On Living In Sivas

I realize this blog is now out of chronological order, but that can't be helped. I still have not gotten to download the pics...computer problems...but will eventually. For now, we'll just have verbal descriptions.

Our little company that travelled to Sivas from Istanbul included mil (Elif-anne), DH's grandmother (Yeter-anne) {"anne" means mother...they attach this to the first name, as we do with "aunt" and "uncle}, sil (Fatma), uncle's wife and 2 kids (Guler, Ulas and Sidal) and DH's aunt (Nilufer), Little Sir and I. DH's uncle, Ali, met us in Sivas, as he was coming from somewhere else. Seems like a lot of people for a 2 bedroom house, but it worked!

When we arrived in Sivas (a city, and also a province), in the "city" of Zara (a very loose term, here,) we then had to take a "service" car...a 15 passenger van, with all our luggage and food packages on the roof...for an hour and a half ride to the house, out in a pastoral village nestled in the mountains.

As all of Turkiye has interesting history, Sivas, in Central Turkiye, east of the capital city of Ankara, certainly has enough tales to fill a history book, all on its own. It was an important city of Asia Minor under the empires of Rome, the Byzantines, and the Seljuk Turks. In 1400, it was sacked by Tamerlane, and fell to the Ottoman Turks (the next empire) after that. The winding roads through mountain after mountain after mountain, have periodic deposits of its historic past. From our house, we made daily excursions, mostly by foot, to explore the beauty of the natural scenery and soak in the history, as well.

At 1275 meters altitude (approx. 3825 ft.), I often felt my ears popping on the bus ride, and also as we climbed some of the higher peaks. Sivas is the highest city in the Central Anatolian region of Turkiye, the most mountainous in this mountain range.

I have always loved mountains, from my childhood days when my father would take us on spontaneous trips upstate New York in the summer. Although I have grown up on Long Island, and have salt water in my veins, I have always said that I could leave the sea...the ocean, bays, etc...if I was in mountains with water. I was delighted to find that our little house had absolutely gorgeous mountain views from every angle. Out of the kitchen, bathroom, and 1 of the bedroom windows, you could see the mountain at the rear of the house (I don't know the mountain names now.) You could see another tiny village (and I mean tiny...villages have anywhere from 20 - 200 houses) nestled at the foot of that mountain, going about a quarter of the way up. From the living room and other bedroom, and the front porch, 4 or 5 other mountains were in view, in every direction.

In front of the house is a small stream, which comes directly out of the rock of the mountain's base, about a mile and a half away, and meanders its way through the village. This stream is wonderful, potable water...in fact, much of the water in this region is bottled and sold...and Turkiye supplies water to many countries of the Middle East...perhaps its greatest national treasure. This water source had also been tapped, below ground, in a well, for the house water.

At the end of the road, there was a fountain, where this water was piped in, and locals would use this to carry water to places where it wasn't piped yet...the concrete workers, for example, would fill water tanks in their trucks, and take it to cemeteries or new construction sites.

Other similar water sources, fresh from the rock at mountain bases, and cold from melting snow, untouched previously by human hands, were sprinkled all over the region, and we got to know which ones we thought tasted best. Many times we would go on excursions with empty 2 liter bottles and bring this delicious water back to the house.

European Toilets - To Pay or Not to Pay

I have a vague memory of pay-toilets in Italy in 1983. I dıdn't have much need for them, so it wasn't much of an issue. On our road trip to Sivas, it was another story. Every time the bus stopped on our 14 hour Metro-bus trek (very nice, made by Mercedes Benz), we'd all troup out and use the potty. At each one, there was someone in a little booth collecting coins. It's cheap...probably about 20 cents, but still...what if you don't have any money on you? I haven't actually seen any homeless, but what about them? And, for having to pay for it, you'd think they'd always be clean and well-stocked. Not so. Just like American publıc restrooms, some were nice and some were really horrible and stinky.

Anyway, a word to the wise. In many European countries, you have to always have money in your pocket, just in case you hafta go!

Back in Istanbul!

We are back in Istanbul, and ınternet-land. Lots to write about once I get caught up with everything else. Keep posted.