The House of the Seals
What if the thing pulling you out loved you more than the thing pulling you in?
Foça · İzmir. illustration by Filiz Hekimoğlu.
A fisherman called Suat
On that night I met a fisherman called Suat at Sadık abi’s, the Phokai restaurant, at our family rakı and fish table — all of us together, including Sadık abi himself. Suat is the fish supplier for the restaurant.
I had never been on the sea before with a small kayık-boat, with a real fisherman, for a purpose. And my interest in the sea, and in fishing, kept the conversation going all night — somehow one word opened another, and Suat’s invitation came: to go out for fishing with him the next morning, at five.
But he added an old belief: never take a woman on a fishing boat — she brings bad luck.
I said quietly to myself: what a foggy head.
We met at sunrise. It was a quiet day for fishing. Suat was earning his life from the sea.
We went out through the little bay, rounded the point, and started towards the Siren Rocks. He wanted to show me the house of the seals — and he told me that not many fishermen go to that area, and that because of this there are plenty of fish there.
Why, I said. Why don’t the fishermen go there?
“Efsane,” he said. Legend. Siren Kayalıkları. The fairy chimneys of Foça.
And the seals, he said. This is their town. Phokaia — Foça. The house of the seals.
The fairy chimneys of Foça
Enchanting, dangerous, hidden — and you can hear the wind making the sound of a flute, very high pitch and thin.
There is a threshold out there. After it, the friendly waves of the water changed. A deep, sly wave began. As if the sea were breathing, slowly, underneath us.
Not the dramatic kind. Not foam, not threat. It is what the fishermen call soluğan — the swell. Long, even waves, far apart, left behind by a storm that happened somewhere else. A storm that does not belong to this sea, still arriving.
And our small kayık began to move with it, in wide slow swings. Like a cradle.
Shhh, baby. Shhh, baby. Sleep.
Suat was used to it. I was not. The colour went out of my face, my stomach turned, and I started losing my balance where I sat.
I didn’t say a word to him. But he could feel it.
The house of the seals
We arrived at Siren Kayalıkları. I was fascinated by the nature of the rocks — standing near the sea like towers, made by the salted water of the waves.
The Siren Rocks, from the water
We started moving between narrow, thin canyons. Suat lifted the head of the motor slightly up. In this area you cannot tell where the rock is.
Between the canyons
And here they are.
Two seals, taking their sunbed on top of a small flat rock island. Their private bay. Hahaha.
Their private bay
I forgot my seasickness and started to enjoy.
Suat said: once you have something to look at, something to love, all sickness goes away.
The whole fishing technique
You see, that is the whole fishing technique. Now we will fish. And focus. Then you will not be sick.
We took out our lines and said rastgele. It is what fishermen here say to each other. It means: let it come as it comes.
I started to focus. Focus. Focus.
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But I could hear the wind blowing that music — the sirens’ flute, playing.
A strike — one vuruş. And the fear of losing it rises.
The smile on my face. The excitement. Not knowing how to pull the line in. The panic — that I would lose it.
Suat burst out laughing when he saw my face — a face of all emotions at once.
I pulled the line in and the bait was gone.
Big fish know how to take the bait and go away.
He said: that is what the sirens do here. Enchant, take, and go. You are not the only woe-man in this boat. There are plenty of them out there on the rocks.
He shouted at me severely — and gave me another bait to put on the line, and said: be a Hu-man.
I didn’t get what he was saying, and I was offended. But still a part of me, the part that loves a challenge, wanted to give it another try.
I put on the bait and said rastgele. I stayed focused and cleared my mind. Looking only at what the misina was doing to the water — rings opening outward on the surface of the sea. It looked like a butterfly effect, something landing on water.
Waited. Waited. Waited.
Stay still and focus. Focus. Focus.
And the STRIKE — vuruş.
At the same time Suat had a strike too — so I was alone. Nobody to show me how to pull the misina in.
What am I going to do now?
A voice rose within me. Trust your instinct. Be a Hu-man. Stay and focus. Only I could do this.
Draw the misina quick and fast. Hold tight and — draw. Draw. Draw.
Don’t be distracted.
A seal jumped close by.
Stay focused. Focus. Focus.
Sometimes the things you loved before — even the seals — can become a trap on that mission.
Here it is. A big fish.
My face opened up and my hands got quicker, and I took the fish into the boat. Still not knowing how to get the hook out of its mouth. Excited, and looking at the fish with a question in my mind.
How did I do that?
Suat had one too, and he took it into the boat. Then he started to take the hooks out of both fishes’ mouths.
I was happy. He said: good job. Yours is bigger than mine.
Acemi şansı — beginner’s luck. That is what we said. But good.
Sadık will pay good money for yours. Around one kilo, levrek — sea bass. That is what Suat’s clients pay for.
He said: that is enough for the day. Today is my daughter’s birthday. Better we take off. No need for more.
Ask Topa
We started making our way back towards the small fishing harbour of Foça, the one we had set out from. No soluğan on our way back home. A nice breeze. Cool water.
And when we came alongside the pier — my brother was waiting for me with my dog Topa.
Topa, my precious one. She loves to swim — and the moment she sees the sea, there is no stopping her. No way. But whenever we swam together she would worry about me endlessly, always trying to save me; goldens like her are trained as rescue dogs, to bring people who are lost or drowning back from the sea. She kept climbing on top of me, and in her hurry to save me her four paws would scratch and hurt me.
So I found a solution: I would hold her gently by the neck and chest, rest on her back, and float — and she would swim happily beneath me, carrying me along like a little speedboat.
They say Odysseus was tied to a mast to get past these rocks. Topa swims past them like they are nothing.
The sirens of Odysseus, in Phokaia. They sang sailors under these rocks.
Ask Topa.
What if the thing pulling you out loved you more than the thing pulling you in?
Filiz Hekimoğlu is the founder of WHLE — Wholeness · Healing · Living · Evolving — a creative and educational platform rooted in Urla, İzmir. She is a travel writer, narrative creator.
The House of the Seals is the first story in the TheLongTravel series: short journeys where a place, a myth and a small personal turning point meet. More at filizhekimoglu.com.
