Turkey

Thursday, May 10th Macka, Turkey, Day 26 Started with a 9am trip to Sumela monastery, a 5th century, cliff-hanging, out of Indiana Jones. Forty-five minutes felt like five hours; steep steps coursed series of mist-producing waterfalls, springing from ancient forests. Arrival was mystical, turning the last curve and spewing a whispered curse for not hiring a minibus, the reward, an involuntary "Ahhhhh!" Turkey surprised me. The Turkey I saw as a tourist and Turkey as an Overlander are different. People's warmth, generosity, and curiosity is genuine. My skin color is an infinite source of delight to everyone from small children to grannies, who mobbed me in a small market town, jostling to have their pictures taken with me. School girls want to practice English and ask me whether I like their country. I've been called beautiful Egypt and lovely Africa. I love getting to a town; we all scatter to follow individual interests. I needed to get on WIFI, but the village's Internet cafe had only wired connections. Stopping in the only cellphone store, the owner gave me his passcode and sent a young boy out to get me coffee. He refused any payment for my hour of sitting comfortably and happily in his shop. His request as I left the shop, was a question: Had I been to Central Park? There is work everywhere; the infrastructure, beautiful schools in even the smallest towns, populated by uniformed students: girls are especially gregarious and I've been surprised and estimate, the small percentage of those who are covered, in middle school uniforms, at less than 10%. Housing is smallish apartment blocks with terraces; it's as though a master plan has been thought out for the country. Political views aside, I'm impressed by a country educating and housing it's populace, as opposed to my country, which I dearly love and it's continued neglect of the need for educated, well-fed and housed, future leaders. There is a price for freedom, lacking a ceiling or a floor. Turkish toilets will be elaborated on with my next missive. Now, time for a cold beer, next to our roaring river which competes with the call to prayer. Peace out.