basting away in turkey
May 30th, 2009 | Written by hurricanic
Currently, Curtis, Annie, and myself are wearing my newly purchased şalvar and dancing around their apartment. That’s right. I bought three pairs. It will only be a matter of a week before the two lucky recipients of said souvenir will have their lives (and wardrobes) forever changed. (Sorry they’ve been worn already.)
My morning started today with a personal tour from Curtis of the downtown area of Adana called çarşı (pronounced “Char-sha”). There we saw many fascinating things. We started by seeing a local mosque called yağ camii (pronounced “Ya Jamee” – meaning “The Oil Masque). This mosque used to be a church and has since been converted, seeing as 99% of Turkey’s population is Muslim. A nice man sweeping outdoors invited me and Curtis inside. This was new to both of us, as Curtis has only been outside until now. Like I’ve said before, I’m a pretty big deal around here. Our friend then showed us around, showing us the space, and even gave me some prayer beads. This was pretty significant seeing as I’m a woman, and typically it’s only the men in Turkey who use them in the mosque.
We left the mosque and headed in to shop a bit. First, for the şalvar, the most important of my purchases. I really had a hard time not walking out with 86 pairs knowing all of you would be better people if you had a pair, but I’m pretty sure Ahmet, the super dooper helpful store owner, would’ve had a coronary with a sale that high.
We then headed to the meat market – the stinkiest, nastiest place I’ve been in Turkey so far. Rows and rows of meat, just hanging there catching flies and rotting away. Sheep heads, tracheae, lungs, stomachs, livers, tongues…really, any part of the sheep – or cow – was ready for our purchase. One very helpful young man pointed out his product and then realized I was only there to take photos. He asked Curtis to take our picture. And though I’ve learned the lesson already to not make eye contact and smile, today I learned the lesson to walk away from 14-year-old boys and ignore their requests for a photo (even though I’m a big deal and can’t blame them) because I will, in fact, without question, end up getting my hind parts touched. Yes, that’s right, friends…today I had my ass grabbed in a Turkish meat market. Can a vacation get any better than that?
From there we bought an insane amount of dried spices. Don’t worry, I’m going to be able to get them into the states. And then, like a fly to stink, I found my way to the handcrafted jewelry. Ah…jewelry. Along the way, I was able to photograph a group of young women making gözleme (pretty much a quesedilla without the guacamole, sour cream, and salsa).
We headed back to grab Annie and got in the car to head to Mersin, a city on the coast of the Mediterranean. Serendipitously, we ran across a group of villagers washing their rugs in the canal. This pretty much only happens once a year, so Curtis came to a screeching halt, maneuvering quite successfully once again through Turkish traffic. Annie joined me and asked the women if it would be okay for me to photograph them at work. For five hot seconds I enjoyed the moment, believing to be in the midst of something really wonderful…and then their children realized what I was doing. All 20 of them mauled me, desperate to have their picture taken. Like I’ve said…I’m a pretty big deal around here. For 15 minutes or so they smiled and waved and jumped into the river, some stripped down to only their skivvies. And thankfully, with Annie’s very welcomed translation skills, I know that the most pressing question on their young minds was, “Will Obama see these?!?” She assured them that he would, indeed, see and love these photos. I clearly have some work to do upon my return to the states.
We made our way to Mersin and comfortably made ourselves at home on the beach. Our view? Cobalt blue water and the remains of an ancient castle. We watched local kids play in the sand, vendors walk along the shore selling simit transported on their heads, and Turkish men of all sizes swim in their speedos. Ah, the Mediterranean. About a mile off the coast the castle called our names. Curtis and I jumped in, Annie meanwhile guarding the camera gear and snacks. “Have fun stormin’ the castle!” she yelled as we jumped in and we made our way through the cobalt water. She, again, had attempted some expectation management telling me there really wasn’t much to see over there. I, again, told her to shut up. Curtis and I swam, while most paddle boated their way there. Chumps. We were cheered along, people clapping as we approached the castle’s shore. Victory. Until we got on the shore and realized aqua shoes would’ve been nice. We stormed that castle regardless, not letting the rock and glass beneath our feet stop us. Boo-ya. And Annie? Just for the record? That castle kicks butt. Your expectations might be the ones that need to be managed. We swam back just in time to get in the car and catch the beautiful amber light of sunset upon some ancient Roman ruins. Yes. That is in fact how I spent my evening. You?
We found a fantastic restaurant along the water to enjoy some fresh fish before heading back. Curtis wasn’t super excited about us eating fish for dinner. In fact, he suggested Burger King instead. Ironic, we think, that an hour later he choked on a fish bone and still hasn’t managed to dislodge it completely. As soon as this blog entry is posted, we’re going to Google search how to remove a fish bone as the last thing we want is for him to have more reason to not eat fish from now on.
We made our way back to Adana to find the streets a flurry of joy and craziness as Beşiktaş (one of Turkey’s three major soccer teams) had triumphed in a championship game of sorts. I went out on the balcony to take some video and photos to capture the moment, until Annie warned me that sometimes the locals get a little Texas and start shooting off guns in celebration. In all seriousness, people have died from stray bullets from this kind of celebration…so I quickly made myself safe in the furthest room away. The last thing I want is to die wearing a pair of şalvar.
i hope you took lots of pictures of the dead animal parts hanging everywhere for me to see. i love that stuff.
Well….almost a week and no mention of drumsticks. What kind of Turkey is this?