The Carpet Salesman. Part 1.

T

he wind kicked up after dinner last night and never let up until sunrise. Just outside my hotel room is the terrace where, on nice days, meals are served. The wind blew with such ferocity last night that terrace tables, chairs, lamps and basically anything that wasn’t tied down were tossed around every which way. The sound of things banging around outside my room coupled with the sound of the howling wind and lingering jet lag meant that I watched the clock on my cell phone trip 3:40am before I even remember nodding off. I did manage to wake up at a decent hour – sometime around 9:30a. I took my time getting ready and then headed out. It was a slightly overcast day and the wind was still blowing.

A change in plans and another lesson in Turkish hospitality.

Ş

ahin’s plan for tonight was for us (him, Ersin, Fabio, Virginia, Şahin’s crazy cousin Yaşar and I) to go to the nearby town of Ürgüp and listen to live Turkish music. Turns out Fabio is a music fanatic as are Şahin and I. Lei and I had done the same thing with Şahin’s and Yaşar months back and I really enjoyed it so

I was looking forward to the time in Ürgüp. On the other hand I’m absolutely bone tired and still feeling a bit of jet lagged. Turned out I wasn’t the only tired one in the bunch. When Şahin’s suggested we call it an early night and go to Urgup tomorrow night instead, there were no objections.

Virginia, Fabio and I walked back to the Dream Cave Hotel.

Back to the land of the fairy chimneys. Göreme.

M

y first visit to Cappadocia was six months ago - it was early summer and the valley was filled with verdant green vegetation and wild flowers in bloom. It is now early winter and although the backdrop of the surreal, rocky landscape remains unchanged, signs of winter are in the foliage - leaves have fallen off the trees and berries have replaced the flowers. It is still as an enchanting landscape now as it was back then.

The long road back to Turkey.

I

should have known that it was not going to be an easy affair getting to Turkey when my plane arrived late in to Paris. Originally, I had a two hour layover which is usually sufficient to transfer planes. This time however, I had only about 45 minutes which is barely enough time so I found myself running from one terminal to another, wishing there weren’t so many people walking in front of me and hoping that the security line would be short. Of course, it was not to be my lucky day so in the end, I was just about the last person to board the plane to Istanbul. Squashed in the middle seat, which I hate, I found myself seated next to a man who was obviously battling a bad cold. Thankfully, he knocked himself out with Sudafed but I’m still hoping he did not pass anything along to me. I don’t want to be sick on this trip.