Selimiye

Ahh, Selimiye. We have loved this place since our very first of many visits.

Villa Manzara. We have booked a tiny one bedroom apartment with an amazing view and a little pool right outside our living room door. The weather forecast is predicting storms. The first bad weather since Prague. Hasan expresses concern that if the bad weather does come, we will have to move our outside furniture into our tiny living room because the terrace roof is not deep enough to stop the rain. He does have a larger apartment with better outside space if we want to see it. The outside space is indeed large with a vine covered roof. The apartment is the ground floor of an old Turkish house. The walls are thick and built of ancient stone. Inside is a large sitting room complete with a big open fire. There are two big double bedrooms, two shower rooms, a utility area and a nice galley kitchen. There are amazing views from every window. Even the land facing windows have pretty views over the hillsides. I love it!  It comes with two inquisitive kittens, these are very friendly considering they are not domestic. One has a bad eye, we call him Sinbad. The other just wants lots of cuddles and love, so we call her Lovey. I AM A DOG PERSON! What is happening to me?

Hasan and Nuran (our hosts) are lovely. We soon become friends. They are both a mine of information. They own Villa Manzara (which they used to run as a hotel) and also have a house in Istanbul where they spend the winter months. Hasan bought the villa fifty years ago and worked tirelessly to develope it into the charming hideaway it is today. The road was once a gravelly track that wound up the precipitous mountain above Selimiye. It is now tarmac but the gradient is unchanged.

Hasan explains that the reason Selimiye is relatively unchanged is because of strict planning rules he helped put in place. No buildings over two stories, no hotel chains etc. There are plenty of places to stay, small hotels, apartments and pensions. There is a good choice of restaurants and bars, but no nightclubs or foam parties.

Selimiye has retained its village atmosphere. Its about as traditional as you will find on this coast. Turkish ladies still wear colourful trousers and dress length tops with head scarves decorated with beads. Men still sit in the shade playing Okey or Backgammon while sitting on rickety chairs drinking tea from tulip shaped glasses. The sounds are of good natured chatter, the clackety clack of the game tiles and chinking of tea glasses. Cockrels crow, dogs herald the arrival of knocky engined mopeds and old tractors, wild birds chirp in the pomegranate and almond trees. In the bay gulets and yachts glide perfectly reflected in the mirror calm of the sea. Fishing boats with their distinctive sound `phut phut phut` go about their busy day. In the mosque with its tall minaret, the Adhan is called out by a Muezzin five times a day. Pre dawn, noon, afternoon, sunset and night. A sound I love, despite being totally non religious myself. At night owls call and crickets chirp, cats call to each other as the village goes to sleep. Its a peaceful place with a loving community. People are shy but say hello, we are getting to be recognised. When the restaurant owner toots and waves as he drives past on his moped its feels comfortable and I feel at home.

The village is celebrating a wedding. The festivities will last three days and nights. Dozens of chairs are laid out in a piece of land in the village centre and musicians start tuning up. We decide to take a peep through the hedge when the evening comes. Sadly this evening is when the storm breaks. My God! What a storm. The mountains surrounding us vanish in the thick clouds and sheets of rain. Thunder and lightning crash simultaneously all around. Even our old stone house shakes and the power goes off. We were watching the storm from our lovely terrace when the first drips came through the terrace roof. We move the chairs inside and roll up the edges of the lovely old kilim as the heavy rain drops splash the terrace floor. The drip suddenly becomes a deluge of grubby water as the old roof succumbs to the extreme pressure of water. We abandon the terrace for the dry safety and comfort of the sitting room. Hasan texts to check we are ok. I cook soup on the gas hob which we eat with village bread, washed down with good Turkish wine (of course). On each easing of the rain we can hear the music is still playing in the village. Turkish music, no `dancing queen` or `Lady in red` here. I would love to go and watch, but it is seriously no night to go out. The weather breaks just long enough for the firework display. Apparently they have little money and poorly paid jobs but village weddings are still cause to spare no expense. In the cities weddings are much quieter events. The morning reveals the aftermath of the storm. The roof looks fine, I suspect that the covering has deteriorated over years in the hot sun. It can probably cope with normal showers but not the extreme weather of last night. Hasan says they have not had rain like that for years. The kilim is soaked but Hasan says it will be fine, they will hose the dirty water out of it and dry it in the sun. What sun? It rains for two days! We count the tiles in the swimming pool and estimate at least an inch and a half of rain in 24 hours. Venturing out we find gravel and mud has washed down the hill onto the road, and some premises in the village are being pumped out. We buy what provisions we need and head back up the hill to home.

By the small Migros (supermarket) on the lane to the sea is a fabulous restaurant. Would you call it a restaurant or a canteen? Pans of hot food are on display inside. The choice changes daily, but its local food eaten by local people. There is no fuss or ceremony. We sit alongside workmen, housewives and travellers. An old lady is shucking a massive pile of beans at the table in the corner and muttering to herself. An old man sits on a plastic stool by the entrance tapping the ground with his stick and calling friendly greetings to passersby. In we go, whats on offer today? The fabulously simple runner beans cooked soft in butter, onion, garlic and a sprinkling of dill. Chicken portions in a broth with chunks of carrots and potatoes. Chicken soup, thick and full of shredded chicken. Lentil soup, warm and filling. Bean stew. Beef koftas cooked in a meaty broth with potatoes, carrots, cabbage. Pasta. Rice. You choose what you want, each portion served in a little bowl, pick up your basket of bread, knife, fork and spoon and head outside to a table. Including two cups of Turkish tea we never managed to spend more than £6, and went away full. The host/owner is always busy, stirring pots, serving food, and clearing tables. 

The beachfront is lined with little bars, cafes and shops. There is no hardsell, no one pestering you to go into their shop. Just friendly smiles ands nods. One particular restaurant catches our eye. It goes by two names, Lipsos or PiVela. They have tables set out on a pontoon over the water, and friendly staff. During the day they will set you out sunbeds and parasols for the price of a drink or some lunch. I love swimming off a pontoon, no nasty sand or pebbles. Straight into swimming depth water, no wading in. The sea is flat calm and warm. The food is good too. Especially liked the beans in butter and garlic. But the best treat was fish that our waiter caught in front of us off the pontoon. No fancy fishing gear, just a lump of bread wrapped in line studded with hooks and chucked out into the sea with a float on it. He caught a Melamoo and a Chipla (the latter means `naked` in Turkish.) Both wonderful fish, perfect portion size, silver scales flashing in sun. You dont get fresher than that, the flesh was very white, soft and delicious. We sunbathed, ate and swam here often, the welcome was always warm and when we said goodbye that final night we both felt sad. Our waiter hugged and kissed us both, we promised to go back. His uncle, the owner, shook our hands and thanked us for being his guests. I know our wine was discounted that night.

Hasan has a problem with the internet modem and offers us a lift to Bozborun to get it fixed. Bozborun is also lovely. Its a major boat building village, it seems every house has a boat under construction in the garden. There are more boats than houses here. We have visited here a lot from gulet holidays. Getting out of the car outside the Berber`s, the barber instantly recognises Norman from previous visits. This man has a good memory for faces, it must be five years since we were last here. He is dissapointed that Norman had been shaved in Selimiye the day before. Norman is dissapointed too, he would have liked to renew his acquaintance with this nice man. The model boat shop is still there too! Run by a very old tiny lady from what appears to be her front room. I already have a gulet and a fishing boat at home, but buy another little boat called a Hamsi (named after the delicious anchovy like fish they trawl for in the black sea) to post back to add to my `fleet` on the dresser. Next to the boat shop is a restaurant, we feast on fried calamari, jumbo prawns in oil and garlic, a hot peppery tapanade, olives, stuffed vine leaves, so many wonderful things. 

We also had a trip to Sogut (pronounced like `soot` with a hint of the `g` in it). A beautiful bay with a narrow shingle beach barely 6 feet wide, with restaurants right on the edge. There is no pavement, you have to walk on the beach. Hasan is eager to try a restaurant that has been recommended. Willing guinea pigs we are happy to join them. But first a swim. The restaurant `Asinti` offers spick and span toilets and showers along with a swimming pontoon with loungers. The water is so clear you can see the pebbly bottom and the silver darting fish. Its also warm and salty (always rinse off in fresh water after swimming in the sea here as if you dont, the salt water dries on your skin it will become sore). We view the meze! Discuss the options and Hasan orders. First up is a long board with a dish of griddled olives and garlic, a bean puree (similar to hummous but made with beans instead of chickpeas), little fish called Hamsi (see paragraph above.), vineleaves wrapped around rice and sour cherries. Village bread warm from the oven and the most fruity of local olive oil to drizzle over the bean puree (and anything else for that matter). Then came zucchini (courgette) shaved wafer thin, dipped in the finest of batter and deep fried until shatteringly crisp served with a tart mayonnaise with dill. Then came grilled baby squid, succulent and tender (no rubber bands). Then came octopus cooked with olive oil, tomatoes and garlic. And boureks, flaky delicate pastry wrapped around seafood and vegetables with a slight hint of chilli and curry. All washed down with good Turkish wine of course. I am dribbling as I write this, remembering this fabulous feast. I will be coming home as seafreight! 

Cats!

Hasan is emptying the jacuzzi pool so that it can be cleaned. There is about a foot of water left in the bottom. Norman and I are enjoying our early morning cuppa on the terrace. Sinbad and Lovey are play fighting and chasing each other around. Suddenly there is a loud splash! Lovey has fallen in. One very bedraggled kitchen is standing on the seat looking a little shocked. So, I find myself rolling up my pj`s and paddling in to the rescue. Nice start to the day. 

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