This morning we went back to the centre of Şanlıurfa to visit the kale (citadel). Being Saturday, there were tour buses lined up, which had brought Turkish tourists to the site. Flocks of mauve head scarves and groups in black chadors (like an old fashioned nun’s outfit, with the face showing) were ahead of us. The entry led into the rock where we climbed a staircase in a tunnel. At the top we stepped out into bright sunshine and a site mounded up with the rubble of destroyed buildings. The perimeter walls are intact, and lots of people were posing on them for photos with the city of Şanlıurfa for their background. The only other part not consisting entirely of ruins were two Roman pillars.
It was from this hill that Abraham was thrown, hands tied, to land safely in the roses.The city views were excellent, but best of all was the opportunity to look down onto the houses close up to the moat wall on the south side.
We could see onto roof tops and into courtyards and laneways. We saw women making the flat bread we had learnt about, men calling out their presence to draw crowds to their hand barrows of wares, some boys lighting a fire in the rubbish at the top of the moat, scolding and cuddling of children, painting of balcony rails and a cat rifling through the refuse. 
It was fascinating. We walked around the walls, many parts of which are secluded by rubble piles and the design of the look outs, and there we came upon many young lovers. To proceed or not to proceed? We followed the example of others who continued their own walk around the walls, often standing near a pair and taking photos of the view, but acting as thought the young people were not kissing or cuddling three steps away.We were having a picnic lunch on the grass in the park near the sacred fish when a young man, Yusef, approached us and asked if he could practise his English with us. He was the first of his large family to complete high school and he was studying for the University entrance exam; a separate exam involving a range of general subjects, which only those aspiring to attend university do. He wants to study law in Istanbul so that he can practise anywhere in Turkey but he will have to get the highest results for that. Lesser results could mean that he only gets into a university near home, with more limited job opportunities at the end. If he successfully passes an English exam upon entry, his course would be six years, and if not, he would have a seven year course.
We asked Yusef why no women ever spoke to us. Primary school aged girls sometimes greeted us and asked for money but no females over ten offered assistance or said more than “Merhaba (hello),” when we had first said it to them. Yusef explained that females would not speak to a man they did not know, and that they might speak to me if I was alone. One young western dressed woman did ask to be photographed with us, but it was obviously a big deal and she and her conservatively dressed friend were watched with great interest by the crowd around. There was no conversation before hand. Just “Hello, photo?”. Yusef also explained that on buses the seat moving, sometimes organised by the steward or driver, and sometimes by the passengers, is to allow women not to sit next to men they don’t know, where at all possible.
Yusef took us to the museum, which was some distance away. Yusef said that he had a girlfriend and that the castle was their favourite place to go, also that the tunnel with the steps is an especially private place. Other times they meet at his home, sometimes when his parents are out. His girlfriend is also studying to go to university. Yusef explained that family planning is not practised and that a large family means over 12 children. Yusef’s mother does not read or write. He learnt English at school initially but little time was given to English and some of the teachers could not speak it properly. One teacher was an inspiration to him, pointing out that English could be a key to a good future, so he sought extra help from her, studied lots at home and looked for opportunities to speak with tourists.
On the way we met Cesayir, who chatted with us and Yusef and reiterated his invitation to the art classes, after we had finished at the museum.
The museum had very good displays of items from various periods going way back, and particularly some Hittite reliefs. Two boys of about ten years old came and spoke to us, and then politely followed us around. They were at the museum working on a school project. Every now and then one of them would work out something to say or ask Yusef how to say something in English. Yusef was really sweet with the boy, and, watching him coach him in English, it seemed that we were watching the older Yusef with a younger self; the younger Yusef who became inspired to learn English by his own efforts.
Upstairs there was an ethnographic display. It was a surprise to see some Christian painted plaster statues and interesting to hear Yusef’s response when I exclaimed “Oh, it’s Jesus and Mary.” He said, “They’re not real,” and dismissed them, moving on to another exhibit. In Islam, living creatures and people are not depicted in art, and something of this thinking may have been the source of his comment.
Other interesting items were the 40 day cup, used by prostitutes and others of poor morals who want to change their ways and make a fresh start. You wash yourself with water from the cup each day for 40 days and then you are purified. Yusef said that others in the community accepted the power of the 40 day cup and the woman would then be able to be married. This contrasted with our host’s view that no-one would marry someone who was not a virgin.
Keith was intrigued by a strange machine which Yusef suggested was for carpet making, but Keith thought that it wasn’t.
The costumes were similar to some we had seen in Greece, once again reminding us that empires and borders have come and gone with great frequency in this region. The silver jewellery for weddings was most elaborate and would have represented a considerable fortune.Yusef led us to the Guzel Sanatler Galerisi gallery where we were to see Cesayir in his art class. We said goodbye and wished this very interesting and personable young man well with his studies and career. He was another example someone with personal goals and effort in a situation of a very large family with not much money, making a life for himself.
Luckily Yusef had explained to the gallery owner why we were there, because once he left, we were in language limbo, and on top of that, Cesayir must have finished and left because he was not there. We were escorted around the various art classes and watched a young woman, practising the art form we had heard about, in which you make a picture using paint floating in water plus a special ingredient. It was fascinating to see her blob on circles of paint and then to drag them with a stick to make fine lines and flowers and leaves before gently laying paper onto the surface to make a print of the picture.
In another room an Arabic calligraphy expert was correcting a student’s efforts, and we also saw students drawing and painting. Everyone was so polite and accepting of tourists suddenly appearing, and explained what they were doing in Turkish with a smidgen of English if they knew any. The gallery was in an old house with multiple courtyards, with many rooms opening off them. It was really beautiful, with elaborate stone carving and would have been owned by wealthy people in the past.Next we wandered in the back lanes, looking at the old houses and feeling as if we had left the 21st century far behind.
The wind had picked up and the sky was dark. At this poor weather point we realised that we had no idea where we were, and a shopkeeper pointed us in the right direction to return to the fish. Everyone knows the fish so it is handy to mention them. Even people in other cities say “Şanlıurfa – ah, the fish!” We passed butchers shops where the skins of goats hung at the side, above a bucket of heads and every other part of the bodies was on display for sale. The vegetable stalls had pyramids of produce, and every second shop seemed to sell kitchen and household items. 
It was a race against the rain for the shopkeepers, who have many of their items hanging outside. For us it was a march past the fish as we headed for home.The wind was so wild that it knocked down a large pole in the pension courtyard. I had been watching our hostess prepare our meal on a single hotplate, sitting on the floor in her kitchen. She hopes to have an inside sink soon, but currently washes the dishes at a tap in the corner of the courtyard. The meal was delicious and had to be eaten in our room because of the rain. Normally we ate at a table in the courtyard. It rained so hard that it came in our window, but just when we had been given a cloth to put on the window sill, the rain stopped.
Our host and hostess went off to visit their new grandchild, leaving two of their grandsons (cousins) playing backgammon at the pension. They were aged 14 and 15, and were delightful boys who had learnt some English at school. We showed them the Australian animal book and some photos of Inverleigh. They were impressed by our house, which they saw in a back view which featured the vegetable garden. They said that they had heard that there are no children in Australia. When we said that there were some, but maybe only two or three in most families, they asked if Australians don’t like children. They, like many other people in Eastern Turkey, regard lots of children as normal and a small family as being indicative of problems. One of them is the brother of the new baby, so they both have six children in their families now.
This boy is outside a bakery. You can see a stack of flat bread on the shelf above him. He has brought along some peppers on a skewer and the baker will put them in the oven for a couple of minutes. He will then take the baked peppers and some freshly baked bread home for his family.
This sort of bread is the most common in eastern Turkish bakeries and it costs about 30 cents for each piece. Bakeries bake it continuously througout most of the day, so it is usually hot and steaming when you buy it. It is usually wrapped in newspaper, just like the fish and chips were when some of us were young.
This door to door salesman is selling glasses of hot tea in the bazaar area and nearby shops. He has a tank of hot tea strapped to his back. He sells it for about 40 cents a glass.
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