Hours later we finished a simple meal of wood oven fired potatoes, flat bread, goat cheese and tomatoes they had insisted we eat. They sat beaming while we ate their dinner. Eastern hospitality expectations and obligations are uncomfortable for Westerners like us...but there is nothing to be done but humbly accept.
After dinner and glasses of çay we were told the goat trail we coveted led from their animal pens up to the ancient Silk Road.
Neither of them can read or write. They are the descendants of generation of nomadic shepherds. To my delight I learned that their 24 year old son is continuing the tradition.
A relational footing was dug, we hope to reinforce it this summer when we return to accept their offer to wander the SR as they graze their flocks and herds.
More when I can write from something other than a keypad...
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