Day twenty of my Turkish adventure, the day before Halloween, and the week of warned doom in the U.S. I listened to the BBC today and heard Attorney General Ashcroft's warnings regarding potential attacks this week... And although Pakistan is in a bit of chaos and of course Afghanistan continues to crumble, I feel more safe in the Middle East than I would in the land of Anthrax and uncertainty. The Internet has passed rumors of shopping mall attacks on Halloween and now the news is scaring everyone with conjecture of small pox... Turkey seems a long way from the fear, but in reality no distance is a safe distance from the random evil.
It's difficult to switch gears from the problems being reported on the news to the experience I'm enjoying here in Turkey. Today I hopped a bus to the small mountainside town of Sirince and strolled among the red roofed stone houses, the vineyards, and the goat herds. While I can't say the town was untouched by tourism, it was a pleasant contrast from the city of Selcuk that I'd escaped from earlier that morning. Everyone I passed offered a friendly "merhaba" and several invited us in for cay. Although this was still a thinly veiled ploy to sell us a bit of lace, a sprig of Turkish spice, or maybe a taste of local wine it was welcome.
Walking high above the town on a dusty trail we met a gentleman harvesting grapes in his vineyard as the season allowed. A brief chat over shared bunches of sweet green grapes will not soon be forgotten. Further up the trail we duck to the side allowing a herd of goats to pass as the two colorful shepherds guide them along with a mule loaded down with branches (soon to be goat food) down to the village. It wasn't long ago that this village could have existed without currency, without western fashion, and without the littering satellite dishes. Thankfully the older generation slows the progress and the basic needs of the community help maintain the charm for another year.
We visited a school during the children's lunch break... The thirty or so kids, while fascinated with us, seemed content with their lunches and unafraid as two potential kidnappers invaded their school. The imposing statue of Ataturk in the foyer with clear evidence of enshrinement guarded the entry. From there it was over to the old school house (now converted into a fancy hotel) for a quick stolen sip of cherry wine (or was it strawberry?) and then back to the mini-bus for a quick trip down the mountain. In no time we were back in Selcuk among the high-pressure carpet salesmen and the glossy shops of jeannie lamps, blue evil eyes, and miscellaneous tat. The decades of the 80s and 90s gave us a lot, but in exchange for what?
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