TURKEY AUGUST 2103 - 9 - STRONG WOMEN OF IZMIR VERSUS UZBEKISTAN

8.7.2013 STRONG WOMEN OF IZMIR VERSUS UZBEKISTAN

Finally, I am done with the training activities. All went well and I am pleased that I created more connections in the country with key agencies to improve the response to not only child sexual abuse but also adult sexual assault.

My disabled mother and her helper from Uzbekistan

Today, I had more time to spend with my mother and her helper. It is quite lovely to hear of her impressions of Turkey, rather Izmir and its people compared to her people in Uzbekistan. She figured out my "abla" (older sister) status in my family, her first question was about how women carry themselves in Izmir. "Abla, in Uzbekistan, women walk behind men, but here women are strong (demonstrates by thrusting her head backwards and bending her forearms upward at the elbows with her hands in a fist each) they walk in front of men, why is that?" I crack up “is that how she sees us Izmirite women, like sergeant majors?” She doesn’t know of course, that there are plenty of places in Turkey, too, where women have to “walk behind their men” in fact even in Izmir, if not literally at least to a certain extent metaphorically…

My brother and his wife certainly have a different relationship from the couple below from eastern rural Turkey

Soon it becomes clear that she cannot comprehend how in the world and why men she sees in and around my family are opening doors to women and offering them "right of way" if you will. I chuckle to her innocent disbelief and astonishment. I tell her unfortunately, it isn't that way in the eastern parts of the country and that Izmir is the most progressive province of Turkey and that is why men and women are the way they are in Izmir. I tell her one more thing: “I would live nowhere in Turkey but Izmir!” She tells me she knows she is lucky for living in Izmir and elaborates on how submissive women have to be in Uzbekistan. She tells me how her husband had taken away all her earnings when she lived in Uzbekistan after physically abusing her, which eventually made her leave her country and come to Turkey to make money without him being able to reach her.

In remote parts of Turkey one may see this as well.

It becomes clear that Uzbekistan is still in the dark ages of Islam, where men may simply say "Divorced", just as it was the case before the Independence War of Turkey in Turkey, and a woman would lose all her rights to her marriage. Of course my mother is semi-screaming from her spot "I would kick a man out of my house the moment he touched me with the flick of his finger", meaning violently. I fully support my mother’s statement. Firuza then shares with us that her mother is also encouraging her to leave her husband, for which she finds a lot of support in our kitchen; excited with the conversation, my mother has now moved to the kitchen, too..

My mother listening to our conversation with full attention

My mother and I start encouraging her to divorce him, which she states would cost her only $100. She is worried about her prospect to build a second family with her children, though. With her intelligence, I bet she will learn Turkish in no time and will have a very good chance for a second chance. But as one of my dear friends put it, this is not a problem x, for which there is an easy y solution. I recall how affectionately I had smiled to myself when I heard this approach from him, since my mind works very much like that, too upon hearing of a problem. I have seen enough in this life, though, as soon as I catch myself thinking in x-y mode, I also realize that there are very few situations in real life scenarios, where x-y modalities work. With this realization, I switch to "this is her problem, we can only offer her help, she has to make her own decisions" modality of thinking.

Firuza, innocent, sweet, full of hope for her future

Going back to Firuza's astonishment with how strong women are in Izmir, I can't help thinking one more time how relative everything is. Firuza is impressed with the amount of women's rights in Izmir, which is a place I left since I didn't feel I was free enough, individually in my family, culturally in my community, etc. Firuza is in another bout of disbelief when I mention to her about women's rights movement in the USA. She doesn't even have a concept anywhere near to that. When I explain to her the concept, she exclaims "There are no rights for women in Uzbekistan!"  In a way, I feel sad for her.  She has so much more to learn and accomplish to reach what she deserves. I hope, her time with my mother and family will empower her to protect and empower her children without submitting to a domestic violence perpetrator.  

The females of my family embracing Firuza as one of us

TURKEY AUGUST 2013 - 8 - SOGUCAK AND KEMERALTI, TWO AUTHENTIC AND DISTINCTLY UNIQUE PLACES

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.

Greek island Samos across Kusadasi Bay from the terrace of our summer house

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.

kemeralti on wikipedia
a view from kemeralti
 

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.

silver hand-made jewelry from trabzon that is found in DOSIM stores

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.

twin peaks to the south of 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.

My family in Turkey

TURKEY AUGUST 2013 -7- HOME SWEET HOME

HOME SWEET HOME

8.4.2013

I had thought I was done with swimming in Dalyan, at least, after we returned from the Koycegiz Lake, yesterday. But then, after my nap, seeing that my brother was still asleep, I hadn’t been able to resist the urge to swim around 7:30 pm one more time. Once I got out, then, I had thought, "OK, I am really done now, as soon as we get up tomorrow morning, we will get on the road." With that thought, I had rinsed and hung my swimming suit to dry, put away my beach shawl and goggles. I hadn’t thought of how addictive Dalyan might be, dragging you into it just one more time, and one more, and one… This morning, I woke up, my brother still asleep. With the first step out the door, that transformation set in with no warning. As if I had just arrived in Dalyan and had not had any taste of it, yet, as if the last three days with all their enjoyments had not taken place at all.

 

The little bend where I swam multiple times during our stay in Kano Hotel

I feel the same urge again, as if I am a Caretta caretta larva, as if my instincts whisper in my ear, to my muscles “move toward the water, find it, become one with it, in it... and in no time, I am back into my swimming suit, heading toward the southern end of the bend. I swim for about half an hour, again making a big circle in the safety of the bend, away from the boat traffic in the middle of the river. In another half an hour, I observe a tense expression on Mariana’s face, who also swam after I did. Mariana is one of my Dutch fellow residents at the hotel and she is looking and pointing at something on the water. A layer of engine oil on the surface of the until-now--the-perfectly pure and clean water is what she is pointing at. It isn't hard to find out what the problem is: looking around we all see that the little manual boat docked in front of one of the restaurants, two “doors” down had sunk! I feel bad for the river but also for my Dutch friends, since they seemed to enjoy the river so much and this unfortunate event perhaps would be the end of that enjoyment for at least some time.

Our Dutch friends as we are waiting for the river patrol to clear Kaya's boat

I exchange contact information with the Dutch team, with whom we spent a lovely afternoon on the river and Koycegiz Lake yesterday. It is quite possible we may encounter them in Izmir when Frank and Lillian stay at their house in Urla. Once we say our good-byes to everybody at the hotel, we head toward Ortaca back to my ice-cream place: I have to have another cup of that ice cream with gum flavor, who knows when I will return again. And sure enough the wife of the owner is there this time. On a Sunday, in Turkey, towns are usually empty, not because everybody goes to church, keeping in mind, this is mainly a Muslim country. However there is another religion in Turkey along the coastal line: The beaches… Literally, towns are almost evacuated from late Friday evening on through Saturday to return late on Sunday evening, even night. Thus, the ice cream place, being located 15-20 kms away from any beach is empty, with no customers. When I tell her what brings us to their shop (summarizing her my 1-month locum tenant position in town some 20 years ago and never having tasted ice cream with gum flavor, better than theirs), she gets excited and hangs out with us as we savor our ice cream. I learn much more from her and understand better why her husband was somewhat distant two days ago.

First of all, her attire is clear indication that they are devout Muslims, if not politically fundamentalists. My attire on the other hand, a dress with no sleeves the first time, and shorts and a tank top (worse yet in the eyes of a devout Muslim), the second time give me all the answers about why he wasn't as excited as his wife was to see a customer from 20 years before. Poor man, he might have been dealing with the “devil trying to get into him through me!” Anyway, she tells us they were from a village of Denizli, another province to the east of Mugla. Due to lack of jobs, he had moved his family to Ortaca more than 20 years ago, so they had just moved to Ortaca when I had rotated to the hospital in town as a young pediatrician. They bought a small ice cream, part of the negotiations for the sale of which was that the seller’s obligation to teach the buyer how to make ice cream!  He had no idea and skills on what he was getting himself into, that I call entrepreneurship...

this is how stretchy gum flavored ice cream of Roma ice cream parlor was

After several batches of destroyed ice cream, they perfected it and the entire family consisting of 2 daughters and 2 sons started working in the shop along with the parents. Apparently, the daughters and one son married and moved away from Ortaca. The son becoming a police officer in Istanbul made me wonder whether he was one of those gassing and plastic bulleting the protesters in Gezi Park and Taksim, in June. I can't ask, though, fearing what I may hear. After a while, they had made enough money, they bought half of the current, very elegant patisserie, and they have been renting the other half for some time from a different owner, who is unwilling to sell it. They also convinced the one son left in Ortaca to learn the skill set and take over the shop, who is the main chef in the store right now. I tell my brother, this is a story you hear all the time in the USA, it looks like there are such success stories in Turkey, too. Roma Ice cream place is the name. Anybody, who goes to the southwest coast of Turkey must stop in Ortaca and try the gum-ice cream at Roma ice cream place. 

our figs were green and very sweet

On the way to Izmir, we can't help buying another basket of fresh figs, sold by local roadside vendors, one third of which finds its way to our tummies before we arrive in Kusadasi, where our family summer house is located in an authentic village, Sogucak. As excited as I was about being and living in Dalyan and enjoying thoroughly, its holiday pleasantries, I am now as excited about homecoming, going back to my mother, who must have been counting the days to my arrival for at least a month now. It becomes another sweet reunion. Every time I come back home, my mother, who is disabled after a car accident of 2002 gives me a big hug with shaking hands and arms and plants kisses on my face numerous times, way more than the two kisses, one on each cheek, the traditional Turkish way. Once she's had enough of me, I hold her tremulous body (one of her residual neurological sequels) in my arms and rock her like an infant as we sit side by side on her couch. She likes it and gets a bit teary with excitement.

My mother and her attendant Firuza from Uzbekistan

Firuza, her new attendant from Uzbekistan, is a brand new uplifting addition to our family. She is a beautiful, crisp Uzbek woman, almost out of an Uzbeki airline magazine. Her face is but one big, warm, genuine smile. It is clear she's been curious about the big sister of this family, and soon, she feels comfortable enough to call  me "Abla", big sister, as my brother calls me in Turkish. Firuza is fasting, since it is Ramadan in the Muslim world nowadays. My brother was, too, who ended up becoming "seferi" (who travels in Turkish/Arabic) along with his sister. I am willing to take the responsibility of the sin! According to "my dear beloved God", as my taxi driver in couple of days will call God, fasting duty is waived for those who travel, rather postponed to after Ramadan.  He will have to fast as many days as he missed after Ramadan.

When Ramadan falls into summer months, it is a misery and to me a significant health risk. From dawn to dusk, 16-17 hours of no food, no liquid, as my brother puts it, "your body feels like on-fire" pointing to his skin. What better description of dehydration... Fasting during winter months is no big deal, 8-10 hours of fasting is nothing compared to summer fasting. Mehmet tells me that his sweet and clever wife Kezban used to do her catch-up fasting, (when she used to fast, she is not any more) during the winter months. This is how Turks play with Islam, and that's how "religious" my family is after all, which I adore.  

Firuza says she hasn't missed a day, yet. I get confused since my mother would miss several days due to her period, each Ramadan. She had explained it to me with "When you are 'dirty', you can't worship God", dirty referring to menstruation. That was the first teaching I had received about God being disgusted with women and their "dirty" days. That's how Islam makes women feel disgusted with themselves, too. Men are also encouraged to be disgusted with their women during the time of menstruation by being forbidden to “approach your women” when they are “dirty”. I was confused as an adolescent with all this “dirty” business:  I had thought God made us all, the way he wanted us to be. Why did God feel disgusted with something He gave to women? Why did God punish women like that? These questions would be answered in my mind in my 20s when I started learning more about not only Islam, but also other organized religions. I was astonished to discover that all monotheistic religions agreed upon women being weak, their physiological processes being dirty or disgusting, and the need for and duty designated to men to tame, control, and package it as “protecting” women.

My mother rading her book as she is resting after her shower

The mother I am holding in my arms right now, physically and cognitively reduced in some ways to a toddler's capacities, was a soft-spoken, mellow, but very strong woman. What I learned from her and other strong females of my family would force me to become an ever-inquisitive woman, which characteristic, then, wouldn't let me give in to all this unbelievable, unacceptable, and, to me, un-Godly patriarchal hierarchy.  Firuza, barely 30 years old, only 2 years older than my daughter already has 3 children! My jaw drops upon hearing her oldest, Ayse is 13 years old. Firuza became a mother for the first time at age 17, just like my mother. My mother's children arrived at ages 16,17, and 23, Firuza's at ages 17, 19, and 26. I wonder if this makes my mom empathize with Firuza more than other helpers she has had for the last 10 years of her disability. It fills my heart with affection toward both of them, since it looks like Firuza conquered my mother with her charm, innocence, and dedication to her.

Firuza's husband travels all over Asia and sells the goods he brings home, locally. Firuza's mother is responsible for caring for her children when Firuza works in Turkey to save enough money to buy a home upon her return. She shows me the pictures of her children. Such innocence on all three faces just like the one on Firuza's. I like her, and I am glad I bought a ring for her from an artist in Ortaca. She is ecstatic with her gift. She shows it to my mother with a big smile "Look mom, just like sultan Hurrem's". We all crack up...

magnificent century that depicts the cultural, political, and individual clashes in the Ottoman era

Hurrem was one of the slave concubines, who was brought to Ottoman harem as a child. She initially became Suleiman the Magnificent's most favorite concubine using all her feminine charms, followed with rising to becoming his most favorite wife. Her influence on him led to many killings in the Ottoman palace. The soap opera "The magnificent century", in a way "enlightened" the Turkish society, and apparently, Turkic societies, as well, regarding the socio-cultural and political ins and outs of that era. However, how I interpret that soap from the perspective of discrimination and enslaving of ethnicities, women being used as property by men, women fighting with one another to be designated a more valuable property to the men exploiting them, and adding to the already prevailing chaos to rise up the steps of the ladder, serving the benefits of the ruling class, that is, men in an ugly societal organization, is totally different than that of the majority of the society.

Firuza's ring indeed would be a perfect match with these ear rings!

Firuza had watched the soap from the perspective of Hurrem's jewelry, apparently. I feel for her, but feel sad and sorry for her and for us all, too. If she and millions like her cannot see beyond Hurrem's ring, how in the world will they be able to see the cultural bombardment from the elites of our societies, who are pouring all kinds of lies over us day in day out to rule us all, all the more easily, when they suck the best out of us and our societies? As my mind is busy with these questions, my brother brings down the dress they bought for my mother to wear at my niece's wedding in a few days, which is why I am in Izmir in the middle of the summer.

It may be a good opportunity to convince my mother to take a shower, which in her new cognitive level, is one of the tools she has been using to exert control over her body; resisting to take showers. Left to her devices, she never demands to take a shower, and when reminded, she invariably starts a big debate on how "I took one yesterday!" or "No, I don't need it now" or "I know when I need to take a shower" or "I know what I need better than you, do I tell you to take a shower?", which always makes us crack up since that is true, she doesn’t... But, we have created new tools, too. I always approach these arguments with "Of course, mom, you know what you need to do better than anybody. I am sure you'll make the right decision." That's how I had managed Zeynep when she was a little girl with her strong will. She would eventually arrive at the decision I would have liked her to. So does my mom.

My mother fresh and rested with my sisters in law, niece, and her friends after a shower

As I start chatting with my brother, I see her, with the corner of my eye, stand up and hear her "order" Firuza "bring my bathrobe down, I will take a shower" with a decisive voice. Valla, it worked one more time! Firuza is already on her flight upstairs pleased with the decision my mother made. Mehmet and I blink at each other while my mom walks toward the bathroom. I follow her, planting a kiss on her neck whispering in her ear "We may take a shower together, you know". She pretends to be snapping at me "Don't you have any shame?" but doesn't mind me closing the bathroom door behind the two of us and I can tell from past experience, despite all her resistance she will eventually enjoy our role reversal, me acting like her mother and she like my child. As she starts undressing, I do the same, which doesn't escape her. She protests "why are you undressing? I am the one to take a shower." I explain to her that I don't want my clothes get wet. She submits... 

MY mother arriving at the "Henna" party for my niece's wedding

I start rubbing her back as I whisper to her to relax and that I will take care of everything. She listens. I know that she doesn't allow her helpers to give her help with her showers past rubbing her back. I know that I am the only one she trusts with the most intimate privacies of her body. The natural sponge loaded with soap travels throughout her body, cleansing every single pore, groove, and crevasse. I know she feels like she is reborn.  Firuza comes in with her bathrobe and my dear baby-mother is now transferred to the safe hands of Firuza. By the time I get out of shower, she is already asleep, on her sofa, with her bathrobe still on, her face half covered with her head towel.  The love I feel for her flows out of my eyes, turns into an invisible stream and embraces this tiny body, sleeping in peace and purity. I murmur to myself "You cleansed my body too many times mother, it is not too much if I do this for you couple of times a year."

TURKEY AUGUST 2013 -6- FAMILY STORIES UNFOLDING

FAMILY STORIES UNFOLDING

8.3.2013

After going to bed past midnight again, last night, I slept in.... Opened my eyes to check my cell phone, couldn't believe it was 9:30 already, a first since I arrived in Turkey; jet lag is finally over. No wonder I feel so rested. I sneak out of the room again and take a seat at one of the tables close to the water. As I sip my tea while waiting for my brother to come down to the patio to have our breakfast, Kaya Bey approaches me asking whether we would be interested in joining the European team of six, we have been seeing on the deck since we arrived here, in their excursion upstream toward Koycegiz Lake. Both Mehmet and I enjoying such spontaneous plans (it became clear throughout this trip), we run to our room after a quick breakfast and get on the boat along with the rest.

Exit from Dalyan toward Lake Koycegiz
Our companions are an interesting team. I have been seeing them on the patio and on the deck since we arrived, but haven't seen them allow any eye contact to initiate a conversation. I wondered, whether they were shy, or uninterested with their surroundings, or simply respectful of personal space as is the case for many Americans and Europeans. As we are boarding the boat, I introduce myself to the young woman, whose name is Karina, who then introduces me to the rest. I discover very quickly that they were just considerate in their attitude of what turns out to be leaving us alone for three days now. Karina tells me they are all from Netherlands, one of my favorite countries to visit. Karina and her husband live in The Hague, her parents live in a village on the east border of Netherlands (her father works in Germany), and his parents live in Rotterdam. Karina is an architect by training but is working at a construction firm, currently, a beautiful, very personable, and sweet woman. Her husband Brat turns out to be a second year orthopedics resident, who is a brilliant man. I am surprised to learn that this young couple is vacationing with two sets of parents.

Brat and Karina, the younger couple of the three-couple Dutch voyagers
Brat recognizes this unspoken slight astonishment, he elaborates. "We have two weeks of vacation, only one week of which is with parents. He doesn't have to explain that, in fact, since the young people are so comfortable with each other even around their parents, it is heart-warming to see them being so playful and affectionate to one another in public with such ease. Frank (Brat's father) apparently is an expert in boating. In fact, Kaya, who is just learning how to use his boat, might have agreed to this tour because of Frank's encouragement. Frank proves to be a very understanding and competent instructor especially around the times of take-off and parking. Isn't beginning something new or taking the first step of a process is as challenging as ending something old or bringing a process to a stop? That's when true skill and talent are required. After Kaya and Frank do a trial ride, they pick us all up and we are on our way toward Koycegiz.

Frank standing on the pier waiting for Kaya
Frank is married to Lillian, who are both teachers. Frank grew up in Indonesia from birth to 8 years of age when his parents worked for an oil company. What is more exciting is that Frank and Lillian have a house in Urla, half an hour from my house in Izmir. As soon as he discloses this, we start an animated conversation. They chose Urla, which is not a touristic place at all, for this very reason. Urla in fact is a coastal town, which used to be the summer "resort" for Izmirites, when Izmir was one third its current size. Wealthy Izmirites would have a summer house in Urla, which allowed easy access to the city. With the sprawling expansion of Izmir's boroughs, Urla has been swallowed into the city proper and is now a peripheral suburb of Izmir, which fortunately has preserved its authentic character.

wonderful pictures of authentic and modest urla
I feel close to Frank and Lillian, already, who have chosen to buy a house in Urla in 1996 and made themselves a neighbor to an all-Turkish neighborhood. They still can't speak any Turkish beyond couple of words, but their neighbors like them anyway, they report. After all, you don't need any words to share food with your neighbors, sign language and body language would do just fine to let them know you've made something special and you want your neighbor to taste it. Such a Turkish thing to do, which I introduced to my neighborhood in Iowa City, following my mother's communal role in our neighborhood when I was growing up. It took root, too! My neighbors, an Irish  decent American born and bred woman, a second generation Italian woman, a first generation Hungarian woman, who reminds me very much of my mother and others, all have started sharing food with me, sometimes in response to my sharing with them, sometimes, on their own. I feel so much more at home when I can transform my surrounding as much as it transforms me...

Kaya Bey gets pulled over by the river patrol!
Frank and Lillian tell me they spend considerable time in the summer in Urla, but when they can't come to Turkey, they send their friends and relatives to enjoy what fun they have found in Urla. As much as I dislike economic aspect of globalization due to how it helps the "haves" exploit everything the entire world has by providing the smallest fraction of their profit to "have-nots", I can't help appreciating the fact that, the extent with which peoples of the world are intermingling with one another like this is an unanticipated but welcome side gain of it. I sometimes even wonder, whether, wars may come to an end eventually, just because of this, when everybody on earth comes to learn about every other culture and people and how they live their lives, why they do what they do; the level of understanding everybody reaches about one another may prohibit regular people to take up to arms anymore. who knows, perhaps wishful thinking on my part... who knows...

Frank is happy to hear the river patrol has approved all the paperwork
Just as we are enjoying ourselves aboard with the breeze, the vistas, and conversation, we hear somebody calling "Idil 96, come ashore..." on a megaphone; that is us.... the coast guard off the shore is motioning to us. it is only 9 people aboard, 5 of whom are on the deck, what could be the problem? i wish it were only the fact that Idil 96 was bought just 8 months ago and has not been used on the lake that much, yet. Kaya Bey has to get off to show his papers to the guard. After couple more trips back to the boat to produce more documents that were requested of Kaya, he finally returns with a clearance. It was indeed an attempt for the guard to familiarize himself with this new boat and its owner. I hope there was no need for any bribing, we don't ask, Kaya doesn't say anything.

caretta carettas, remarkable and adorable animals
After this last snag, we are free as a bird heading toward Koycegiz Lake, 30-40 km north of Dalyan, draining the lake waters to the Mediterranean. the waterway gets larger and larger as we head forward or upstream. At some point, we see a turtle in front of us, which quickly disappears. These sea turtles are such intriguing creatures, having survived through 110 million years of earth's history. However, all turtle species are also in danger of extinction, thus, it is extremely important to protect shores like Dalyan's, rare breeding grounds for a variety of sea turtles. as I am writing these lines, I look up to see if there are any environmental efforts of Turkish origin to preserve Dalyan and its surroundings. Sure enough: I am delighted to find out that http://www.ekad.org.tr/index.htm outlines everything one such group is doing in Turkey. The videoclip on the main page is an unbelievably humane one on the story of sea turtles that makes one want to do everything to save them.

Koycegiz Lake
Eventually we arrive at Koycegiz Lake, which is one of the relatively larger lakes in the country. We head toward the west coast, where Koycegiz municipality arranged the natural hot springs and mudbaths into a simple but pleasant facility with an old renovated hamam in the middle. Three members of our Dutch team and my brother and I enter the first mud bath and cover our bodies with the mud, which is like a therapeutic cream. It is so sweet to see Kaya Bey smearing the mud on Brat's face with no trace of homophobia, both very comfortable with being as close to one another as the scene calls for. I wonder how a lot of American acquaintances I know would act in a situation like this. The personal space, at a minimum arm's length distance they need would destroy the spirit of the moment: Kaya's motive of trying to be as hospitable to his guests as he could. I was at peace though with the fact that I have many American friends, men and women, who could be as comfortable as Brat is in a situation like this. Those are the Americans I feel most comfortable with, too.

Kaya smearing Brat's face with therapeutic mud with such brotherly warmth
The mudbath is followed with a swim in the lake, natural bath, which helps all the mud to be returned to where it belongs, too. After a refreshing long swim, we all get back on the boat and head toward another secluded cove. This apparently is at the request of our Dutch friends, which is very welcome for me. I swim there for much longer, making multiple circles around the boat along the outer borders of the bend, where we are anchored. Finally, we are on our way back to the hotel, mid afternoon. Mehmet and I decide to take it easy for the rest of the day. We take a nap, swim some by the hotel, write some and wind down throughout the afternoon to get ready for our trip back to Izmir tomorrow morning. As my brother takes a nap, I go downstairs onto the deck to continue enjoying the river/lake both physically and visually. In-between swims, I certainly enjoy one of a number of delicacies; fresh peaches or figs, better yet, the "sarma" version of baklava, the exceptional dessert from Ortaca. Eventually, I decide to go back to our room to take a nap as well. I take a shower, which makes me marvel at how relevant our perception of time is: it hasn't been a week yet, since I took a shower in a different continent, yet it feels like I've had a month's worth of experiences in that short span of time, I smile. I am slightly sad when I rinse my swimming suit, considering it won't be used until perhaps November, when I will return to Turkey.

Resting on the boat after a good swim is so refreshing
After our nap, we treat ourselves to fish, sea bass (levrek) for dinner at the same restaurant where we had dinner the night before. The same musician is playing a soft, touching beautiful music just like last night. The leftover of the flat bread they bring to each table as part of appetizer dish finds its way into the water, which then continuously attracts scores of fish. It is so much fun to watch the fish jumping over one another to get more of the bread. My brother is infatuated with his new I-phone; we laugh quite a bit, when he discloses to me he is having a difficult time believing that what these cell phones and other electronic contraptions can accomplish is mankind's doing. He is a scientific minded man, that is why it is so funny for me to hear of his skepticism. We then chat about what my dad would have thought about all this electronic network invading our daily lives. That is a fertile ground for tons of laughter. Indeed, my dad would have lost his mind seeing an electronic device plugged into all his outlets during our visits, which probably would have pushed all his "environmentalist, energy conservationist" buttons.We recall fondly, the dinner we had together in March, just five months ago, the one that we had dedicated to my dad's memory and had shared with each other his funny stories. That was indeed a lovely night...

the top picture on this page would drive my dad crazy
I also learned something brand new from my brother about my exchange year to Wisconsin in 1976. He was only 10 years old then, when I was heading out to the middle of nowhere as an AFS exchange student to be away from the family for an entire year. He told me my mother had missed me throughout that year to such an extent, she would  wait for the mailman's arrival every day and tip him (!) every time he brought a letter from me. I couldn't believe it since this is an unheard of practice for Turkey, especially during those years. He told me, he was curious about why my mother would read my letters over and over again until the next one arrived. Silly boy thought, there was something my mother couldn't understand in the letters; as if she were trying to solve a problem by reading over and over again. My dear mother, I know I've always been very dear to her, just like she to me. But, this new piece of information made me understand better how difficult it must have been for my mother to adjust to my departure from Turkey for good. As Bill would have put it, she must have felt I had stolen myself from her and the family. My intention was certainly not that. But I can see how they might have interpreted my innocent claim to be myself as such.

My dear mother, who aged much earlier than she deserves having dinner with my family
Thus, after another lovely dinner right on the water, we go to bed, with the feeling that our vacation, which was a spectacular one, is over. I wake up around 7:30, my brother is still asleep. Although I had decided last night, before going to bed, I was done swimming, the sky and the shimmering on the surface of the water from our balcony were both so inviting, I change my mind on the spot: I put my swimming suit back on and almost glide down the stairs and find myself back in the water! Since our hotel is in the middle of a bend lined with about a dozen of similar hotels, I swim in a big oval along the shore up and down. As I climb back onto the deck, because my brother is down waiting for me to have our last breakfast on the deck, I look back to the water one more time not knowing when I will be back to this lovely place. I hope I can soon, and perhaps with others, who might appreciate this adorable place.

Dalyan as perceived at dusk from across Hotel Kano

TURKEY AUGUST 2013 -5- CAPITALISM SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO TAKE OVER THE NATURAL TREASURES OF TURKEY

CAPITALISM SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO TAKE OVER THE NATURAL TREASURES OF TURKEY

8.2.2013

I woke up well rested after 7 hours of sleep. The lake is in my mind; they call the waterway "the lake" around here. How is visiting the lake going to feel early in the morning when hopefully most everybody else is asleep? Yesterday, after we returned from the beach covered with a thick layer of salt (I don't necessarily need to take a shower right after swimming in salt water, I enjoy that crisp tension, the salt deposited on my skin exerts on my body and face after rapid evaporation of all the juices of the sea), I had jumped in the lake to "rinse" and refresh... Sakir, who, I will learn later is also our cook, was busying himself with fishing off, what I will also find out, later, to be Kaya's boat for blue crabs. The boats were returning with loads of people from the beach, the mini hotels lining up the eastern shore of the lake (the west shore is left to the king tombs) were busy with preparations for dinner. All were part of the scene yesterday evening. What about this morning?
I have to find out: I put on my swimming suit and sneak out of the room without waking up my brother, still asleep. As soon as I step out, the deadly sweet scent of the jasmine blossoms covering the entire outer face of the wall of the balcony/terrace onto which the doors of all of the rooms at the hotel open fill my nostrils, taking me all the way to my childhood, to the jasmine and honey-suckle plants covering the facade of the fence separating our apartment building from the street in Bornova, where I grew up. Early in the spring, they would both start blooming, the branches of both plants entangled with each other's. An ignorant person could easily believe there was just one plant flowering with two kinds of flowers. They would both continue blooming until late into the fall. Mornings and evenings they would especially get excited, they would almost reach out to passersby to fill each nostril with their intense fragrance. My father would pick jasmine flowers and put them in a bowl of water. The white angels swimming on the surface of water would fill our kitchen with a refreshing pure scent. I, on the other hand continued sucking the syrup out of honey-suckle blossoms until adolescence.

Sakir, our cook at the hotel, fishing off Kaya's boat for blue crabs
Sure enough, the scenery by the lake is totally different at this hour of the day. There is one single couple up and awake along with Kaya Bey. The boats of the town must also be all asleep. Except for almost invisible ripples over the water created with the similar, barely visible sway of Kaya's boat, there is nothing in sight that is moving. I can't bring myself to jumping in the water in this serene, quiet scene where one can almost hear the sound of silence. I climb down the ladder hanging off the deck in front of the hotel, into the water as quietly as I can. The water is cooler than yesterday. As I start swimming, my entire body immersed into the water except for my nose and up, the first boats announce themselves with their distant "patapata" (puhtuh-puhtuh) as my dad would call them when I was a child, imitating the sound of their tiny engines. I look up, these early tours bring visitors to the west shore, where the hills on which the king tombs have been carved rise high up to the sky. Once they approach the shore, the engines are shut down, as if to salute the kings of old. After a half hour visit, during which their tour guide will tell them all about Lcyian history, the visit will be completed and they will turn around and head upstream to the mud-baths. I swim up and down in the "elbow groove" the "lake" creates in front of a line of 5-6 mini-hotels, otherwise my head could easily get chopped off by one of the shuttle boats!

King tombs in the early morning sun
When I go up to take a shower, my brother is up and awake, too. We enjoy our breakfast at one of the tables-for-two right on the deck a few feet away from the water. It is such a pleasant feeling to be so close to what is most precious in this town. As we have our breakfast we start discussing what we want to do today. We resolve Saklikent (hidden town), which is a beautiful canyon, 18 km long past Fethiye is too far away for this trip, which will take 4 hours of driving. Gocek, on the other hand is a small, pleasant coastal town, which we both know from our youth but neither has spent any significant time there. It is lovely to observe that my brother is very relaxed about our travel/vacation plans, tolerates and welcomes any idea that comes with the spur of the moment. I ask myself why in the world I never did this with him before. It is very pleasant to vacation with him. As much as I try to make him feel comfortable and well taken care of as an able (big sister), he does the same for me that leads to a great harmony, which I anticipated would be the case, but I am still pleasantly surprised. The verification is still welcome since this is our first trip together, after all. 

My brother and I relaxing in the courtyard of our hotel in Dalyan

We get on the road and enjoy all the vistas on the way to Gocek. Gocek turns out to be mainly a yacht harbor and refuge. It has a deep and very well protected bay with lots of twists and turns of the peninsulas and islands blocking the way to the surf of the Mediterranean to enter into the bay. As we stroll along the shore, we come across a shuttle boat with a dozen of people, clearly ready to take off, to where, we don't quite know, we just hear "to the beach". We are in, my brother rushes back to the car to get our swimming gear, I stop at a nearby market and get couple of peaches and a big bottle of water and in a few minutes we are aboard and on the way to open sea. We pass multiple little coves, each one of which houses for the moment a yacht, or a boat, or a blue voyage team, or, who knows what else... It looks like everybody has their own private beach, it is wonderful to know that it is only temporary and in the afternoon, some other group from the world's citizenry may enjoy each of these unique and beautiful beaches and coves.

Gocek, a haven for yachts
Our captain Bulent finally delivers us to a distant cove as wild as can be, with pine trees coming down to a few feet of the water. There appears to be a make-shift facility to serve the visitors with sunbathing chairs, umbrellas, tables for lunch, etc. My brother and I move away from the small crowd and head toward the woods. The pine trees are leaning toward the sea, the branches are almost touching the water. Yes, we are in the woods, but the woods is in the sea. Where else can one find this? This is our kind of place. We spread our beach mat and get ready to enjoy the beautiful day. I jump in the water right away of course. In just about 10 feet, the under-footing drops into a hole, which I discover later on as I explore the underwater near the shore that the bottom of the sea drops like a wall at some point into that hole. Who knows what kind of story it has.

Our little cove in Gocek Bay with pine trees hagning down into the sea

We do learn the story of the make-shift facility, though. The man, who runs this facility tells us he "bought" this cove from the government in the context of a very controversial law the savage, neo-capitalist parliament and government of Turkey litigated and has been executing recently. Until recently, all shores and forests of the country belonged to all people; no more.... All of the most precious lands, islands, peninsulas, and forests are now for sale! Our shuttle boat captain Bulent and his friend Ahmet will later tell us that two of the many beautiful islands around Gocek have been sold to two very rich entrepreneurs in the near past and the fishermen cannot fish in the most productive waters anymore, around those islands. “Money doesn't respect any religion other than profit” is verified once more, hence, why even the non-fundamentalist wealthy have been supporting the fundamentalist AKP, in power in Turkey for the last ten years.

The make-shift cafe on the beach, privatized by the Turkish government exchanign environment for profit
I ask them why the people of Gocek couldn't rise up against these sales, knowing he answer all too well... What could they do with only 4000 population? Instead of answering the question they give me even worse news of what is happening in the coastal line of Turkey: AKP is eliminating the municipalities of the coastal lands since none of the coastal towns votes for AKP.  This is the beauty of coming from the coasts of Turkey. On the coast, faces are turned toward the horizon, to new lands, to new comers… We all agree that that is why coastal people have always been open minded, tolerant, welcoming and eager to intermingle with different cultures, ethnicities, and ideologies. Fundamentalism, on the other hand dictates intolerance, othering, rejection and encourages bad-mouthing among other malicious methods of dividing and conquering. How can coastal people vote for AKP and how can one expect AKP to do what is best for the coasts and coastal people of the country? It was sweet to feel I could discuss all these political issues with the simple but extraordinary men, the captain of our tiny boat and his friend as well as with Ayse, a 20 year old female college student we will pick up at a bus stop on the way to Ortaca, who also happens to be from Ortaca, returning home. My brother will make fun of me after we return to Izmir: Sister says “Hi” to somebody, poor guy responds to her not knowing he will have to tell her his life story in the next 10-15 minutes. This is new to Turkish people, I know, but that is what being from one land and taking root in a totally different one did to me. I am delighted that I became a landless woman with two lands to claim.

Gocek offers a beach per yacht, almost...
As soon as we resolve that the owner of this facility was one of the opportunists, most likely with close ties to AKP, we feel good about not giving any business to him! I bet he is dreaming of making a lot of money and chopping the pine trees reaching out to the sea to put up a small hotel first, then a larger one, he clearly doesn’t look like he would worry about the environment. Our corner of the woods is a paradise. However, the most impressive experience of my day will come from underwater: As I am swimming toward the exit of the cove, I see through my goggles, something shimmering in the water. When I pay more attention to what is ahead of me, I am stunned with the breathtaking visual. Think of a D shaped "frame" extending from the surface of the water all the way to the bottom of that hole with the straight line of the D was aligned with the surface of the water, and its curved belly filling the distance between the surface all the way to the bottom of the hole. This is not just a frame, though, it is a solid D about 5 feet long and 6-7 feet deep formed and filled with a school of fish! Hundreds, no most likely thousands of small (3x1/2 inch sized) silver fish swimming side by side with such artistic elegance is what fills the frame of D that I immediately get fixated on. I can’t move any more, I am hypnotized; I just lay on top of the water that is on top of the D, with minimal effort to move my head sideways occasionally to take a breath. I just sway along with the school of fish as I recall a similar memory from the Madeira island (Portuguese territory, off African shore in Atlantic).

I wish I had had a camera to picture what I saw, which was very close to this...

Portuguese invaded this uninhabited island several centuries ago and started bringing their people to inhabit and thus, claim it. However, this volcanic island, despite being surrounded with water, had no beaches. Solution: Bring the sand from Sahara to create beaches. Two problems arose, one soon, the two beaches they created were covered with scorpions, the eggs of which were carried all the way from Sahara! Two, the surf was washing away the sand. For the latter, they put up an underwater divide reaching down to the bottom of the cove to break the force of the surf. Here I am swimming toward the open sea and come across this heavy-duty, thick net rising from the bottom of the seat toward the surface. To explore this structure I start swimming along, when I notice a similar shimmering. As I pay more attention, I discover the shimmering comes from again a school of fish, thousands of them on the outer surface of the net trying to either pulling food that has stuck against the net or simply to get in… I recall spending my entire afternoon swimming along the net and watching these curious creatures. 

Most pesants in the farmer's market are women in Ortaca
At 4 pm, Bulent, our captain returns to pick us up. After saying our affectionate good-byes to Gocek and picking up Ayse from the bus top, we head to Ortaca, with two goals in mind. I had worked in Ortaca for one month as a locum tenant 20 years ago. Among other pleasant memories from this town, I had had the best ice cream made with "gum", the extract of the gum tree that grows in these parts. None of the ice cream with gum flavor I had since then came even close to what I had had in Ortaca. I want to find that store and test if the ice cream will taste the same. Ayse is very helpful with that, she tells us, yes indeed the store is still in town, Roma ice cream (Yes, I recall now, it was indeed Roma Dondurma) but it has moved to a larger space. Good news, they must have done well, then. 20 years ago, it was a family with two daughters running the place with no outside help. I know that I will learn much more this time around having become a Turkish-American. As soon as we enter the store, I recognize the store-owner, he verifies that the place I am looking for is indeed his. His wife apparently doesn't need to work in the store any more, the daughters have married and moved away. I notice some nostalgia in his voice and on his face... He is working with "outside help" now. Not having had lunch, we both are all too ready for our treat. I am delighted to discover nothing has changed with his ice cream, it is still the best of its kind. If one has to go to Ortaca, Roma Ice cream is the place to see, even if you have only 15 minutes.  

The funniest, self-explanatory picture I took in Turkey was this, a dog looking into a veterinary clinic!
The second goal of my visit to Ortaca is to visit its huge farmer's market held on Fridays (we learned from residents in Dalyan). Sure enough, I find beautiful cotton textile at the market, made by women from the villages as well as copper artifacts for multipurpose use. Knowing that I will have very little time to shop for gifts for my people in the USA, I buy lots of goods to take back home at the market. We also replenish our fruit reserves with more fresh figs and peaches. By the end of my trip, I will have eaten close to 4 kgs (more than 8 pounds) of fresh figs. In August, in Turkey, there is nothing better than fresh figs, at least 2inches in diameter, each, and peaches. I recall affectionately an American family I met on a plane about 5-6 years ago, who were going to Bursa, the home of best peaches in Turkey, just to have peaches there! I am not that foody, but, if I come close to a place where best of something is available, I will take the extra inch to try it. And I did a lot of it during this trip in Turkey. My brother stops by another pastry shop to get a very special dessert, called "sarma", which is the most favorite one for both of us. It is a version of baklava, better known in the west. However, to make sarma, each filo dough is layered with ground pistachio and pistachio oil along with butter and rolled into ½ inch diameter, then cut into 2 inch-long pieces before treating them with syrup. No wonder I will gain three pounds before I leave Turkey and will have to exercise like crazy for a month after I return to Iowa City! All in all, it is another fantastic day that I will top with swimming in the lake in front of the hotel again. Tomorrow will be our last day. We don’t exactly know what we will do, probably will take it easy by taking one of the shuttle boats to Dalyan beach and enjoy both the Mediterranean and the lake alternatingly.

Another spectacular sunset before our eyes in Dalyan