Bel

Last night the weather took a turn for the worse, "blowing a hooley" and keeping me awake worrying about the underthings I had washed and hung on a line outside. When I heard what sounded like rain I got up and collected in what I could find. In the morning a few stray item were found, none the worse for their ordeal though a little shaken.

I am now in a place called Bel, a mountain village. I haven't seen much of it yet as we arrived in a shower of rain (yagmur) at the end of grey and windy (ruzgarli) day.

On entering the village I was greeted by two sheep dog pups (kopek) who belonged to Ahmed my host. We spent the evening along with a Dutch couple, Martin and Lucy. "chatting" with him, his wife and 2 of his five children, Isa and Gelur.

Isa, about 16, a good-looking polite a charming boy is destined to be a shepherd. Gelur, 14 is the only one with any English in the family and seems very bright. She therefor was translator for the evening and though shy at first, took to the role in good humour and enjoyed showing off her simple skills.

The days walk began with a hair-brained ramble across terraces, along goat tracks, culminating in a preciptous cul de sac. Back-tracking we found our way down to the road and established our bearings.

The landscape is surprisingly green just now and fertile fields flanded the roads and paths though many appeared too small to allow use of tractor-towed machinery so you have to assume that cultivation and harvesting are labour intensive.

The day's walking ranged from tarmac roads to rubble tracks, to dry stream-beds and one memorable but misguided assualt on a mountain pass, through rocky pine woods and prickly scrub.

Our sense of direction, however, was on track as the red and white way markings suddenly reappeared and we were soon on our way to Sidyma, which boasts some Roman and Byzantine ruins, and a charming village. We enjoyed "chay" from a welcoming family, in the shade of an enormous bay tree heavy with blossom and buzzing with bees, and bought two small jars of honey from them. Then we headed off for Bel.

Shortly after leaving, after trecking a few village paths between dry-stone walls topped with brush-wood (a goat deterrant I think - they like ridge-walking) we were surprised to see a familar elderly man walking towards us.

"Bel?" he asked, looking a little confused. "Bel" we nodded. He shook his head, pointed in the direction we had come from and said, emphatically "Bel!". I made a mental note to make regular checks of my compass in future!