I Refuse To Go Home

The tour guide was nervous and looking down at his feet while he spoke to me in a quiet, quivering voice. Instantly my whole demeanor changed. I went from being excited to deflated and sullen. The scowl on my face along with my crossed arms and tightly clenched lips replaced any need for a response when I heard the fateful words “It is canceled”

We had traveled two hours in the rain to watch randy male camels wrestling with each other so they could win the prize of walking off into the sunset with the female camel. The day had been eagerly planned for many weeks which lead to high expectations of seeing a traditional portrait of Turkey.

I resembled a spoilt child who had thrown a temper tantrum and while sitting back in the van, I turned to my friends and sternly stated that I refused to go home. They shrugged their shoulders and it became obvious that they would follow me anywhere I wanted to go. This gave me a heightened sense of confidence and I directed the driver to Doganbey. A place I had heard of but never seen before.

Within a short while, my new found confidence began to ebb away as I we started driving up steep hills with no safety barriers. There was a sharp drop on the other side and a horrific thought passed through my mind as I wondered when the driver last checked his handbrake. Nervous tales of rolling backwards down the hill at 100 miles an hour was definitely not something I would like to share with friends.

The driver proudly won the battle though, and pulled up an old village with stone houses. They were neatly built with the appearance that no expense had been spared. Window shutters and doors were carefully painted with no sign of wear and tear from over the years. From one of the doors a grey haired man with a slight stoop appeared. He shuffled along, and told us that we had arrived at Doganbey.

My new camera was put through its paces as we walked slowly around the cobbled paths. It was unlike other old and tatty Turkish villages which are now starting to be abandoned in favor of the big cities. It had a friendly, welcoming vibe and yet we never saw another soul. The only encounter was street cats that sneakily wound their way around your ankles and had the potential to trip you up at any moment.

It was deserted, but the streets were clean and the gardens perfectly landscaped. Cars were expertly parked so they would not cause a disturbance to pedestrians. Doganbey has become my ghost village and I was sorry to leave. I will return in the summer when the sun peeks out from behind the clouds. Will my plans go awry because of unexpected events or will I discover a bustling village enjoying the heat of summer in Turkey?