Gifts

“Where did you get that!”
“From the man by the side of the road.”
“Did you buy it?”
“No…..it was a gift”
“I wondered why you were taking so long……where did you get that”
“From the man at the fruit stall….the policeman……the woman…..the farmer”.
Li is in a hurry, would not stop for the man at the melon stall…..5 minutes later I pedal along and he rushes out to hand me a honey dew…..lashes it to the back of my bike……it’s somewhat heavy so I can use it as an excuse when Li has stopped….is waiting at the top of the hill for me.
In Sarkisla, I wait with the bikes while Li goes to find an Internet cafe.
“Cay?”
I look at the bikes, back at the man who has spoken to me…..why not….. tea travels mysteriously from the other side of the street, into my hands…..Li comes back see’s me sitting smugly, a chair placed upon the pavement, drinking tea.
Li’s turn to watch the bikes as I go to get fresh fruit and vegetables…….I take a while…..back to Li and the bikes, she is rolling her eyes.
“What?……I was busy……getting hugs…..and the woman choosing my gift, the perfect bunch of grapes. She was only a decade older than me but makes me feel like a gleeful child. Squished and hugged, she is also glowing at my attempts to communicate, with her husband joining in on my welcoming.
Li is always faster on climbs and the past few days I have slowed down more, despite minor gradients. Li is usually waiting at the top of a hill…..sometimes ready to get back in the saddle before I get a chance to put my foot down.
Today was better…..she stopped outside petrol stations…..I arrived…..to tea…..honeycomb, kymak, bread, watermelon……and another stop……more tea…….a rest…..an encounter…..experience…..fuel…..rest…
Now we are in Sivas, I love it, vibrant, alive, full of history, markets that leave Istanbul feeling sterile. We go for a walk….tired….it’s late…..but insistent…..one more gift of tea.

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