Country Folk

Middle East » Turkey » Black Sea » Safranbolu
October 18th 2011

Published: October 20th 2011

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Built during the 17th century as a stopping point along the trade route to the Black Sea coast, Safranbolu lies within a deep ravine of the Tokatlı mountains. Although the town now boasts running water and electricity, there is nothing modern about it. The buildings are made from sun-dried mud bricks and wood, varying in condition from crumbling to perfectly restored. Toilets are hidden in cupboards, and houses come equipped with revolving cupboards (allowing women to prepare meals unseen). The town is known for its handmade textiles and sweet shops – and the people who live here are even sweeter than the lokum they sell.

After only half a day, it felt like I already knew the entire village. The taxi drivers who had helped me the previous night, waved in warm recognition. An old man selling lokum (Turkish delight) plied me with samples of every flavor, while he talked my ear off. Everyone had something to say, as if I understood.

At one point, I stepped into a little shop for a hot cup of tea. An old woman knelt in the corner rolling out a large lump of dough. She smiled, her eyes disappearing into folds of

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skin, and pointed at the now paper-thin circle of dough, “Turkish mantı,” she told me. She cut the dough into about 100 square –inch pieces, smeared each with a dab of ground beef, and then pinched them into a four-cornered lump. At every step of the process, she’d look at me, point at her work and declare again, “mantı.” I found out when I passed a restaurant with a picture menu, that mantı is Turkish ravioli, naturally served with yogurt instead of tomato or alfredo sauce. When I left, I decided to try out one of my newly acquired Turkish words, “Hoşçakal,” which is how a person leaving says goodbye. I was thrilled when the whole room replied, in unison, “Güle güle.”

With more than half the day left, I decided to go the Bulak Mağarasi caves, eight kilometers outside of town. A dolmuş (minibus) got me most of the way there, then I set out on foot through mountains sprinkled with the colors of fall and grapevines shriveled by the cold. I walked for close to an hour without seeing anyone, when an old, red pick-up came bouncing down the dirt road. It stopped just past me and

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an even older woman stepped out, beckoning for me to come. She helped me up into the cab and sat down beside me. The late afternoon sunlight turned the smooth wrinkles of her face into deep canyons as she jabbered away, thrilled to have me next to her. She continually bent over to pat my knee, breaking out in hysterical laughter and revealing her mostly toothless gums. They dropped me off at the cave entrance, and disappeared into the hills. The next morning, I saw the same woman in the grocery store. She literally jumped with joy and ran over to grab my shoulders. Yes, Istanbul wins the prize for friendliest city-dwellers, but you just can’t beat the charm of country folk.

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