Bio, 2014: Penny Payne Harvey
Dear Ann,
You have done an amazıng job on gettıng the reunıon together!!
Unfortunately I will not be there. I am not coming to the States thıs year.Below ıs my bıo submission entitled Serendipity. Sure have enjoyed readıng all of them--great of you to get them going.
PennyPayne Harvey
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The awnings are pulled back at the Noel Baba cafe to allow the January sun to warm the tables full of Kas’s winter residents with nary a tourist in sight. I am rushing to meet my friend Beth for lunch and I look for a lone American woman. I do not see her at first, for she is sitting with some other people. I soon recognize Masha, a young Russian woman from my Turkish class and her Italian husband, Paolo along with another man. They in turn introduce me to their friend, Alessandro, an elderly Italian gentleman. The men are drinking beers, but we ladies stick to tea. The conversation centers around the perennial questioning of expatriates’ origins.
I say I am from Oklahoma originally, Alessandro says he worked with the Williams family of Tulsa. And when I say I grew up in Saudi Arabia he instantly said, Ah, Aramco. So he now knows more about me, than I about him. Soon with typical Italian expansiveness, he says it is time for lunch and encompasses Beth and I with a wave of his hand. As we walk toward the harbor I sidle up to ask Masha where are we going and she says to Alessandro’s house.
Their house across the bay in the ancient harbor called Limanasi. I am aware of a couple of hotels and a restaurant there, but do not know of any houses. But I gladly troop along until we come to the harbor’s edge, where we step onto a small launch. Alessandro stands at the prow like a sea dog sniffing the wind and we huddle in the small cockpit, while the boatman steers the boat across the open water. It is very calm as it often can be in winter, but the wind is cold and I am thankful for my heavy Irish sweater. It is so windy I can hardly hear Masha’s explanation to Beth of who Alessandro is and how they know him. He and his Turkish wife built the present house forty years ago, starting small when there was no water or electricity to be had and everything had to come by boat. There still is no road to the mountain encircled spit of land.
We arrive at a dock and I can just glimpse a house through the trees. As we come up the path, Alessandro’s wife comes to greet and welcome us with typical Turkish hospitality and seems nonplussed he has brought two strangers to lunch. She introduces herself as Genesta (as in the botanical name of broom, and Planta Genesta, the name given to English kings.)
We sit under trees in the courtyard in this secluded garden. Out come bottles of Italian wine and salami, which they have brought with them for their short stay in the house. Normally they split their time between an apartment in Istanbul and one in Paris. Soon Alessandro says he must see to the cooking and off he goes into the kitchen.
Even though I sit near Masha in Turkish class, this is the first time to really talk to she and Paolo. They are a fascinating couple and add to the conviviality of the moment. Whether it is the wine speaking or the magical setting of the house and garden I revel in the whole experience.
Genesta wants to know all about Beth and I, the how and why we ended up in Kas, Turkey. We try to give abbreviated life histories and are about to question her when Alessandro calls us to lunch in the cozy kitchen. He is helped by a couple of staff to present us with a simple but elegant Italian meal. Paolo exclaims, “welcome to Italy” and we all toast with appreciation.
The lunch conversation solves the mystery of how an Italian, Paolo, met and married a Russian, Masha and how an Italian, Alessandro met and married a Turk, Genesta. We agree to the frisson that comes with mixed marriages, which is true for all of us: Beth is married to a Turk and I to a Brit, who grew up in southern Ireland. The wine continues to flow until it is time for the boatman to take us back to Kas.
On the way back I muse on the sheer serendipity of life and how I came to be on a boat, looking on at a modern setting of an ancient port. It is a far cry from Stillwater, Oklahoma’s first and second grade and then high school and college. On to OU for my masters in library science and the 39 years of professional library work in various locals. Then came retirement six years ago in our Turkish village above Kas.
I ponder how utterly comfortable I am in a foreign setting. The constant challenges it brings whether from the culture, the language and the stimulation from many different nationalities overlaying an area steeped in a history of mankind experiencing constant change. I am content to be a citizen of the world.I do not forget my roots, however, which provides the grounding that allows me to fly.
[Photo of Penny's home area in Turkey from her 2009 bio.]
©2009 Stillwater High School Class of 1964