Back at Home from Home

Going back to Kurtkoy was like coming home – a testament to the welcoming people there really!

I stumbled across the tiny ticket office only because I was nosy and poked my head through the small door. Ticket reeled off the tiny fax-machine style printer and the guys pointed me towards the coach that would drop me off in Yalova.

The passengers took their allocated seat numbers very seriously despite the coach being half empty. So the wide old lady with the seat number next to mine gave my turquoise hair one strange look before sitting half on my lap, trying to fit in her seat. Since I didn’t bite, she soon relaxed, loosened her headscarf and slept. Untill the simit vendor entered the bus. She got her husband to buy one for her and offered me some too.

On the ferry everyone raced to the çay booth. They also bought some bread to throw up to the seagulls, who would perform some crazy flight manoeuvres to catch it.

In Yalova the Kurtkoy bus driver remembered me straight away and said my turquoise hair was beautiful. The Village ladies didn’t recognise me and started joking about the hair. I was rescued by the youngest addition to the Kurtkoy village. The baby was only a few weeks old and was passed around for admiration and fussing over.

The bus driver dropped me off right outside Forest Gardens – the hole in the road had been filled in just enough so buses can now squeeze past. As I opened the gate the dogs almost pushed me over welcoming me back. I went to check on the three cute little chicks who were poking their tiny heads from under the mothers wings.

By the time I’d unloaded all the German salamis, meats and cheeses I brought into the fridge, Aidan got home. He’d ridden to the market in town and brought my helmet along in case he saw me; I must’ve missed him by a few seconds. We rode into town once more for a beer run and then settled in – it was Aidan’s turn to cook dinner.

The next day I finally got to see the field where the others had already been busy planting beans and sunflowers in anticipation of planting a vineyard next year. It is a stunning flower meadow!

Every now and again our work got interrupted by the Sean or Winnie finding a spider or a grasshopper that had to be photographed. An unsuspecting tortoise had to be rescuer from Aidan’s scythe. When I lifted it up and said Lets go! it actually stuck its feet out and started paddling away like it was running.

Our map of Turkey had arrived so we made plans which general route to take after we’re back from France. We’re so keen to get moving again!

Kurtkoy is sort of surrounded by mountains so the rain clouds get stuck there, till they’ve rained themselves out. You can just see a ring of sunshine peeking over the mountain tops laughing at us sodden fools. So more rainy day jobs like weeding the baby vines (for next year’s vineyard) in the poly tunnel had to be done.

While Aidan worked some more on Chevrel’s garden project model. Architects….

When the sun was finally out again, we took the bikes for a little spin down the awesome winding village and mountain roads to the Yalova waterfall. We arrived and found ourselves facing downhill in some sand and gravel, where the bikes would fall over and skid into the water, if we parked there. Aidan managed to turn Pippa around. But my legs were too short so I had to sit tight and wait for Aidan to come rescue me. We both pushed and heaved Seven around and back up the hill to park, much to the amusement of the other people there.

The waterfall is really nice but very busy. So we had a turkish coffee in the sunshine, people and parrot watching.

On the way back Seven started revving too high and the engine kept missing a beat. I tried to re-set the computer with the throttle twisting technique, but to no avail. Oh well, more repairs then…. We rode into Yalova anyways, for a yummie doner-in-a-wrap lunch and more people watching. On the way out of town I had to keep the throttle wide open to keep the engine going. So we were revving and speeding about, praying the engine wouldn’t cut out in the middle of a junction.

But we made it and it was still sunny and warm when we got back. So time to let the little chicks outside for the first time. We put them in a special cage so they won’t run away and birds of prey can’t get to them. Hulahen went mental, trying to kidnap the chicks through the wire so Aidan had to sit watch next to the cage. We left fixing the bikes for the next day.

That night I got a really bad tummy bug, my dinner escaping in rather unpleasant ways. By morning I was still in agony so Aidan brought me tea for breakfast and Sillycat kept me company while I snoozed all day. Aidan gave Pippa a once over, but wasn’t able to fix the starting problem she’s been having. Guess we’ve got another greasemonkeying day coming up after we return from France.

At about 3pm I crawled out of bed, taking my tea for a tender walk. Aidan had put Pippa back together and him and Jack finished off the concrete works they’d started a few weeks back.

I went and dyed my hair pink, but since there was still a lot of turquoise left in it, it turned out an awesome purple.

 

I haven't got a purple hair pic, so you can have one of the cat ;)

I haven’t got a purple hair pic, so you can have one of the cat 😉

That evening we packed all our stuff away and cleaned up the room, as we’d go to Istanbul for a couple of days before flying to France. Aidan went downstairs for dinner but I was still feeling like death warmed up, so I crawled straight back into bed.

The next day I felt a lot better and Chevrel gave us a lift into Yalova to catch the ferry. Jack came with too as he was finally leaving Forest Gardens off on another adventure.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s