Hair Museum

On our last day in Cappadocia, we toured the Open Air Museum, saw some more cave dwellings, and churches and then headed off for lunch of hummus and pita! We were sort of out of new options, but pottery is a big deal in this area of Turkey so we decided to take a quick trip up to Avanos, the pottery mecca of Cappadocia, because of its location on the red river where the red clay comes from.
We unsuspectingly got on a bus and rode 15 minutes to this new town, got off and the pottery place recommended by our book was right in front of us - Chez Galip.
We walked in, and there is a boy spinning something on a foot powered wheel, so we sit down to take a look. He demonstrates with one pot, and then gestures for one of us to try. I have been anxiously waiting for this moment, so I put down the kitten that had climbed into my lap and sat down at the wheel. The smooth, creamy feel of the clay spinning through my hands is so relaxing. Together the boy and I created a pretty nice piece of pottery.
After cleaning up and photographing myself with my pot, a short little round man, with wild curly gray hair walked through and shouts something at us in Turkish. We all sort of glance sideways and shrug our shoulders. He says, "English only?" And we nod our heads with some embarrassment. He shouts again in Turkish and waves his arms around in the air, and a younger man comes over and begins to explain about this shop to us in English. He says we have nine rooms, the first has red clay pottery, the second and third have white clay pottery, fourth, fifth..., and rooms eight and nine are for the hair museum. What? We must have misunderstood. English is not as widespread and competent in Turkey as it has been other places. In fact most people as us if we are from Australia? New Zealand? England? Canada? and then they start over. We finally have to say "America, USA". It is a nice change of pace, but does make for comical conversations.
We walked through a few rooms of pottery, not very interesting, but in the sixth or seventh room, the hand painted white pottery bowls, and plates arrive and we get a little more excited - and then our grey haired man shows back up and the fun begins! This is Galip, the man whose name graces the shop and whose charisma defines the place. He notices our guide book, and through his our interpreter tells us with much excitement, that since we have come without a guide he will give us a thirty percent discount. Wow! Then he wants to give us a hand painted hotplate - free gift! Then he wants to autograph our hotplates! Who is this man? And then the clincher, he wants to add our hair to his hair museum. He says this part while pulling out his own interesting coif and leading us into rooms eight and nine.
The walls are covered floor to ceiling, with small pieces of white paper and from each little slip is a chunk of hair. There are dreadlocks, long curly tendrils, straight and long, wavy, blond, black, brown - covering every inch of this long arched hallway. Each person has written their name and address and the date they made their donation to the museum. Some people have even included their picture! Who is this man?
So, we decided while in Turkey - and he cut off a small piece of hair from each of our heads and we have joined possibly the oddest tradition, but a museum is a museum, right? He's even in the Guinness Book of World Records!
After buying a few pieces of pottery, he asks us if we would like to now go see his workshop. Its only three or four kilometers away from here. We thought, heck, this has already been a day for the books, why not keep it up. We piled into his vanagon with another man, and a younger girl who drove us out of town, and then back up the mountain to the Chez Galip workshop. We saw someone mold a plate on a wheel, and Galip painting a large plate. We saw his own personal collection of pottery, and the gated vault which holds his most valuable pieces for sale. We just kept walking around in amazement, drinking his homemade wine from small pottery cups, shaking our heads and wondering how these things happen. Once we had toured and talked sufficiently we promised to come back soon, especially once we had money to buy more things. Some younger man and his friend drove us back into town in his brand new Ford, and within five minutes we were right back where we started at the bus stop, and if not for the bags of pottery in our hands, and that bald spot on the back of our heads we would have to wonder if it happened at all.

Check out all our hair raising photos from Cappadocia.