We have finally ventured out from the familiar order of the EU to the unknown beyond, and all we had to do was step on the plane. Next stop, Istanbul. As soon as the cabin was set loose from its seatbelts, a throng of small bodies of chaos let loose a deafening rebellion, which was somehow allowed to continue unchallenged for the duration of the flight. It seems we along with every family from some small village in Turkey were equally excited by the low priced flight into Istanbul’s Sabiha Gokcen airport. Unfortunately, our last minute planning left us paying the difference + with a bogus exchange rate (when they say you can pay in Euros – do it) and an unnecessarily extravagant personal shuttle for the 40 kilometer (that’s why it’s so cheap) drive to our hostel in downtown Istanbul – lessons learned. Having landed in Asia, we crossed back into Europe on our way to Istanbul. As we crossed the bridge that separates these two continents, the sirens and lights of ambulances raced past us to aid in the rescue effort following the earthquakes that must have shaken the eastern border as our plane hit the runway. Our friendly driver took the opportunity to give us a few pointers (“never say it’s your first time in Istanbul”) and to show off the beautiful night views of some of the city’s most famous icons - the Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque, and the wall surrounding the city’s old quarter.
After a short, sleepless night we enjoyed a rooftop terrace breakfast with a view overlooking the Golden Horn. Bellies filled to the brim to take full advantage of the Turkish version of the continental breakfast, we headed to the hostel’s in-house travel agent to book a 9-hour bus ride to the Ecovillage we had arranged to volunteer for during our brief, 10-day stay in Turkey. This arrangement, also having happened at the last minute, left us swimming in a lot of unknowns – How would we find the farm from the bus terminal? Would the long ride be worth the trouble? How do you say “Can we stop, my bladder is about to explode” in Turkish? Hedging our bets, with a few of the more important local words and phone numbers scribbled in our journals, we began our marathon bus trip to
Dedetepe Organic Farm in Küçükkuyu on the Aegean coast. During our journey, a super gregarious off-duty bus driver toured us through every feature and luxury of his bus, speaking to us as though we were only pretending not to speak any Turkish. Yet, somehow, true to form, Eriks was able to get the man’s entire life story – for instance, apparently he learned to drive at the age of 12 and his son is a recent divorcee. We arrived at the farm after dark to an empty farm, exhausted and confused. It was only an hour or so after our arrival that the farm’s inhabitants returned from a soccer game against a local team.
Over the next days, all our doubts were dispelled and our expectations surpassed. We received an effortlessly warm welcome by the many like-minded strangers working and volunteering at Dedetepe (Dede = grandfather, tepe = hill). The roughly 5 acre organic olive farm is owned by a ½ Turkish, ½ British couple and their two insanely energetic daughters. Working and volunteering with us were 1 Turk, 1 Palestinian, 3 Germans, a French couple (who rode their tandem bike all the way from France), 2 Americans and 1 Italian (who we refer to, lovingly, as the violent vegan). Fortunately, our short stay also allowed us to meet the local sustainable agriculture community that shares a network with Dedetepe, Bugday Association (Turkey’s version of WWOOF). It was strangely normal that this community, who graciously hosted all of the farm’s volunteers for a New Moon party, reminded us of some we know in Colorado. With this impressively international circle, we shared hopeful intentions, tea, and an inspiring movie (Fierce Light). All this left me with a strangely normal feeling – we must know these people from somewhere, sometime?
As a member of the
Global Ecovillage Network, Dedetepe is powered by wind, solar and volunteers, who work a few hours a day in exchange for food and lodging. Check out our pictures of the farm to see for yourself the creativity of the setup and friendliness of the faces. During the warm months, the farm produces an array of its own garden goodies from grapes to beans, but the primary focus is always olives, olive oil and olive oil-based soap. Every Friday is market day, where a few of the volunteers venture off the farm to pick up all the necessary supplies for the week. The first few days after, the pantry is bursting at the seams with fresh veggies, cheese and bread. Chores are split up among all of the farm’s inhabitants and volunteers, with everyone rotating through the necessary basics of cooking in the vegetarian, often vegan (especially the farther from the last market day you get), communal kitchen and cleaning the shared adobe and tile hamaam (bath). Other projects are divvied up on the basis of need and interest. Basically, we were offered as many opportunities to get our hands dirty as we could handle. Eriks played handyman for the farms many basic structural projects: giving the welcome sign a solid foundation, managing the preparation for and assembly of a new storage tent, and creating a new shelving paradigm for the explosion of pots and pans in the kitchen (see pictures). My responsibilities included pruning the tangle of generations-old grapevines and preparing them for the winter (expanding on the skills gained during our guest appearance as grape pickers), watering the farms many young trees, and feeding and caring for the farms gaggle of adopted cats. My playing vet included me practicing my hand at giving one poor cat a shot everyday - though, it was always with the assistance of the Violent Vegan and another couple sets of hands.
Unless you were awake at the crack of dawn to hear the layers of call to prayer that sounded from all corners of the valley, an average day at Dedetepe started around 9 am (unless you were cooking) for a group breakfast. The morning menu often consisted of fresh pomegranates, bread with local honey or very local olive oil, homemade quince or fig jam, eggs from the farm’s chickens, and a couple of pots of hot tea, served in the classic Turkish double-decker kettles. If you were lucky, you might even be treated to a cup of Palestinian coffee a-la-Mohammad. Afterward, the farm’s inhabitants would spread to the corners of the property to feed and care for the various farm fauna (approximately 20+ cats, 6 dogs, 25 chickens, 2 rabbits, and 1 half-blind horse), water and manage the diverse farm flora (medicinal herbs, garden goodies, decorative trees & shrubs), repair and evolve the built environment (composting toilet, irrigation system, etc.). Around lunchtime, hungry hands would assemble to quicken the pace of production in the kitchen. Afterwards, the inhabitants would sometimes again part ways until dinner. Other times, group yoga sessions would be proposed for the top deck of the 3 story outdoor lounge or farm medicinal herb tours would by hosted by the farm’s owner. Then, yet again, another group of chef’s would converge to whip up chapattis, curries, soups, ratatouilles, dumplings, brick oven pizzas/cookies/breads, or just mash together leftovers from previous meals – sometimes giving the dish a new identity, other times old ingredients giving themselves away like a bad fake id. Much like anywhere we establish a home (no matter how temporary) our days seemed to revolve around eating food and bonding while preparing it. At Dedetepe, it felt like this is where most of the community magic happened. At night there were village weddings, new moon parties and fire circles to explore. By the time we had enjoyed a hot water/cold air shower and our heads hit the pillows – we were running on empty.
After bidding farewell to the Dedetepe time-warp microcosm, we took a night bus back to Istanbul to explore the city for a day before leaving for Africa (!). The bus arrived with our sore-eyed, zombie selves at 6 am to the bus terminal in Istanbul. From what we could gather through our desperate attempts to pantomime and interpretive dance our intention to get to the old town, the metro wouldn’t be available for another hour so we transferred to another bus that we were directed to. A few buses and a couple of hours (should have been 30 min) later, we finally found ourselves in the heart of the city, drunk on sleeplessness. We took refuge in our hip,
edgy-yet-very welcoming hostel until after breakfast. During the course of the next 36 hours, we crisscrossed the city by foot, from the new town’s hidden (hard to find a 2nd time) handcrafted goods shops, to the old town’s kaleidoscope spice market, seemingly endless bazaar, captivating street art and overpopulated tourist attractions. Unfortunately, our brief visit did not allow us to follow the sea of tourists in line for the entrances through the gates of the Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque or the Topkapi Palace. For our one night in Istanbul, we had the pleasure of the company of a lovely local tour guide, who escorted us from dinner at the inlet’s fish markets, to a hilltop hookah and tea with a view, to drinks in the hopping hip strip of bars, clubs and Turkish-style beer gardens.
Amazing how a mere 10 days in the historical crossroads between East and West absorbed us so completely. A country as intriguing and culturally rich deserves a one-way ticket and an open palate – I have no doubt that we will return someday. Tesekkür Ederim, Türkiye. Until next time.
Türkçe 101:
• Lütfen = Please
• Teşekkür Ederim = Thank you
• Merhaba/Selam = Hello
A pair of beautifully simple recipes learned while at Dedetepe:
Turkish Cola – energizing and refreshing, plus it doesn’t make your teeth feel like coral
• Molasses (we used grape)
• Lemongrass
• Lemon
• Dilute as necessary
Palestinian Coffee
• Ground Coffee
• Ground Cardamom
• Boil water and pack the coffee/cardamom mixture on top and let it steep for a few minutes
• Strain and enjoy
