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Writer's pictureLana Abu Ayyash

The cabin in the woods … tell tales of a hiker!




What does the world look like when you move with more intention?



Bag packed, sipping the last of my Kahve …. Just like that, I hear THUNDER! I open the door to see Günnaz rush towards the clothesline, I bid her a Günaydın, and she points to the sky, I say: yağmur!


A party crasher maybe, I cannot but relish that high-pitched plitter plater dancing on the wooden rooftop, thunder, and lightning just add a touch of mystery, a spooky house/ life in the prairie combo!


Seems my plans are either postponed or altered. I let in a cat – she beat me inside anyway – I cut for us both a big hunk of cheese – I never understood the obsession Turks have with “Beyaz peynir”, I am more a fan of hard, aged cheeses, as for the soft variety, I like Brie, Ricotta, Camembert, Chevre, Roquefort, and gorgonzola. I am not particularly big on cream cheese, and the traditional Turkish white never strikes my fancy, in my experience, it tasted like brackish milk, but then that’s restaurant food for you … Up until a few days ago when I found out that this Beyaz business is not just one thing, choices were endless, I bought some and I like it, especially with eggs, and especially when it’s fried to an ooey gooey crispiness. I would still pick a Romano or Manchego over any Turkish Beyaz, but I’m happy being on the cheese wagon again, as the Yabancı stuff in Turkey is so damn expensive, they may as well be made of gold.


“Bonny” Brett (Whatsapp): hope you have a fabulously creative and inspiring day!


And as it started it ended, like hitting the pause/ stop button, and in unison, the village roosters started cooing, announcing the end of the spatter!



“We can only really travel if one lets oneself go and takes what every place brings without trying to turn it into a healthy private pattern of one’s own and I suppose that is the difference between travel and tourism” – Freya Stark



I check the sky, grey! it’s my chance to see what those mountains look like after/ under the rain. I munch on a date and nut bar (only one hour had passed after that hefty breakfast) and march out.





Every odor in existence magnified to the power 10 …. The smell of earth, chicken, bricks, trees, wood, old houses, and hay hits me from all directions as I walk through the cobbled roads of the old village. But before you roll your eyes and think to yourself I’m just saying this for effect, I kid you not, walking into the mountains was like walking through a perfumed lane.




Getting darker by the minute, I knew there will be more rain. Going back is not an option I just came from there …. I might as well seek refuge in “My Log Cabin”.


The case for slow travel:


Slow travel is transitioning from materialistic and consumerist luxury to wanting what’s purposeful and meaningful. It emphasizes connection: to local people, cultures, food and music, it is tamping down our own built-in, conditioned obsessions with time and allowing the world to move just a little slower so that we can actually notice it.






Three days ago:


Cross-legged, full lotus (yep I’m boasting), I sit under an olive tree, gazing at the olive groves as they spill into the sea. I take a photo and send it to Brett



Lana: Morning! Look where I’m performing my breathing exercises, isn’t it gorgeous


Bonny Brett: Beautiful Lana – very tranquil …” This land is very healing and potentially transformative”



Not someone to take such words – or anything of value no matter who says it – lightly, I ponder. Healing and transformative is exactly the right note I wanna hit here, but what he said only confirms what I feel about this place, I know there are secrets and lessons hidden everywhere we go, we just need to seek/ look/ listen. For me, it started with the Olive Tree.


In my tradition the olive is a sacred tree; its fruit and oil are blessed:


“Lit from the blessed olive-tree, neither eastern nor western, the oil whereof almost gives light though fire touch it not – light upon light” – The chapter of light/ Quran


In Greek, olive means “to shine”, and Greek mythology is brimming with stories signifying the spiritual power of the olive tree. Even today, we have the olive branch as a symbol of peace and reconciliation, cleansing and healing, light, victory, and richness.


In ancient traditions, when an olive tree appears, it signifies a time of awakening and making peace with ourselves, where we become comfortable in our own skin with nothing to hide.

So naturally I was stricken by the fact that I am sleeping, walking, hiking, and completely living in the midst of thousands of ancient olive trees that have witnessed hundreds of souls walk this very earth. A bit of honesty here, healing was not on my mind when I came here but seems like of all things I sought, it’s healing that I needed the most.


Lost and Found!


The more I hike, wander, climb, fall, get hurt, get lost …etc the bolder I get, and the more considerable risks I seem to be willing to take.





Yesterday I ventured so deep into the mountains, so far off, that I knew if I got lost I’d be doomed, I just did not care, I was not even slightly afraid, I was filled with a sense of joy, peace, and TRUST, almost if I was guided. Look, it’s not like me to share this typa thing, to open up, be vulnerable, but I’m in this place where I don’t care, I’m free, I’m just being me.


For someone who sees beauty, art, and gratitude in every tiny thing, being in places of such immense breath-taking grace, privileged to be where probably very few people have ever been ... you feel blessed beyond measure, words escape you, emotions no longer have the capacity to follow you … all you could do is surrender!


I hike for God knows how long, but I keep going, my heart tells me I need to get somewhere. I cross what I call the enchanted woods, a magical forest outta a children's fairy-tale book, I wish I took photos of this journey, the funny thing about me, is I am a shallow photographer, meaning I only shoot before/ after actually being in an experience, and when I am living it, which is 90% of the time, I’m in that zone, and the last thing on my mind is my phone.


When do you arrive? You just know you did, and I knew. I step into a no-man land, acres upon acres of charred, burnt arid mountainscape. Tar black trees severed at the head, smoky dry land, emptiness, silence ……… PEACE. I felt air/ lightness/ love wash over me, I wept, and I sat down on the crumbly sun-baked earth gazing at the silence, there is so much soul in this “seemingly” dead place, it’s a symbol of life, rebirth, newness. I left that place with light inside of me!





Trespassing when no one is watching!





What is that? I spot it, a log cabin, just like the movies … I gotta get there, i’ll knock at the door, figure out any excuse, but I gotta get up there.


It kinda look deserted, I stand on a chair, peek at the window, yep, it is empty, meaning vacant, meaning it’s now mine!





I try the door, locked, I try to break in from the windows – I know, it’s pathetic, but that’s what I did and it makes a good story! No chance, I check the rear and lo and behold, there is a hammock. I decide to just kick back and enjoy it …. And boy did I!





Ironically, I have been wanting to rent a secluded cabin in the mountains for weeks now, I pretty much google search every day, damn it those things are expensive, so this seems like the second best thing and I’ll take it!



Sunglasses on/ off why? i wanna ward off the sun, but then every now and then I wanna see true colors


Today, thunder and rain, windy as hell, which for me is absolutely gorgeous especially when you are on the mountain– so, the natural thing to do was head to my cabin and spend some time there. It was so peaceful, so cool and chilly, so healing, I ended up staying 4 hours, and I swear I would have stayed more, but I was starving at that point, and hangry does not induce a state of well-being and peace.





To be continued ….








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