I wanted to talk about my own encounter with bees throughout my life…
Datca (pronounced: Duh-cha) is a small village on the southeast corner of Turkey where the Aegean Sea meets the Mediterranean. I spend every summer there in my grandparents little summer house. It’s a vacation where palm trees are replaced by giant pines that smell of sweet nectar. Where the horizon is framed with the Greek islands of Symi and Rhodos. Beaches are short and covered in pebbles. Water is cold and salty, filled with stingrays, sea turtles, sea lions, hundreds of starfish, corals, shellfish.
Every morning, I would wake-up smelling the amazing breakfast my grandma made. I would run down stairs in my bathing suit just in time to help my grandpa who on a chair trying to balance his 65 year-old-body on a small stool, putting the “net” up. I want to help him but they already start swarming around my body. “Buzz, buzz, buzz…” I know they are only honey bees and they’re not aggressive but it is impossible to do anything when there is so much of them. I’m talking breakfast, lunch, dinner…. They are everywhere. This is in 2004.
2013, June, I’m sitting in the breakfast table at 1pm… The notion of “morning” changes with age. I’m sitting there and remembering the bees where are there? I haven’t seen a single bee or wasp for that matter the whole summer of 2013 that I was down in Datca.