First dental visit. Dr Tunçel doesn't live in the house where his surgery is now, but he was born and grew up in it, along with his three brothers. A lovely man. I'm invited into the room along with J. Not sure I'd have agreed it I'd known it was going to be an extraction. But the dentist is regretful and gentle, and no tears. Appointment for tomorrow to deal with the rest.
We're attracted by the sound of a children's playground, which leads us to the fence of a primary school. Interesting how all school playgrounds sound the same, regardless of the language spoken. Enjoying watching the children playing when a teacher comes over to see us. We're a little apprehensive. Do we look like people of dubious intent? But not a bit of it - he welcomes us and, in full extrovert mode tells us about himself - retiring next year at sixty, working on a PhD in political science, involved in bicommunal cultural projects with people from the South - and the school. The school has students of many national and ethnic backgrounds - it's a peace school - and we love them all. And indeed the children do gather round him affectionately, hugging happily and saying hello to us. We arrange to meet in the morning to chat.
More ruins. Beautiful St George Church. Then a pizza for supper. About seven o'clock and restaurants hoping for stragglers. There are at least five men working in the place, some of them African, though the young man in charge is from Istanbul. Actually African, Asian, and seemingly Middle Eastern workers are quite common in the restaurant business here. Two other patrons. As so often, we feel the slight burden of supporting a business almost unaided. Was it really worth their while staying open another hour in order to sell us a medium veggie pizza and a large bottle of water? Shouldn't we at least have a whisky to help out the lonely man behind the bar?
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