A caravan of horses and a van riding from central Turkey to Iran. Sleeping in tents. Cooking in an open fire. Visiting artisans who make carpets. Watching them load the pieces into the van…I imagined as Mehmet Dasdeler described what he was planning to do. He could do it. A man of high energy and vision, he owned hotels and a carpet shop in Goreme, Turkey.
“Come with me.” Mehmet said, “We’re mapping the route right now. Maybe in two years we’ll go.”
“I’d love to.” I said. “But first I have to learn how to ride a horse.”
Mehmet put me on one of his horses. A beautiful brown with white spots. As soon as we left the stable, my little horse started to act up and wouldn’t go forward. “He’s testing you.” Mehmet said. “Kick him with your heels.” I kicked. “Harder.” He laughed.
Little horse went around in circles, snorting and swaying. I could barely hold onto him. He ran up a different hill instead of following Mehmet’s horse. He rushed downhill to get rid of his burden. My bottom swung out of his body. I would fall in a second and die.
“What happened?” Mehmet rode over and held the rein, steadying the horse.
“I’m sorry, Mehmet.” I said. Iran felt very far away. And if little horse and I were to be companions we might never ever see our family and friends again.
