Thick carpets lined with plush cushions
Back in the company of the cave dwellers – after the laughter at my fruitless attempt at milking a sheep had died down – the conversation quickly turned to the dam. With typical Turkish hospitality, a family of five shepherds had invited Mourad and I over for tea and something to eat.
We piled into the shepherds’ ramshackle truck and crossed the shallow river to the family’s home – “cave” hardly did the dwelling justice. Two storeys high, spacious, beautifully decorated, with running water, electricity and even a glass pane window, the cave was a place I might have moved into. Thick carpets lined with plush cushions covered the living room floor.
As honoured guests, we were invited to sit down and partake in a breakfast so ample, it left me full until evening. Dish after dish appeared: fried eggs, goat’s cheese, fresh bread, olives, tomatoes, butter, cucumbers, meatballs, sweets and gözleme (paper thin pancakes filled with cheese or honey and nuts). Politeness demanded we have at least one of each.
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