Tuesday, November 3/2026

J gives a vicious trimming to the Cape Honeysuckle in the interest of allowing the orange tree more breathing space and access to sunlight and water. Seems a shame as the honeysuckle flowers cheerfully regardless of weather. Does give us a pretty little bouquet for the top of the bookcase though.

And the sad pile of honeysuckle trimmings are next to an orange tree that will now get more light and water.

The honeysuckle will thrive come rain or drought. It’s a survivor like the buddleia but much more loveable.

Take the dolmuş down to Telsim to resurrect our Turkish sim. It isn’t actually dead, fortunately. Only on life support for the Canadian half of the year. We paid a nominal amount - well, think it was nominal - either that or have forgotten the indignation at the amount- in order to maintain the account for six months while not using it. Reviving it requires that I produce my passport - duly photographed - and sign with stylus a signature to be filed electronically with the passport scan. This is a significantly lesser procedure than opening a new account, which included my providing names of both my mother and my father as well as photographic proof of legal status in the country. Did at that time tell the young lady (truthfully) that the paperwork involved exceeded that required from us when applying for visas to enter the old Soviet Union in 1991. 

And the passport? Legally required to be carried at all times - or proof of citizenship for local residents. Not as unusual as it may feel to North Americans. Required in many countries - think France, Germany, Italy, Japan and endless etceteras.

Fairly long wait for return dolmuş, but a reward at the end. The bottle of Moldovan red wine bought at Ileli on spec for 120 lira ($3.43 CAD, £1.79) turns out to be a perfectly drinkable house wine.

Monday, November 2/2026

 

Hadn’t thought the oranges on our tree were quite ready to be picked - and in fact some of them are still on the green side - but the wind had other thoughts and some have landed on our terrace. Not seedless, but nice flavour.

As in last year, the next door neighbour’s orange tree looks much more attractive. Bigger, taller, and with far more plump, bright oranges. Don’t know about the grass being greener on the other side of the fence, but the oranges definitely are oranger. Suspect neighbours of cheating by watering them in the summer, which we can’t do. But still delighted that we have an orange tree.

Sunday, November 1/2026

 Nip down to the little supermarket for a couple of basics and hit it lucky. Simits warm out of the oven. Love simits (first encountered in South Cyprus where they’re called koulouri). Sesame studded and best straight from the oven. Turkish schoolboy slang uses simit as a euphemism for zero, as in “Terrible test - got a simit”.

Not easy taking a photo of one before someone has had a bite.

Produce section looking like there’s been a recent delivery. No idea what the schedule is - nothing we’ve been able to predict. Note a couple of ginormous pumpkins cum squash. Have seen large squash here before but they’re enormous were long and yellow, a little like very overgrown butternut squash without the rounded bit and the shop clearly cut off chunks of a kilo or so for those who didn’t run a restaurant. Wouldn’t be so easy with these, and it isn’t Hallowe’en territory.

J takes advantage of a dry spell to wash the last of the windows, this one in the salon. Overlooks the neighbour’s orchard and then - a kilometre or so farther downhill - the sea.

Saturday,, October 31/2026

 J washes the windows  - floor to ceiling sliding doors in every room - which may or may not be a  contributing factor to heavy showers in the afternoon. Good for the orange tree anyway.

Last day of October, heading into the dark half of the year. At least that’s how the ancient Celts saw it when they celebrated it as Samhain (pronunciation varies depending on what branch of Gaelic you favour, but at the very least ignore the three middle letters in the word). The eve of darkness, accompanied by bonfires and people going door to door wearing disguises and asking for food goes back centuries in Scotland and Ireland. Eventually the Church attempted to depaganise the celebrations by declaring November 1st All Saints Day, making October 31 All Hallows Eve, or Hallowe’en. Eventually brought to North America by Scots and Irish settlers. Whose descendants should be grateful that what is carved now is a pumpkin and not an unyielding turnip, as it was originally.

Not really observed in this part of the world.

Friday, October 30/2026

Aleksander off today to St Petersburg and kindly leaves his excess vegetables with us - considerably more than the two onions and a potato I left with the girl across the hall in April, and includes the makings of a good salad for this evening. X

Friday afternoon is Blue Song time for us. Not as many round the table as last week, but John and Beverley are here and Criegan and Pat. Spot a couple of people paddle boarding past the restaurant. Initially take the first to be a man paddling a canoe standing up, with what seems like very impressive balance, but John’s assumption of paddle board proves correct.

Stop at Laptamar on the way home for fresh bakbread and yoghurt and fruit. There is almost always a dog or two - or even three - waiting on the steps. Sometimes waiting for a human inside but often just hanging out in an interesting place. Only the occasional very young dog tries to go inside. The others are friendly and well aware of the boundaries.

Thursday, October 29/2026

Rain showers in the forecast last night and there was quite a lot of lightning out over the sea to the north of us, according to those watching. We didn’t watch as our bedroom faces south to the mountains.

But this morning there is a single puddle outside our sliding doors, sunnily reflecting the mountain above.

Alternating showers and sunny spells and at one point a faint rainbow over the sea.

Today is Turkish Republic Day, the hundred and third anniversary of the establishment of the modern Turkish republic by Kemal Atatürk in Ankara in 1923, following the collapse of the Ottoman Empire after the First World War. So seems like a good time to cook a fat local chicken and have one of the lovely chocolate covered marzipans Aleksander brought us from Russia.

And, with minor apologies, previous blog reflections on Atatürk:

We have reason to be grateful to Atatürk as it is down to him that Turkish has used a slightly adapted Latin alphabet since 1928 replacing a modified Arabic script that had been in place for the previous nine hundred years. It means that despite Turkish not being an Indo-European language and having unfamiliar vocabulary and grammatical structures it’s easy to look up words and - sort of - easy to sound them out.

Our travels have overlapped with Atatürk’s, albeit with a significant time lapse. Think it was 2008 we stayed at the Baron Hotel in Aleppo, Syria. Atatürk stayed there much earlier as an Ottoman officer and is said to have mounted guns on the roof to ward off attacks by the British and Arabs. He apparently occupied Room 201, in the days before there was a presidential suite (and in any case long before he was a president). We stayed in Room 203 - previously occupied by Agatha Christie as she was writing part of Murder on the Orient Express.

Wednesday, October 28/2026

A week since Mehmet left our water despite my missing him with the payment, and the water jug is getting a little low. So, repair to Google Translate to message Mehmet and ask if we can have a jug of water - and assure him that we have money for him. 

Actually, we’d be good for another day as the jugs hold nineteen litres, but prefer asking a day early just in case there is some problem on the last day.

And within a couple of hours of my messaging the white van pulls up and the teenager helper arrives, seemingly confused by my handing him two empty jugs and enough money for two refills. I say, in English of course, that last week he brought water but we didn’t give him money. He returns to the van with the empties and the lira, and it seems the transaction makes sense to Mehmet as the boy is back up the stairs with a full jug of water on his shoulder.

I’m always reminded, when I see the boy carrying the heavy jugs up, of my father. When he was a teenager in the 1930’s he had a part time job helping a man who delivered blocks of ice to the many people who had ice boxes rather than electric refrigerators.

The ice man didn’t have a van - believe it was a horse drawn wagon - and the winding outdoor staircases in Montreal in the thirties cried out for young legs and youthful energy.

Mehmet is sometimes on his own - possibly in the mornings - but when he has a helper the boy does the toting. Happily for him it’s water in plastic jugs and not hundred pound blocks of ice.

And it turns out the timing was providential, as we read that tomorrow is a public holiday. We’re fairly attuned to the major Muslim feast days, but the secular holidays, apart from New Year’s Day, can take us by surprise. So tomorrow, it turns out, is Turkish Republic Day. And there would have been no water delivery. Grocery stores should be open, but not much else.