Tokat (Central Anatolia)

August. East to Tokat today. Road repair and dust. The road is gravel for a long distance. The summer heat is tiring. But we press on.  

Three o’clock, afternoon. We pass Corum. It is a town full of myriad types of baked chick peas (leblebi). Crunched all over Turkey. I eat my share. When I am not eating peanuts, that is. We have explored the small pleasant town on another trip. We stop and have a picnic under some poplar trees near the road. It is pleasant in the open air and relatively cool. A cold beer from the cooler tastes delicious. Chilling irrigation water trickles through the small canal to trees and crops. Green leaves in the breeze. I feel like sleeping.

Six o’clock evening. After two hours more cruising. Our Mercedes smoothes out the road. More productive green valleys. My old Merle Haggard tape keeps me awake. Okie from Muskogee. The song doesn’t quite sing me back home. It gets us to Hotel Burcu in Tokat.  

A large fertile valley here. An abundance of fruit and vegetables on an industrial scale.  Huge fields of tomatoes, grown here for the juice and canning industry.

Wheat harvest now in full swing. Still few combines. Still small peasants hang on. It is 2002. Harvesting is still done mostly with a modern grain binder behind a tractor. The sheaves are then collected, opened and fed through a stationary thresher run by a tractor. For peasants, it is a family operation. Labor intensive.

But the younger ones will soon head for Istanbul, Ankara, Izmir, Germany, America. They are under the illusion that the grass is greener on that side of the global fence.

Many old, traditional Turkish houses still stand in town. Some are nearly ready to fall down, but historical houses are protected by law.

Unfortunately the lawmakers have little effect on gravity. I realize the town is very different from the image I had in my mind before I came. Turkish towns can be very traditional in style, while things work in a quite modern way. The markets look modern, while back streets take one back in history. It is pleasant, but a boring place to live, I reflect. That is, for a ruined academic like me. My mind has been badly warped by knowledge. Unfortunately most of it may be useless.

We asked for a quiet room. Impossible, however, to avoid noise from the streets. Autos with blaring horns and revving motors. The two-stroke engine. A boon to humanity? I doubt it. Youthful love of noise. A power drug. Part of modernity, I suppose. Or perhaps stupidity. And the urge to travel. Anywhere.

I tried hard, but could not generate any inspiration for this trip. I was down in the dumps, as my father used to say. High plateau central Anatolian blues. One gets em, just like in Missississississississippippi. Or more accurately Meessssssippee. It was hard to shift mental gears. Once on the road, however, I started looking forward to Eastern Anatolia and Van. Hope springs eternal. I am sure the towns will not look anything like what I have imagined for many years.

I think of Dogubeyazit too. I tell myself that I would like to live in that area for some time, but it is an illusion. A fantasy. I do not know what it would offer to me. What could I do there? Sometimes I am wild like that.

The valleys are very green from good rains this year. On the other hand, high areas are dry and brown. The fields of golden wheat are  beautiful. Most of the grain has now been cut. Shocks lie in many fields, not yet gathered. But there will be little or no rain for months.

Some fields are harvested with a combine. But I have not seen anyone cutting wheat by hand. Thankfully, that horrible task has mostly gone out of style. I think of  Punjab where the harvest was all done by hand in the l960s. The small mechanical binders driven by a tractor are quite imexpensive. In Punjab, farm laborers lost hands and arms in them.

The area is rich in watermelons and cantaloupes. And kavun. A kavun is like a cantaloupe, but bigger. And grows in dry areas, making its sweet juicy fruit. One sees many onion (sogan) fields, patches of pole beans, tomatoes and fruit trees. Large fields of sugar beets fill up the valleys. The peasants here feed the country.

And beautiful fields of dark green maize. It appears to be a wonderful year for crops. Many farm tractors on the roads. The drivers defend their rights and only get off the road to let one pass with great reluctance.  

Leylek or storks appear. They are big black and white birds. We saw several today. They build enormous nests right on top of electrical or telephone poles. There is a cross-bar right at the top, which must be extremely inviting to these birds. At the first nest, we saw six or seven big birds standing on the mass of twigs. It looked to be six feet in diameter, but perhaps was larger as we saw it from a good distance.

They build nests right next to the road. One would think the traffic would disturb them. But it seems that they have adjusted to it. Turks say that if one sees a stork that they will travel a lot that year.

The down side is that storks too often get electrocuted on these wires. Some towns have made them places to nest.

What a dirty job, threshing with these small threshers. Peasants are putting the sheaves of grain through with a pitch fork. They get covered with the dust and chaff. I hope that they make some money. But the trend is to give it up and head for the city, especially if one is a little younger. Youths will no longer stay in the villages. Relatively few of them, at least. The bright lights call them. And the freedom, women, and booze. Human liberation and human libation.

Late evening. We walk around the town. We see some of the old buildings. A quite nice town. The local young girls are dating tonight in Islamic attire. It is Saturday night. Religion has nothing to do with hormones. It doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to hormones.

Their life is far more progressive than the way I was brought up in the midwest of the United States of America. This is what strikes me. They, at least, can be seen with a boy. The social code imposed upon us was closer to that of the Taliban. America the beautiful. Americans the repressed. Well, at least where I was from. Few would believe it, but it is true, anyway. Crazy. Not the Hollywood image.

Just down the main street is a big square with historical buildings. 

Sunday in Tokat. July 31

I awake early. The early morning air is cool and refreshing. A lovely time before the heat comes.

No Sunday School today. Hallelujua.

After a good sleep we have breakfast downstairs. There is kusburnu (Rosehips) jam. And all the other tasty foods of a Turkish breakfast. This includes tomatoes and cucumbers. But not fruit. In Vietnam, its mostly fruit, and no vegetables. Boiled eggs. Olives. Several types of cheese. Salami. Toast, jam. Tea.

Many old wooden houses have now been restored and are beautiful. Others will fall down eventually without repair. This town is very historical. But some old houses are falling down for lack of funds to restore them. It is a shame. A great loss. Makes me feel sad to see it. Sad to see them replaced by ugly modern brick and cement monstrosities.

I realize that I needed to get away from academic work. I needed some human liberation from that grind. And human libation to something or other. I am feeling much better after just one day away from books, articles, and papers. Not to mention student papers. That poison kills brain cells faster than toxic waste. Come to think of it, it is probably a form of it. How long can a professor go on until every last brain cell in his head is obliterated by reading student papers? Revolting drivel. Not long. That’s for sure. Careers cut short. 

This is the true meaning of human liberation. At least for me in the present.

This is not a poor town, due to the fertility of the valley. Many gold shops in town. Buying gold is still a form of savings. And buying for weddings and other occasions.

At the local family tea garden, a typical setup, the old grape vines are almost as thick as trees. They are very old. Looks very Greek to me. They make a natural cooling roof of green leaves, and eventually hanging fruit. It seems that many merchants here were Greek, Jewish, and Armenian before World War I.

The tea garden is a pleasant place to sit in the evening. We stay till late evening. No mosquitoes.

It is the small Cimtim Restaurant for lunch. It is a failure for us, at least. Unfortunately. We did not want to eat heavy meat, such as Tokat Kebab, in the evening. So I have cicik (cucumber and yoğurt) and share a plate of chicken shish with my wife.

We did not find the food tasty, however. We take a walk and find a book seller near the old market. All the books are in Turkish, naturally. On a street corner, a peasant is selling garlic from the back of his tractor. He is friendly and gives us a couple of cloves of garlic. He said they called him “the Doctor” because he sells garlic for health. His tractor has a convenient sun shade.

Behind the town is a huge rock mountain, craggy and jutting. A ruined castle at the top. I reflect that it would be terribly hard to capture a castle on that steep peak. One would certainly have a tremendous view of the town from up there.

Soldiers must have died by scores on that rocky peak.

At the main square, there are horse carriages for hire. Evenings are lively. People stroll, mostly dressed conservatively. But not a great many women in black. A socially conservate area, but change creeps slowly.

Alipasa Camii. (A mosque)  

Places to see: Gok Medrese 1277 (museum); Tas Han (l631); Yazmacilar Hani (Gaziogulu Is Han) Opposite the Kabe-i-Mescit Camii; Hatuniye Camii (l485); Down the Street (North) from Gok Medrese is the Sumbul Baba Saviyesi (Dervish Lodge), Built l292. It is now part of a house.

Another block north is the Octagonal building: Sefer Pasa Turbesi (Seljuk-Style Tomb) l251. From here, a road leads up to the kale (castle). There is a fine view.

16th C. Tarihi Ali Pasa Hamami (l572). Ali Pasa Camii (l566-72) Nearby. Old houses. Latifoglu Konagi. Madimagin Celalin Evi.

One cannot see everything in one trip. Or in many trips. Just a short glimpse and then a moving on. That is life.


The Iranian Bazaar in Dogubeyazit

The Iranian Bazaar in Dogubeyazit:

In Dogubeyazit, the Iranian bazaar had a lot of things for sale, but unfortunately not much that I wanted. There were lots of the smuggled glass with the silver design in it. People take it to Ankara and sell it for more. There is fruit-flavored tobacco for a nargili or hookah. Several different flavors, like banana and apple. There were many wood carvings from Pakistan or India. Some from Rajasthan. Wooden elephants, that kind of thing, and incense. Ceylon tea. Many wall-hangings with Farsi or Arabic verses from the Koran. Little saucers and nargili, and coffee cups. The only thing we bought was smuggled liquor. I am not sure the mechanism there. All that smuggled booze from an Islamic country like Iran. Maybe there is a massive amount going into Iran.

I can hear the shops closing outside. Shutters down. Here are some statistics. The population is nearly 49,000 in Dogubeyazit. But the guide book says 36,000. So the population is increasing.

 The altitude of the town is 1950 meters. Mount Ararat peak is 5137 meters, an enormous volcano topped with ice. There is much volcanic rock around the area. The small right-hand peak, Kucuk Agri (little Agri), is 3895 meters.

Besides the mountain, the main thing to see here is Ishak Pasa Sarayi (1685-1784). It took one hundred years to build. Completed by the pasa’s son, a Kurdish Chieftain, named Ishak (Isaac). The architecture is a combination of Seljuk, Ottoman, Georgian, Persian, and Armenian styles. A bit of everything thrown in.

The gold-plated doors that were on this palace are in the Hermitage in St. Petersburg. They were stolen by the Russians. There is also a fortress and Mosque nearby. The foundations of the fortress are thought to go back to Urartian times, from the 13th to the 7th Centuries BC. The walls, being rebuilt by whoever controlled this mountain pass. That is some thirty-three centuries, if correct. So this generation is just a bubble in the stream of time. The mosque seems to be 16th Century Ottoman, Sultan Selim I (1512-20)

The Battle of Caldiran. In 1514, Selim defeated the Persians. Eastern Anatolia was added to the Ottoman Empire. This is seventy kilometers south of Dogubeyazit where the battle took place.

Many things here are named “Hani”. It is from Ahmedi Hani. He was a popular Kurdish writer. There is an eighteenth century tomb containing his grave. Eski Beyazit (old Beyazit) goes back to 800 BC, Urartian times. The new town here was founded only in l937, after the villagers moved from the hills.

Morning. Dogubeyazit is about 6500 feet in elevation. The grubby road out in front of the hotel comes to life pretty early. I heard the shutters of shops coming up before seven. One gets only a couple of TV stations, GAP  and TGRT (Turkish state television). That seems to be it, without a dish. The shops are grubby, but there are some nicer ones. It is mainly a small town. Reminds one of North India out in the streets.

Specialties of this part of the country? What is big here? The bathroom in the hotel room should be elevated up to one foot higher than the floor of the room. (More gravity helps, I guess!) Oval mirrors are big, it seems. I keep seeing them everywhere in this town.

The street out in front shows the life of the town. An old peasant came down the street with his eight sheep. Some of them are brown. He had his two children with him helping to drive his sheep down the street. Sometimes they were in the middle of the road and the sheep wouldn’t move. The old guy was pushing them from behind to get them to go. It was not very easy. It looked very primitive, but this is a rural town. People tend to be quite poor.

The political Party here is Hadep, that has the local municipality. It is a Kurdish Party, of course. The security court is trying to close it. There is a case against it. A very counterproductive policy. But that’s the way the statist dinosaurs think.

We met the owner of the hotel down at breakfast and his son. It turns out that his son is studying in Near Eastern University in Cyprus in Lefkosa in international relations. In his class, they are using my book, People and Power. He used it for two semesters. He said, and got “A”s in both classes. He said it was a very useful book, the only one he could understand. I am going to take his information from him. He wants to come and study in Ankara and he says he has good grades. I think it is surely possible. I don’t see any reason why he cannot, if he can transfer his scholarship. His name is Tekun.

We were going to pay the hotel bill, but they only took ten million from us after they found out who I was.

There were no signs of any security problems, except for occasional road checks on the roads in Eastern Anatolia. (2002)


Dogubeyazit (Eastern Turkey)

We drive east to Dogubeyazit today, only 35 km from the Iranian border and spend the night. Perhaps on to Van tomorrow. It is a very pleasant morning. I am amazed at how close to the fields we are. It really has the appearance of a small town. The top of the hotel is the seventh floor. There is a good view from here.

We buy cevezli Sucuk (nut sausage) and Erzurum Honey and are off.

Agri, a very poor town. Reminds me of a town in North India. I am surprised at the scenery along the route from Erzurum. Much of it is quite flat. The drive is quite nice, however. We make good time. The peasants are evidently “backward,” around these parts. That is, in terms of agricultural modernization. The road is not bad here, but somewhat rough. There is a police check, just outside Agri. Very underdeveloped. Perhaps it is the mentality of the people, more than anything. The houses too are quite primitive. Perhaps it needs devastation, like happened in Erzincan with the earthquakes. The villages are full of big cakes of manure that they use for fuel.  It is called tezik. There are no trees on the hills, just the poplars that they have planted in villages. One sees many horses and carts in the area. The shops are very poor.

There are no trees at all on the road. We drive down a small road through a village. It reminds one of a North Cypriot village. On the north edge of the village in a sort of pasture. We make a picnic. I drink a cold Tuborg beer. There are cows. We take our cooler and blanket near the trees. A light rain falls and then the sun comes out. It is quite hot in the sun, but pleasant. There is a small stream.

Mid-afternoon. Dog Biscuit. (Dogubeyazit) We made it. We get a hotel. Ortadogu Hotel, room 305. Middle East Hotel. Good enough for Government work! The rates posted are $50 for a double, but we are staying for 25 million Turkish liras which is one-third of that! About $15. In the end, we will pay only 10 million.

Mount Agri is just to the north. It is quite cloudy over the mountains, but we could see some of the peaks as we came into town. The rest of the drive was pleasant, almost flat, through a big valley. Part of the scenery is dramatic, moonscape, more dramatic than Utah. Bare white and gray peaks, completely bare. I am surprised that none of these mountains have trees in this part of Turkey and some are just absolutely bare of vegetation. The weather is quite fine, but there are clouds around the mountains.

Soon it begins to clear around Ararat Mountain. I can see almost the whole mountain. I take pictures. We have a great view to the north from our balcony. There is little to see except for the mountain. We look for smuggled Iranian goods.

The street is lively down below, quite traditional. There are many people with push carts in the street, and some crazys around, really crazy. One person went down the street calling and acting crazy, maybe on drugs? Another guy across the street by the Algida Ice Cream Shop seems to be crazy. There was a rain just as we were coming into town, it was flooding in a couple of places on the road, from the water coming off the hill. I just drove through it slowly. It was OK.

It is a fine view of Ararat now. Agri. One can see the whole mountain. Very nice.

My wife is taking a rest. I feel like I need to get out and walk around. I saw an internet cafe coming in. 

We take a walking a trip outside. There is a brisk trade in liquor smuggled from Iran. About one-third of the price in Ankara. I think the policy is to turn a blind eye to it. We bought two things, Cognac and Rum. I think the big bottle for 45 million, about $25. I think it is about as cheap as duty free in Dubai. If one wants good booze, can’t beat an Islamic Republic. I guess that must be the lesson. There is one bazaar around Hotel Agri that sells many smuggled goods. Some come from Egypt. Many small cigarettes from Iran. They sell them on the streets in other towns in Turkey.

This town is full of many hotels, many quite down scale. A lot of people are humping to make a living here. It is a poor place, but developing.

We stopped and had tea at a small place along the way. There are small streets, small shops. There are sheep. I hear them from the hotel window, on the main street here. Bleating. We had tea there.

We saw three places to change money. The guide book is not correct to say that there are no places to change money. There are plenty. The Iranians are using them as there is Farsi written there.

We met a small boy, shining shoes, about ten years old or so. We talked to him. He was a nice kid. Wanted to shine my shoes. So we asked him to come to the tea garden with us. It was a rather defunct place in a hotel. It had been meant to be a nice swimming pool and tea garden, but it was all collapsed, no customers, and no water in the pool. All the plants were dried up. Reminded me of some defunct places in India. There was a great view of Agri from there too. The boy was named Adam. He shined my shoes and my wife’s too.

He told us his story. He has three or four brothers and his father is working in construction. “He makes walls.” His friend, another shoe shine boy, told him, “you have hit the Milli Piyango,” (state lottery) getting rich people (like us) to work for. Of course, in relation to them, it is true that we are rich.

He said some rich people are very mean because they are rich and they act bad. My wife asked him if he would like to come to Ankara. He said if there was work there, he would be ready to come, but even men cannot find work there. We gave him tea and biscuits and he told us that his father has a debt of 250 million and is working to pay it off. They have to pay 250 million rent. He was not born here, but they came from Keyseri. He and his brothers work to help the family. His brother moves loads on a cart for people. He is trying to save money for his school, for next year, something like thirty million and he said he is saving it in his socks. He seems to be a very bright kid. I gave him five million for his school and 250,000 for the shoes. The poor kid only takes 100,000 to shine shoes and he makes one million in a day. That is when he works hard and has some luck. It is a tough world for kids like that. There are many small boys on the street that are trying to shine shoes. They must have similar stories. His pants were all stained with shoe polish.

Diyarbakir, 2004

Written in 2004 in Diyarbakir, southeast Turkey


February 2004. Buyuk Hotel.

In the US, they put a Bible in the room. Here there is a raki glass and a beer glass. Big improvement. Very Wise. When the Eastern European countries had revolutions, the Gideons rushed there with Bibles to stock all hotel rooms. So that’s a difference in the religions, I suppose. But they’ll never overcome the good beer in Budapest. Nor the women who expose their cleavage on the streets all over the city!

It is quite humid here compared to Ankara. That is somewhat nice after the high and dry temperature in Ankara.

Got settled in the room. It is about 45 million Turkish Liras a night (38 US dollars) for a double. We will go out before long. Cloudy today.

Diyarbakir Features:

Population = 2 million.

Mostly Kurdish. Tigris River (Dicle) runs past the city walls. Some oil prospecting in the area. This is a satellite town. Traditional Kurdish life. Arab style mosques with black and white bands.

The Romans took the city in 115 AD. 639 AD- conquered by Arabs. Named Amida before. Arabs brought the Tribe of Beni Bakr. The Realm of Bakr. Diyar Bakr means “place of Bakrs.”

Conquered by Hamdanids, Buwayhids, and Marwanids.

1085, taken by a Seljuk Turkish Dynasty’ the Cuheyrogullari.

But later overthrown by the Syrian Seljuks, Artukids and Ayyubids.

1259: Mongol Emperor Hulgu Khan restored the city to the Seljuks.

But it was lost to the Mardin Artukids.

1394: Tamerlane conquered the city. He gave the city to Akkoyunlu Kara Yuluk Turkoman (White Sheep Turkomans). The Akkoyunlu formed a pact with the Venetian Empire against the Ottomans. In 1473, they were defeated by Mehmet the Conqueror.

“After 1497, the Sufavid Dynasty, founded by Shah Ismail took over Iran, putting an end to more than a century of Turkoman rule in the area.”

1515: The Ottomans came and conquered.

Old Diyarbakir has a standard Roman City plan. Circular walls. Four gates. North, South, East and West. Some of the walls have been knocked down and new gates opened. Bazaar. This is like a Moroccan Medina. A Labyrinth. There are churches in the maze, hidden.

Mid-afternoon. Saw the valley along the city and the Tigris River. The valley and River are impressive and the University is on the bluff on the east side of the river. There is a very old caravansaray bridge across the Tigris River. The river, itself, is not terribly large, partly because there are actually three dams on it now, which take a lot of the water upstream.

Ataturk Kosku. (villa), known as Seman Kosku. It is 15th Century. Akkoyunlu Turkoman Dynasty, 2.5 km south of the city center. One of the most beautiful and best preserved traditional houses. We also saw Ulu Camii, just down the street. Went this morning to a tremendous store, full of piles of all kinds of kuruyemis (dry foods), especially mountains of cevizli sucuk (walnut candy), of many different kinds. And huge containers of nuts and raisins and huge rolls made of sweet havuc (carrot) and full of nuts of various kinds. I have not seen that before. The shop is so full of beautiful things to eat, different kinds of natural candies, actually. Around the old Ulu Camii, a little further down, is that big old Mosque, with a large courtyard inside. Markets surround the area. A huge market just outside selling all types of tobacco, made for rolling your own cigarettes. And they have a small machine that fills the cigarette with tobacco automatically. That is interesting because I really have not seen it in other parts of Turkey.

We went to an area where there were some small restaurants (lokantas) and ate lunch. I had standard fare, kuru fasulye and pilav (dry beans and rice). And  salad.

We walked to the Buyuk Caravansaray Hotel. Up another street we came to an old fort. Right next to it is a mosque. Some people are hanging around to ask for alms from those who visit. It is not far from the Tigris River. The area is Fatih Kapasi, Victory Gate. We thought to walk back, but saw it would be quite a long distance. So we  hired a taxi from there. I noticed that the taxi meter wasn’t working. When we came around to the Hotel, the driver asked for five million without using the meter. It is illegal in Turkey not to use it. We said it should be about three million, because we had come from the railway station in the morning about the same distance. We gave him the five million. I got out and wrote down his license number. When he saw me writing it down, he got out and gave us back the two million.  He decided that it wasn’t worth the risk.

The Hotel is actually the Sixteenth Century Deliller Han. It is on Gazi Caddesi near Mardin Kapasi. A beautiful place, but somewhat pricy at $65 or more. Not bad for the quality. An authentic historical place that was actually used as a hotel on the silk road about 400 years ago. We had Turkish Coffee.

We called another taxi and asked for a tour of the old city. He showed us all around for 20 million TL, very reasonable. The walls around the city are huge, extensive and impressive and stretch all around the city. One can walk right on top of them if one has time. It seems the school kids were doing that today. The walls are definitely impressive. They are falling down in a few places, however. Some of the towers have fallen down.

There are many huge bazaars and fruit markets around the city selling kiwis, two million a kilo, and huge oranges, from the local areas. They look delicious. And apples and bananas, dates and figs (incir). I bought two boxes of dates (hurma) from Bam in Iran. Alas! Ancient Bam is gone after the earthquake. That old fort shown on the boxes of dates crumbled in the recent earthquake. That is a fact and maybe 40,000 or so people died in that! Americans are not supposed to buy products from Iran. Imagine that!

There are some huge shopping areas. There is even a Galeria shopping center, which I want to avoid at all cost. The small shops are great. I am surprised that one can see the town so easily. It seems too small for two million population. Actually this is only the old city. I saw later that most of the population live in poor housing areas outside the walls.

There are many fields in the valley there near the Tigris (Dicle) River. These small fields that are very fertile where vegetables are grown. Many trees get covered with water when it floods according to the taxi driver. There are fields of wheat down there too. Outside the walls there are many gecekondus that have come up. These have been fed by the destruction of villages in the area in the 1990s. Villagers flooded into  the city. The taxi driver said they were going to get rid of these gecekondus, which might actually mean a second displacement, I suppose. Perhaps there is a program to build them some kind of alternative housing. But many of these are just on the edge of the flood plain along the bottom, it seems. So I am not too sure about what is actually going on there. The city does not seem to be too bad for most people.

The place has a somewhat different atmosphere than other parts of Turkey. Some of the older men look like something out of space and time, and not a little absurd sometimes! But they are in their element here. I think they look right here. Like they belong here. And why not? I wonder if they have resentment against the West.

Some of the women are very nice-looking. Most are not dressed modern, but they look somewhat different. There are considerable numbers of women wearing black too, mostly older. Quite a large number of students around. The streets are generally crowded and bustling. There are plenty of cars, but it is not as mad for walking as in Ankara. It is true that parts of the city look quite run down, similar to what one sees in Morocco. But most of the town is not really like that.

Evening. By now, 92 are dead in the building that collapsed in Konya. Shameful. Several injured. The rescue team did manage to pull some people out alive. Shoddy construction. So they should be charged with criminal activity.

When we were out, we went to a quite nice place, and had soup, salad, and rice pudding. Light food. The first place we went, we ordered mercimek (lentil) soup, but it was very watery, so we didn’t stay there. Went to this other place along the same street. Some streets do not have street lights, so seems dark out there.

Sinan Lokantasi is a sort of a beer bar on the second floor with a view of the street. Would be nice when it is a little warmer. Nesem Yemek Solunu, restaurant. Buryan Salunu, restaurant.

The light is only coming from the shops that are still open. So not very inviting, but it doesn’t seem unsafe. Back to the hotel.

The destabilization process in Iraq goes on. That big bomb, Iskendriya, I think, killed around 55 people or more today at a police station and it goes on. Hard to believe they have been that successful in blowing things up.

Now, a lot of pressure is being put on the Cyprus talk in New York, pressure on Denktas and the Greeks, that is, and the Turkish Government finally seems determined to get down to the task of forging some kind of agreement. Everybody knows there are hard-core hold-outs on both sides, in both Greece and Turkey who would like to sabotage it. I don’t think Denktas can be pushed into it very easily either and Professor Soysal is there as his “advisor” in New York. An old dinosaur. I don’t know what the chances are that they can push them into an agreement.

Early morning. Rainy Morning.

We decid to cut it short by three days and get back to Ankara because snow will start by Thursday evening according to reports. We will plan to go from Antep tomorrow. We buy bus tickets hoping that it does not snow too much to get to Ankara. This can happen easily in the winter time when snow storms come through. The bus goes about half past three today to Antep. Takes around five and a half hours. It is rainy today, but light rain. So not a bad day here, and quite mild. I just wish we had gotten the train from Antep.

If the snow catches us, there could be a sort of adventure on the way back. In any event, it is an adventure. I have learned that it is never a good idea to try to beat a snow storm. Better to let it go and then come behind it.

Half past twelve. We check out of the hotel. We go to the bazaar and buy some nice things from a shop that sells beautiful metal pieces. I buy a coffee mug that looks more like a beer stein. We bought a beautiful small mangal and cay danlik (tea pot). Nice things with hand-made designs. The shop keeper makes me a gift. It is a raki holder to cool the drink. One puts ice around it to keep it cool. The bus leaves around half past two. That big bazaar is piled full of things, too many.

It has become quite dark and cool in the town. A damp wind is blowing. The bazaar in this town reminds one somewhat of the ones in Marrakesh.

The carrot sweet they have in big rolls in Kuruyemis shops is called Jezelye.

Ehli-keyf is one who is capable of enjoying themselves.

The explosion in Baghdad today had about 35 victims. They were signing up for the Iraqi army which the US is trying to get started. It was next to the Green Zone, the American compound. The one yesterday for recruits to the police station killed around 55. That makes around 90 victims in 24 hours. The US is failing very badly in their policies. But that is exactly what the critics said would happen.

The slow train to Paradise went through the Black Mountains, across the green fields, through the valleys and across the rushing snow streams down to the Green Valley and Rocky Basalt Fields and surprising canyon and Volcano Rocks and across the Rainy Waters to the cinderblock apartments and the train road, the Iron Road Street and into the Station of the place of the Tribe of Bakir and to the horn-sounding street and big Mosque Square  and Japan Market to the Big Hotel, Buyuk Hotel, with the Restaurant of Sinan and the Roast Chicken of the small restaurant sellers, spicy and turning in the open windows of small restaurants and the dry beans and lentil soup and bread and roast flat bread and boiled chicken and patlican (eggplant) and boiled potatoes and the small kiosks selling cigarettes and gazettes full of lies and sweets with a large black fly in a sweet shop with Honey Daddy Sweets and huge shop with walnut sausage sweets in big long sausage shapes and stacked like cord wood along the wall and huge bins of dry walnuts and carrot sweets full of thick grape juice extract and walnuts and hazel nuts and sweets, so many that it was difficult to count them and old Arab-looking gentlemen with baggy pants and coats, tailored, and skull caps and canes and homemade cigarettes walked slowly down the streets and young women in Black and sometimes fashionable clothes and striking beauty in dark-Black Eyes and Hair, and dark, lusty flesh and carts filled with huge bags of rag stuffing and crowded small streets and huge markets stocked to the gills with every type of trinket and owned by the operators and not any big corporations as in the West and there were huge piles of tobacco, like hair, so fine for homemade cigarettes and piled in the markets and cigarette cases and the shops piled high with denim jeans with hearts embroidered on the legs and dresses for men, cloth for tailoring and cloth shops piled high with fabrics, some from state shops and countless small shops on the street with windows lined with cell phones and small restaurants and offices of local bus lines and horse carts and big pick-up trucks from Japan and ancient market places and old caravansarays, turned into market places for antiques. And a hundred pharmacies, selling many types of medicines. And salep, sweet milk, sugar, cinnamon, hot, and piles of fruit and push carts, orange, banana, red apples, tangerine, yellow apples, kiwi and piles of flat bread and optics shops, salep in big brass containers with brass spigots, with cinnamon to sprinkle on and cassette shops with songs blaring. Big piles of fruit, dates from Bam and dried sweet-sugared figs, men unshaven, grubby. Small cigarette and cigar stands, matches, lighters, push carts with peanuts, pistachio, walnut, hazelnuts, and on a push cart, piles of bags of potatoes and onions. And beggars and farm tractors with the cloth cover with “Masallah” written next to “Massey Ferguson.” And rolls of flat dried figs and round dried figs.

We leave Diyarbakir.