. . an appropriate title for a trip back in time to 2004. J and I were on one of our periodic wanderings around the east of the country; Erzurum in general and the ‘almost’ town of Çat in particular. ‘Almost’, because the place is only about the size of a village and had to be twinned with another village a few kilometres away to qualify as a town. The photos left give you a good idea of how ‘basic’ the place is.
Before I get back to the appropriateness of the title, 
here’s some background. We were there visiting our ‘son’ who was the resident kaymakam with responsibility for an area covering some 30 villages. One of the splendid bonuses on these trips is getting to ‘shadow’ him as he goes about his daily tasks and visits to outlying parts of his ‘empire’.
So it was that we were on our way to a village, where there was a project to raise the status and 
earning ability of many of the young women by teaching them skills to do with machine embroidery. There was to be an exhibition and a presentation of certificates and, of course, the inevitable speeches.
Our official car was followed by a convoy of minibuses filled with bureaucrats; most were happy to get some time away from the office, but there were a fair number who were decidedly glum-looking. Knowing the attitude of many of these pen-pushers towards those they consider a lower form of life; our man had instituted a programme that demanded all managers attend any function of this type where they were required to smile and be nice to the people/natives.
In the centre of the village we were met by the muhtar and his delegation – not a woman was to be seen apart from J who is usually deferred to as an honorary man on these occasions. We were escorted to the education building where the young ladies and their teacher, along with all their proud mums, were gathered. The young ladies were dressed in their conservatively elegant ‘Sunday best’, and looked splendid!
Our man’s speech was radical to say the least; he informed the ladies and their men-folk that women were the equal of any man, not least because the Republic said it was so. He also encouraged them to use their new skills to create some financial independence. There was much mumbling by the men and much giggling behind hands by the ladies!
The presentations were made with all of the ‘protokol’ (including J and me) required to take our turn. You could see the reluctance of some bureaucrats to demean themselves (except the boss was watching), until that is, it was time for the group photo.
The protokol, as is their wont, rushed to the front, smoothing their hair and adjusting their suits, in the process hiding the stars of the day completely! That was too much for J who set about organising the group and, with one persistent exception, bringing the young ladies to the front – possibly a first for Turkey!
Photos done, it was time to view the exhibition of the students’ work and we trooped into the display. A picture is worth a thousand words so I’ll let some photos speak for what we saw; suffice to say that my reaction was to grin like a Cheshire Cat – it had that kind of effect!
At one point this young girl brought the room to silence as she sat and sang to us; her voice, I remember, was quite something! ‘Silver Threads and Golden Needles . .’
Alan in Okçular
Sometimes, living as we do in a country stuffed full of biological, historical and geographical gems, a land so overflowing with wonderful, wondrous superlatives, we forget to look around our own ‘backyards’. If you live by the junction of the A303 and A360 trunk roads in Wiltshire (UK), I bet that it wouldn’t take long before you wouldn’t even notice that Stonehenge was there!!
Çandır was one of the first places J and I considered when we were searching for a place to call home here in Turkey. It was Christmas Day 1996 when we arrived, shaken and bruised from a grinding drive along broken tracks (it would be several years before anything remotely resembling a road broke through to the village), and we were ready for something to eat and a glass of tea. This photo is of the original road in to the village.
Göle is a rather grubby, nondescript little town in Turkey’s Ardahan Province. It was also the scene of a minor revolution that, with a little luck and a fair wind, will have a profound effect on the lives of hundreds of kids.
Kaymakams wield considerable power and control substantial budgets; some use their position to bring real benefits to the areas under their control, whilst a few do little more than collect their monthly pay packets! We have, on numerous occasions, watched ‘our’ man make good on his promise to us that he would always seek to work for the people. We have witnessed countless individuals benefit from acts of relief, and numerous larger projects bring benefits to the wider community. From helping the destitute to setting up an organic food/milk/cheese cooperative; from pioneering environmentally friendly road surfacing (with a South African-Turkish company) to breaking the strangle-hold of monopoly produce buyers; we have seen so much good done.
On their special day, we joined the children, the media and the many members of the inevitable ‘protokol’ for the presentation of the prizes. As happens every day in Ardahan, it rained, which had no effect whatsoever on the proceedings and on the spontaneous street party that erupted.
There is another book project simmering in a recess somewhere in the sponge that passes for my brain. It owes its existence to a chance comment (and later prodding) by a blogger friend from the US – she and her artist husband will collaborate to help pull this whole thing together. The inspiration is a classic book about the back roads of California – I sent for a copy and what arrived is a gem printed on hand-made paper.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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!
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!
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!
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