Klaus Jurgens

IT happened just behind Sagtur Beach, on a fine afternoon enroute to the top of the little hill overlooking the splendid bay. My left shoe stopped cooperating and told me it was in urgent need of a fix.

Unexpected one could say, but then perhaps not! I am known to span a rather wide radius almost every other day walking along the shoreline for any distance between five and ten kilometres. Vet Tur, Baris Tur, Sagtur, 3rd Beach, any beach, you name it.

Hence, figuratively speaking this particular pair of otherwise very comfortable shoes was used to tough and testing times. So why did half of the back part of the normally solid sandal all of a sudden fall apart? A conspiracy of sorts in the making, could it be that? Or a discreet reminder that I should change my work-out routine? Or take better care of my shoes?

Call it a small accident and not a catastrophe of course; I did carry my mobile phone and if the situation would have been more grave could have rang up one of our friendly local cabbies in order to pick me up. But I did not want to give in that easily.

Yet having been far away from anything resembling a shoe repair shop (and from anything else for that matter except a gorgeous view) on a side road without pavement and many small stones it made walking bare-feet an absolute impossibility. Nevertheless, I somehow managed to improvise and continued at a snail’s pace until back in Mavisehir via Sedef Nazilli Sitesi.

I could not recall that any of the night market stalls (which is actually an afternoon market, too) would tend to footwear other than selling brand new ones. Then, looking around and in a corner tucked away under one of the huge trees away from the market close to the Mavisehir minibus stop roundabout I saw a sign. It read ‘Cobbler by Efendi.’

Looking down I spotted a makeshift shoe repair locale. A few chairs, materials, laces and so on and so forth. And a smiling face – the owner! I showed him my shoes and he said no problem. Actually, he realized the back of the right shoe would come off very soon, too, and thus immediately fixed both.

And then we began to chat in a combination of Turkish, English and German. He made my day. Not only was the quality of his mobile shop work absolute tops and highly recommended. The price tag was acceptable, too. But the way he spoke about how happy he is with what he is doing for a living made me smile and think at the same time.

We quickly understood that previously we had both met a well-known man who was one of the first expats who had ever moved out to Didim decades ago and now lives a few miles down the coastal road. We recalled the car he drives, too, and joked about the advantages of driving instead of walking long distances (pun intended; plus, if no one walks he would be out of business soon!)

We then discussed how more recently many British people come specifically here to have their shoes repaired. We spoke about our shared town and how it has and is changing due to the transformation from village to holiday resort.

And all the time he had this warm smile on a perfectly tanned face. Our talking extended the timeframe he probably had reserved for this job but it was my absolute pleasure to sit next to him and listen and chat. And watch. Watch what?

I was totally amazed by his skills, by his technique. No machine, no way. He only uses his hands, a needle perhaps, other tools but there is no machine. He takes pride in his profession and has every right to do so. He hand-stitched the back parts of my sandals back on to where they belong as if the shoes were made new in a factory. Only better!

Call it an old fashioned, near extinct trade; label it a thing out of the past as normally we would all rush to the nearest Mister Minute outlet whilst paying a small fortune for the privilege.

What sprang to mind after putting on my shoes once more was the following. Would it not be a good idea while continuing our path to modernity to every now and then pause for a moment and consider those who do not wish to be part of the rat race, to spare a thought for those who do not wish to become city slickers? And to make certain they find a place, a niche to make a living the way they always did and probably always want to?

In other words: to myself ‘Cobbler by Efendi’ has become a memorable one-man enterprise I shall happily return to whenever I need a shoe job to be expertly done.

As I will go on to trekking up and down our coastline no matter the weather chances are I may need him sooner rather than later. Although judging by the quality of his services I might not!