The Devil’s Feather
Şeytan tüyü translates as The Devil's Feather, a Turkish saying for someone that has a mysterious, devilish charm.
I was introduced to the saying by some newfound travel friends on a train somewhere between Sofia and Bucharest (more about those friends in another story).
My mind immediately flashed back to a Turkish barista in Ortahisar, a small Cappadocian town.
Ortahisar's town square sits close to a 90-metre-high castle built into a rock outcrop, which is the town's main drawcard and standout geological feature with commanding views of the surrounding Cappadocian countryside.
It only takes a few minutes to get from the town centre to another world in the valleys, that are home to ancient dwellings carved into the rock walls and natural rock pinnacles.
It feels peaceful and idyllic down in the valleys but the whole area was once part of on the Silk Road and a target for Arab marauders, so not always peaceful.
In the square below the castle there’s a retail complex of sorts that houses kebab and tourist shops. Amongst them was a café that was perfectly Turkish; semi-chaotic, thrown together, with bric-a-brac décor that bears no resemblance to the stylised western cafes I’m used to.
An afternoon Turkish coffee was a ritual I acquired on this trip, and it was that time of day.
I'm not sure if it was convenience, the authentic charm, or the invitation from the barista that prompted me stop at this café for my new ritual, but that's where I found myself. I say barista but I'm not sure makers of Turkish coffee refer to themselves that way. Certainly, no barista I know makes coffee on a charcoal fired stove on the pavement.
You weren't going to ask for an organic-almond decaf latte in this café, snowflake!
That’s when I noticed…Some people have a presence, a quality thing draws and compels attention. Maybe it's their looks, physique, hair, or voice. It wasn’t any of those for this guy. His presence came from somewhere altogether different.
It wasn’t loud or ostentatious, just captivating…The way he dressed, the way he moved, the way he held and spoke on the phone, his piercing gaze. A combination of all those things but then also something indefinable.
He made and served my coffee but then moved about energetically, working his phone with an intensity that made it seem he was wrangling together something important. Maybe something subversive?
An agitator in a bandana working on an insurrection?
In a country brimming with political tension, it’s entirely possible.
I’m sure he had the pull to assemble a gang of insurrectionists. Or a harem…
None of that took away from his partner’s and his impeccable Turkish hospitality as we did our best to communicate; they exchanged their broken English for my rudimentary Turkish.
After finishing my made-on-the-pavement Turkish coffee I plucked up the courage to ask for a photo.
Anyone that's ever held a camera knows you can't always capture what you see or want to capture, the elusive moment, a rare bird or shooting star.
This time I caught it!
Framed by the Ogee arches in the town square, The Devil's Feather, staring straight down the barrel, and the best street portrait I might ever take.
It’s there for all to see now. The eyes and a look of knowing.
Confidence, allure, mischief. Yeah, there’s plenty of mischief in those eyes!
We exchanged a quick handshake after the photo was taken and he darted away before I could get his name.
He was up to something, alright!
