Today I do not sleep in a tarp, but in Hasan's house, who is part of the family that "those mountains belong to". This is how the other Hasan, who speaks English and is the connecting person with the rest of the group, put it. This will be another, although this time longer post about Turkish hospitality, which I experienced today in unimaginable amounts! Are you ready?

So far, Turkey seems to be a very unique site in the sense that the mountains are really heavily populated here. And it's not just shepherd's huts, but normal houses with all amenities. Probably for this reason, the internet in the mountains is extremely strong here, thanks to which I have much more frequent contact with the world than I thought.

It was about 1 pm when I passed a house where two gentlemen were standing (the one in the middle of photograph no. 3, with the vestibule). Standard questions, i.e. where from, where to, what for and why only by myself? And then whether I needed water or bread. I had plenty of water, which is a big advance from the very beginning of my march through Turkey. But I was happy to accept a bit of bread, which I communicated. What I didn't expect, however, was that I would get a loaf so big that I would have to break it into pieces to fit in my backpack. And a piece of other bread filled with curd mass. I thanked him heartily and started to get ready to leave. But no, no, that would be too easy! One of the gentlemen sat me in the vestibule at a wooden table, because I had to eat something now. Following Turkish custom, I was going to take my shoes off before entering the house, but I was told not to. Apparently these rules do not apply to vestibules. Soon the food landed on the table. Stuffed peppers, pasta, yoghurt, bread and figs in sweet syrup. Everything in the amounts twice as big as what I'm used to in the marching regime. I thanked him, asked for a photo together and moved on.

On the other side of the mountain, about 2.5 hours later, I was passing a nice new wooden house. The road runs about 10 meters further and a few meters below. However, after a while I heard a whistle and a movement of the hand of a man encouraging me to approach. Everyone in these part of the world is interested in a tourist. Everyone wants to exchange a few words, although this is usually very difficult due to the language barrier. Fortunately, it turns out that Hasan (in the group photo closest to the camera) ran a kebab business in Belfast for 11 years.

- Belfast? - I ask with interest. - I once lived in East Belfast for six months. Near Connswater, on Wynford Street.

Hasan looks at me with attention. He shows me on the map a spot on Newtownards Road where his shop was. That's just a few steps away from me. Small world... Of course, I'm also offered food here, although I won't fit in another dinner. However, I do not refuse coffee, tea and excellent Turkish halva.

- These mountains on this side belong to one family. says Hassan. - Çakıroglu. This is also the name of the village where we are located.

Soon, Mr. Çakıroğlu senior himself passes by the house (photo 5). "Big Uncle" as Hasan calls him. He is summoned to us. He sits down then turns to me.

- Welcome to our lands. Feel comfortable here. We are pleased and honored to host you - says Remzi, because that is the name of the Çakıroğlu senior.

In fact, after a while, the second Hasan, the host of the house on whose porch we are sitting, offers me that instead of walking 8 km down and hiding in the forest, I can sleep here. Taking into account the grey sky, the openness of the hosts, the relaxed atmosphere and the prospect of comfortable accommodation, I do not resist. We sit on the porch for a while, admiring the absolutely fantastic views to the west. Dusk falls soon. We move inside, to comfortable armchairs and a sofa in front of the TV. The preparation of the supper is in progress.

This is how you end up walking paths that no one else walks...

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