8 5 2013 SOGUCAK AND KEMERALTI, TWO AUTHENTIC AND DISTINCTLY UNIQUE PLACES
My brother Mehmet and I bought our summer house together, about 20 years ago. The cooperative we had joined in then, purchased the land first followed with the construction, which continued for 5-6 years. Eventually, when my mother and father moved in to enjoy it for 6 months of the year, I had already moved to the USA for good (not initially, but turned out to be so in couple of years). Thus, I haven't been able to stay there for more than a week per year; even that is rare. Mostly, every time I come to Turkey, I manage to visit our house for a few days, but it still feels mine, and I love it thoroughly. My brother Mehmet and his wife also love the place, the peace, quiet, and joy surrounding it; they take care of it beautifully, thus, it is always in pristine condition every time I return.
Our summer house in Sogucak surrounded with olive and other fruit trees
Our summer house is located in a complex that was built on top of a hill, adjacent to Sogucak village, a village looking down on the Aegean and on Kusadasi Bay. Sogucak houses three different styles of living in its bosom. The core belongs to the natives, in small typical countryside village homes built on the edge of family vegetable gardens, some, two-three story high, housing several families from an extended family, some small, humble shacks. The second life style is enjoyed by single summer house owners or those owning a house in a summer house complex, like my family. The third belongs to the European home owners or those renting a home from European owners of summer homes. Globalization created a lovely ethnic mixture even in Sogucak, as small a village as it is. The Europeans finding a home base in Sogucak are certainly those, who like to run away from commercial tourism; they seek authenticity, they are anti-tourists just like I, and it is very common for them to greet you in Turkish and learn Turkish to get by at least.
Thus, the native villagers do their own thing most of the time, with a few restaurants serving the passerby tourists, and temporary residents of the village alike. Female vendors set up shop in front of their homes; they put up a almost flat inverted wok on top of wood fire to make pastry, loaded with vegetables and cheese, or potato and cheese, or meat and onions: This pastry, called gozleme may serve as breakfast item, for lunch, of for snack along with afternoon tea. There is one specific gozlemeci (who makes gozleme) that I make sure to visit every time I come to the village. Zeynep, who makes her gozleme or bazlama (the filo dough for which is thicker than gozleme) in front of her house has a shop almost hanging down from her front yard onto the side-walk. Her brother-in-law (Pasa) and sister-in-law, who live in the same courtyard in a separate house run a family restaurant at the most beautiful location in the village. I go there almost to meditate. Their restaurant occupies the border of their land that overlooks a ravine stretching toward the hillfoot on top of which is Sogucak. I sit at the most remote table in their open restaurant space looking at the bay with no obstacle in the visual field, all the way to Samos, the Greek island off Turkish shore. It is extremely meditative at any time of the day.
The view from where I had my coffee at Pasa's restaurant looking down on the Kusadasi Bay
With this goal in mind, I start strolling through the streets of our complex, than head out into the village, greet the young, and the old, women and men, kids and vendors, sitting on low standing stools in front of their homes, playing on the streets, or waiting for customers as I head toward Zeynep and Pasa's places. Both are happy to see me. I ask Zeynep to prepare a gozleme for me to take home, my mother loves it as much as I do. Then I move to the restaurant to have a cup of Turkish coffee (my ritual here) as I savor the vistas down below along the coast all the way to Dilek Peninsula National Park 20 kms from our village. When I return home, just before dusk, it is time to break fast, we all respect Firuza's fasting; Firuza donned our dinner table with everything one could ask for, as we would call it in Turkish "the only thing missing is bird's milk". Throughout dinner, I think of how pleasant it is to spend time here in the village, hoping to return even if it is for one day in November, when I come back to Turkey for another teaching activity.
Sunset from the terrace of our summer house
Monday is my shopping day in Izmir. I bought several gifts for my loved ones in Iowa City, but I need some more. Kemeralti, the open street market is my destination. Although the main Kemeralti Street is only a few kms long, the entire conglomerate with its side streets might reach a cumulative 10-15 kms of shops, vendors, restaurants, mini-malls, passages, you name it. Since it is only a few days from one of the main religious holidays, called "bayram" in Turkish, it is all the more packed with people. Essentially, the streets are almost like a parking lot for barely moving people. Talk about personal space, which is reduced to zero cms right here in Kemeralti. It is suffocating at times, but I still like the fact that this crowd is proof that Kemeralti, a few hundreds of years of age is still alive, it hasn't succumbed to the huge malls lining the outskirts of every metropolis in the world as well as right here of my town.
My last stop is the Handcrafts Gift shop run by the Ministry of Culture, which is one of my favorite places in Izmir. I am looking for a specific item this time. I'd like to buy handmade, silver earrings and a bracelet that this store used to carry to wear for my niece's wedding. The clerks, a middle aged man and a young woman tell me they don't carry much of what I am looking for anymore. I am worried, I ask them what is going on. They are open to unloading their frustration to an interested listener. They tell me in almost a chorus that the Ministry of Culture has stopped buying handcrafts from local artists since 2008 with the goal of closing the chain of such stores. It is like a stab in my chest: another attempt by the government to destroy unique cultural heritage of this land. They tell me, there are only 6 such stores across the country now, when Istanbul alone used to have 12, down to 2 recently. No wonder, the variety has been dwindling down over the last years. We start our criticism of the government, what else do I expect? Izmir, the most western city in the country, both literally and metaphorically that is socio-culturally, is certainly the most critical of the current government of all provinces and cities since it is also the most progressive city politically.
From the handcrafts store, I move to the waterfront. Pasaport is the name of a waterfront location, which has a pier where the boats that carry passengers from Konak, downtown to Karsiyaka, stop every other trip, it seems like. I find a table 2 ft away from the water and order a cup of Turkish coffee, while waiting for my friend. As I sip my coffee, the twins' peak is right across from me that brings memories of my childhood. The twins' peak in fact consists of two peaks, which was farther than the farthest imaginable location for me when I was a child. Little did I know then, that I would grow up and climb up to those peaks in my early thirties. After that first hike that I did with my outdoors group that I joined in 1991, I hiked over all the hills and mountains around Izmir Bay with and without Zeynep, my daughter, until we left Turkey to move to the USA. Every now and then, I hike around Izmir, but it is nowhere near my hikes in the national parks of the USA and those from 20-25 years earlier in Izmir.
Finally, my friend Aytul arrives and we have a delightful chat. She is one of my friends that I make sure to carve at least a few hours out of our busy schedule to catch up since the last time we have seen each other. After departing from her, I visit my friend Bulent and Demet, who have lost Bulent's father and uncle, half a father figure for him two weeks from each other. It is sad to have to listen to the beautiful story of two brothers, who died back to back two weeks apart, one expected, the other totally unexpected. It is delightful to be able to bring a bit of joy to Bulent's life, whose lovely wife will be my guest for about three weeks in late August, early September, just in couple of weeks. Final destination for the day is Bostanli, a favorite neighborhood in Izmir, where my niece is starting a new life next week. They bought a beautiful apartment on the hills of Bostanli that overlooks the entire Izmir Bay from the north side. As soon as I enter the living room, I declare to my niece, "Wow, save one of your rooms for me for my next trip..." We all laugh.... At night, the bay and the lights all around it look like the necklace on a naked neck. It is very sweet to chat with my niece on her balcony for 15 minutes without anybody around us and help her vent her frustrations and feelings about the difficult process of organizing a wedding. It is great to hear that she and her husband-to-become both are planning to have a life independent from their parents. I do hope they may achieve that and be their own people, have a life that only they will decide upon.
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| My family in Turkey |
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