TALES FROM THE BALCONY

To Bozdag and back

It was 23^rd of June 2010. Dave and I had decided see the recently identified late Roman marble quarry at the top of Bozdag Hill, which Dave had read a report about in Halicarnassian Studies. Some years before with Arif, we had climbed Bozdag on foot in a failed attempt to find remains of  Lelegian walls and foundations of a tower. Asking Arif the best way to get there was a bit of a no brainer, as we all remembered the difficulty we had climbing the 1 in 3 hill before.

    ‘We’ll go in my fathers car’ was Arif’s quick reply. ‘I’ll drive you to the top’

We couldn’t remember seeing anything like a road going up it, let alone a car.

So there we were in Arif’s dads old fiat 131, soon discovering there was no road but found ourselves bouncing up a loose dirt track that would have easily qualified as a stage in the WRC Rally of Turkey.

The trip to the top whilst full of bounce was uneventful.  The return trip however was to prove otherwise.

The journey down allowed me to film shots of the valley. The track from the summit ran into a road passing through the Munipicality refuse tip, which, as well as containing rubbish also held ramshackle building structures, a sort of shanty town for workers on the tip.

My camera was still running as we reached the tip area.  As workers saw us and the camera, people started remonstrating shaking their fists and shouting in Turkish, running alongside the car. Arif slowed down and attempts were made to snatch the video camera from the car. Arif stopped and got out of the car and started arguing aggressively with them. As the crowd and noise increased Arif pulled out his phone, made a call then passed it to the leader of the angry mob.

After the phone call, things were calmer, Arif returned to the car to explain that the people working/living on the tip thought we were an undercover film crew sent to film them. Arif’s phone call had been to the Jandarma, and the only way he could persuade the group to let us leave, was if we reported to the Jandarma station with one of the group’s leaders.

During the journey to the station, with Arif as an interpreter and using the maps and documentation we had, we tried to impress on the leader that we were only interested in the quarry. Arif said he seemed suitably impressed and had asked if Dave was a Professor. To which we all readily agreed, he seemed a little more impressed, as was Dave.

  

At the station I agreed to delete any footage of the tip that had caused offence. With everyone satisfied, we took the leader back to the tip. During the course of the journey the leader was chatting and laughing with Arif in Turkish. We just hoped that he was not about to try and raise his status with other members of his group by asking the Professor and his companions to have a glass of raki with them.

We had both seen Midnight Express, so the first beer on our return to Hera seemed like celebrating freedom.  

You can see a short video of the road trip to Bozdag and back (of course minus the angry crowd scenes deleted to appease the authorities ), at: Link To You Tube Video

TALES FROM THE BALCONY

Yilmos’s Birthday

       Over the years we have seen many waiters come and go at Hera restaurant. All have been memorable in many ways, but one stands out, Yilmos.

        If someone had a stills camera, he was anxious to be in the shot, if someone produced a video camera, it was as if someone had turned on the lights and shouted action. He was a natural performer with impromptu dialogue that could have been scripted by the wackiest writers.

         When you are a waiter in a sleepy fishing village in a small Turkish tourist resort, as Yilmos was. Talking to people who vary in nationality by the hour certainly increases your knowledge of other languages, but how do you use it? Well that’s where Yilmos was unique. To try and describe him a little more, let me take you back to the late 90’s when our stay at the Hera coincided with his Birthday.........

          Word had got around that it was Yilmos’s Birthday, no doubt fuelled by Yilmos. I met him on the way to my early morning swim.

           ‘Good morning Yilmos, happy birthday.

           ‘Why good morning good buddy, and remember günaydin is good morning in Turkish if you should want to speak as me fluent in other lingo. Don’t forget, have a slice of my cake tonight you and your good lady wife’

           ‘Sure Yilmos thank you’

           ‘No problem, and please, thank you in Turkish is teşekkür ederim, but please is lutven, not German but sounds same.

 My body is already hitting the water as he finishes. Being spoken to by Yilmos in his staccato style is like having words fired at you from a machine gun, and not always in the right order.

             My wife and I were the first to arrive in the restaurant on the evening.  A couple of drinks and a cigar for Yilmos.

            ‘How old is the Birthday boy then? My wife asks.

            ‘Is still nineteen my lovely Diane’

            ‘I bet we could double that’ we retort. Just then a family of four from the rear apartments arrive. A boy and a girl run round Yilmos saying in broken English happy birthday.  From Norway I thought.

            ‘Where are they from?’ my wife asks Yilmos.

            ‘Why Sweden’ he replied.  I am wrong.  The couple introduce themselves’

            ‘I am Theo from Norway and this is my wife Anna from Sweden.’ Half right Yilmos.

              Then what looks like a retired couple from the same apartments enter, he has a head of white hair and very striking white moustache . They sit at the table next to us and he introduces himself.

             ‘Good evening my name is Eric.’ It is the perceived voice of every retired English Colonel heard on stage and screen.

             ‘This is my wife Elaine, but they call us Eric and Ernie, she’s the one with the fat hairy legs’ he chortled.  I look down at her legs like a fool before returning the introduction.  Eric then moves to the Norway Sweden amalgamation and introduces himself as before.  As he gets to the fat hairy legs bit I notice Theo looks down.  Yilmos who has been taking all this information in, turns to Eric and asks.

              ‘What would Mr and Mrs Ernie like to drink?’ and I swear he looked at her legs.

              An American party arrives, three girls and a married couple. Across the restaurant  Sweden and Norway have made Yilmos a crown of flowers. My wife thinks he looks like the queen of the fairies from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.  The family then sing to Yilmos Happy Birthday in their own Language. Yilmos is taken by surprise, but by swiftly looking at all of them in turn he manages to sing along using their words.

               The couple in the American party introduce themselves as Nancy and Matt. The rest of the evening, for some unknown reason Yilmos refers to them as Mercy and Max.

                  If you would like to see some snippets of the evening on film, please go to the following:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Z2vE2k1_Qw

Yilmos was also always keen to send a message to anyone he knew who hadn’t turned up that particular summer. Two of these messages can also be savoured by going to the following:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=I6u3OS4dAdM

www.youtube.com/watch?v=jBaFebDLUIU