Turkey

I realize for some readers this time of year is "turkey time" but that's not what I am referring to in the title.  I mean the country.  The glorious, beautiful country to which I have longed to make a visit for years.  Years.
And I got less than a day.
Am I complaining?  Not exactly.  It was my choice after all.  Sort of.  Didn't I agree to this trip?  Yes I did but I harbored a secret, highly unrealistic fantasy that I could somehow alter the itinerary once we arrived in the country. I more or less forgot that there were 4,000 other people and an entire ocean liner that had to be taken into account. Because we were visiting this port as part of the aforementioned cruise so this was not the typical Ionescu trip wherein we could switch up the plan just because there was another restaurant we wanted to try or just because Leigha desperately, desperately wanted to stay longer.
No folks, that was it.  One day.
The first half was spent visiting the ancient ruins of Ephesus which happily satisfied my cravings for all things antiquated and biblical.  I didn't have to go to Jerusalem with 500,000 other Jews, Muslims and Christians, I just got it right there in tiny, underpopulated Ephesus.
We didn't opt for any organized land excursions.  For one, we aren't that organized and the idea of having to be at a specific place at a specific time sort of runs contrary to my idea of a vacation.  Also, I find that a great deal of the tour guide's lecture content does not interest me.  Not that I am more cerebral than other people, on the contrary, probably I am less cerebral so I find myself thinking "la la la la" while the tour guide provides information on how many tons a certain stone pillar weighs.
This is in no way intended to disparage land excursions.  Point of fact was that I was very impressed with them (albeit from a distance) because I could see how greatly they would benefit the aged or someone without much stamina.  The cruise staff are very accommodating to those folks and make sure they can get the most possible out of the sites without winding up crippled or in intensive care.  There's a lot to be said for that.  When I am aged or if I put on another 60 lbs I will no doubt book the first land excursion that comes my way.
But for now that's not really our approach to traveling.  We don't know how to visit a place unless by the end of the day we've logged a minimum of 10K on foot and at least one member of my family has a blister, leg cramp, or has had to hold their urine for 2 or more hours.
So no organized land excursions.
Instead we got a taxi to drive us the 30 km to Ephesus and along the way the driver found out we are living in Romania.  His fluently broken English switched to fluently broken Romanian and he told us with tremendous enthusiasm how much he loves Brasov and of his plans to spend this coming Christmas there.  Somewhere during the discussion over which city is more picturesque-Brasov or Sinaia-he apparently decided that we were the sort of folks who do things in rather backward fashion (maybe something about leaving the States to move to Romania) and told us that he was going to drop us off at the bottom of the site and pick us up at the top so that we could avoid most of the crowds.
And he was right.
We suffered a few moments of confusion trying to figure out where to go to get tickets (seeing as how we were at the bottom of the tourist site) but we were assisted by the local restroom clerk/saffron seller who held up his yellow-stained hands as proof of the seriousness with which he approaches his profession.  The saffron-picking I mean.  The restroom clerking is apparently a side job and I chose not to think about how his hands are involved with that since we bought saffron from him.
In any case, we had the ancient site of Ephesus almost exclusively to ourselves for the first 3/4 of the morning until we met up with the descending tour groups.  It is shocking how 1,000 people can make an open-air hillside feel so incredibly cramped particularly when they are all trying to take photographs of the same thing you are trying to photograph.
Fortunately we had seen just about all we needed to see at that point and were able to put the camera in the bag and worm our way through the throngs of fanny packs and orthopedic shoes.

The fact that I spent the second half of our day in Turkey shopping comes as much a surprise to myself as anyone. But apparently that's what you do there. (is that really true, Vanessa Jackson?  Surely not)
I wanted to see some mosques but the only religious site that was offered close by the was the tour of the House of the Virgin Mary.  No thank you, after Italy I've had more than my fill of the edifices of Christendom.  I wanted to balance it out by touring religious buildings from another monotheistic faith like Islam.  But the most I got was a drive-by on the way back down the mountain although it was noon so I could hear the call to prayer which was almost as good.  It's a very moving, almost haunting sound and I did my best to block out the Romanian chatter of our secular driver who told us he has little to no interest in religious things.
So much for my mosques.
Then it was onto lunch where we had some wonderful seafood and in particular I had the best, hands down the best (sorry Barcelona) garlic shrimp I've ever had which didn't photograph nearly as well as it tasted.
We also had some perfectly fried calamari, a glass of raki and Turkish coffee.  The coffee wasn't anything new in itself since you can get it easily in Romania.  Still, drinking Turkish coffee in Turkey is not an event one passes up lightly.

Then it was time to shop.  And shop.  And shop.
Mihai bargains with ease because he's not only been to Turkey before but he was raised under communism and that somehow prepares one for this sort of thing.  Either that or being from New York.  But I'm a Californian and we don't behave this way.  We just pay whatever price is listed and wish everyone a nice day and skip out of the store while secretly wishing we were visiting a mosque instead.
I can't deny that we saw some beautiful stuff.  Like rugs and tapestries and towels and other large, heavy things which we did not buy even though the proprietors assured us that they would ship it to our house for free, even if that house was in California and even if we weren't going to go back there until the spring of 2012, it was NO PROBLEM MADAME!  However, we figured Marius and Monica would not appreciate UPS delivering box after box of rugs and other merchandise they would have to stumble over for the next five months.
So instead we bought scarves (lovely but far more ho-hum than a 3-meter-squared silk and wool rug) for the wonderful Teo and other good folk here in Obedin.
And instead of trying kebabs as planned, we spent the rest of the afternoon trying to find a very specific hat for Lucian which he had to have and has yet to wear.  Mircea bought one as an afterthought and it has hardly left his head.
Ah, the inconsistencies of children.

And then it was back to the ship.
No blisters, no mosques.
However, Luci almost wet his pants and my shoulder ached from carrying the bags with scarves which has to count for something.
One day I will get to wear my feet raw and bloody on the streets of Istanbul.  Everyone must have a dream, right?