I Discovered the Soul of Türkiye

And it definitely not at Istanbul's tourist locations

This story began, as usual, with Istanbul. I had visited with Claire Polders and Daniel Presley (other folks on Substack) recently, and you can read about their experience here. Still, everyone travels differently.

Türkiye is no longer a travel destination. I live here. I’m married to a Turk after all. But it is more than that. We would never have made it without the support of the people around us. Many people have helped us get this far. Here are just a very few.

The Bees

My husband wanted a farm and was smart enough to know that, as an absolute city boy from Istanbul, he would need help. That help began immediately with the bees. Even though I was raised on a farm, we did not keep bees. We also did not have the animals, other than horses, that my husband wanted.

Because of their hard work, when the entire village lost all their bees last winter, we didn't. Yes, we lost some, but not all. These guys learned why, improved their process, and now the bees are doubling in size. I’ve written previously in a note about the new bees hunting their home. Calmly, these two guys took the young bees that had swarmed and introduced them into their own hive. And now, months later, there are even more.

The bees have been a dream all because of our beekeeper. Each time we’ve had an issue or a problem, even things that have nothing to do with bees, he’s the first person my husband calls. He always has the answer.

The Gardens

Then there’s the retired gardener from the research center here who knows his plants. He works best if we leave him alone and let him do his thing. But animals? Nope, nopity nope. He has planted more in our garden than any of us can ever eat, so I know by the end of July I’ll be gifting vegetables to everyone I know. Thank goodness horses like cucumbers.

Would our farm look as wonderful as it does without him? Not a chance.

The Animals

Then there’s the vet. You cannot have animals without a vet, and ours is one matter-of-fact guy. He doesn’t mince words, and that’s very helpful when you have sick animals. As the area’s head vet for years, he knows everyone in the animal world.

This man came every week this winter to be certain our very malnourished rescue stallion was getting the nutrition he needed. Years ago on the racing circuit here, the horse was doped, and it ruined his digestive system and, most likely, other parts of his body. He eats a lot, but it took this veterinarian weeks of studying the horse’s eating habits to learn what was missing and what would help the horse gain weight. All of this for free.

These people and dozens of others have helped my husband and me no matter how hard the task. Or how many questions he asks (and knowing my husband, that is a lot). Or how little Turkish I speak. Their patience is incalculable.

The Village

The village over the hill cooks together, and I get fresh sourdough bread from outdoor ovens (they look like big pizza ovens) every week. The photo below shows last year's tomato harvest, and they cooked massive amounts for each woman of the house to can for the winter. The Turks are practical. Rather than heat up each kitchen with large pots in the summer, they use even larger pots and cook together over open fires, as their predecessors did. They get the entire job done for everyone in one day.

And The Family and Friends

I have two rose gardens. One is built by the gardener in the front, with an assortment of flowering plants to go with the roses; the other is a rose garden supplied by my Turkish “brother,” one of my husband’s relatives who has supported me for almost forty years and supplied the flowers for my wedding. Today he brought me river rocks from the northern part of the country, smooth cool stones that I can use to decorate the gardens.

Other folks are always bringing me presents: a handful of ripe wild blackberries, a bowl of raspberries, a bunch of wild thyme to dry and use in the kitchen, an unusual bowl, or something delicious that was made in their kitchen. People drop by frequently here, and always with something in their hands.

And then there is my most patient friend, my Turkish instructor, who insists I’ll never speak Turkish because I’m too lazy. She’s probably right, and I appreciate her blunt honesty. But she’s still my friend, and still pushes me forward.

So when I write about Türkiye, whether it is Istanbul or other places, I’m only scratching the surface when I talk about the buildings, the history, the weather, or the food. That isn’t what this country is about.

Türkiye's soul is its people.