Şanlıurfa Still traveling with Tony, we arrived in Şanlıurfa the day before Turkey’s “Republic Day”, expecting some sort of celebrations for the fête nationale. The closest we came to this were a few more people visiting the kale & Halil-ur-Rahman mosque below it, as well as feeding the fish that swim in its waterways, than is perhaps normal. Exploring the labyrinth of side streets off the main road cutting through the city I pulled out my camera to take a shot of a little square, and a child ran into frame. Within seconds, we had a little mob around us, practically demanding us to take their photo, each vying to be the one in shot, tussling their friends out of the way, before themselves being replaced by another grinning head. There is seemingly little going on at night, but we did discover two things. First, the Dondurma cafés, serving the local speciality of clotted cream covered in vermicelli-like pastry and drenched with honey & pistachios. Oh yes. Second was upon hearing some music emanating from a little alley way, we soon found ourselves invited into a make-shift tent where a Turkish band were playing. People were sat around on cushions appreciating what seemed to be modern anthems, occasionally getting up to dance. Being the token foreigners, I soon found myself plucked out by the singer, dragging Tony with me, as we made our best attempts to dance, ever-so more self-conscious of our situation, the sorts of moves are usually accompanied by at least a couple of drinks a little stronger than çay. (More photos of Urfa.)

Şanlıurfa

Still traveling with Tony, we arrived in Şanlıurfa the day before Turkey’s “Republic Day”, expecting some sort of celebrations for the fête nationale. The closest we came to this were a few more people visiting the kale & Halil-ur-Rahman mosque below it, as well as feeding the fish that swim in its waterways, than is perhaps normal.

Exploring the labyrinth of side streets off the main road cutting through the city I pulled out my camera to take a shot of a little square, and a child ran into frame. Within seconds, we had a little mob around us, practically demanding us to take their photo, each vying to be the one in shot, tussling their friends out of the way, before themselves being replaced by another grinning head.

There is seemingly little going on at night, but we did discover two things. First, the Dondurma cafés, serving the local speciality of clotted cream covered in vermicelli-like pastry and drenched with honey & pistachios. Oh yes.

Second was upon hearing some music emanating from a little alley way, we soon found ourselves invited into a make-shift tent where a Turkish band were playing. People were sat around on cushions appreciating what seemed to be modern anthems, occasionally getting up to dance. Being the token foreigners, I soon found myself plucked out by the singer, dragging Tony with me, as we made our best attempts to dance, ever-so more self-conscious of our situation, the sorts of moves are usually accompanied by at least a couple of drinks a little stronger than çay.

(More photos of Urfa.)