Day 131: Sunday 27 July – Baklava Balls Up, by Ken

Jane though the milk we bought at the supermarket yesterday tasted strange. I agreed. It seemed to be a drinking yoghurt! I added the Turkish for milk (sũt) to our shopping list.

The day started as yesterday with a visit to the restaurant to use the wi-fi to connect to the outside world. Then it was time to get Mabel ready for the road. Jane went over to reception to ask if there was a drinking water supply we could use to fill Mabel’s tank. She came back very annoyed that the man answered the phone twice while talking to her and he had done the same yesterday when she asked about wi-fi. While the camping ground was in a great location with a fine beach and what looked like a good restaurant, the rudeness Jane encountered together with the lack of proper showers meant Camping Ada got the thumbs down as far as Jane was concerned.

Camping Ground Restaurant

Fisherman Delivering Catch to Camping Ground Restaurant

As we were getting Mabel ready for the road the Italio/Turkish guy we had talked to last night asked where we were heading for and if we had booked. We explained we never book, just turn up and hope for the best. That generated a sharp intake of breath and he told us that Saturday to Wednesday is a Moslem holiday (Laylat al Kadr) marking the end of Ramadan. Lots of Turks take their holidays then and everywhere is very busy. His friend had just taken 15 hours to drive from Istanbul. That wasn't good news but there were two camping grounds in Kusadasi and we decided to push on in the hope we could get a pitch in one of them.

Smarty and Mabel Ready to Go

The road out of the camping ground was very steep and we decided to hitch up Smarty outside. A man with good English came to observe the process commenting it’s usually the car that tows the caravan but we are doing it the other way round.

We stopped in Ayvalik to get cash from one of the four ATMs standing side by side on pedestals on the pavement. One was in it’s own air-conditioned booth. Then it was on to Kipa to get a few supplies before heading off to Kuşadasi. We pulled off the road near to the supermarket car park, Jane stayed with Mabel and Smarty while I went off to do the shopping. The last item on Jane’s list was baklava but she told me not to worry if I couldn’t get any. I was well prepared having photographed the label of a cheap bottle of a very palatable red wine we bought yesterday and included on the list was milk with sũt in brackets.

My shopping didn’t get off to a good start, there was only one bottle of the red wine I wanted. Yesterday, we bought bread in a paper bag on a stand near the bakery counter that groaned under the weight of a huge variety of bread. Today the bags all contained two loaves. I went to the counter and when my turn came I did my usual of pointing to the item I wanted. The girl weighed the loaf and said something in quick fire Turkish. I was pretty sure it was “Would you like it sliced?” having seen the loaf of the customer before me fed through a nearby machine. I shook my head and said “No”. Before I could say anything else the loaf was reduced to neat slices. I thought I really must get to grips with my Turkish.

Nearby was a counter with stacks of metal trays five or six high containing fresh baklava. Standing behind them was a young woman armed with what looked like two paint scrapers. A sign indicated the baklava was reduced to 11.60 lira per kilo (NZ$6 approx). One of the top trays had about ten pieces of baklava in it. That would be enough I thought and  did my usual of pointing to the pieces. That elicited a question in Turkish ending in kilo? I wasn’t sure of the density of baklava, but knew it must be high because it was swimming in a dense sugary liquid and at 11.60 lira per kilo I assumed there wouldn’t be many pieces in a kilo. I opted for one kilo. Just getting that message across was a challenge, but eventually it was understood. She whipped out a large plastic tray and, using the paint scrapers, started transferring baklava from the metal trays. Towards the end of me trying to place my order three women had arrived. One put her nose unhygienically close to one of the top trays and sniffed. Obviously a baklava connoisseur. One of the women asked if I was English, I said “No, New Zealand”. The woman told the baklava assistant, in Turkish, that I was from New Zealand in much the same way that Basil Fawlty explained Manuel’s transgressions by saying he was from Barcelona. The assistant gave a knowing nod and a smile, continuing to fill my box. I was expecting her to stop when the tray was half full, but she didn’t. She kept on until it was full. At that point I learned there are approximately 25 pieces of baklava in a kilo.

I fared a lot better with cucumbers and tomatoes from the self service vegetable department and felt very pleased with myself when I found sũt in a fridge. Actually, there wasn’t much fresh sũt, but shelves contained enough UHT sũt to satisfy a small town for a week.

Jane saw me struggling across the Kipa car park with three carrier bags in one hand and the tray of baklava in the other. I didn’t make a note of her exact words when she spotted the bulging tray, but they weren’t “You’ve done well there Ken”.

Quite A Lot Of Baklava

With a view to passing on my learnings, here’s a ready reckoner should anyone find themselves having difficulty when trying to buy baklava in Turkey:

# Pieces Baklava	Approximate Weight (grams)
5	200
10	400
15	600
20	800
25	1,000

And here's a few phrases that might come in useful:

Two hundred and fifty grams of baklava please:

Baklava, ki yüz elli gram lütfen

Five hundred grams of baklava please:

Baklava, beş Yüz gram lütfen

Seven hundred and fifty grams of baklava please:

Baklava, yedi yüz elli gram lütfen

One kilo of baklava please:

            Baklava, bir kilo lütfen

Please stop, that’s enough:

Lütfen dur thats yeterli

You having a laugh?

Eğer bir kahkaha?

It's not an easy language and perhaps this helps to illustrate the difficulties I had?

We headed south out of Ayvalik taking a mix of two lane roads and dual carriageways. There was a lot of interest in Smarty with drivers of cars and trucks waving and giving us the thumbs up as they passed. Looking out of my side window I noticed the passenger in a Mini keeping station alongside showing something on his iPhone to the driver. Then the Mini dropped back to alongside Smarty and then further back tailing us for a while.Then the Mini pulled alongside Smarty again before slowly overtaking us. I could see the passenger was still holding his iPhone and I'm pretty sure they were shooting a video.

Family Transport

Family Sunday Outing

A Komatsu (or whatever the collective noun is) Of Excavators

Motorbikes Riding On The Wrong Side Of The Road Are A Common Sight

Farm Workers Housing

Lots Of Roadside Stalls Like This (Hoping to Buy a Dog for Ziggy)

And Like This

We had debated whether or not to take a tolled section of motorway towards the end of our trip. Our guide book explained we needed a pre-paid smart card from which toll charges would be deducted. It cautioned that the cards were only available from some toll booths, or banks. Jane thought we should avoid the toll road, I felt sure there would be a way of getting the card we needed, after all there were a lot of non-Turkish cars on the road and there had to be a facility or them to get a card. I persuaded Jane to take the toll road. 

As a toll plaza came into view I noticed there was a parking area with a number of cars just before the toll booths. We pulled in and parked, we could see the booths were unmanned so I got out and asked a couple in one of the cars how we paid. She listened to my English, translated it to her partner and relayed his replies to me. The gist was, you don't pay, just go. So we went.

Approaching a service area I spotted a sign reading "HGS Dolum" and something else I didn't catch. HGS was the abbreviation for the toll card we needed. We pulled in to the service area and I went off in search of an HGS station. It was swelteringly hot. First I tried the filling station shop, then I walked along a row of other shops and, as a last resort, went into a cafe. While the two waiters that greeted me were disappointed I didn't want to eat, they explained that i needed to visit a Ptt (Post Office) to get a card and I had seven days to sort it out. 

We continued along the very good road leaving it near to the town of Selcuk. Just before the toll booths, that were also unmanned there was a Ptt, but it was closed. The booths didn't have barriers and we drove through.

Kusadasi was very busy with holidaymakers walking along the sea front and lazing on a small beach. The satnav showed Yat Camping, our camping ground, was just off the road along the front. We found that difficult to believe as the road was jam-packed with restaurants and shops. The satnav was correct, but unfortunately the entrance was on the far side of a dual carriageway with a raised median. We drove the length of the sea front before finding a roundabout where we could turn round and back track. There was another camping ground right next to Yat Camping, a man appeared and tried to wave us in there, then a man came out from Yat Camping and did the same. That was a relief, there was room for us in two camping grounds.

The man at Yat Camping had good English, he gave us a warm welcome and showed us the only pitch he had available. It looked ideal under the shade of trees. On our way to the pitch we filled Mabel’s fresh water tank with non-potable water. That was fine with us as we had decided to drink only bottled water in Turkey and to clean out the fresh water tank once we were in a country where the water was safe to drink again.

Manouvering into position between trees was tricky, a man from a caravan opposite came over and helped with directions, pulling a branch off a tree to ease the way. He also said “Welcome”.

We ate the remainder of the potato medley for tea. As we were finishing the man who had helped us park earlier came over and gave us a peach as a welcoming present. We sat and took in our surroundings, there was just one other camper van from Romania, everyone else was in semi-permanent caravans. We watched a man a few caravans down preparing an evening meal. It was an elaborate process starting with roasting aubergine in a charcoal fired brazier before transferring them to the coals of a charcoal barbeque on which he cooked other vegetables. Meat was cooked last of all.

Word Soon Gets Round That Jane Has Arrived

A ute drove slowly through the camping ground belching a vapour noisily from two nozzles on a machine in the back. I found out later it was to keep mosquitos down.

Fly Spray

We decided to explore a bit of Kusadasi. Over the road was a large complex of bars. As we passed one of them a waiter asked if we were on honeymoon. A butchers shop was tacked Incongruously onto the row of bars.

Kusadasi

Kusadasi Caters For The English

Next came a small beach with sand almost completely hidden by cigarette ends, a couple were posing for a selfie while two Japanese were being photographed with their fingers formed into the shape of a heart framing the setting sun.

Framing The Setting Sun

We found a bench and sat and watched people pass by, there was a lot of English being spoken. Over the road was a Dominos pizza, we seemed to be in the Turkish equivalent of Benidorm although the beach wasn’t as good.

Today's Trip (252km)