Read the post below as there is plenty more to it than this one. Yesterday myself, Nihal's mother, and Nihal's two sisters went to visit ancient Troy. I have added pictures to Lovable Quirks of the occasion. It was the first I saw of other tourists in the region and there were many. It is amazing to see none others in one area and seven tour bus loads in another. I was glad to have the chance to visit somewhere but it reminded me of the size of this nation. The journey to Troy was nearly two hours each way though it hadn't seemed all that far on the map.

Tomorrow our hero heads to Kusadasi which is further south along the coast. I will be hosted there by a relative of Nihal and get to visit Izmir and the ancient city of Efes. I'm going to leave the faithful Citroen here in Can and make use of the cheap buses. Not sure if posting will be an option but if not I shall return to Can in no more than a week I think.

Time for a tale as juicy as your average tangerine. I spent Saturday morning shopping with Nihal and Emre in a nearby village and on our return we dropped off Nihal's mother at her friend's house. A short time later Nihal got a call to say I was invited to return to the friend's house for a Turkish meal. Some I've met have said I'm the first foreigner they have seen in the area so I guess am quite the novelty. It should be mentioned here that the majority of older women in Turkey wear a shawl to cover their hair. Some younger women also but very few. Anyhows I showed up to the house alone and was greeted by the lady of the house. She seemed to me to indicate that I enter the house but I think now that no such indication was made. I waltzed in and was greeted with the surprised stares of 10- 15 of Turkey's finest. None of the women were wearing their shawls and all looked as though they were caught in the act. Plenty of cheeks suddenly blushed and mine more than all others. Nihal's mother who was quickly refitting her own made a swift indication for me to return outside. The moment I got out the door an eruption of laughter emerged from within. I was led up stairs to the second floor where I was to enjoy my meal and the laughter below continued for at least ten minutes. Having a young foreign lad view them in that compromised state caused quite a stir I guess. Glad to be able to provide small thrills for the old birds.

That same evening I made a well needed discovery. I have been staying in a hotel for the last two nights and in the time been thoroughly confused by the plumbing. The only device I found to perform the necessary flushes is a small metal hose attached to the lip of the toilet bowel. The water pressure one can achieve with the hose while considerable is inadequate to actually flush anything down and the knob for turning on the water keeps falling off. For some time I tried to figure the correct angle to aim the hose but my efforts were in vain. Instead I have had to spend the last day and a half using the shower head as a psuedo toilet flusher. Sadly it leaks at the faucet and shower head connection so each time I leave the toilet looking like a monsoon victim. Having to leave the hotel looking soiled in small town Turkey is no fun let me tell you. Well now to the discovery. I must take my toilet time far too seriously because I had neglected to take a look around and notice the large flushing device high on the wall behind the toilet bowel. One pull of that flusher and a river pours that could flush an Indian elephant down. What joy and relief was mine. Since then I have found any and all opportunities to pull the chain on that monster flusher. Further thought (scary I know) and I have realized that the delightful metal hose is for those bark chewing tree huggers. Why use toilet paper when your left hand is sitting idle? I imagine the cold water from that hose and the five digit special is quite a thrill come Winter. If there was any uncertainty about the intelligence of yours truly this situation should clear up the matter. Put the flusher in an odd location and this mo will be scooping water from the sink to try to flush whatever necessary.

You may have noticed but I finally added an Archive link to your left. Those of you latecomers can take a look when time allows at the early stages of this fanciful journey.

Another birthday, another member of the fam to celebrate. Today is my mother's birthday and how I wish I could be there with her. In addition to her greatest accomplishment, i.e. my birth, she has lived an inspiring life. She has sacrificed more than thirty years to her family in the midst of tremendous obstacles and major life changes. From the rigorous country life in Ireland to the madness of city life in Phoenix my mother has braved it all. She has raised five marvelous children who are better prepared for this life because of her influence and her great love for us. In my life she has always shown such great care for me. I know that so much of the security I felt in my childhood rested in that knowledge. Even now she looks for small ways to remind me of that love and her thought for me.

How has her love and life influenced yours one might ask? I am a more caring and loving man as result of her influence. I am better prepared for marriage and fatherhood. She showed me what it means to make a home a home where others are welcomed and can find rest. So few people understand anymore how to make there home a place of welcome and care but I have seen that I appreciate this and cherish the opportunity to create that environment. There is something so refreshing in arriving at a home where preparations are always made to refresh the guest. My mother is very affectionate also and I have certainly followed in the footsteps. I have seen time and time again the power behind displaying affection to those that I love. Individuals in society today are starved of that language of love and I know that I am blessed to understand its necessity.

All that I want in the future comes with sacrifice and the example of my mother is an inspiration towards that end. She has given so much of herself to my father and to the lives of myself and my siblings. It is a gift of God that I need not search for such an example. Even now the work that she has chosen as a medical assistant is a testament to the care she has for others and the conscientious attitude with which she approaches her work. Happy Birthday to one whose life has meant so much for mine. Click on the picture to see some more and do not forget to read Turkish Delights Part 2 below.

Before going any further I should give the names of my gracious hosts. They are Emre and Nihal Tasci and have a 40 day old son whose name I won't yet attempt to spell. Day two of my Turkish exploits was spent with Emre's older brother Cahit. He offered to take me to the coast and fishing in his boat. It was a first for me out on the Mediterranean and a relaxing way to spend an afternoon. It also further inspired me to one day have a boat and be able to do the same. Cahit speaks a fair amount of English as well and so I had the chance to learn a bit about the country I find myself in. This may be no suprise to some but the memorable moment of the day came with an uncomfortable crotch reference. Displays the beauty of the language barrier. I had said to Cahit I needed that to use the loo and he asked, "little or." I looked at him confusedly and said "what." He then pointed to my crotch and said "little." A lesser chap may have gone to blows at the comment but understanding came quickly. A few moments later I realized why he had asked as the toilet looked like a post Cinco de Mayo nightmare. The place wasn't fit for anything more than "little." Another development is that my name in Turkey has become Scaler. Cahit was the first to adjust the sound and subsequent others now say the same. I have become no stranger to this so have no trouble with it now.

Day three, Sunday, I again spent time with Cahit and some of his chums. It was the day before the beginning of Bayran Ramadam and items must be purchased for the festivities that have gone on Monday to today. Bayran is one of the major holidays of the Islamic people. It is a time to be together with family and friends. For the month previous to Bayran no sweet foods are to be eaten so then during the three days of Bayran many types of sweets things are prepared. Tasty time for yours truly to show up in the area. A honey drenched slab of baklava is hard to pass up at the worst of times. Spending the day with the old fellas was a good experience. I understood not a word of what was said but nontheless enjoyed wandering around with them to bakers, sweet makers, and smelly fish sellers. The last bunch were slightly less appealing. At least in Can people seem to be well connected with each other and especially when with Cahit many stops are made to say hello to various individuals. There is much more of an emphasis on maintaining close contact with one's family also.

On Monday morning before visits to the families of Emre and Nihal and the consumption of mass amounts of sweets I was invited to attend a prayer service at the mosque. Upon entrance to the mosque a first shocker was seeing a chap who looked more Irish than I. Red hair and freckles are the classic signs and unexpected in these parts. He may have been a foreigner like myself but I have my doubts as there are few in this area. I have been suprised by the variation in the look of the Turkish people. While there are many with features that one might expect many others look more like Western Europeans. The result of centuries of mixing and conquests no doubt. The service consisted first of a sermon and then a short time of prayer. I must say that for me it was very conformist. In the same manner as many Christian services there is no participation from the congregation. Old rituals are performed, some of which are in the Arabic language which many of the Turkish people I have asked don't even speak. The holiday also brings many to the service that normally do not attend. Christianity has its CEO (Christmas, Easter only) Christians and it seems perhaps Islam has the same. I understand that I base these notations on a first impression but I hate the dynamic of conformity in organized religion.

In homes and especially at the mosque all persons remove their shoes and this still poses a problem for me. When Emre and I (it was a service for men only) were exiting the mosque we grabbed our shoes and I immediately tossed mine down and started to put them on. This still ten to twenty paces inside the door. A few gasps went up in the relative surroundings. If it wasn't for Emre quickly giving me the nudge to hold back I may have caused quite a stir.

Since the occasion as I said I have spent the days visiting the families and friends of my hosts. All have been welcoming and interested in my travels and plans for Turkey. It has been great for me to just relax and enjoy people and events. I mentioned that I arrived in Turkey feeling exhausted after months of travel and so I need this time. I am physically tired from time on the road and emotionally tired with constantly saying goodbye and traveling to strange environments. I need time in the same place for at least a week or two. My hosts are often worried that I am bored but I have tried to reassure that it is a need for rest and not boredom that I am experiencing.

How many can say they have seen the broader side of a Turk and come out smiling? I arrived in this nation with little fanfare and have spent the last days resting my weary appendages. No excitement can I recall from the border experience apart from seeing young military types carrying man sized machine guns and eyeing me like an oatmeal cream. It was the first time I had to purchase a visa for entry. Ten euro for a stamp sized sticker that gives ninety day access to the Turkish delights.

I had my route carefully and oh so meticulously planned to the house of my hosts. Unfortunately my famed careful planning really only consisted of "This looks like the shortest route." From the border to Canakkale I was riding high on marvelous asphalt. Canakkale to Can however had me longing for some of Albania's finest. I was informed later that attempts have been made to fix this road but so far all have failed. Along the road one can see the remnants of those bowel bashing attempts at repair. The crowning experience here was my first over water shimmy. I like to think of it as a proverbial crossing of the Mississippi but truth be told it was more similar to a child's paddling pool. The sight of a motorcycle crossing before me quelled any fears of being struck down river and having to abandon ship at waterfall's edge. I was met with many snickers and general giggling later when I told others of my route choice. Apparently it is an route only for the hapless and unguided tourist.

One tries to keep a level head but upon arrival in a new place there are certain experiences one hopes to avoid. Night one in the area I was warmly greeted by a mild earthquake. Now this wasn't the type where women run screaming and the chubbier bits of infants begin to wriggle with frequency but was still my first. I was sitting on a couch at the time and was convinced for some moments that the person next to me had a major itch on the hind quarters and was using the couch as a scratching post. It wasn't until my host Nihal asked me if I was feeling the earthquake that I was clued in. The quake lasted no more than twenty seconds but left an eerie feeling in the lower intestine. Experiencing the earth move beneath you changes one's perception of physical stability in a way that nothing else could. I asked if it happens often and was told that damage causing quakes don't. Certainly reassuring.

Hopefully my companions take no offense to this but we had what seemed a comical drive from Nafpolio to Meteora. Wiesieck was at the wheel and Andrej his navigator. We covered what seemed not too far a distance in what seemed an excessive number of hours. I was in back with the kiddies watching movies on the laptop but noticing navigational difficulties all the while. I myself have experienced problems in attempting to decipher Greek signposts but their troubles seemed to me to border the ridiculous. I won't go on about it but must say that this was not the finest hour of the old boys. Our friend Georg might have given us a run for our money on his bicycle if he'd had the opp.

If anything though their lackluster performance behind the wheel was made up for by the fabulous fish dinner we consumed with glee at roadside. Andrej did the honors of purchasing the marvelous gill breathers along the way and we later stopped and cooked the blighters. They were some fine and juicy fish and well worth the search for them. We had been promising ourselves the acquistion of a few of the Mediterranean's finest and that day turned out to be the day for it. Unquestionably the finest fish that have passed these lips I might add. Wiesieck did the honors of chefing it for the occasion and a fine job he did. We ate our fill and continued on.

Meteora was reached after the sun had long set. We meandered up a steep mountain road in search of a place to spread our tents and after some time found the spot. No indication of whether we could camp there but at that hour it hardly mattered. We set up quickly and hit the proverbial hay on a cold and wet night. Cold and wet has been the story of the last few and it became increasingly difficult to avoid a soiled feeling come morning. Sleeping horizontally in a tent is always preferable to the contortions that car sleeping requires so all in all was a good night. Only come morning were we made aware that free camping in the area was a no no. The police came by and told us to skidaddle. Not rudely but directly and so we packed up and headed for Meteora.

We had been unsure of what this Meteora place had to offer but I think that none of us left dissapointed. Many of you have already seen the pictures of this incredible place but if not then take a gander. Many centuries ago the first monks and nuns scaled these rock formations and brick by brick built their monasteries atop them. While I disagree with their idea that one can reach God through solitude I admire their dedication to the task at hand. The monasteries were built with naught less than sweat and toil. Paths to the tops now forged for tourists did not exist in times past and many a pilgrim was hoisted to the summits of these formations by pully and in basket. It is a marvelous feeling to be witness to an achievement that modern developers cannot understand. Even today it is not known how these structures were built in the sense of how all of the supplies were raised to where the stone buildings now stand.

Beyond exploration of this breathtaking place we piled in and made the return voyage to Thessaloniki. We pitched our tents one last time and settled in for the night. Come morning we had our brekers and set about exploring the beach for rocks and other goodies to take to our respective homes. Then after a repacking of car and van the gang set out for Poland. This not before sweet goodbyes and tight squeezes round the neck. This journey of mine has been one full of relationship, the joy of new friendships and at least for now the sadness of goodbyes. I am blessed to be joined along my way and my friends can return to Poland refreshed as result of their time of travel. How like God that two months ago I knew not the existence of these people and have now had the opportunity to share in my journey with them. I am on the road now to country number 14 of this journey, Turkey. New friendships await me and gracious hosts to meet and know. Take a look at the two new photo albums I added to Lovable Quirks.