From later conversations I learned that Diyarbakir is considered to be the all-natural mammoth watermelon capital of the world, although I won't be here to taste them when they are at their peak. The fruits were traditionally grown in the Hevsel Gardens in the southeast of the city, and were nourished by fertiliser from the floors of pigeon coops. (I have since seen a man walking down a long hill towards flat and pigeoned roofs, with a white bird in each hand gripped tight about the wings). The jubilant fibreglass fruitchitecture homage to the pink-fleshed pepo continues in the restaurant of my hotel:
^WALLTERMELON
Another watermelon towers on top of a model of the city walls on a red gate that, when not obstructed by a deliberate neglect of foliage, reads “Ne Mutlu Türküm Diyene” (“What a joy it is to say 'I am a Turk'")
Oh, and during the Watermelon Festival this cute and potentially traumatic thing happens to babies:
