Market Day

It is 5 miles down to Pazar and its open Market, open once a week. Unfortunately Sunday’s isn’t a good day to hitchhike, but the weather was good so neither I nor Steve minded. The Trek started off interestingly with an encounter with the local shepherd. He was straight out of Ernest Hemmingway, cheque shirt, corduroy trousers held up my some hold hemp rope. A cloth sack tied across his back and thick Mediterranean skin which aged him way beyond his years, topped off with a flat cap and ancient shot gun. We gestured to take his photo and I clicked a couple of frames. Steve recommended it would be polite to give him some money, unfortunately all I had was 25cents or 5 Turkish Lira, one nothing and the other far too much. He waved his hands and picked up a stick and wrote Tarkin in the dirt, gesturing he indicated it was his name. He followed this with his address up the road in Geyikbayiri and that we should post the photo to him. So please someone remind me to post the photo to this charming relic of another time.

Goat Herder

Hitchhiking to Pazar wasn’t too bad, we only had to walk for 20 minutes and two cars before a pickup truck pulled over and we joined four German climbers for the ride. The market was mainly fruit and vegetables, with the odd goats udder crammed with Feta Cheese. Between market stalls families work around clay ovens producing Gosleme, the Turkish version of Crepes. One lady cut the dough in round lumps, a second and third rolled this into a very fine circle then filled this with your choice of fillings; either feta and herbs, mince and herbs, spinach or another cheese and herbs. Once this was folded and sealed into the middle it was toasted on the clay oven. Alternatively a thicker dough made a pizza with the same fillings sealed into the middle. This was all washed down with a pot of tea.

Lunch beıng made

The one thing that strikes you about the Market and so far Turkey is how friendly everyone is. This must be the most friendly country I have every visited. At the Market everyone was helping us with our translations and orders for Fruit and Vegetables. No one hassled us, everyone was more than happy for me to take photos. Although lunch proved difficult with the language barrier, a local was found who could speak English to help translate. All this with lifts being freely available a trip to the market every Sunday is looking a likely occurrence.
The other thing that strikes you at the market is the two cultures living so comfortably beside each other. The older more conservative generation, with their head scarves, often working in the restaurants rolling the dough, would mingle freely with the younger generation in their jeans and t-shirt. Everyone was in perfect harmony and finished with a hours stroll back up hill to burn off the tea buzz and Gosleme the trip was over.

The Market