Geyikbayiri Market

Geyikbayiri (pronounced geic-byer-i) is a small town nestled into the foothills of the Beydağları mountains. The town consists mostly of summer homes and the road leading past Climbers Garden up to town has virtually no traffic in the winter. That is until Sunday, when the nearby market fires up and draws a mini exodus from nearby Antalya  [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antalya](population 1 million). The urbanites drive quickly, with overstuffed cars blasting western pop music, into the rolling hills. They arrive in droves at the market, dressed up in their Sunday best.  Vendors peddle everything from knockoff designer jeans to live goldfish, but fresh fruit and produce are the main attraction. Freshly picked oranges go for $1.25 per kilo (2.2lbs), tomatoes on the vine for $2 per kilo, scrumptious dried figs for $4 per kilo, raw walnuts for $8 per kilo, an the list goes on… Fresh cheeses, yogurt, honey, green olives, olive oil- all local, all super fresh. This puts Whole Foods to shame.

Point A is Geyikbayiri

Though fresh food is great, the market’s Gözleme cafés are the most interesting part of the Sunday experience. Here local families serve breakfast and lunch to the tourists in ramshackle wooden huts. Women spread a stretchy white dough in 3’circles and fry it on wood-fired griddles up to 6’x10’. Children wait tables and one adult man tends the cash box. The menu is simple: Gözleme stuffed with goat cheese, spinach, or potatoes, or all of them. You’re served a plate with several whole cucumbers, tomatoes, fresh greens, and a small knife. Cut your veggies to suit. Then comes the Gözleme, hot off the grill. And afterwards, you have tea (which steeps on nearby woodstoves). Families sit for hours eating, talking, and drinking a seemingly endless amount of tea. Not knowing more than ten words of Turkish, I order by pointing, express gratitude with thumbs up, and receive lots of weird looks.

After eating most families drive further up into the mountains. (Geyikbayiri lies at about 2,600 ft and the mountains behind are a bit over 10,000 ft.) Cars pass each other on the curves in a reckless effort to flaunt their vehicle’s horsepower. Some venture up to the snowline for the winter experience and return with miniature snowmen on their windshields. Then they barrel downhill, back to the Mediterranean with full stomachs, a trunk load of fresh produce, and a snowman on the windsheld.