Last week we were two days in Izmir, Turkey's third biggest city where we go twice a year to buy supplies.
Besides our regular stuff we were looking for big boxes to package our bags in. A small cartonage factory, or office supplier.
Who ever we asked told us that we had to go to Istanbul for boxes. We couldn't imagine that in a city of five million we wouldn't be able to find them.
Finally, somebody knew somebody who gave us directions: 'Go till the end of the ruins and you will see a kind of street. Turn there in and you will find the box maker'.
So we walked along the grecian ruins of old Smyrna, where the archeological digging is still a work in progress.
The remnants of a ottoman cemetery.
The cuppolas of an historical hammam.
And here it is. In a 'kind of street', the entrance of his establishment, for those in the know!
No effort has been spared to make the place cozy, organic, shabby-chic-sans-chic and very special.
Missing in the pictures is the lonesome black chicken picking at the droppings from the cages.
But the guy does make boxes and was able to help us.
This bizarre entourage has nothing to do with poverty, mind you. We have met many business owners with the same reticence to invest in their business.
If asked he would say that he can do his work here fine and that his customers would think that he charges too much if he went to a better spot. Or something along those lines.
And we? We loved the dreamlike quality of the enterprise, loved it!
irenesuchocki
jackandcatcurio
Wyanne
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