| | May 18
We shared Jim’s reverence for Greek yogurt after our first Greek breakfast. They like their yogurt thick. Seriously thick. The texture is like ice cream. It’s eaten with honey, and odd as the combination sounds, it’s delicious. I own I was surprised that the only other breakfast foods were rolls and sweet bread, sliced cheese and luncheon meat, and fruit cocktail. Before the trip ended, I understood why streetside cafes made such a point of advertising “full American breakfast!” I would have paid extravagantly for biscuits, bacon, and a great big omelet.
Samos, a Greek island off the coast of Turkey, was on the agenda for the day. We visited the island’s archaeological museum, and took special note of the turtle on the front porch and the collection of kouros and kore statues found on the site of the Heraion - the ancient Samian temple to Hera. The kouroi are more or less life size, and represent young men and women, though the depictions aren’t meant to be recognizable, or even realistic. The stances are very stiff (Egyptian in fact): they stand with their arms by their sides, their fists clenched, and their left foot forwards. Their hair is heavily braided, and they all have the trademark “archaic smile” - a little upward curve to the lips. The most impressive piece in the museum was a sixteen-foot "colossal" kouros. But, for the most part, the male kouroi were short, nude young men who all looked alike (well, some were more muscular than others). I didn’t find them particularly interesting. The female kouroi were appealing, almost - a little - pathetic with their broken faces, and their poor, chipped hands and arms tucked around little doves - signs of their early death.
After lunch we boarded a (specially ordered) ferry boat, and an hour later we were in TURKEY!!! Little did we know, as we got our passports stamped and filed out with our luggage, that fate was about to meet us in the form of a bus driver . . . .
Kusadasi is a favorite port for cruise ships and caters shamelessly to tourists, but still it felt instantly different in a way that Greece never did. It was colorful, noisy, and cheerful, and everybody was palpably interested in us. The hotel staff fairly snatched our bags from our hands, and shopkeepers leapt to attention as we passed. We stepped into the courtyard of an ancient caravanserai on our way back from an ATM machine, and were instantly drawn to a bowl of water full of silkworm cocoons. Someone pointed out a mulberry tree. From there we sallied forth into the streets, and trotted past hordes of vigilant shopkeepers who addressed us deferentially but urgently, inquiring over and over where we were from and begging us to have a look at their wares. Dinner was excellent: waiters brought in huge squares of flat bread and endless plates of dips and sauces. I don’t know how anyone was hungry enough to eat the entrees when they arrived. I wasn’t!
However, the bread wasn’t alone in occupying my attention. Sitting at the foot of the table was our bus driver. Our decorous dinner conversation was not amusing enough for his taste. He decided to liven things up by rechristening us. Thus, Daniel Alders became "Şaban" after a "dead Turkish comedian", Candace became "Fatima", and Ashleigh "Aisha." Mr. Callihan was pronounced the "Imam" because of his beard, and Dr. Grote dubbed the "Hoça." And then he proceeded to marry Daniel and Emily, willy nilly, - in Turkish!
Schola had met Ali.
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| | Posted 6/8/2006 11:22 PM - 1 view - 6 comments
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