Safranbolu

I have a funny tale to tell. It started (and ended) in Safranbolu, Turkey.

Safranbolu is a neat little place, a UNESCO world heritage site made famous for its well preserved Ottoman houses. To learn more about Safranbolu, click here

Anyways. I visited Safranbolu with my friends Tim and Myza. It was a freezing cold day, much too cold for such adventures, yet we went anyways. Whilst wandering the cobblestone streets of old Safranbolu, a tin smith hailed us.


"Where are you from?" he asked
"We're from Canada."
"OH, I love Canadians. Come in to my shop."

And so we did.

"Sit down, sit down" said he. "Read my guestbook."

While uninterestedly yet politely turning the pages of said guestbook, Myza's hands were suddenly grabbed. What followed was very interesting.

The pages of the guestbook read something like this "Beware. If you are reading this, you are in this man's shop. He will grab your hands. He will start massaging your hands, your face, your arms..." As we read this, the massage gained in momentum. The guestbook continued "Be prepared for the grand finale". Suddenly, Myza was turned around so that she was back to back with this man. He locked his arms with hers, bent over and hoisted her on his back, bending so far over that she was upside down. It was rather uncomfortable looking and awkward to be sure. I collapsed in a fit of giggles.



When he attempted my massage I'll admit that I made my excuses and escaped quickly. Meanwhile, Tim was nowhere to be seen - so much for manly protector.


The next day I was talking with some friends and it turned out that they experienced the same thing on their visit to Safranbolu. So I say this: go to Safranbolu, visit this man and experience his infamous massage.