Arriving in Antalya, Zerdalilik
Antalya Travel Blog› entry 1 of 8 › view all entries
Before you read on waiting on something exciting to happen " this blog is more of what I thought and the impressions I have gotten this time.
We did not visit many sights, as I have seen them all before, but stayed mainly in the city itself. I was trying to get somewhat of a feel of what it would be like to live there, to really understand Turkish culture.
After our arrival in
We were lucky to arrive on Monday night, since Tuesday is the PAZAR in “my” corner of
Every time I return to
But, I was talking about going to the Pazar. This time I was walking and wondering how many busses of tourists would already be at the tourist market, I find it interesting to listen to all those different languages and dialects. Since it was still early in the year, I figured there would not be too many " and when I got closer, I saw this big metal wall surrounding a very, very big whole. The market was gone. Completely. Non-existent. Just a very, very large gaping hole. They are now building a mall in the place of the tourist market. Memories of the bus stop that it used to be came to mind. Waiting for the “Dolmus” " a mini bus taxi, while sipping on tea. Times when a tourist was considered a welcome change to everyday routine. When
I am thinking of 48 degrees Celsius in the midst of summer and a picture of people skating in bathing suits or actually laying on the ice for anything cool comes to mind. Great, I think to myself, so nicely traditionally Turkish and how I come here to avoid all this city stuff and I am wondering if I should make my next vacation trip to the
Once I get to the Pazar the gloomy thoughts are gone. People, all kinds of people are running around. They might make the city western, but they will not change the people. I am staring at all the people around me in awe. Now it feels like
So many voices, from everywhere, all trying to sell things. “Bayan (woman) look here, I have apples, nice apples” - “cute kid, cute kid” while pushing a pear in my daughters hand. And they are all pushy. I am starting to think, maybe bumping into each other is considered good manners. And I think of my visit to the
The colors of the fresh fruits are overwhelming to my senses. The purple of the eggplants, the yellow peppers next to their red brothers and green sisters, the yellow lemons, the whole market a colourful picture of nature’s beauty all piled on tables, while their smell mixes with the smell of the spices on the table across from them. And the markettenders that do not own a table simply put their goods on a blanket on the and sell by the plastic cup " or per item. As I am picking up eggs, I wonder if I manage to get them home without breaking, as the lady in salvars (those real colourful very wide Turkish pants " speak with "S" like sh..shalvars) is placing them in a sandwich bag. I think, oh well, when in roman do like the romans and I start bargaining for a pair of jeans for my boy. The clothing is unbelievable cheap, but so is the quality most of the time. Nevertheless, I stand behind some locals, to overhear what they are charged, just to make sure, I am paying a fair price. Even though at a Pazar I seldom get overcharged, once my kids start talking, the prices rise automatically.
I have managed to spend hours, yes, hours at the market and when my arms seemed to get longer and longer from all the goodies I bought, it was time to go back…..grabbing a few odds and ends on the way. As we were of course hungry, I grabbed a few Gözleme to eat when we get home. Interesting thing those gözleme. Two ladies were sitting on the ground preparing them right there. It is a flour tortilla (Mexican tortilla) filled with sheep cheese and parsley.
By the time we walked down the street we were exhausted. How nice to have a coffee on the terrace now, overlooking the yard that had been left to itself for the last few years. Even though Turks enjoy the beauty of nature and the flowers, they are not used to do something for it. Plants are often just planted in old tin cans of olive oil and taking care of a garden is unusual for them. Unless it is edible. And when you do have people that care… well, a friend of the family was taking care of the roses in his garden. When he cut them (as you do with roses) the neighbour complained and asked him to please not cut them. They should grow as Allah would like.
I look at the weed that rises to my knees, the garbage mattress that people dumped off and the flowers that are dead from no water and I wonder if it ever occurs to anybody that Allah actually likes a pretty garden…