Safronbolu

From Cappadocia, it was off to Safranbolu, a small very well preserved Ottoman town near the black sea coast, in the north. Stayed here for just one night to connect to my bus to Amasra, a small coastal town. Stayed in a 300 year old house for the night were I met a charming 4 year old boy called Effes, who absolutely haaated tourists because he was always told to be quiet when tourists were staying in the pension… so in the morning when I said hello to him in Turkish, he stomped on my foot! He did it again whilst I was eating my breakfast, then when I tried to engage him with taking his photo and showing him, tickling him or trying to talk in Turkish to him, he was continually sayig “git git” (go away from here) and calling me “pich” which is bastard! His grandmother who was looking after him that day thought he was just delightful and laughed at him fondly as he kicked, punched, scratched me and called me a bastard! What was kind of cute was that he would call me “pich habla” which is ‘bastard big sister” .. Habla means ‘oldest sister’ and absolute respect for older women, like calling someone ‘aunty’. SO .. we told by his proud grandmother that Efes would kick and attack tourists in the street, ones that weren’t even stayin in his house! I have to say, that young boys in Turkey are not discouraged from using violence in any shape or form.. you seen them frequently dressed up in play army clothes and carrying pretend machine guns .. I guess in a country which still enforces a years service in the army, its not that surprising. On that note, on one of the busses from Safranbolu to Amasra (it was 9 tiring local bus changes over 12 hours to Amasra), we realized it was the time of the year when there was an intake of recruits going off to the army for their forced year in the ‘service’. I was sitting on the window seat of the bus waiting to head off and watched as several young men/boys got onto the bus parked next to ours, a couple of them tossed into their air by their friends and relatives, and all of them had their families (about 20 or so relatives there per boy) to clap them onto the bus, women crying, mothers hugging and crying and desperately sobbing in their hands as their sons got on the bus, some of them crying too. One scene which was particuarlly heart wrenching was the sight of one boys little sisters, about 5 years old, standing outside the bus underneath her brothers window seat, waving and crying non stop for about 5 minutes … her little hand and arm was getting tired and sore and her wave slowed down to a very verrrrry slow little wave of her hand… of course I was in tears watching all this emotion, and as their bus pulled away from the park, the boys’ families walked along side the bus, cheering, clapping and crying… particuarlly the mums. Was really hard to see, mostly because of the fact that they had no choice but to go and must have been so scared, nervous .. every emotion I would guess. From here it is off north to the small coastal town of Amasra. Pics - from the top - a very common sight in Turkey, men sitting aroud playing backgammon and drinking tea!, A baker who wanted an action shot! A shot of the washing from a Hammam (a turkish bath house), next two just of old Ottoman buildings, a couple shots of my little mate Effes and a couple shots of the inside of the room I stayed in in the 300 year old house.