Author: Rene

Dining is always an interesting event as we continue to try new foods and customs. Being surrounded with lamb dishes is not high on my list of culinary choices so I’m always opting for the chicken.

Yesterday our stop took us to a restaurant with a “detailed menu.” Although tempting, we did not order the last choice under “meats.” One can only wonder — what in the world are “the others?” I can tell you one thing, we shall never know – unlike how to deal with our current weather. That we know!

This is our view on Wednesday morning – we shall be navigating the snow and a bit of ice. Our Australian friends were delighted with the precipitation, but not the ice. The Canadiens and Coloradans just sigh. Reminds us of home.

Off to visit some of these wondrous sights – this one a cave dwelling outside our stone hotel. Perhaps the sun will join us?

Notice the license plates? The left is Ukraine, the right Russia.

I suppose like many wars it’s politics, not people at stake. At this historic site it was merely human beings studying the ruins and visiting history. Just an interesting observation in this part of the world. If you look at a map of Turkey you can see the challenges this young republic faces in terms of its neighbors.

If politicians could travel incognito to foreign countries they would understand so much more about the culture. Of course, those foreign leaders should do likewise. We have more in common being on this planet than we do in our differences.

We head out to the more conservative, highly religious part of Turkey tomorrow. I’ll keep searching for the commonality!

If I could rewrite history I’d have this as my wedding dress!

The bridal shops have the most ornate and glamorous wedding dresses – nothing simple or unadorned. This was my favorite display. And if you weren’t my bridesmaid, you wouldn’t have to wear this gem I would choose.

It’s a bit of a tiki hut look but enchanting nonetheless. Other than bridal brilliance, the regular clothing stores are as unexciting as ours.

I don’t think my bag will be holding any tremendous fashion finds, but it will be returning a shade lighter. Tomorrow we bid farewell to another shirt!

We are neither, but every morning that is what my ears hear from the wonderful Turkish guide we have. “Ladies and Gentlemen.”

We are in the “Concept Hotel” this evening. That is code for, “We converted a big 20-story concrete block of apartments into a funky hotel with crazy paint and lots of room for your stuff.” It’s quite beautiful as it overlooks the Mediterranean Sea. The weather is stellar. It has rained, snowed, been foggy, and brilliantly sunny all today. Currently we have windows open to cool our rooms, though we started bundled up in our winter attire. Reminds us of a Colorado day!

Thanks to Google Translate and my spouse, we made it through our “Be My Guest” experience. Lunch was in a little farm house, cooked on a pot-bellied stove, and served by the inhabitants who spoke no English. Five of the guests are Aussie, and sometimes we need to translate their speech! The seven of us were working to make conversation when my husband whipped out his phone and we translated our questions. It was a saving grace in that it saved me from having to sing to entertain the crowd. Another story.

For now, I bid you a Turkish farewell, Lazy and Yemen.

Walking through the “old town” section of Izmir we noticed many people eating little donuts. They were five to a paper bowl and looked delicious. I assumed the Turkish people enjoyed Dunkin’ as much as we do so I thought nothing of it. As we were strolling through the donut-eating crowd we heard my husband’s name being called.

Our tour guide, who had earlier left us to our own devices, was standing on a corner waving us over. Free Lokma was being handed out to everyone lining up. Why? In “our tradition” as Orhan would say, many people honor the death of their loved one in this manner. 40 days after their departure from this life the family will hire a Lokma cart to go out in public, frying and delivering donuts to the chosen number of people the family intends to serve. (1,000 or more is a good number.) The men will continue working until all of their dough is gone. This is a big business.

The depth of explanation here is lacking, but the thought is lovely. We enjoyed celebrating what we hoped was the deceased’s passing to eternal life with hot hand-made donuts.

I’m thinking an ice cream cart serving cones of coconut ice cream upon my departure. Nothing screams, “outta this world,” like coconut ice cream. Truly heavenly.

It was only fitting after my lunch of sardines that I chew some gum. Equally fitting was that I offer the other 14 members of our tour a share in my stash. One friend swapped me a piece of his wintergreen for my spearmint flavor. Another new acquaintance loaned me ten Turkish lira (50 cents) to buy a spot of tea. I swiftly repaid her when my banker arrived to the rescue.

Touring with a small group is a luxury. We move faster than those bigger gangs, already know everyone’s name, and tend to share much more with each other than if we were still in our little partner cocoons. We are a family of Aussies, Canadiens and Americans. We are all playing together nicely, unlike the Trojans and Greeks.

Today, Troy. Tomorrow, Ephesus! (Wifi is spotty, btw)

Where else would you dine in a Turkish country?

We would have eschewed the business by the name alone until our guide highly recommended it. After all, it is “world famous.” Bill Clinton ate there during his backpacking days, as did many well-known Turkish bigwigs. We have not stopped to check these facts, but can agree that the food was very good.

I have no idea what most of my meals are, but I do know that ordering a light one brings a waiter to wonder what is wrong? Why would I not want a salad, monster-sized entree, dessert and potent tea in my belly before retiring for the evening? What is sleep, but a mere interruption in the schedule?

So last night I did say “yes” to the dessert and tea offered by the waiter/owner after my mere dinner salad. I was able to communicate my “decaf” request appropriately, even though I do love the regular tea here. What seemed to be a pistachio baklava dessert baked in a clay oven – divine. The tea, no idea what kind other than a heavy pomegranate-colored concoction – did the trick. I actually slept fitfully.

My new challenge for the day – figuring out what I ordered. It’s good to have goals!

God bless the carpet salesmen. They are conversational, persistent and determined to get their hooks in you. Rather than ignore them, I like to give them some grief. Occasionally, as when we sat in the park to just enjoy the day, one might be accosted by a friendly face who just happens to speak your language fluently and wants to converse to “improve his skills.”

After a few minutes and friendly denials, laughter, questions and teasing, I will pull out my secret weapon. A mint. I do not travel without them. They go a long way in thanking someone for their time, their little kindness, or just making a friend. Individually wrapped they do not pose a threat. It pretty much stops whoever has spent unanswered sales time with me in their tracks. Today it took five mints out of my collection, but all were received with gratitude.

That’s all it’s about – giving something back. I hope I have enough mints for the trip!

Just when you think you have a great blogging moment – how I am hopelessly inept directionally, even when I’ve been to the exact same place previously – a better moment arrives.

We wandered off the beaten path to find dinner, stopping at the first restauranteur who roped us in. We couldn’t even see the dining establishment which we learned was three floors above the street. Knowing my husband’s dogs were tired, I said, “Sure,” to the lovely gentlemen standing outside to earn his keep. We were in for a true treat.

Clearly it was the local establishment with the local chanteuse who might have been the owner’s wife, and at least four tables of “older” single men spending their Saturday evening listening to the music they know and love. We appreciated the menu with photographs, the waiter with broken English, and the general “hole-in-the-wall” feeling. In fact, the establishment had been there 57 years – over half the lifetime of the Republic of Turkey.

In the midst of our fine dining, dancing ensued. I tried to stay put, avoiding eye contact with those enjoying the floor (four others) but my spouse said, “You can go.” Oh, we had a lovely time! Of course, this only prompted my new friends, the karaoke-equipped singer and the Russian lady, to goad my husband into dancing. He is such a good sport! I invited an older man who had been sitting alone to join me and he did for a few minutes before thanking me profusely. I like to think we made his friends jealous. Once again, my husband is a great sport!

It’s a good thing we arrived a little early and were finished eating because we could have been sequestered for hours dancing and inevitably toasting to someone’s health. “High fives” and “thumbs up” were all around when we left the other 21 diners to their evening. Obviously they knew we were visitors.

That’s my kind of excursion.

Remember the old “first, second, and third world” designations? Though they might have been economic labels of the past, they come to mind in terms of seat belt use when I’m overseas. “Are they required? Are they a suggestion? Do they exist?”

One must travel internationally to appreciate all the nuances of our world and our lives back home. The flight attendant nods to me to select a piece of bread myself, thus enabling her to avoid bending way over and dumping a plate on my spouse. No tongs required. Common sense in play. That’s what I appreciate most when I leave a litigious society and am put up against the likes of “Well, this is the way we do it.”

Today we shall deal with the constant assistance offered in the hopes of a tip! We are tourists, and we do have a role to play, too. I lie in wait for the dawn illuminating the minarets and domes surrounding us.