Arrowtown book buyer Miranda Spary continues her regular column about her recommendations for a good read and life as she sees it ...
Serendipity isn't normally able to be counted on, but it's different in Turkey.
It's hard to go and do anything without getting an unexpectedly nice surprise.
In the grand style of mad dogs and Englishmen, we set off for a walk up a hot rocky trail just before noon.
We were off to see some 2000-year-old ruins at a farm by the sea.
As ever, we got lost and were happy to be found by a pig-hunting (but not pig-eating - he's a good Muslim) Turk.
He invited us all in for tea at his house - a basic hut without power or running water, perched on a cliff overlooking a bay literally studded with billions of dollars worth of superyachts and plenty of less super craft.
Our new friend's name is Mustuk. He whittles spoons out of olive wood for a living and we bought loads.
Out came his saz, a long-necked guitary thing and he sang to us as we sipped our sage tea. Bliss.
Next day, we kayaked to another bay and found another happy chappy called Ahmet.
His pride and joy is his collection of New Zealand calendars, given to him by Queenstowners Johnny and Ginny Foster.
He runs what he calls a restaurant, although it has nothing that makes it look like one ... We booked a table for that evening anyway, and he promised us meze, fish from his brother-in-law's fishing boat, rice and salad for under $NZ25 a head.
We turned up at sunset to find the one table filled with hungry Germans eating delicious-looking meze.
Ahmet was so apologetic about the Germans eating "our" meze that it was hard to grumble.
We wandered around looking to see where the food was being prepared. In one derelict shed, his brother-in-law was crouched over a burner frying chips.
About 50m from the beach, Ahmet had lit a fire in a very ancient looking stone oven and the rickety bench parked out under a fig tree housed the plates and cutlery. The wine cellar was two bottles of supermarket wine in a chillybin.
As the Germans munched away, we were sent off to the little boat to inspect the catch of the day and choose our fish.
Ahmet and his brother-in-law managed to find two spare tables and proudly carried them down to the least even bit of ground they could find.
To our amazement, dinner actually appeared - delicious fish with salad and rice and chips and bread. No shortage of carbs.
Little Ahmet bounced around delighted that we loved our dinner. Then he said we would have dancing and music, and Mustuk appeared.
As we listened to Mustuk play, Ahmet went off in the pitch dark to wash the dishes - he'd moved the only light to where we were sitting.
He returned and lit an enormous, extremely hot bonfire right by our table.
He insisted we all dance around the fire, and the videos we took have marvellous pagan shots while hysterical giggles pepper the soundtrack.
I'm sure we'll be eating there again soon.
It sounds as if life in the Wakatipu is even more fun. I was sad to miss the winter festival fireworks which you all tell me were brilliant. And winter festivals are always so much more fun when there's real snow happening! On a less fun note, I have been reading the utterly wonderful Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? by Jeannette Winterson.
Nearly 30 years ago she wrote the Whitbread winning novel Oranges are not the only fruit, about a girl adopted by Pentecostals. It was semi-autobiographical.
Now she's written her proper autobiography.
Her adopted mother was just as fearsome in real life as in Oranges and actually asked Jeanette the question above when she finds out Jeanette is in love with a woman.
It's one of those nearly funny books - it's hard to believe how awful some people's lives are, but how resilient they are to such miserable circumstances.
Jeanette is one of these and she looks so cleverly at life and all the people in it.
