The Village

Doğanbey is know simply as The Village by the people who have taken it upon themselves to refurbish and renew this small town tucked into the southwestern Aegean coast of Turkey.

We stayed only one night at The Village, which is accessible by car (as long as it hasn’t rained a lot recently!). The cottage we stayed in is owned by the brother of our host here, and is one of the many structures that have been refurbished from crumbling stone into something absolutely idyllic. They’ve done such a good job that now the public has discovered the village and are starting to come as tourists, even taking their wedding photos among the village homes — much to the annoyance of the locals.

The night we arrived, we sat under a very large bay laurel tree as the evening cooled and the cicadas sang, enjoying a very smooth old rum, at peace with the quiet of the stones around us broken only by the periodic death rattle of the neighbors water pump.

We had planned to have coffee that morning and then go see some sites and antiquities, but those plans just didn't happen.

The woman who keeps the house arrived in the morning, and asked if we wanted something to eat. Meh, we said. I don’t know, perhaps some coffee and an egg. Maybe?

That's how it started.

She immediately called her daughter who runs the local cafe, and let us know that we should go down to the center of the village. Right now. For breakfast. They're waiting on you.

Well alrighty then. So we got ourselves together and figured that we'd have an egg or whatever in the little cafe.

Wrong.

We sat on the stone outdoor patio overlooking some watery inlet of the Aegean, with a gentle rustle in the leaves overhead. The little breakfast started with cucumbers, tomatoes, briny olives, eggs scrambled with tomatoes herbs and onions. Wow on presentation, and double wow on flavor.

But wait, there's more. Later came an egg over medium in a pan, several types of cheese, and a generous helping of fresh bread on which we wiped this apricot jam that will make you weep. Amazing. Completely blown away.

But wait, there's more. Later came the watermelon, cherries, pears and other freshly plucked fruit, along with tea that magically appears whenever our little hourglass shaped glasses ran low. Our hostess was so gracious and friendly.

Well, that morning set of plans just got delayed by 90 minutes of awesome.

After finally making it to the end of the parade of deliciousness, we thanked our hostess and ambled away from the table with more talking, handshaking, hugging and picture taking. I am learning that an exit in Turkey is an extended affair.

So cool. Great, and so now we can get back to plans. Excellent.

So we took a little loop around the village on our way back to see the scatter of homes that have been restored and those still in need of some love.

After making it around, someone who looked like an elderly Albert Einstein poked his head out of a door because he heard our friend talking. More huge smiles, hand waving, hugging, laughing, talking and, just like that, we were invited in to sit and chat. This was the home of Ahmet Han, a retired engineer who was actually instrumental in revitalizing the village.

His porch was inlaid with marble slabs and other stones, artfully placed, a fountain, and an inviting little sitting area (see the pic gallery). We chatted briefly and then his wife came in. She was an absolute bundle of happy energy, with the instantly warm and welcoming hugging, laughing, and hand waving that just seems to be who these people are.

Out came the homemade fresh-squeezed lemonade and sweet treats, followed by twenty more minutes of talking and laughing. Our hostess said that we MUST visit the local museum, so she made a quick call to the proprietor, who happened to live next door. Before too long the neighbor, who had just picked up cat food for the 15 local street kitties, poked HER head in to say hello.

More hugging, laughing and chatting about this and that, and we learned that she had in fact put the museum together herself. In her home. “Oh, you must come see my museum!” Hmm, I thought. A museum. This one elderly lady created a museum, in this tiny village, in a house 50 feet up the path. Alrighty then, we agreed.

After the normal extended goodbyeing with professor Einstein and his wife, we made it a good solid 40 feet down the road before the museum lady led us through her door, to walk us through her collections.

I do admit it. I was skeptical, but this amazing woman is Emel Hanim, an iconic historian and proprietor of Turkish fashion. Her museum consists of traditional Turkish wedding dresses from regions all over Turkey. The level of detail in the handmade dresses is stunning.

“Look, do you see?”, she asked. “This woman is from this area, and all parts of her dress and belt and head wear represents her particular region and culture.”

Emel was the granddaughter of an Ottoman princess, and is the eldest aunt to the royal children of the late King Hussein of Jordan and Queen Noor. As a young woman, Emel was a part of the Turkish foreign service and over the years has presented her fashion collection all over the world.

Never saw that coming. We were blown away by the absolutely heroic efforts, of one person, toward the preservation and presentation of her culture through the traditional wear of the women.

After over an hour of appreciating the details of gold-embroidered tunics and jewel encrusted headdresses, we concluded our surprising tour and moved outside to sit and enjoy sugared almonds, tea, ripe apricots and pears pulled right out of her own tree.

More hugging, goodbyeing, chatting and laughing (we were getting good at this now) and then we walked away having spent most of the day right here in The Village among the warmth of these people.

Suddenly sad that we only had one day in The Village, where I could easily spend the rest of my life, we packed up to head further south to Bodrum. The keeper of the house saw us out. Goodbyeing, hugging, hand waving, and layers of gratitude everywhere.

She followed us out of the house, up the small opening that led to the pad where our car was parked. She carried a large cup of water with her. At this point in the story, every Turkish person reading this knows what happens next. But we had no idea, until our host leaned over to say, “watch what she does with the water.”

As soon as we began driving away, she tossed the water from the cup in our direction. It splashed on the ground behind us. “Go like water, return like water,” she would say. This is the wish for us on departure. I understand this to mean leave healthy like water, and like water, find your way back home soon.

My heart is full.