Travel – Page 11 – janeyinmersin

Yesterday afternoon I found myself searching fruitlessly for fresh milk or sut as it is known in Turkish. Milk in Karaduvar is generally sold on the shelf (UHT) and it is rare that I can find a bottle of fresh milk in the cold aisle of the local supermarket so when I saw a display of ice cold bottles of “white gold” my heart skipped a beat. I swung on my heels towards the milk nearly wiping out a little old Turkish lady who was skulking a little too close to my prize. I slid to a halt next to evil granny and grabbed 2 bottles exalted knowing that tomorrow morning’s Cornflakes were going to be coated in fresh, full cream dairy milk.

So last night when Daughter asked for milk before bed I ceremoniously poured her a glass and placed it lovingly before her. “How is it?” I asked with a grin.

“It’s milk mummy,” came the reply with a roll of the eyes.

“No, it’s more than that. It’s fresh milk. From the market. It’s not from the box. They had fresh milk at the market today!” I found my voice rising in desperation, rejecting the notion that for Daughter it was merely milk and not the precious commodity that I believed it to be.

She finished her milk and placed the glass in the sink. “Milk mummy. Milk”.

With that final remark she hugged me, said goodnight and left the room.

I stared at that empty glass wondering if a punishment would be going overboard.

Sitting down to breakfast this morning I had my Cornflakes and, yes, I covered them with my prized milk. Daughter entered the kitchen and, spying the Cornflakes box, grabbed a bowl and sat down next to me. I watched her pour the milk over her flakes. She turned to me, “Mmm good eh?”

It took all of my will power and motherly goodness to not roll my eyes at her and say, “It’s milk Daughter. Milk”.

As many of you know we couldn’t move to the other side of the world without bringing The Turk’s two favourite family members. Hurley the dog and his best friend Kedi the cat. There have been many times that Daughter and I have discussed the fact that The Turk loves his 4 legged family members more than the human variety.

When The Turk originally moved to Sydney he told me that I he hated animals (particularly cats) and that I had to “get rid” of my old boy Cosmo. I promptly replied that I would be getting rid of him before I got rid of my old boy and over the years he grew somewhat affectionate towards Cosmo which accumulated into real tears when he passed away a few years ago.

Fast forward to now and we have Kedi and Hurley who have flown over in first class luxury and definitely not worse for wear (a big thanks to the staff at petfly.com.au).

Hurley has settled in really well. You can see his boisterous enthusiasm each morning knowing that there is so much to do with strange new things to sniff, strange new foods to taste and lots of new friends to meet. As happy as he is being here I can see by the look on his face – he has an issue that cannot be resolved and that issue is – STRAY CATS!

My mother in law tends to feed all the stray cats and she has accumulated 8 regulars that live in her yard. My father in law likes to walk down to the fish market and purchase the left over fish and then brings them back for the strays (yet he, like The Turk, is the first to scream at the cats if they get under his feet). So Hurley now has 8 cats to chase which initially was fun however the cats have banded together and started a systematic assault on Hurley. If he doesn’t watch what he is doing, or where he is walking, or sitting, or sniffing, then a cat will throw itself kamikaze style at Hurley and the yelping by the poor dog would no doubt be heard on the other side of the Village!

Obviously a counter assault needs to take place however I do not think Hurley could undertake that by himself. Even the neighbour’s dog is afraid of these monsters so . . . I think that counter assault is some time away.

And if you are wondering how the cat is? Well the bloody thing spends his day sleeping wherever he may choose and then comes out at night where he makes as much noise and cause as much chaos as possible. More than once I contemplated throwing the cat outside and let those crazy Village cats have him but, of course, I could never really do that even when its 4.00 a.m. and he is knocking all the glasses off the kitchen bench.