Slowly-by-Slowly

Westward Ho!: Of scorched earth and strawberries in Yeşilırmak

Posted on December 17, 2013 by lizcameron

Strawberries galore in Yeşilirmak don't belie the scorched earth nearby…(Click here for link to image source)

Strawberries galore in Yesilirmak don’t bely the scorched earth nearby…(Click here for link to image source)

As you may have seen from our last post, we’ve been eating our way across Cyprus. Thankfully, we were lucky enough to find an amazing restaurant run by a Turkish Cypriot re-patriot named Mustafa. Çiftlik evi was phenomenal and both humans and puppets were thoroughly sated not to mention besotted. After a congenial chat with the proprietor, we explained our plan to head West. Thanks to Mustafa Bey, we stood up from our most excellent repast armed with the name of a tiny hotel in Yeşilırmak, the
westernmost town in Northern Cyprus.

After scooping up all my
bloated puppets and tossing them into my purse, we rolled out of
Çiftlik Evi (Farm House Restaurant) with heavy stomachs and heavier eyelids.

Forget hearing from the Karagöz puppets today – they are in a food coma in the backseat of the car. You can read about our gorge-fest here.

Scorched earth in Yeşilırmak near the UN Buffer Zone in Northern Cyprus (Image by Liz Cameron)

Scorched, terraced earth in Yeşilırmak near the UN Buffer Zone in Northern Cyprus (Image by Liz Cameron)

The road from Gaziveren to Yeşilırmak is as twisty and windy as an ancient
olive tree and often goes by half-developed beach areas that feel a
bit sad and forlorn…but then again it is “winter” in Northern
Cyprus despite the 75 degrees F. Given our food coma state,
we didn’t talk much over the din of food snoring from the backseat
where my puppets had crashed after a belabored crawling out of the
purse exodus.

An abandoned village near Yeşilırmak near the UN Buffer Zone in Northern Cyprus (Image by Liz Cameron)

“Aha!” M. cried out, “see that – it’s the Islamists
in disguise!” Too full of food to make too many sounds, I
grunted some sort of “huh?” response. “ASPAVA!” M. exclaimed with
only the glee that an observant, anthropological atheist could.

“ASPAVA Resort and Beach – see it there?” he said, pointing
wildly to both sides of the road.

Yes, I did see the word through the haze of post-food endorphins coursing through my body.

“It is a creative application of Islamic praise and way of life, I suppose,” M.
explained with furvor, “ASPAVA stands for:

Allah (God)

Sıhat (health)

Para (money)

Aşk (love)

Versin (give)

Amin (amen)

“Clearly, the Turkish immigrants from the east are gaining footholds here.” Let me back up and explain a bit: When M. refers to “Turkish immigrants,” he is referring to people from (mostly) Anatolia (a.k.a. the Asian mainland of the Turkish Republic) who received financial incentives from the Turkish government to emigrate to Northern Cyprus after the Greek and Turkish atrocities of 1974. This program was created as a way to stimulate both the economy and population growth after the exodus of many ethnic Turkish Cypriots who had lived there for centuries before 1974. As a result of this program, we met many people – in fact the majority of the people that we met – who were Turkish but had no family history in Cyprus other then the most recent generation. M. was guessing that the ASPAVA folks fit into this category – as nary a “true” Turkish Cypriot we met had anything religious about them (granted, a convenience sample, but anyway…).

Military warning sign near Yeşilırmak near the UN Buffer Zone in Northern Cyprus (Image by Liz Cameron)

So, as we drove along discussing the lovely aspects of the ASPAVA philosophy we passed our turnoff for Yeşilırmak and headed into the area abutting the United Nation‘s buffer zone between Northern and Southern Cyprus. It was a stark contrast to the lovely ASPAVA ideal, if you ask me. With military compounds, barbed wire and menacing signs abounding, we began to consider turning around – we wouldn’t want a third run-in with Turkish military types after all!

And as we were looking for a place to pull off the narrow road to turn, we entered an area of scorched earth – presumed to be scorched so that people attempting to cross the border could be easily spotted. Most sad were the remnants of a village caught in the crossfire as the famous “green line” was implemented to divide the nation. It looked bombed out – but was likely just impacted by the windy sands of time…despite the Turkish sentries who had set up shop nearby.

Road overlooking the Mediterranean Sea near Yeşilırmak near the UN Buffer Zone in Northern Cyprus (Image by Liz Cameron)

We were quite saddened by the site of this village…and as we wound our way back to our bed for the night through fields and fields of budding strawberries (Yeşilırmak is famous for its strawberry festival), we reflected on all of the stories we had heard over the past week from Turkish Cypriots still living in the pain of what happened in 1974. And as much as we hope that the new life (strawberries) can win out in a future for both Northern and Southern Cyprus, we fear that the old life (scorched earth) will continue for some time.

Wintry view of the Ak Deniz over the grape arbor – from our window in the rooms above the Dillarga Lokanta in Yesilmak, Northern Cyprus – the westernmost town! (Image by Liz Cameron)

And that, my friends, will be what the Karagöz puppets tell me they will rap about in my next post, the events of 1974 in Cyprus and the fallout since…keep it locked for politics, puppet-style!

Greek Cyprus: No start to negotiations without preconditions (en.trend.az)
Turkish FM Davutoglu to visit TRNC (worldbulletin.net)
Love, life, strife: Cyprus’s rich history (edition.cnn.com)
Turkey says new Cyprus talks ‘imminent’ (dailystar.com.lb)
Turkey calls on Greek Cypriots to make positive contributions in peace talks (therebel.org)
New airline for north Cyprus (famagusta-gazette.com)

Posted in On Islam and Muslims, Puppets on the move around the world, Turkish Controversies, Visits from the Karagöz puppets | Tagged Cyprus, Greek Cypriot, Northern Cyprus, Politics of Turkey, strawberries, Turkey, Turkish, Turkish Cypriot, United Nation | 8 Comments

Çiftlik Evi: Mercan Bey & M. Sniff Out Delicious Food (Yet Again)

Posted on December 15, 2013 by lizcameron

Olives as part of the meze at Mustafa Bey’s Çiftlik Evi in Gaziveren, Northern Cyprus (Image by Liz Cameron)

As you may have learned over the years here at Slowly-by-Slowly, one of the Ottoman-era puppets who inhabits my brain (with the goal of assisting me in my cross-cultural marital road trip) is Mercan Bey ( that’s “Mehr-jahn”), the Arabian Spice Trader Puppet. You can read a bit more about him by clicking right here.

Now, Mercan Bey has travelled near and far – and always sniffs out the most delicious grocery items, spices and places to eat. He is, therefore, closely related in some spiritual sense, to M., who with only about a 1% fail rate, always chooses the best places to enjoy breakfast, lunch or supper. Unfortunately, I used to think that I too have this gift, but given my 99% fail rate, pointed out to me by Mercan Bey, I have given up and given in to the whims of M. and Mercan Bey on the food-locating front when outside of the home.

Hummus – not really a Turkish thing – but we were in Cyprus after all at Mustafa Bey’s Çiftlik Evi in Gaziveren, Northern Cyprus (Image by Liz Cameron)

And so it was, that upon our escape from Kyrenia (a lovely looking, but soul-sapping city by the sea in our experience), that we ended up eating lunch at 10:30 in the morning. As we set out to the west, intending to go to the very western tip of Cyprus, (because, why not?) we wove through dusty foothills with a few girly clubs thrown in here and there – the bass thumping even in daylight, a large water damn project in the works and kilometer upon kilometer of citrus plantations. I began to snooze a bit, my head lolling back and forth in between attempts to practice reading road signs (we were in “Gaziveren” village now) and respond to M.’s happy banter, and then it happened:

So-fresh-you-can’t-imagine-how-happy-our-mouths-were salad at Mustafa Bey’s Çiftlik Evi in Gaziveren, Northern Cyprus (Image by Liz Cameron)

Both Mercan Bey and M. shouted “Eureka!” at the same time. Now, while some of you know that this was the term that gold-panners called out upon finding their lump of ore, in my life, this means “We’ve found the right place to eat – and we’re going right now!!” Of course, this set all the puppets into a riotous spin of activity – mainly involving the tying of napkins around their necks and the like…before even knowing where we were going.

And as the car careened to the right towards a dirt path through an orange grove, then I saw it, the simple wooden sign, with green letters, saying “farm house” or “Çiftlik Evi,” in Turkish.

Mint on yogurt at Mustafa Bey’s Çiftlik Evi in Gaziveren, Northern Cyprus (Image by Liz Cameron)

And after several miles of twists and turns through red-dirt farmland, waxy green citrus tree leaves and a small village with very narrow roads, we emerged into the parking lot of the proprietor Mustafa Bey’s farm house restaurant. Kenne, the Queen of Manners and Etiquette for Ladies reminds me that I must remind those of you who do not know that in Turkey, last names are often not used, especially in the countryside, so everone is Mr. Mustafa (Mustafa Bey) or Liz Hanim (Mrs. Liz). And if one is trying to be very proper and respectful, it becomes Mustafa Bey Efendi (sort of “Mr. Mustafa, Sir”). OK, Kenne is satisfied and will leave me alone to type my own post now.

Fresh bread at Mustafa Bey’s Çiftlik Evi in Gaziveren, Northern Cyprus (Image by Liz Cameron)

Born in Gaziveren, Mustafa Bey and his family left for Leicester, England, circa 1974 (the historical line-in-the sand that seems etched into the hearts and minds of all Cypriots we met). Schooled and raised in England, Mustafa Bey married, had three girls – and now has a granddaughter as well. His lifelong dream has been to return to this village, and to open a farm-to-table restaurant…and while he is clearly thrilled to be doing what he does, he was kind enough to share that it is a challenge when one’s daughters and granddaughter are so far away…not to mention a challenge given the tenuous economic situation in Northern Cyprus (i.e. not able to trade with other countries -legally- given that the country is not recognized).

Pickles (and pickled peppers) at Mustafa Bey’s Çiftlik Evi in Gaziveren, Northern Cyprus (Image by Liz Cameron)

Regardless of these worries, we continued our “eat across Cyprus” theme and gorged ourselves on the best of the farm – all of which was the most fresh tasting (and smelling) food either of us have ever eaten. From the meze of plain yogurt with mint, local olives, pickled vegetables and a nutty hummus (not often seen in our locales in Turkey – more of an Arab thing – but there it was on the Cypriot table) to the whole, gluten-rich wheat bread with ayran (salty yogurt drink), we shone with food happiness and the puppets rolled around the table in fits of glee. Karagoz himself just rolled around in ecstasy as he was rubbing his tummy as lamb-jus spilled out of the corners of his mouth.

Our salad included vegetables that SMELLED like vegetables and our entree, which Mustafa Bey introduced as “what the Greeks call Kleftiko” was a heavenly slow-cooked lamb shank with rosemary-baked potato wedges.

Lamb shank, slow-cooked (sorry vegan and veggie friends, I fell off the wagon) zt Mustafa Bey’s Çiftlik Evi in Gaziveren, Northern Cyprus (Image by Liz Cameron)

Dessert was a plate of the freshes grapefruit, apple and new dates. It was all we could do not to fall down on the lawn of the restaurant and take a nap. Luckily, Mustafa Bey pointed us in the direction of his nephew’s small hotel in exactly the most western town in Northern Cyprus – and we headed off for a nap. More on that later!

Turkey says new Cyprus talks ‘imminent’ (dailystar.com.lb)
Gul congratulates TRNC on 30th anniversary (worldbulletin.net)
Turkey will give all support for ‘peace’ in Cyprus (worldbulletin.net)

Posted in Puppets on the move around the world, Turkish Food!, Visits from the Karagöz puppets | Tagged Cyprus, farm to table, food, fresh food, Gaziveren Cyprus, Kibris, Kuzey Kıbrıs, Northern Cyprus, organic, Turkish, Turkish Cypriot | 4 Comments

Kranky in Kyrenia – Including – A 2nd Round with Soldiers

Posted on December 10, 2013 by lizcameron

Harrumph. I’d had just about enough of sitting upright all day with an increasingly resistant-to-medicine pain in my side despite the resplendent views on our way down the north slopes of Kantara castle. You can read about that lovely locale in my last post.

Karagöz egged me on as I engaged in a bit of lackluster behavior as it relates to being a back seat driver – complicated of course by my role as navigatrix. Finally, the little chorus of dancing lady puppets pulled the lever on my seat, reclined my chair & placed a cold compress over my eyes, leaving the navigation – not to mention the driving – to M.

As we left the cool breezes of the Kantara mountaintop ( &the scents of cedar, juniper and pine) for the smog of the city limits, M. Indicated that he was ready for my emotional return. This was the case as all of a sudden, we found ourselves driving right into a military compound that was in the middle of the city.

For those of you who read about our scary encounter with a Turkish military post in the late-night a few weeks ago, we did not want to repeat this experience at all. It was, however, too late, we were at the guard post and guards were using under – the – car mirrors to check for bombs. I saw sweat coming down my husband’s neck. The puppets all crowded under the seats. Kenne, The puppet known as the queen of manners and maintenance of ladylike behavior, however, hopped up on my right shoulder and swacked a smile on my face in the daintiest way possible. I was, of course on the side of the window that the soldiers would see first.

And then a miracle happened. The two young guards saluted M. who saluted back as they had referred to him as an officer – which he was when he was in the Turkish military. They presumed we were in Cyprus on vacation. After asking directions through the compound, they let us go – with soldiers saluting us all the way. We could not wait to get the hell out of there in case our subterfuge was discovered.

Bucking up like a buttercup (as my sister and mother say), I began to place our position on the map as it related to our goal location – the White Pearl Hotel in Kyrenia’s harbor district. We made it out of the military compound holiday villas and breathed a sigh of relief. And there in front of us was the white pearl.

Recommended by the Lonely Planet as a mid-range option with a fabulous roof deck lokanta and bar – we decided to try our luck on finding a room as it was off season. We found their last room – just off the reception area and smelling like anti-mold products but a bed for the night. Perhaps the other rooms are better but I’d check it out before booking. Also, their breakfast is the McDonald’s, nasty version of kahvaltı.

After wandering around the town a bit, enjoying all of the lovely old doors (see below), abandoned Greek houses and an ancient mosque, we headed home for a pre-dinner nap. As my pain and fatigue set in – M. went out on his own. Returning with a delicious salad covered in shredded grilled haloumi cheese & a sucuk tost,, he regaled me with tales from the balık lokanta (Fish restaurant) full of wealthy wealthy Turkish women imploring their husbands on the telephone to lose no more than 10,000 lira that night. Allah-hallah!

As the women picked at salads and their cell phones, their children, none more than five years old, all played soundlessly with their iPhones or iPads. There was no giggling, no child’s play, no poking one another, no playing with food. In fact sometimes the mothers got off their cell phones long enough to shovel a bite of this or that in their child’s mouth. We saw so many wealthy Turks in town to gamble – not to mention people from the Arabian Peninsula. We found this depressing.

Cyprus is full of casinos – as well as out-of-the-way girly clubs literally in the middle of nowhere all over the place. I could clearly smell human trafficking in those spots and my heart ached. It’s a depressing reality about how Turkish and Northern Cypriots and the Northern Cypriot economy is pushed into a corner with respect to making money…. Even Celebi the modern puppet shook his head at these realities.

Remembering all this, I found myself Losing my taste for the delicious repast brought to me by my kind husband, so I konked out feeling sad about the state of the world. And that was Kyrenia.