Kusadasi

We took a bus to Kusadasi last night - me, Anne, Zuleyha, and the three kids.  Our new car wasn’t ready, and Tolga didn’t want me driving without him - I don’t have a Turkish license which is probably not a problem, but Tolga likes to err on the side of caution.  I wasn’t too keen on driving the distance either, and Teoman was over excited about taking the bus.  

Busses in Turkey are extremely comfortable to travel in.  They have attendants, like flight attendants on a plane, rolling a cart down the aisle to serve drinks and snacks, tea and coffee, cologne to freshen up.  There are electrical outlets, internet, and touch screens on the back of each seat.  And the busses stop every four hours for tea and bathrooms as well. 

At the bus station Teoman kept saying,

“Bye bye Baba,” because he was so excited to go, and then, “Why aren’t we going!?”  Zuleyha’s husband, Ahmet, was there too.  Waving goodbye to Zuleyha and smiling big at the kids.  We were in a three-seater bus - I relatively new style where the coach bus has taken out a row of seats to create a much roomier ride.   Teoman sat at the window - eyes wide, watching the road.  Later he played with the television screen, and even though I had him turn it off after a half hour - he didn’t sleep until about 3am or later (we had left at 11pm).  We stopped at 4am, and while neither wanted to get up - I made them both use the bathroom promising snacks afterwards.  We stopped for only a half hour - and that’s about how much time it takes for me to get everyone up, to the toilet, washed, and change the baby.  Tuana slept well the whole way - finding her thumb when she needed it.  

Tomris slept, but Teoman had a hard time sleeping - he wasn’t crabby - he was just too excited.  I told him he needed to sleep and he excitedly agreed, sept a half hour, then announced he was awake and was going to look out the window  until we got to Kusadasi - and he would sleep there.  Dawn was breaking, and it didn’t help that Anne was also excitedly talking to him.

So, minus our reversing down a highway at a wrong turn, a heater unnecessarily turned on, and somebody else’s toddler crying most of the night, we successfully arrived in Kusdasi at 8:30am.  Hakan met us at the Kusadasi bus station.  One of the driver’s looked at him and said,
“Didn’t we just leave you in Kusadasi?”  It’s uncanny how many people recognize Tolga and Hakan as brothers, and even think they are twins at times.  Hakan is taller and broader than Tolga, five years younger, but they both have the same broad smiles and laughing eyes.  

Hakan drove us to our summer home.  Tomris kept crying,

“This isn’t Kusadasi!” until we pulled onto our street, then she smiled and said, “Remember this mama?”

Gokhan and Baba had only been on their own here for ten days.  They had spent a lot of time cleaning the garden, and Gokhan reported to us everything that he had cleaned.  (Tolga made him nervous about all of us coming and getting mad for making a mess of the place).  They had undoubtedly done a lot of work - but whenever I come to Kusadasi, my first reaction is being overwhelmed and a bit crazy at the mess.

There is always junk everywhere.  I know that’s two superlatives in one sentence - but I’m conveying my feelings here too.  Baba has projects, and remains of projects, and beginnings of projects - all around the yard.  The iron that Baba was going to sell to the demirci was still in the yard - just in a different spot.    The banana tree was cut down and ready to be hauled away as well as weeds that were pulled and left.  The old lawn mower was out, broken - to make space in the depot for the new one.  The old barbecue was on the balcony along with Hakan’s windsurf board stuck behind the porch swing.  There are about one hundred pairs of shoes — garden shoes, indoor shoes, balcony shoes, warm shoes, watering shoes, who-knows-for-what-shoes.  And these shoes are everywhere except the shoe rack.  In the middle of the front door, in the middle of the back door, on the balcony, on the stairwell, on the entrance stairwell.  The refrigerator was empty.  The kitchen had only Gokhan’s staple foods - a toaster for his cheese toast, pasta, bread, cheese, popcorn, and cheap oil. 

I could go on, and I probably will throughout my stay here. 

I think it drove Anne crazy too.  Different aspects than me - but I saw for the first time her going through the same panic motions of where’s all my stuff?  We all got to work right away.  Hakan and Gokhan went to the grocery store to get stock the fridge with some basics.  Anne disappeared for hours, and Zuleyha got started in the kitchen.  None of us talked, nor made a plan - we all just dove into the thing we wanted done most.  I was upstairs shaking out our curtains and blankets, changing sheets, unpacking, dusting, cleaning, and sweeping.

We all did this in-between playing, feeding, and changing the kids who in their excitement kept forgetting to use the toilet.  They were rediscovering their toys.  Teoman wanted to go to the sea and to the water park.  Tomris wanted to chase the stray cats and go peer closer at the rooster and it’s three hens clucking around.  (The farm animals are indeed out of place in this summer home community).  

By the end of the day Anne was holding her breath - she does that when she’s overtired and in pain - and holding her back.  This is one of the biggest stresses for me - when Anne over does things, but insists on working and serving everyone with sighs and grunts and groans.  So to have Zuleyha here I could cry with joy - she helps everyone and in doing so, helps me - her light hearted and easy going nature doesn’t stop her from giving her opinions, it just makes her comments and ideas easier for everyone to follow.  I often defer to her in decisions relating to the house because I can’t always trust my biases.  She is there to bounce ideas off and keep me sane.  And this is always my emotion that follows the initial shock at what needs to be done: we are so fortunate to have this place, to be able to sit outside and eat on our terrace, to be together as a family with all of our imperfections.  This is life.