Motourama Part 34: Ibrahim The Shoemaker

Hello family, friends and followers! In this installment of our Travel Stories, we would like to introduce you to one of the best encounters we have had on our trip so far: Ibrahim the shoemaker. But first, some sightseeing around Sinop.

The next day we went to see the old fortress of the city, which had been converted to a prison in 1887 and held that function up until 1997. As with many of these types of structures, the fortress prison had an eerie feel to it. Dilapidated exteriors with worse interiors made for a gloomy feel, while walking around. The plants and flowers, which had taken over many surfaces of the walls outside, helped lighten the mood a bit, and made for interesting subjects to photograph.

Ancient ammunition for the defence of the city.

An inner wall of the prison complex with a guard tower in the background.

The building housing the prison cells for the under-aged criminals.

Denise searching for a view, trying to spot some birds in the sky.

Nature taking over the outside of the building.

A young seagull cooling off in the bowl with drinking water.

Inside the oldest cell in the prison. The dungeon.

One of the old guard towers.

The entrance of the main prison complex.

The warden’s office.

View from one of the prison cells.

A typical prison cell – open space. The plexiglass is just to protect the instalments from museum visitors.

Interestingly enough, the main prison complex did not have the same, cramped cells as the youth block. Large, open rooms without walls for privacy, was the layout they had gone for. Not too uncomfortable looking bunk beds were on display. They even showed a child’s bed next to a particularly fancy looking bed. As it turned out, entire families could live together in prison. A strange concept in our western eyes.

After what had been an admittedly hot tour around the old prison, it was time to tackle the true purpose of the day: getting Esben’s shoe repaired. As you might remember, Denise spotted, that one of the soles of Esben’s boots had come half off. Boot in hand, we thought the best thing to do would be to ask for directions, and boy, are we glad we did! The kind gentleman, who lead us through the narrow streets to the door of Ibrahim, did not get anywhere near the amount of gratitude he deserved.

The man, the legend – Ibrahim.

Inside his little shoe repair shop, bent over his work, sat the man we would spend the rest of the day with. A quick knock on the door frame and a timid “Salam” got us inside, and with a big smile, Ibrahim offered us two chairs to sit on, and before we knew it, he was on the phone with his favourite tea house. With a quick “Chai?” directed at us, and our consenting nods, he spoke a few sentences into the phone, hung up, and gave us another big smile. He gestured at the boot Esben was holding and asked us something in Turkish. We showed him the problem, and with raised eyebrows, Ibrahim took the boot, to have a closer look. At that exact time, a man carrying three glasses of tea arrived, not more than 3 minutes after being called. We happily accepted the glasses, and as quickly as he had arrived, the tea man was gone again.

While Ibrahim examined the boot, and started preparing the various glues and tools he needed, we started talking. We quickly found out, that Ibrahim spoke only Turkish, and with our limited knowledge of the language, all of our conversations were mainly held gesturing with arms and legs. This did not prevent us from having a very entertaining two hours together. We talked about our trip, how the hand-sign for OK basically means the same as the middle finger in Turkey, about Ibrahim’s self build brick oven for baking bread, and about the differences between Christian and Muslim customs. Ibrahim showed us photos from his home, and displayed a great sense of situational humor. All the while, the chai/tea came at a steady flow from the swift tea bringer.

As the glue on the boot was drying, Ibrahim gestured for the other one, as well as for Denise’s. It took us a while to understand, as we had just had a completely different topic going, but we caught on eventually. We had only brought the one boot, but Denise was quickly dispatched to fetch the others. As it turned out, he wanted to freshen them up and make them look as good as new. This process included open flames and a whole suite of products to restore leather to its original look. He even had some concoctions of his own.

Flaming hot shoe polish.

During our talks, he kept returning to the photos of his home, explaining enthusiastically in Turkish about each photo. It wasn’t until an old friend of Ibrahim’s came by, who spoke a bit of English could explain to us, that he would like to invite us to his home where his mother lived. He wanted for us to taste freshly baked bread from his oven and show us the fruit trees around his house. We happily accepted the invitation. As we would have to drive into the countryside, he would show us the way after he had closed down the shop. We agreed to meet him later, as we wanted to give the motorcycle a wash, to match our newly shined boots.

The bikes were treated to a thorough wash, with foam and everything! The first one since we left Germany.

After the motorcycles had gotten a much needed wash, we met up with Ibrahim and his brother, who lead us to the house in their car. We arrived, as the sun was getting ready to set. The house was tucked away in the hills, completely surrounded by fruit trees of different kinds. There were white mulberry trees, apple trees, pear trees, cherry trees, and plum trees. The white mulberries were the biggest surprise. Having heard about them, but never tasted them, we were very eager to try. To Esben, they tasted almost like watermelon. Paired with the still steaming, freshly baked bread his mother had made in the oven, that Ibrahim had so proudly shown us the photos of, the taste was greatly enhanced.

Ibrahim and his oven full of deliciously fresh bread.

As the sun set over the horizon, Ibrahim and his brother got a fire going, and started preparing for the surprise dinner they had planned. We helped with chopping onions and bell peppers, while eggplants were placed unprotected in the glowing embers of the fire. Strips of chicken were placed in a metal grill clamp to sizzle over the open flames – only seasoned with salt and garlic. After what seemed like too long, the eggplants were taken out of the fire. They had shrunken, looking like giant prunes, and were completely charred, but pealing off the skin revealed the fruit meat to be juicy and almost “meltingly” tender. Along with the onions, bell pepper, freshly squeezed lemon, and a bit of garlic, it made for a delicious salad to go with grilled chicken.

This is not a fire behind the hill – it’s the sun setting.

Neither Ibrahim’s brother, nor his mother could speak English, so the evening was held with gesticulation and a lot of laughs. The only communication problem we had, was when Ibrahim and his brother tried to tell us, that Esben’s hair looked like a certain kind of Turkish candy, because of the color. It took some googling for us to understand, but we eventually got it. They found it hilarious, and couldn’t stop giggling to themselves.

Praying mantis, that came flying in at the end of the dinner.

That day and evening was one of the best of the trip so far. We will never forget the kindness of Ibrahim and his family.

Until next time, go look for all the friends you never knew you had.