Down In The Jungle . .

‘Down in the jungle living in a tent, Better than a pre-fab – NO RENT!’

prefab21 So went the ditty when I was a kid growing up in the late 40s, early 50s. Bombs had wreaked havoc on the property market in the UK and ‘prefabs’ abounded – designed as a temporary solution to the housing crisis, they were still around in a few places when I last visited my childhood haunts a couple of years ago. You may well ask why and the answer is simple – people loved them – and still do!

I only ever experienced them as a visitor, so I have no first-hand anecdotes to pass on. My earliest recollection of home was a converted blockhouse with a flat, concrete roof three feet thick! Windows had been knocked through but the door was still a huge steel affair that clanged like something from a ‘Hammer House of Horror’ movie. Because my parents were near the top of the re-housing list we soon moved into one of the first ‘council houses’ to be built. These days such places are called ‘social housing’ and have a decided stigma attached. Back then they were modern, clean, available for a modest rent, and people were grateful for a decent roof over their heads.

prefab2 ‘Prefabs’ were council owned as well, until Maggie Thatcher sold off social housing in a very successful ploy to convince the working class that they were now ‘home-owners’ and should therefore vote Tory! This is the only reason these little gems survived – those who loved them, now owned them and could not easily be pushed aside for some flash, new shopping mall. Twenty one in original condition on the Excaliber Estate, Catford,South London have been granted Grade 2 Listed Building status. If ‘prefabs’ were people they’d have a huge following on Twitter and Facebook.

Anyway, enough of all that. Time to get to the point.

These days, our local town of Ortaca is a thrusting, bustling and decidedly prosperous looking place; posh, modern apartments and villas abound. So, the story of Mehmet Orhan and his ‘prefab’ needs to be told before ‘the council’ moves in and ‘condemns’ him.

prefab3 As global warming kicks in and average temperatures rise, the prosperous citizens of Ortaca have set about adding their carbon footprint to the whole by purchasing the odd klima (air conditioning) or three. Out in Karaburun Mahallesi Mehmet Bey has ever been one to move with the times. He already has satellite tv and a fine güneş enerji sistem (solar energy hot water), so adding to his creature comforts with a klima was not given a second thought; ‘Every house should have a klima’ he said.

His latest life-style choice has certainly raised his profile in the community with locals and tourists stopping by to photograph the installation. Mehmet Bey obviously loves his home which offers many fiscal advantages over more conventional accommodation. And that brings this story very nicely full circle . .

‘Down in the jungle living in a tent, Better than a pre-fab, NO RENT!

I thought this was a hoot when I first posted it 8.2.2012 – I still do!

Alan in Okçular

ps This was the situation on the Scrapsgate Road, between Halfway and Minster on the Isle of Sheppey just half a mile from where I lived after the East Coast Floods of 1953.

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Posted on March 4, 2018 by Alan

Amasya – Beautiful, Historic, Captivating

Amasya1 Another tale from the log book of the ‘Tardis’; for those who don’t know this amazing machine its name stands for TimeAndRelativeDimensionInSpace. Tardis is a time and dimension machine that appears (literally) for all intents and purpose to be a British Police Call Box circa 1950 – appearances, however, can be very deceptive – but that’s another story.

It is June 2004 as we materialise . . and so to Amasya, where the Sultans of old would send their eldest sons to learn the ropes of state-craft.

amasya2 J had got some info on a pansion that was a restored Armenian merchant’s house, and this is where we are. It is beautiful! My dream home. The bathroom is through one of the wonderfully carved cupboard doors. Honestly! And it is totally modern and functional. We will be exploring the sites tomorrow; meanwhile we both felt a desperate need for a cold beer. That took some finding, I can tell you. Nowhere but nowhere to sit down with a frosted glass of the amber nectar could we find. Began to think the population was made up of Seventh Day Adventists or Wesleyans! Then we discovered a discreet little place where the owner slipped us a pack of five under the counter wrapped in two black plastic bags. Whew! Saved.

amasya3 As we were making our way back to the pansion, we were stopped by what sounded like the Keystone Cops’ sirens. Loads of them! Along came the motorcycle police escorting a convoy led by one of those Disney type trains you see at Margate or Southend. It was full to the brim with little Turks off to become big Turks following some genital mutilation courtesy of Blue Gillette! There must have been at least a hundred or more. All dressed up as little soldiers in blue or white uniforms trimmed with white fur. I expect the fur was to wrap around their . . . Don’t go there, Alan! They were followed by busses crammed full of the proud family members . . . proud family members? Sorry, no pun intended. I bet the young girls were glad they were girls, even if they will have to work all day whilst their old fellows, (Oh dear!) . . are down the coffee house playing cards.

Amasya is a very nice place. The setting is quite something. Originally, the whole town would have fitted into the gorge on either side of the river. Now, of course, it’s spreading itself out over what would have been farmland at either end. It still has a cozy feel to it, especially here in the original bit that contains the old houses, mosques, hamams, etc.

amasya4 We didn’t wake up until eight this morning after our first night in this lovely house. It felt like emerging into a different world – a sort of time warp thing. The room was just catching the sun, which was filtered through the muslin curtains (original copies). It was cool in the room; as is the whole house, no doubt due to the high ceilings and non-concrete construction. That’s something I love about these old houses, the proportions are so . . civilised.

Breakfast in the courtyard, surrounded by the bric-a-brac from years of collecting by the owner. The house is full of old stuff too; it really is a joy to be here.

J and I began our exploration of the town with a wander through the old Ottoman houses on the North side of the river. Some restored; some badly decayed and derelict and a dreamer’s delight. What I could do with one of those, I mean, look at the setting, look at the size of the gardens, look at the potential, look at the cost! Where’s the lottery ticket seller? Some have been beautifully restored, and one is open as a museum house. It is mouth-wateringly gorgeous (in my opinion). They all sit under the cliff face where the tombs of the Pontic kings are carved out of the rock. A bit like Dalyan, just a thousand or so years older. Then on to the town museum, described in our really ancient Lonely Planet guide as a gem amongst provincial museums; and so it proved.

amasya5 We’d almost finished when the cashier came rushing up, pointing at her watch and saying ‘Time, time!’ In Turkish, you understand. We felt inclined to hang it out, but then if I was a poorly paid civil servant, wanting to go to lunch, I’d want the bloody punters to go too! You can still go into the museum gardens, we were told, and as these contain a mausoleum with five desiccated mummies of Mongol big-wigs, we thought we were doing good – getting real value out of our 70p admission fee! We hadn’t reckoned with the other member of the museum staff who wanted his lunch too. Selfish bastard!

We did get to see the mummies though; and J got to comment on the enormous scrotum of the Mongol governor of Amasya circa 1274 AD!! So I went to have a look at his concubine’s . . . Nothing to write home about, bit dried up after eight hundred years!

amasya6 We had a tasty lunch at a locanta in an old Han which has fallen into disrepair. The Han is now occupied by dozens of metal-bashers turning out all sorts of stuff, from scythes to samovars. Then a stroll to an old medrese or religious seminary with a splendid entrance way that is now used as a conservatoire for the town and province. We were invited to sit and rest and enjoy an impromptu music performance. There was also a marbling artist (ebru) working and displaying her stuff. As we were leaving we were grabbed and taken to a locked room to see their collection of old musical instruments. Being obvious foreigners has its advantages!

Next was the tortuous drive up to the castle that overlooks the town. Once we’d left the car, I was glad to find my heart was still in good nick as we made the final scramble over rocks and scree to the top. What a view!

Must just go back in time to when we’d just left the museum. We were walking along the street when this smiling young man came up to us, and in very broken English, seemed to indicate that he knew us. We were a bit nonplussed. We tried to find out where we’d met, without success. Then he said ‘English, English?’, we agreed that was what we were. ’I love you!’ he said, clasping me to his bosom. ‘I hope not’ said I, ‘this sort of thing is not done in public!’ His eyes opened wide and he hurried away. Was it something I said?

Our evening meal was at the Town Club overlooking the river, where we were a bit of an attraction. At one point all of the staff were hovering around our table as we set about ordering our meal of river catfish (delicious) and the only bottle of wine in the house (TL28,000,000 – 2004, remember). Total bill . . TL51,000,000 which means the meal was a damn sight less than the bottle – mind you, it was really not a bad drop of stuff!

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This has been an enjoyable couple of days out of our journey to Erzurum. We’ve hit the town at a good time as it’s their festival week, which commemorates a speech that Ataturk made here that proclaimed the campaign for the foundation of the Republic. There’s music and mass circumcisions to be enjoyed, and after our meal we were drawn by the wonderful wail of the zourna to the main square. It was great; wild Turkish folk music and the local men strutting their stuff, and do they know how to strut! A fitting close to our first visit to this lovely town of Amasya.

It’s been a delight re-reading and re-posting this ramble 2.2.2012

Alan in Okçular Köyü

Posted on March 4, 2018March 4, 2018 by Alan

Hattuşuş – Capital of the Hittite Empire

Here we are, embarking on another journey through time, aboard the ‘Tardis’. On this adventure we head back to 2004 and a trip J and I made to Erzurum Province. One of the places we dipped into on route was at Boğazkale, site of the ancient Hittite capital of Hattuşuş. Join us as we wander around this amazing place . .

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We arrived at the site pretty early in the morning – so early, in fact, that the guardian was nowhere to be seen. As the gates were open we drove in and followed the road as it curved around and climbed the hill that dominates the remains of the city. The view from the top puts the size of the place into perspective – it is vast! It also meant that we had the pleasure of watching the poor guardian, who had seen us enter whilst still eating his breakfast, racing along the roads to try and find us and ensure we paid the entrance fee.

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The Hittite Empire once challenged both the Assyrian and Egyptian empires, controlling huge areas of Anatolia and northern Syria; and the scale of their capital city is awe inspiring. Huge earthworks, faced with millions of cut stone blocks, stretch for about 5 miles and literally changed the landscape! (A bit like Kent after the Channel Tunnel went through!) Originally eight tunnels or posterns, ranging from 70-120 mts in length, led through this massive fortification. These days only one is accessible and walking through the narrow, triangular, dry-stone construction left us very aware of all the tons of ramparts above us.

At the top is the much-photographed Lion Gate; what you see today is a reproduction, the original being in Ankara. The site really is ‘monumental’ with amazing reliefs of gods and kings and fantasmagorical beasts. The place was known as the City of a Thousand Gods for a good reason!

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An additional bonus for me was that our visit was in Spring for Central Anatolia and the whole site, not to mention all the roadside verges, in fact everywhere is a botanist’s wet dream come true. I could have spent days just taking pics of flowers, so many and so beautiful! Another time.

hattusus4 A quick drive along the processional way from Hattuşuş and we were at the sacred site of Yazilikaya where two small ravines contain the pantheon or temple site that has relief carvings of all (it is claimed) of the Hittite gods and goddesses. Here we were accosted by the inevitable ‘student of history who just happens to be staying with his brother who carves stone replicas, but didn’t want any money’ chap. He seemed pretty disappointed when his job description was proved correct!

hattusus5 Then we were off to the place described as the most important Hittite site – Alacahöyük. Amazing finds were made here back in the 1930s when a bunch of royal burial chambers were excavated.You’d have to go to Ankara to see real things, but we were told that the site museum contained loads of other stuff as well as very convincing replicas of the original finds. The site is a bit of a detour to get to along pretty duff roads, so you can imagine our delight to find that the place had been closed since 2001 for ‘restoration’. Restoration my arse! I was pretty miffed to be charged TL4 million (2004, remember those days?) to view some supposed Winged Lions etc that turned out to be made of crumbling concrete!! The highlight of the site was a rusty old miner’s tilting trolly on six feet of rusting track! Burası Türkiye! This is Turkey!

Alan in Okçular Köyü

Posted on March 2, 2018March 3, 2018 by Alan

Mister Bird

Little-Owl — Little Owl checking out the goings-on in the spare bedroom

My fellow villagers are a funny old lot – farmers almost to a man (or woman) and mostly country born and bred. Even so, when I ask them what that is – indicating a dragonfly or cricket – ‘Böcek!’ (insect) they exclaim. And that? (a beetle) ‘Böcek!’

It’s the same with birds – what do you call that? (jay) ‘Kuş!’ (bird) And that? (robin) ‘Kuş!’ There are few exceptions and this continues to astound me, even after 20 years.

When I was a kid growing up in the countryside we bumpkins knew the names of every reptile, insect and bird species whose eggs we plundered for our collections (do be forgiving, nobody had heard of environmentalism back then; this was how it was!). Many of the creatures were known by their local name – it was years before I realised that a ‘Throssle’ was a Song Thrush. Here in Okçular there doesn’t seem to be the same interest, a böcek is a böcek and a kuş is a kuş – what else do you need to know?

Mind you, there is one particular exception, ‘Baykuş’ or Mister Bird. Mister Bird is an owl, which is a dignified and appropriate term of address for a most dignified and intelligent looking creature.

Owls are not let off the ‘böcek’ or ‘kuş’ hook entirely. There are Little Owls, Scops Owls, Tawny Owls and other owls – but they are, to a bird, all labelled with the same monika – ‘Baykuş’ – Mister Birds to a man (or woman).

Turks are also a bit superstitious about owls, seeing them as bringers of bad luck – harbingers of doom and such. All of which causes our neighbours some consternation because for a number of years we’ve had a beautiful Tawny Owl living in one of our chimney pots. Not only consternation but incredulity that we are happy about it! In fact, we give off so many happy vibes that, a few winters ago a second Tawny moved into an adjacent condo – two down, two to go! We also get visits from Little Owls and Scops Owls.

Living where we do at the edge of the forest, without street lights (another source of neighbourly worry and consternation) and other distractions, we can sit outside or lie abed and listen to these beautiful creatures calling and answering each other. When the stars are out or the moon is high they add extra enchantment to an already spellbinding experience.

Soon after we moved here, J was driving home quite late one evening and had stopped the car just outside our gate. I went out to see what the problem was and was treated to the most fantastic sight – standing in the beam of the headlights was an enormous bird – an Eagle Owl! J’s nose was glued to the windscreen watching this magnificent creature from just a few metres away. The owl sat there for a while before gathering itself and lifting off silently and disappearing into the night like something returning to another dimension. This is the only Eagle Owl I’ve been fortunate enough to see here – the experience is burned into my memory banks.

I don’t have any photos of that night, so we must make do with these stock images.

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Eagle Owl threatening dire consequences for hacking it off!

Alan Fenn, Okçular Köyü

Posted on March 2, 2018 by Alan

Aezani – The Temple of Zeus and a ‘Lost World’

I suspect that most people drive through Çavdarhisar and barely notice; it is, after all, a pretty nondescript dot on the map on the road to or from Kütahya about 60km southwest of that town. If you take the time, turn off the main road, and follow the signs for about 1 km you’ll arrive at the site of the Roman city of Aezani.

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Aezani is spread out over a vast area each side of the road, but it is the Temple of Zeus built by Hadrian in 125 AD that dominates the site. Said to be the finest surviving example this temple to the ‘God of Gods’ is truly impressive with an immense underground vault or sanctuary dedicated to Cybele whose well preserved bust stands at the foot of the temple mound.

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Imposing as Aezani is, it is not what fascinates me and draws me back from time to time. My interest lies in the ‘village’ of Çavdarhisar that lies between the main road and the historic site. As you arrive at the site, roads either side of the river lead to a ‘lost world’ of village life and scenes where folks live a very different life-style from what you see around touristic areas – rather than try and describe this world to you I’ll let my inadequate views through my battered old SLR lead you into this world. Perhaps, like me, you will be drawn back again and again . .

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cavda9 — old Roman bridge still in daily use

Cavda10 — mozaic found in a barn in the centre of the village

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Alan Fenn, Okçular Köyü

Posted on March 1, 2018March 1, 2018 by Alan

A Bit Of A Carp

carp1 Having a bit of a carp can feel like a very satisfying thing to do – unless one happens to be on the receiving end when trying desperately to maintain a reasonably positive mental attitude, that is. J and I had a bit of a carp recently whilst we were visiting İznik. Actually, it wasn’t a carp, it was a catfish and a big bugger at that – 65kg! But I digress –

Where was I? Oh, yes! Carping! When we hail from a different culture or country or county we seem to find it easy to have a grumble about ‘them’ when things are going off at a tangent to the direction that we know they are supposed to go. You know what I mean; you’re in a hurry and the road is closed, the diversion sets you off in the opposite direction and then the signs run out! The man said he was definitely coming tomorrow (İnşallah!), you waited in and he never showed! That expensive DVD player went wrong the day after the guarantee expired and the bloke shrugged his shoulders and pointed at the latest model! ‘Never like this back home!’ you grumble, ‘we had rights!’ ‘Everything was much more organised back home in . .!’ you carp.

Been there – done that – got the bloody tee-shirt that dissolved the first time it was washed in that BEKO (made in China like all the rest) washing machine! So here I offer you an uplifting little true story about the stupid way they do things in this arse-about-face adopted country of ours – are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin;

I have a very dear and courageous friend from my village by the name of Gülay. Gülay is engeli – disabled/differently-abled, or, according to the sign that used to be on the toilet block at Ephesus – ‘Defective’! I’m deadly serious, that’s what it said. Anyway, after the accident 11 years ago that left her paralysed from the chest down, Gülay taught herself to paint and these days she is pretty, bloody good at it! She loves to do portraits and the like and would dearly love to earn her living from doing these some day – meanwhile she creates beautiful and original gifts using stones, tins, buckets, jars etc. Gülay is anything but ‘Defective’!

bucket1 Earlier this year she contacted a company in İzmir which produces really nice enamelled buckets in various sizes. She explained her situation and what she did with them – next thing she knew a huge box full of various sizes and colours of buckets arrived at her house together with a note from the proprietor wishing her well and offering the assorted items as a gift. Gülay was stunned and did a bit of crying. She painted up a few buckets and sent them back as a thank you to the ‘stranger’ in İzmir who had ‘not walked by on the other side’. A fellow human being who thanked his own lucky stars and decided to share a little of his own good fortune.

Today, she rang J and me and she was in tears again – we had just been to visit her with another friend to make arrangements with her to exhibit at the Çaliş Christmas Fair next month. After we left a cargo truck arrived with another great box full of buckets together with a note from her ‘Good Samaritan’ in İzmir saying that he often thinks about her and wanted to support her efforts to be productive and independent.

Makes you think, doesn’t it? Next time I’m tempted to carp about crap (interesting that the same letters make two negative words that have the same meaning) service/system/bureaucratic balls/etc I’ll reflect that our Turkish hosts have a lot more to teach us than we have to teach them; including the fact that when it comes to carping, the very best carp kebaps can be found in İznik!

first published on Archers 4.11.2011

Alan Fenn, Okçular Köyü

Posted on February 28, 2018February 28, 2018 by Alan

İznik; Tiles and Tranquility

The tourism Mecca of Dalyan lies just 10 minutes down the road from Okçular. Dalyan is steeped in history and is set on a canvas of outstanding natural beauty with a beautiful lake on its doorstep.

İznik lies just south of İstanbul, about 2 days drive from Okçular (we always take the scenic route over the mountains). İznik too is steeped in history and sits at the edge of a large and beautiful lake.

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There the similarities end; Dalyan town itself is bereft of charm; there is little to appeal to the eye with concrete villas set in their 500 cubic metre plots. The tea garden trees are dying, everywhere is paved with blocks that radiate the sun’s heat and graceful, old eucalyptus trees, which may not have been native but gave welcome dappled shade and ‘texture’ to the town centre were cut down and ghastly, out of place palm were planted.

In contrast, İznik feels and looks like a Turkish town; İznik has retained its trees and İznik has not fallen into the trap of paving everything in sight. The promenade area is grassed with little man-made promontaries and islands reaching into the lake. The whole feel of the town is of quiet gentility.

J and I have just returned from a trip to the province of Karabük in the north of the country. On the way home we diverted to spend a little time in İznik and we were both taken with the place – it is a really nice town.

Originally named Nicaea by the Greeks, it served as the interim capital city of the Byzantine Empire between 1204 and 1261, following the 4^th Crusade in 1204, until the recapture of Constantinople by the Byzantines in 1261. Much of the original defensive walls still stand along with 2 imposing gates. The city and national authorities are carrying out restorations of old mosques, churches and hamams to the highest aesthetic standards using real craftsmen to do the jobs.

iznik2 With the fall of Constantinople in 1453, the town lost a great degree of its importance, but later became a major centre with the creation of a local faïence pottery-making industry in the 17th century (known as the İznik Çini, Çin meaning China in Turkish – Chinese porcelain stood in great favour with the Sultans.) İznik tiles were used to decorate many of the mosques in İstanbul designed by Mimar Sinan. Attempts to recreate the perfection and colours of the early pottery glazes have proved elusive. As an aside, one of my prized possessions is an original İznik bowl; although slightly chipped the (hazardous) cobalt blue of the glaze can be found in no pieces other than these originals.

I like İznik; it makes a great staging post for exploring the area or as a stop-over to or from İstanbul. Its true value is as a gentle, relaxing place to spend time replenishing the inner self, wandering back streets, searching out the surprises (see below) and enjoying the finest catfish kebap to be found anywhere in Turkey.

A few impressions to be going on with:

iznik4 — the quality of restoration is outstanding

iznik5 — the mighty northern Istanbul gate

iznik6 — the scary sight that awaits those entering the Istanbul gate

iznik7 — would you want to mix it with these jokers?

iznik9 — . . can you work out what this is?

iznik10 — admit it, you’re amazed to see it’s an electricity sub-station

iznik11 — the back view of the triumphal march

iznik12 — part of the extensive defenses

Alan Fenn, Okçular Köyü

Posted on February 28, 2018 by Alan

Impressions Backstreet Backdrops in Safranbolu

A few personal impressions of a beautiful town – away from the noise and fumes of traffic; and not a tourist to be found anywhere. You might also enjoy this humorous observation of this unique UNESCO World Heritage City.

Alan Fenn, Okçular Köyü

saf1 — some of the many charming shops behind the restored kervansaray

saf4 — . . and all about the house not a creature stirred; not even a little mouse

saf6 — . . dreaming of a lost past or a future revival?

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saf9 — . . a Turkish tradition being kept alive

Posted on February 27, 2018 by Alan 2

Invasion Of The Body-Snatchers

The beautiful and historic town of Safranbolu in Karabük Province is the scene of truly mysterious goings-on. I am convinced that Turks who visit the place are being abducted – ‘vanished’ into thin air, or even beamed up to orbiting spacecraft.

I’m not joking, this is deadly serious! Consider the facts: there are hardly any Turks to be seen anywhere on the streets as dusk falls and night closes in. A few individuals can be seen peering from the doorways of houses, hotels and shops as they anxiously scan the streets. What or who are they looking for? What or who are they afraid of?

On our last evening in the town we secretly captured the evidence of Aliens disguised as South Koreans and Taiwanese tourists searching the streets with their hand-held ‘Turktectors’. These Aliens patrol in pairs and some even go mob-handed as they rush from place to place pointing their devices at buildings, into windows and doorways. J and I were scanned on numerous occasions – whilst eating, entering our hotel and whilst sitting enjoying a quiet beer in the deep evening shadows.

These devices must have some seriously advanced technology or work at the extreme ends of the visual spectrum because my own fairly new camera was struggling to capture enough light even at the highest ISO settings. The Aliens, on the other hand, seemed to have no such problems.

I know many of you will think that I’m making all this up; that I’m some deranged ‘conspiracy theory’ nutter, but I’m not. Here is the rather grainy but un-PhotoShopped evidence – now tell me there aren’t advanced civilisations out amongst the stars or even a fifth dimension. How else to explain those missing Turks!

snatch4 — Jeez, they’ve spotted me – the garlic yoghurt is my last line of defense

Alan Fenn, Okçular Köyü

Posted on February 27, 2018 by Alan 1

Tripping In Amasra

‘Amasra. Oh! you must see Amasra.’ ‘Amasra is beautiful!’ Amasra is this; Amasra is that! So, today we went to Amasra; it was a very interesting day out.

The drive over the mountains from Safranbolu is a real delight that should be sampled at a gentle pace, if for no other reason than much of the road has not been improved – yet! The scenery is so different from what we are used to in SW Turkey; here the woods are mostly mixed with coniferous and deciduous trees vying with each other for space and colour. There was one long section in particular that was just splendid with the road covered by a tunnel of cınar (Oriental Plane), dappled by the greens and yellows and browns of Autumn. Sugar loaf hay ricks were scattered all over the place and ‘Heidi’ houses clung to the steep hillsides.

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The drop down to Amasra gives great views but few safe places to stop and admire them as you ride the switchback into town. With its two harbours either side of a narrow peninsular and a narrow bridge to an island that is home to more of the town as well as the castle, the setting is beautiful as well as unique. We were there late in the season so there were few tourists about and although the town gives the impression of making few concessions to tourism the shaded pedestrian area near the centre gives the lie to that with the streets lined with small shops all selling the same ghastly tat from China.

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Lunch was a delight taken at a small harbourside restaurant. Coming from Muğla we struggle to find fresh hamsi (sardines) so that was our choice and what arrived at table was a great plateful together with a huge and imaginatively presented salad; all for just TL10 a head! Cheap at twice the price!

amasya3 Later we wandered the island part of town and J managed to sneak in some ‘Brownie Points’ as we trekked to the lighthouse at the highest point – just like the castle at Afyon, it was worth the effort for the all-round view as well as our constitutions.

We drove home the long way round by heading West towards Zonguldak before turning South and up a long climb through a river valley that leads, literally, into the arse-end of Karabük. I’ll come to that in a minute, first I want to comment on the railway that climbs up the same valley – sometimes on the same side as the road, sometimes clinging to the vertical rock face the other side of the valley and sometimes disappearing for miles into tunnels before reappearing. What a feat of engineering, and what a sight it must have been when steam engines, often in fours, hauled the huge lines of coal-laden trucks up to the steel works at Karabük, 1300mts above sea level.

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Anyway, back to Karabük and its arse-end. As we arrived at the edge of town the diversions began and then continued into the centre. Road works were everywhere and as is often the case the diversion signs soon disappeared, never to return. It was chaos – bedlam – road rage and stupidity all rolled into one great mess! We got drawn into the gyrations and once in could find no way out. Eventually J nobbled four Zabita guys to get help – go across here one said and around there – but that’s against the traffic flow in a single lane – no problem said he, no police – and he was right, it worked like a dream and after 45 minutes of frustration we were back on track in about 3 – ‘Burası Türkiye!’ ‘This is Turkey!’

A few images to finish off:

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