The Village of Ortahisar, continued

...is what the man on the right with big smile says to me each morning when I come up the hill to buy a warm loaf of bread from him. That means "Mother" and I answer him with "Olim!" which means "son." He cheerfully gives me informal Turkish lessons each morning, and now I can say the Turkish words for bread, eggs, tea and I believe I've memorized the numbers one (bir), two (iki) and three (uch). I knew more but I forgot. It will come back to me when I return. No matter. I can't add up the bill anyway, even when he tries to help, because Turkish money has so many numbers on it you go into shock when you look at it.

If I come up early enough, I can hear the donkeys clopping along, pulling painted carts whose wooden wheels rattle on the cobblestone streets, carrying a couple or small family out to tend their garden plots outside the village. I'll bring back a photo next month.

next: Market Day...