Hello Tlell, hope you had a great time at Thanksgiving! Say hi to Rex too. We are on our way back to Istanbul this evening, arriving tomorrow morning at 7:00. This is the latest instalment of the Turkey journals…glad you are enjoying them.

October 15

We have returned from the farthest point of our journey and are now back in the village of Goreme. We were so comfortable here the first time that we have decided to come back to relax for a few days. Our cave was still vacant, so we have settled in and last night slept like a couple of bears. Besides being back in beer country…the rules around Ramazan are a bit looser the further west we come…the simple pleasures that we are now enjoying include being able to do laundry in a washing machine. We dropped off our things at the village barber shop this morning and now during our afternoon stroll, we can see our knickers and jeans flapping in the Capadoccian breeze above his shop. Up to now we have been washing our things in the tiniest bathroom sinks imaginable. Randy has a different technique that he says has worked wonderfully for him every other trip too…he takes his clothes into the shower with him and scrubs them there. I have yet to give it a try. Personally I have found that the plastic garbage cans in the hotel room work wonderfully well as a clothes-wash tub…

The bathroom themselves are wee things…the toilet, sink and shower usually share the same 4×4 foot space. No bother with shower curtains, the shower head pokes out from the wall and the whole room gets a good hosing down as you bathe…just have to remember to put the toilet paper outside before you start.

Since the last email we toured Dyarbakir for the rest of the day, and then hiked back out to the bus station where we had left our packs. Part of me wondered if our things would still be there. Of course they were! Front and centre beside the TV. All the bus drivers, waiting passengers, shoe-shine boys had been watching them for us all day.

Since we had a few hours yet before the overnight bus back to Goreme, we decided to have a bite to eat at a humble, but somehow inviting, cafe across the street from the bus station. Bus station neighborhoods are the same here as in Canada. I think it was the string of colored Christmas lights stretching from the porch to the melon wagon that drew us in…but I also think it was something more powerful than that…because a half an hour later I think I looked into the eyes of a saint.

 While eating our meal, a crowd of young boys about 10 – 12 years old cameI counted 9. Besides the shabby clothes and dirty faces, the blackened hands gave them away…shoe-shine boys; homeless kids. There are many in the city of Dyarbakir. Many families fled the countryside during the last few decades because of the skirmishes between the Kurdish separatists and the army. Nothing much for these farming families in the city and many of them have become very poor. Anyway, these boys arranged themselves at two of the tables and plates of rice and tomato sauce were brought out for them as well as several heaping baskets of pita. They smiled and nodded and asked “What is your name?” and then laughed uproariously as some tried to pronounce ‘Randy’…they had no trouble with “Monika”. As they were eating, outside in front of the window of the cafe, on the porch, the owner had begun to perform his evening prayers. He was a dark, well-built man about 40 or so. He raised his arms upward, bowed, knelt and put his head to the ground. He repeated this several times. He then looked into to the window at the boys and nodded toward each one.. and toward us. Finished his prayers, he stood up and set the wooden board aside that he had used as his prayer mat and came inside. The boys had eaten, they said their goodbyes to him and to us and left, disappearing into the dark. We were ready to go as well. As we paid for our meal we teased the owner saying that he was fortunate to have many sons. “No” he says with a hearty laugh “they are not my sons”, and then quite proudly says “but they are all going to school”. It became clear that this man has taken nine boys under his wing! He feeds them and makes sure they go to school. (Lord knows where they sleep…) Now if he isn’t a saint…I will always remember those soft eyes beneath those bushy black eyebrows and that gentle face…and…his kebaps were the best we’d eaten! We have met such wonderful people here. The country has its problems, the literacy rate, homelessness, health care, women’s rights, pollution, government graft etc…that’s the downside, but I prefer to talk about that when I can talk at length instead of writing. Which I will no doubt do when I get home…very soon. Miss you so much!

Love Mom and Dad.