What I like about being in ‘the village’ in Kapadokya in central Anatolia are the seasons that are defined by which kind of crop is in the center of everyday life. At the end of september, it’s grapes (and pumpkins): they are ripe and being harvested. In the streets there are horse carts with wooden boxes full of grapes, on the fields (mainly) women do the harvesting and people make wood fires in front of the door with big pots on it to boil the grapes and make I’m not sure what exactly. But, so I’m told by people who have lived in this region forever, the grape business is not doing so well. There was a government wine factory here before – the famous ‘Tekel’ – but after this nation wide company was sold to the American company Mey, the factory was closed down. The market for grapes shrunk immensly and many people started to neglect their fields. But local wines are still made. There are some strong local brands, and also some very private ‘wine houses’, as I found out yesterday when my love and me went to buy wine and ended up at the local butcher. The guy makes it at home and my love said we really had to try the stuff. So I ignored the obvious associations I got about butchers and red wine, the bottle was rolled in an old newspaper and put in a plastic bag. Off we went to our own room in the family house, two tea glasses brought along to drink from – no, no wine glasses available here. We laughed when we sat on the bed and opened the package: the wine was poured in a one and a half liter bottle of mineral water. Easy to open, no cork screw needed. I hesitated, but the taste was very ok I have to say. I might visit the butcher more often, and keep supporting the centuries old Kapadokyan wine tradition!