Trabzon 13.10.2024

Good morning from the Sweet Home Suite Hotel!

Now, with four of us, organizing around the bathroom and the set departure time became a whole new challenge. While both of us had gotten into a good groove up to this point, Julia and Rudy naturally wanted and needed to make their personal preparations for the day as well. Unfortunately, we had already consumed the instant coffee that was set out in our penthouse the day before. However, we remembered that breakfast was served downstairs at the hotel. Julia and Rudy headed off to procure the essential elixir for starting the day. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Two cheerful women brought a tray with four Turkish coffees along with some milk and water. Thank you!

Time was naturally tight, so I postponed my haircut to the next day. Just seconds after the porter had ordered a taxi, our driver from the previous day drove into the courtyard. Either he was waiting nearby to be the first to respond to calls from the hotel, or he felt guilty about his record-breaking ride yesterday and wanted to prove us otherwise today. If that was his motive, he succeeded. We enjoyed a much quieter ride and even had the opportunity to look around a bit. Perhaps this was also because, unlike yesterday, he was conversing with Kadir about his origins. In Kadir's subsequent recap, he told us that he was talking to the driver about the neighborhood where he grew up. Now it made sense why the man at the wheel had such wide eyes and nodded approvingly. This part of Trabzon is notoriously famous for its sense of community and the problems one faces if they have even a single conflict with someone. After those comments, the driver was likely quite relieved when Kadir specifically got out of his taxi.

Upon arriving at Haydar’s, the aroma of food filled the air. The pan of Menemen was already centrally placed on the table and surrounded by various other delicacies such as jams, different types of cheese, olives, sausages, and more bread, bread, and bread. We quickly carried the table from the winter garden into the living room so that everyone could find a spot at it. Tea was served, and since Haydar had noticed yesterday that I was having a portion of fries during our tour, another portion was brought out – for me. We ate and ate and ate. Naturally, more fries were brought out. “Mine” couldn’t possibly still be fresh and hot. So, the fry production in the kitchen continued in parallel. The same applied to the tea and bread, which appeared in mere moments when it seemed like it might be running low around our plates. Of course, this was not all, for just when our bodies were getting ready for digesting, and we planned to roll out of the apartment, Hande brought out her prepared Tatli. Each piece packed with 820 kilocalories, but so delicious that we all managed to somehow fit more than just one into our stomachs.

I felt transported back to my youth, as even back then, the table at the Soytürk family’s place was set like a feast despite the least financial means. No guest would ever have left the table feeling unsatisfied or hungry. There was the same mix of German and Turkish chatter as back then. Today, there were also smartphones with translation apps and the hustle and bustle of Hande's two children. Fantastic.

We actually wanted to visit the two cemeteries where the relatives of Kadir, Haydar, and Hakan are buried. Unfortunately, it started to pour rain. Kadir left with Hakan to go to the airport to rent a car, while we passed the time in the winter garden with more tea. Of course, at some point, coffee was also served, and since the Tatli had not been completely eaten earlier... I will probably gain at least two to three kilos today.

The rental of the 9-seater proved to be quite an adventure, as the two returned to us in less than good spirits. Since we were registered upon our entry by motorhome, we naturally did not have a stamp in our passports or a certificate. This certificate was absolutely necessary when attempting to rent the vehicle. So, the two were sent around the city only to realize that such a stamp does not exist on Sundays. This would now have to be rectified on Monday.

The rain had almost stopped, and we made our way to the mentioned cemeteries. Out of respect, our women wore scarves over their heads to cover their hair – probably for the first time in their lives. Honestly, this could even serve as a fashionable accessory if it isn’t worn like Widow Bolte or the witches during carnival. They looked elegant.

Arriving in the notorious neighborhood, we parked the minibus and made our way on foot. Good thing we had Kadir and Haydar with us, two respected persons. This way, we should be able to make it back to the car unscathed.

We parked practically right next to the house where Kadir lived with his grandmother when his parents were already in Germany searching for a good, better (?), or more likely different life. Two small rooms on the ground floor, plus a room with a cooking area and running cold water. They lived there together with the grandmother’s brother, and it quickly became clear to us all that this living situation was light-years away from what we were accustomed to and preferred. We walked some of the paths that Kadir often used in his childhood to reach the school, the bakery, or the Black Sea. We stopped two or three times. Here, Haydar knocked on a door, and there, Hakan called a name towards a balcony on the first floor. Women appeared here and there, who naturally remembered Kadir. They were relatives. We shone our smartphone lights into Kadir’s old classroom on the ground floor, but the building is apparently only used as a storage space for the school that is now across the street.

After about an hour, we got back into our van and drove through the now dark Trabzon. Passing by the stadium of the local football club Trabzonspor, three different wedding parties danced outside to honor the club, clearly showcasing their connection to the city’s first league team.

We drove several kilometers further to Akçabaat, known for its meatballs. A short time later, we found out why. At our table right by the water, we were overwhelmed with delicacies surrounding the legendary meatballs. We couldn’t eat as fast as the staff rushed around us, bringing food and clearing plates. Incredible!

Back in Trabzon, Kadir parked the car in front of another restaurant, where there was almost no free space in the outdoor area. Here, they serve what is reportedly the best milk rice dish, Sütlaç. I insisted that I would not eat any. Not because I didn't want to try it, but simply because I had no more room. However, I enjoyed the Turkish coffee like everyone else in our small group and couldn’t resist some snacks as well as a couple of spoons from the clay pot. Maybe I will never eat anything again. And if I do, it will only be Turkish delicacies.

The last part of the day is quick to recount: parking, brushing teeth, and a brief farewell in the hall of room 506.
Good night!

Maybe I will try a few more bites tomorrow...