On Hiking and Uniformity

A week ago a friend and I joined a hiking group for a Sunday stroll in the mountains. Okay, not so much a stroll. Definitely a hike. Actually, had the snow been a little less tricky and slow going in spots, we could have called it a climb.

For a while now, I've been wanting to both get out and be in the great outdoors that I've grown up loving and to find those locals who enjoy the same types of pursuits. It became very clear that this type of activity is primarily done through an association and an association is found by asking those you know. So off to my acquaintances I went and I began to ask for information. All of their answers led me back to one group, who's office happens to be a 10 minute walk from my house. Then, when one of my co-workers who will shortly be moving to another city joined the group for a hike, I decided to follow suit. But before I committed, I asked a good friend to join me - one who happens to be a girl. The last thing I wanted to do is to show up and be the only girl!

Last Sunday at 7 am we headed out my door with all our gear and walked up the hill to the association office. There we were met by folks who, by all outward appearances, had done this sort of thing before. And, as I am finding to be true in this country, they were a community of sorts that all knew each other. We picked more people up as we headed out of town in our hired bus and were off to the mountains.

I looked around me. Everyone was dressed in more or less the same brand of clothing, more or less everyone was wearing red and black, and everyone was basically of the same socio-economic status. We had our tea, we had our rolls, and we had our conversation.

We stopped on the way at their usual bakery to buy bread where almost everyone walked out with loaves of bread. Then we stopped at the truck stop where soup and tea would be consumed and gaiters would be put on. Here my friend learned that there is only one way to put on gaiters.

So off to the trail we went. Ah, but wait - no real trail would lead us to where we were going. We were at the mercy of our guide, his GPS, map, and previous hiking in the area. The remainder of the day I watched him climb and teach. Every time we stopped everyone was instructed to drink water. When we hit slopes covered with snow that would require a certain type of step, everyone was not only told how to walk, but shown how to do so. When a decision needed to be made as to whether or not we would attempt the peak or attempt to simply get back to our vehicle, everyone was given all the possibilities and all the reasons for deciding certain things. Here was a guide, a teacher, a shepherd of a flock of hikers with varying levels of experience.

Lunch time came. We found a flat area, stomped down our snow and out came, once more, identical gear and identical menus. The guide (who we called hoca - the word for a teacher - and who called us hoca, i.e. Catherine hoca, Sevda hoca) had everyone put on all their layers, stamp down the snow in a certain way, and continued to instruct on different aspects of winter climbing.

Hours later, right about sunset, we made it back to the vehicle. Here the hoca led everyone in stretching and then back to the vehicle. Down the road we went to the truck stop for the same bowl of soup, the same pickles and onions and the same tea. Rested, hydrated, happy and tired it was back to the vehicle and back to town where we all went to our various, non-identical houses, jobs, friends and families.

Slowly, slowly, slowly I am learning more about the community aspect of this culture. Community and doing/liking the same things as my friend seem to be the order of the day. With me Ask that whole communities will decide together to follow the Truth. And as we Ask this question for Turkey, lets Ask something for ourselves - do we live in community with one another? I don't believe we are taught that community and uniformity are the same, but there is something to be learned here from this culture that so values community.