Miss Mandarin - Where sweet fruits grow

English version below.

Many people know Alanya as a tourist party town. That's why Mary still remembers her visit to the square building of the Robin Hood Club 17 years ago.

But we ended up at Miss Mandarin, the tangerine farm. It was rather quiet here, except for the morning entertainment program of the neighboring hotel with artificial "cock-a-doodle-doo" and songs by Modern Talking, the calls of the extremely unmusical muezzin over crackling loudspeakers, and the evening disco at the same hotel. One evening, we tried to sneak onto the hotel grounds, but we were quickly recognized as not Russian enough to be hotel guests and were thrown out.

Our host, Sezer, wants to create an alternative to the big hotels for tourists. On the property, there are about thirty 60-year-old mandarin trees and 100-year-old olive trees. So we had the pleasure of eating mandarins directly from the tree, which was something very special for us "Almans".

We did sweat-inducing work like building and setting up a compost, leveling the ground, removing weeds, and harvesting olives in the morning, so we could jump into the sea in the midday sun. Our time on the farm was accompanied by other volunteers from Ukraine, England, Spain, Russia, and Kyrgyzstan, creating a colorful mix of languages, ideas, and work ethic. Mary made friends especially with the "house pets" in the bathtubs of the vermiculture and lovingly fed them kitchen scraps.

In addition to trips to the city of Alanya, including the castle and the markets in the area, we also got to know Turkey's excellent healthcare system better. Stefan cut his finger so deep while hacking weeds that he had to undergo surgery. After the initial shock, we were glad that we could stay on the farm longer. Meanwhile, the finger is doing quite well again, and to put it in a Turkish saying, "it will be healed by the time of the wedding."

Sezer taught us some Turkish recipes, and at the evening barbecue on the beach, we caused great confusion because we really(!) didn't want to eat meat. But the diverse mix of music consisting of Lambada, Rammstein, and traditional violin music (live) with castanet dancing quickly made us forget about it.

We hope that the banana tree we planted will survive and bear fruit soon, that the peanut plants will grow, and that the avocado seeds will sprout. And perhaps one day, we will come by again and see what has become of it all.

Miss Mandarin – Where sweet fruits grow

Some of you may know Alanya as a buzzing tourist and party town. Mary still remembers her visits to the iconic square building of the Robin Hood club - 17 years ago.

However, we avoided the big hotels and visited a small tangerine farm with the lovely name Miss Mandarin. The place was rather quiet, apart from the morning routine of the nearby hotel, the calls of the undoubtedly most unmusical muezzin we have encountered on our journey, and the hotel disco that featured all-time hits like Modern Talking every evening. One time we tried to sneak in and join the party but were quickly identified as not Russian enough to be one of the guests and got kicked out again.

Our host Sezer wants to create an alternative experience for tourists with small cabins, barbecue, and cooking lessons. Besides, there are round about 30 mandarin trees and some olive trees that are over a hundred years old, so we could enjoy fresh fruits right from the trees.

The work, on the other hand, was rather laborious; building a compost, leveling the ground, cutting weeds, and collecting olives. Most of the time we started early in the morning, so we could spend the hot hours around noon having a swim in the sea. During our stay, we met other workawayers from Ukraine, the UK, Spain, Russia, and Kyrgyzstan, which resulted in a potpourri of languages, ideas, and work morale. Mary befriended the farm's "pets," the worms inhabiting the vermiculture, and was always the first to serve them delicious food scraps from the kitchen.

Besides the trips to Alanya, including a visit to the old castle and the bazaar, we got to know the excellent Turkish healthcare system, as Stefan cut his finger with a billhook knife while cutting weeds, so it had to be stitched together again. After the first shock, we were really happy we could prolong our stay at the farm. Now the finger is doing quite well again, and as a Turkish proverb says: "will be fine until the wedding."

Sezer, a trained chef, told us a lot about Turkish cuisine and expanded our ever-growing list of new recipes. However, during the barbecue at the beach, our habit of not eating meat was the cause for great confusion among the locals. The music that night was an intercultural mix of Lambada, Rammstein, and traditional violin music (live) combined with castanets dances.

We hope that the little banana tree as well as the small peanut plants and avocado seedlings we planted will grow and bear much fruit. Maybe one day we can come back to see the results.