It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

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.

The Breakfast of Champions!

A gentleman sitting next to us acquired two beers, two glasses of orange juice, and a latte with his scrambled eggs. (We were attempting to get combobulated after our flight, so we enjoyed time in the Munich lounge hoping to down some caffeine in order to adjust to a new schedule.) That is one of the things I always loved about travel through Germany. There is bier für früstück.

Did I mention free? It’s free in the lounge, so it’s almost required that one of German descent consider the digestive benefits of beginning the morning with a swig. To quote a famous line from ye olde sing-alongs, “In heaven there is no beer, that’s why we drink it here. And when we’re gone from here, our friends will be drinking all our beer.” And they have just brought a rack of Bavarian pretzels for our breakfast pleasure!

Prost!

Crossing my fingers for secure wi-if connections and continued observations of the mundane!

My daughter “informed” me that “informed delivery” has been around for years and she uses it daily. Hm.

The Post Office sent me an email picturing all of my snail mail which was going to be delivered this afternoon. (I signed up for the “informed delivery” option when I went to the website a few days ago.) It was pretty cool when I traipsed down the driveway to collect my all-important missives and it was as promised. And they did not include the junk mail.

Consider this a PSA if you didn’t know you could request this option. I never really have anything that great showing up, but if you send me a letter, I will know it’s coming that day. That would be a blast of excitement in my day!

My sister always said one should have “a little danger in the day.” I think a more apt translation would be “excitement,” as we rarely encountered danger when we were together.

However, with that mantra in mind yesterday I consumed the cottage cheese that had a “best by” date of December 28. I figured that was a mere suggestion, and as I awoke feeling just fine, apparently it wasn’t that dangerous of a feat.

2023 is off to a rip-roaring start!

Whilst dragging trash bins to the curb I was privy to some balmy weather at 6 am this morning. It’s 24 degrees, but it feels quite spring-like. This could explain the dress code adapted by the high school students returning to classes. I just get a kick out of what they wear in winter.

I seem to recall boots, coats and mittens attached with a crocheted string as my winter wear eons ago. (I probably ditched the mitten-minder in middle school.) I’m guessing today is shorts weather for sure.