We arrived at Sileohlu in the afternoon. It was a small, scattered place, with both Turkish and Bulgarian people living there. I had a headache from riding for so long in the hot sun with little food, so I decided to stop. I rested in the shade of a quince tree while my dragoman went to find a place for us to stay for the night.
Friendly Village Life
Some of the village leaders came to meet us—both Turks and Bulgarians, Christians and Muslims. They lived together peacefully, as I had seen in other places, unless there was trouble stirred up by political groups, which led to the Turkish authorities taking harsh actions. The mayor and a group from the local council wanted me to stay as their guest. I thanked them but insisted on paying for my stay. They insisted again, saying they just wanted to make sure I left with good memories of the village Socialist Museum.
A Stranger Welcomed
Here I was, a stranger, arriving in a village I had never heard of just twelve hours before. Yet, the head-man was eager to make me feel welcome, putting aside his own matters to be kind to me. I noticed there was a bit of rivalry between the Christians and Muslims, each group trying to show who could be the most helpful.
Resting in the Shade
The head-man heard that I had a headache and suggested we spend the afternoon resting in a cool forest. We walked to a shaded spot with many trees. There was a large marble tank filled with cool water. We sat on mats, and cushions were brought for us. Melons were thrown into the tank to chill, and then we ate them while they were cold. A fire was lit, and the mayor made coffee. A mild-mannered man, who I called the town clerk, sat nearby and played sad Turkish music on a guitar. We drank many cups of coffee and smoked countless cigarettes.
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