Notes from the Road

At several points during our trip we took long car rides through the countryside and many small villages. This gave us the opportunity to see these areas close up and while I rode I collected little tidbits of observations, collected here at random.

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An old farmer in a donkey cart loaded with box after box of ripe tomatoes.

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Turkish road signs seem to be polite suggestions – speed limits, no-passing zones and even stop signs are routinely ignored. In fact I came to think of the red octagonal signs with the word “Dur” on them as a suggestion to be careful when crossing the intersection rather than an order to "Stop".

Many roads are three lanes wide with white markings – again suggestions – for where to drive. When no one else is on the road they drive straight down the middle. Everyone understands that the center lane can be used by anyone at any time for passing. It was not unusual to be in a car passing a slow mini-bike with a bus in the third lane and another on-coming car.

But everyone knows the rules of this game and so it seems to work out pretty well. It kind of reminds me of drivers in Boston. There the rule is you are only responsible for what you can see in front of you. If you want to change lanes you need only make sure its clear in front – you don’t need to check your side or rear – that’s the job of the people in those positions. Again, since everyone knows this is the way it’s done, it seems to work.

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It never ceased to amaze me how we could be out in the middle of nowhere and all of the sudden there would be a little roadside stand selling fresh fruit, veggies or tea. They even have these special little wood-fired stoves to make tea or stew that they sell to truckers and others.

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Turkish Countryside Car Wash – a pipe that continuously shoots a spray of water up in the air (like an upside down shower head). You pull over and drive under it to get the dust off your car.

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Small, dry, dusty farming villages. Old stone buildings with wood beams poking out between the stones. In the village center clots of young and old men at tables drinking tea and playing backgammon or other games. No women in sight anywhere.

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Tractors everywhere. Often pulling a cart loaded with hay or produce. The driver might be a grizzled old man or a boy who appears to be 10 or 12 years old. Sometimes there is more than one person on the tractor with the others riding “outboard” on the wheel covers. The classic is a middle-aged man with several “Turkish Aunties” riding outboard heading out or back from the fields.

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The Turks love technology. I read somewhere that they rank very high in cell phone ownership. At a remote farm I saw a broken down, very old wooden farm trailer. On top was a satellite dish.

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Figs, olives, sunflowers, potatoes, tomatoes, grapes. Everywhere.

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Eight people packed like sardines in a compact car looking like they are heading for the circus where they will amaze everyone as they pile out.

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Looks like a modern 3 story home from a distance but when you get up close you realize the ground floor is for the animals and the second floor is a hayloft. The people live on the third floor.

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Dung from the fields rolled up into large “footballs”, dried and stacked near the house. I assume they will be used for fuel.