so gracious with his answer but essential it meant YES YOU DID! “Err, actually chai would be good thanks“….you could feel the mood lighten in the room immediately…sugar overload here we come!

The mechanics are doing a great job, but aren’t finished yet, so Fethi, Kardri and Mustafa (one of the English teachers) and I go to…yes…have more chia. It is here that I learn the word for wine…shirup but the way it is said sounds like ‘shut up‘…ahhhh…and Fethi makes his own…double ahhh! Mustafa tells me a little about his life in Turkey and how much he wants to practise English via a pen pal…any takers?? He's single ladies and very nice J .

Finally the bike is ready, we park it at a 24hr petrol station and go to dinner. Dinner I haven’t eaten all day and I am starving. I’m sure they have never seen a female eat so much…it all tasted so good. I feel very sorry for Mustafa, he’s obviously tired from translating for the last 8 hours and has a class tomorrow. I’m tired too and the men drop me off at the Teacher’s Hotel. These are all over Turkey and are just for teachers. While the manager seems a little surly the next morning (I don’t really think you are a teacher and shouldn’t be here)…we finally bond over me asking questions in Turkish and making him laugh (oh..ok, you are alright).

I meet a wonderful English Teacher called Dilek and her two classes. They ask me questions about my life in Australia and at the end…would I let my daughter have a boyfriend at 18 years old…“err..yes…she does“…followed by ohhhs and ahhhs you are a good mother…hmmmm.  My tummy is in knots again…it’s after 12 o’clock and I’m getting concerned about getting to the Gallipoli peninsula that day. Dilek, Mustafa and I have lunch at the school and meet the rest of the teachers who dress in white doctors coats. Then Fethi picks me up and we go to his house to be with his children Ayla and Arda. They are amazing, so full of life and beautiful! I’m shown pictures of the circumcision celebrations of Arda, he is dressed like a prince with a white and silver cape, crown and fluffy jewelled stick. This is a big event in the life of muslin boy and everyone is dressed up looking spectacular. I find it interesting that such a personal thing is so openly shared with a ‘stranger’. It’s time for the kids to go back to school but they put the computer on so I can try to speak to Fethi and his wife, Figen, via Google interpreter.

Some of the school kids who think I'm a cool mum...take note kids!!

Mustafa and Dilek (sporting the white doctors jacket)

I’m having another massive panic attack by now and try to tell them via Google I’m a little nervous about heading off this late in the day, could we organise me to stay another night?” They have confused looks on their face as they read the Google interpretation ….perhaps it was saying “later today I will be nervous”…or…“oh here she goes again…chickening out it Turkey!!!” The only way I think I can get my message across is via sign language…so I then point to my heart and make chicken sounds…(oh do you want more to eat, they sign back)…no..no..no…so back to sign language …motorcycle..vroom vroom…today...heart chicken…sleep…..tomorrow….motorcycle vroom vroom…..heart lion…go! This display is unfortunately followed closely by me bursting into tears. There is nothing like sitting in a stranger’s house bawling your eyes out and trying to make them feel better because all they understood was the mad animal signings and tears…So Adril is back on the phone and we get the message - they are so gracious, they allow me to stay at their house.

After the kids get home from school we head out to a small village where they have their farm. Both Fethi and Figen were born there and I meet their parents, the cows (which are coxed into 10 litres of fresh milk for the family) and some chickens that were the lucky ones as Fengi is also given a bag of freshly dispatched chicken pieces for dinner which she cooks to perfection. Staying with the family for the day was great and by the time I’m ready to leave the next morning my heart is not so much like chicken and both Fethi and Fengi are treating me like a relative. Helping me pack my bags while shoving in hand knitted booties, banana’s, cucumbers and a litre of Fethi’s shirrup….just for on the road. They were wonderful good hearted people who I will try to see again on my may back to Greece, but for now my kitten heart and I are off to Gallipoli.
　

Ayla, Arda, Figen and Fethi

The lucky chickens on the farm

Cups of chia: enough to induce an insulin coma
Crying in the home of a stranger: 1
School kids I've spoken to: 32ish
Nice English teachers met: 3
Wonderful grandparents met: 3
Kilometres travelled - 2 (taking bike from service station to Fethi’s house)….really stacking on the miles here folks!!!