By the time the second portion of duck arrived the first plate had been emptied and was growing cold with neglect.  The terriyaki vanished with equal speed, and finally the stock, which arrived simultaneously was sampled, enjoyed, and left on an empty part of the table.  They were sated.  The redness that had been confined to the girl’s cheeks now emanated from her whole face.  Her pleasure was obvious.  As for the boy, he too was glowing.

What the chef wouldn’t find out until a few minutes later along with the rest of the patrons enjoying the Peking duck on that particular evening, was that it was the boy’s birthday.  In fact, he wasn’t really a boy any longer.  That night signified the end of his first quarter century of life, and his final day at 24 had been wonderful.  He woke up and went to work as he did any other day, except this fortunate man was blessed with a job that let him travel to a new famous international city every week.  This week, he was in Tokyo, Japan.  After a quick run around in a giant puppet to amuse a few thousand children he took a shower (a necessity in the oppressive heat of this tropical country mid summer) put on a new shirt and went to meet his college friend.  Although friend is too vague a term.  This particular boy and girl share a kindred spirit, and though the chemistry between them has never sparked into anything serious, they would be good candidates for the “if we’re not married by 40…” game.  They walked together through Yoyogi park, stopping for a moment to watch the “Dancing Elvis” and then again towards the end in the middle where small groups abound.  Some displayed spectacular feats with a frisbee, others walked across a slackline, a few couples could be seen fraternizing and even the sun found companionship with the clouds.  The boy was filled with contentment.  He even ventured an acrobatic feat he had until now been to afraid to try: a side somersault using a bench as a launching point.  The first few attempts were under rotated, but by the third or fourth he was able to land them with some difficulty and left the place with a sense of pride and a light sheen of sweat.

So you see, by the time they ended up at the restaurant he had already come to the conclusion that 24 was a good year, and he was happy to have experienced it fully.  There was nothing that could make it better he thought as the ambient music that had been playing ended and a new brash and out of pitch from overuse song burst through the restaurant speakers.  Patrons looked around in curiosity as a small host of waitress walked ceremoniously towards the fated table 8 holding fried sesame balls with candles in them. “Happy Birthday to you…” As if it were possible for a 6’2 blonde to garner more attention amongst a sea of Japanese diners.  By the time the music had subsided and the candles had been blown out and the desserts eaten, every person in the restaurant had had a good look at him.  Just before exiting, as he took the obligatory picture groping the stucco walls a two top with two lovely Japanese girls sitting at it looked up, blushed and giggled.

The night was perfect.  So why the blog title?

The following night I was forced out for a proper Aussie style “night on the piss” where 20 of my closest coworker friends would pay for me to drink copious amounts of alcohol.  Thirty minutes into it I entered an abyss of incomprehension.  Twelve hours later I woke up to vomit, sixteen hours later I woke up to take some vitamins and drink some water, twenty hours later I ventured outside for a little food and it wasn’t until five days later that I felt fully recovered and read the passage in the bible quoted in the title.  No, I wasn’t hurt, I was learned.  I experienced a painful lesson in a positive environment so that down the road if another such situation occurs with greater stakes on the line I will be in a position to avoid it.  A peculiar type of birthday present, but one that will last me longer than any other I received.

Thirty one of us left that night from our dreary hotel of peeling walls stained yellow and rooms only large enough to fit a single bed.  A slightly taller than average man, I was able to touch all four walls simultaneously.  I laid all my gear on the bed and then arranged it into piles.  What I would need for survival, what I would need for comfort, and what I had already decided to bring for the dozen or so persons joining me who would be unprepared.  After all, what does a kid from the Bronx know about mountains?  But once we boarded that bus, we left everything else behind.  We weren’t coworkers anymore, we were co-conspirators, a band of misfits holding tightly together for this one enormous effort.

This was my expedition. I organized and arranged it, and despite what I had said only a few days prior I knew that they looked to me as their guide.  I was determined to see the night through and return to the hotel successful.

By the ninth station the group of hikers who had left together were widely dispersed across the mountain.  Some no doubt had already made the summit and were now freezing under the pounding winds, standing as the first obstacles to the gales maybe ever.  The winds would have formed somewhere over the Pacific and moved unhindered until hitting this titanic volcanic monolith.  Planted just 40 kilometers south of the biggest city in the world, Fuji is big, the biggest in Japan.  I was waiting now at the ninth station where hoards of overdressed Japanese sipped hot chocolate through fogging goggles and between puffs on their canned oxygen (really? Their are airports at higher altitude than the summit). We sat at almost 12 thousand feet in a room that was heated and furnished.  Beseme played softly, pleasant background music for the symphony of polyester rubbing gore tex.  There was a man already awake and serving people at the bar, everything from bowls of ramen to keychains.  But we had been forewarned and held no illusions about the commercialization of this dormant volcano.  Our purpose was a purely human one, the sense of accomplishment gained from surmounting it at night, watching the sun rise in this, the land of the “rising sun.”  Because of where the international time zone lay, we would be the first to see the sun rise.

As we joined the queue to begin the final ascent, moving at the rate of the slowest person, who clung to the guide ropes like a lifeline, the sun had begun to cast light on the horizon.  Even though it still lay out of view, the gravity of the Earth affected the photons of light and pulled them over the clouds, a hint of the spectacle that we would witness if the dang guy in front of me would just hurry up! Several of our team had already set up a viewing location on the East side of the mountain, not quite it’s peak, but a flat space protected from the wind, and it was here that we finally saw the rays of the dawning day.  Twenty five had made it so far, and together we pulled out a cheesecake I had carried up and presented it to Ed for his birthday.  A new year, a new day.  Everybody was fresh faced and crisp, the morning light was pure and colors seemed truer, clearer, more vivid.  I felt, looking around, as if I was seeing everything with a new pair of eyes.  The world presented in blu-ray, except I was there, in it, living it. We took some photos, saw the arrival of three more of our group, I even did a back flip, and then started the long trek back down.

This is the first time I’ve seen the sunrise sober in over a year, and the most recent of a great many adventures I’ve spearheaded since arriving in Japan. I came here a man resolved, a man changed. It’s hard to explain, especially to anybody who knows me well. I don’t change often or quickly, and despite growing my hair a little longer, or wearing a tighter cut of jeans most of the fundamentals of my character haven’t changed to a great degree.  Then what happened? How could I live a year of reckless hedonism in Europe, going with the ebb and flow of my surroundings, and suddenly here I was a mere five weeks later and everything was different.  And another question, where did this change initiate? I remember the decision to put down the bottle for a month, but that was it.  Why then do I continue to abstain? Why do I spend my nights in my room reading, and my days in thought, wandering expressionless about the country.  There’s no going with a flow right now.  I’m no drifter (I’m a rower!).  I’m choosing my course, and powering through the water to get there.  Let me be more concrete.  Within the past month I researched the next sumo tournament, told my seven closest friends, collected money,  bought tickets, and witnessed history in the making.  From only a few rows back i witnessed as the Yokozuna continued his undefeated streak making him rank in the top three since sumo began, and he continues to win. I went to a bun raku puppetry show, and watched masters manipulate these child sized puppets in an elaborate but dying tradition.  I woke early to watch the laymen of Tsukiji carve up the monsters of the ocean for our consuming pleasure.  I went to the floating tori gate off the coast of Hiroshima and climed Mt. Misen.  I sang karaoke.  I let my feet sit in a pool of water with hundreds of dead skin eating fish.  I’m doing it. I am holding life “in the bit” as my russian horseback riding teacher might say.

But what’s so puzzling is that it’s effortless. It’s happening to me, or inside me.  Has anybody seen the movie Inception? Yeah, something like that.

I say this with some hesitation because it’s true that I feel less adventurous.  I spend hours more in my room than I ever did in Europe.  I eat faster, walk slower (and less, too humid!) and spend less money. I haven’t met more than one or two people.  But my waking hours seem cleaner, if perhaps less fun.  It must just be part of the transition.  I’ve spent more time in this job than I did in middle school, and it’s coming to an end.  It’s as if I’ve just gotten back from our Spring band trip to San Diego and now there are just a few short months until graduation, sad goodbyes to a few dozen friends and then the dreaded new adventure of high school.  Only this time, there’s no Andover bubble to take care of me.  I trade the insulated world of a touring company for the single life on the most densely populated island in the world.

And in my new world, I’ll need to have new skills.  Skills that I possess but have let sit on a shelf and collect dust.  I’m watching history in the making again, my own. A man, with a week old agent, headshots taken by a friend in his backyard and printed on paper, and a one job resume has booked a Broadway show.  Oh boy!

After I left Ed I wandered around and found out that 1. there was a huge motocross/skateboard/snowboard xtreme sports competition this weekend, and 2. The Zurich film festival was on and was going to have guest lectures by Morgan Freeman and Roman Polanski (who we later found out was arrested upon entry into the country.  Which brings up such an interesting philosophical question.)  I then strolled around a little more and wandered into the nicest second hand shop I’ve ever seen.  Clothes from the designers of the world reduced 60% (which still makes them unaffordable for nearly everyond).  But I trired on one coat, and just couldn’t take it off.  Damn sexy though.

Back to work at 5:30 to find out that I had some duties to attend to.  It seems that suit performers were falling like dominos on this venue floor (built over an ice rink).  By weeks end the total was 7 causing fear in my department and a whole lot of serious banter between the big wigs.  Finding a solution ended up causing more problems as a huge disagreement broke out between one performer and the show’s directors (i was out and about at the time).  I had quite a bit of trouble shooting to do.  I put my writing degree to use and sent a 4 page email to the directors, and then had an hour sit down with the performer.

After work I met up with Nessa for our  monthly late night outing.  We had some drinks and then played a 3am game of lawn chess out in the square.  It was brilliant.  We talked about everything.

Next morning we met up again and went to the market.  We bought a box of raspberries, an amazing loaf of bread, 1.5 liters of fresh apple cider, goat’s cheese wrapped in discarded wine grapes, a poppyseed roll and black truffle sausage! They were as plentiful as peppercorns in salami but so dark and musky and as described by Brad Johnson, naughty!

But week’s end arrived like a baby, quicker than expected and before I had optimally prepared, and left me in a flurry to pack my things for my second DTO week that I would spend with Jez in Norway.  And everything started right.  We arrived at the airport and I immediately steered him into the Lindt chocolate store.  We had three truffles there, moved to the chocolate stall next to it and then had three more truffles.  He bought an additional 9.  Then we went to the adjacent alcohol store specializing in Swiss Kirch.  We sampled 9 alcohols.  We bought 2.  I think I’m in love with Switzerland.  So with our bellies full of chocolate and booze and nothing else we boarded the plane.  A foodless two hours later we arrived in a very bleak Copenhagen airport.  Switched planes and lifted up above the clouds where we would stay (foodless) until five minutes before landing.  Finally we broke through the clouds and arrived with spears of sunlight thrust into the countryside.  God may have a summer home in Turkey on the Black Sea coast, but he lives in Norway.

That’s when a bit of the funny business started.  His bag didn’t arrive.  Oh well, it would later so it was no big deal.  We exchanged money (I just did £200.  Oh what a fool I am) and headed into town.  After getting dropped off in the center we decided to follow his guide book to some of their recommended hotels.  The first was closed.  So we walked to the other side of Bergen.  The second was closed.  Bergen may be Norway’s second biggest town, but I think it’s only slightly bigger than san luis obispo which means 4:00 is when shopkeepers leave and the town shuts down for the night. We booked a place finally’s Jacob’s apartments and clean but cheap place above one of the town’s nicest restaurants.  I ordered the three course tasting menu, fish fish and more fish, smoked raw and cooked.  The salmon eggs were the best I’ve ever tasted and even the delicate sourdough with olive oil seemed exceptionally good.  The only let down was the christmas cake which was dry and NOT sweet, served along side a poached pear that tasted as though it had sat too long out of its marinade, and a spicy basil ice cream. We paid the bill and then ambled through a heavy Bergen mist (read: rain) to the Opera building where we met my second couch surfing experience, a 33 year old rugby national team member.  We shared a couple beers and an equal amount of awkward pauses in the conversation.  This was not a relationship that would go anywhere, but that was nobody’s fault.  She was polite and generous and friendly, but just different from me.  Nevertheless we decided to join her for a jaunt up a local hill the next day.

This jaunt nearly gave me a heart attack.  I think I lost 5 kilograms of sweat and gained five inches around my thighs.  Though the “hill” was only 1200 feet above sea level (where we started) we gained the elevation by climbing very wet half meter slabs of uneven and unstable rocks.  And after trying to keep up with her I think I no longer deserve to call myself fit.  She told me she usually did it in 20 minutes.  We took a little over 30. As we reached the top the clouds parted for 15 minutes of silver sunshine.  And as I came down from my obligatory handstand at the top of the precipice so did the rain.  Our decent was at an even faster pace and crossed through the hills past several lakes and waterfalls that she claimed were too small by Norway standards even to deserve names (try 20 meters tall!).  She left us at the bottom because she had to go to work.  Little did she know we would both collapse in a coffee shop for the next two hours.  We searched the town for inspiration or direction on how to spend the next five days and two mountain equipment stores and £700 later (only £100 was mine, a pair of merino wool long johns and a pair of solomon gore tex shoes in sizes 12 1/2 and 12… score!) we found it.  We would go to Voss for the sheep’s head festival (an ingenious name for a festival where they eat the head’s of sheep) and then head south to hike the Troll’s Tongue.  The hotel we booked will be open only for us.  As the only visitors they threw in a free dinner for two and free breakfast to entice us to stay.  Behind the hotel a glacier, in front an orchard of a half million trees.  Our room has a balcony.  And the hotel has a jacuzzi.

Signing off!

Oh! and I just remembered.  After nearly three million people and just under 700 shows I have finally showed my face on stage!  Jez fell as Baby T and I was on recovery and so I walked to the middle of the stage in pants and a jacket and picked him up.  No bows, minimal cheering but my face at last!

And miles to go before I sleep.”

So I last left you after our second date.  The next day I didn’t see her at all during the workday.  As I finished up I sent her a text.  “I want to see you.”  She knew the drill.  Ball on her court because I had no credit on my phone and couldn’t afford to text as often as usual. But she was busy with a friend she hadn’t seen in awhile, and I was exhausted.  Then I got a reply text: “stay awake!”  So I lay down in my bed and set my alarm to go off every half hour throughout the night, hoping she would text sooner rather than later. By the fourth time my alarm went off I couldn’t distinguish dream from reality and suddenly I heard the zippy sound of a text received. She wanted to meet at the train station before she went back home, then another text, she had missed the train and thought me to be asleep, the another text, she felt sad and horrible not meeting me tonight. I looked at my clock, 3:30 and then I slapped my face a few times, threw on some trainers, grabbed my room key and started jogging to the train station.  I got there with fifteen minutes before her train left.  She had already started talking with another man, about me apparently.  We chatted for a bit, fatigue getting the best of her otherwise peppy attitude and sharp wit and then watched (accidentally, I suspect not) as her train came and went.  What were the options? She could sleep at my place.  I would be a gentleman, I swear.  So we arrived back at the Hilton, I made her some tea and gave her some clothes to sleep in.  She opted for one of my t-shirts and her own panties (holy crap, sexiest outfit ever!) and crawled into bed as far from my side as possible.  (Side note: I offered very willingly to sleep on the ground but she said not to be silly and join her in the bed)  So I lay besides her, in my normal sleeping attire, obviously unable to sleep.  And then she asked for my hand, and she took it, and together we tried to fall asleep.  Mine was broken by the maddening affects of testosterone every ten minutes as I remembered there was a beautiful Dutch girl with metal leaf earrings in my bed.  Less than four hours later I had to wake up to go to work.  My alarm went off, then again, and finally I got out of bed as the shuttle to work pulled away.  I got downstairs 30 minutes later and arrived at work AT my start time.  The farewell, impersonal and brief.  “I have to go.” “Okay, then go.”
The following night I asked to see her again.  She explained the situation.  She was exhausted and had a volleyball match at night.  If I wanted to see her I was welcome to visit her at her place in her town a 45 minute train ride away.  She told me she would wait for me at 11 and I would have to catch the 10:15 train.  She sent this message to me at 9:45 and I was leaving for London the following day and had to pack, shower, etc.  I felt a bit conflicted and then decided I had one text left, one card up my sleeve and so I put the ball back in her court.  ‘If I come, can I kiss you?’ was the text.  ‘Hehe, you can’ was the response.  I stuffed clothes unfolded into bags and sat on my suitcase to make everything fit the once again jogged the familiar path to the train station and arrived in Tilburg at 11pm.  She was there and even more irritable and grumpy than the previous day.  To be honest I often can’t even tell if she likes me or not and then she’ll do something that will make it a bit more clear.  So we walked probably about 2 miles to her apartment and then pretty much went to sleep.  Her room was messy and on the third floor of a student apartment.  She had junk all over her couch so nobody could sit and purple bed sheets with a stuffed bear called Sammy sleeping right in the middle of it.  She stripped down to a similar outfit as the night before (as did I) and again we found ourselves on opposite sides of a smaller bed.  I felt pretty clueless but finally (thanks to her) got that kiss and a few more, and then got another horrible night’s sleep, 4 hours maybe?  In the morning she almost couldn’t talk she was so tired.  She ushered me out the door and then I was standing on an empty street in suburban Tilburg with 15 minutes to get to a train station 2 miles away.  I missed the train, caught the second one and arrived at the hotel as the rest of my coworkers were leaving.  Luckily only a few people caught me.  Unluckily, all my coworkers like gossiping. Got to work on time again, barely and did another two shows with a body that hasn’t properly recovered since my vacation in Turkey started three weeks ago.
Small note: On one night in Rotterdam I was going to a club where there was supposed to be some sort of bikini party.  Myself and some other suits entered at about 1030 and since it had only just started it was completely empty.  We asked the entrance price, decided to wait and turned to exit.  On the left I saw a huge pile of walkie talkies just like the ones we have in our show.  Out of curiosity I picked one up and looked at it and then heard a gruff man’s voice shouting at me from about 10 meters away.  I put the radio down, put my hands up and told the man as I walked to the doorway that we were leaving and to relax.  I turned to walk out the door and this beefcake of a bouncer grabbed my jacket and pushed me out.  He just about got my elbow to his nose.  But I worry… if I get thrown out of a club in a civilized country like the Netherlands for touching a walkie talkie, what awaits me in Russia? Serbia?

Another small note: In Antwerp I found myself at some sort of private party for the launch of a new cocktail and to celebrate they brought in lingerie models to pass around sushi.  No big deal.  They also had some small entry eight person texas hold ‘em tournaments.  Adam bought in, lost, and then wanted to buy in again.  He also wanted me to buy in.  So I put up six euros and sat down with the seven other fellas.  I don’t know what it was: the thumping techno music, the cloud of second hand smoke, the distraction of sushi and leggy women, the darkness of the room, or the fact that the other seven didn’t speak my language, but somehow I managed to stay in.  In fact I never lost a hand when I DID stay in.  I was totally tuned in to whether or not people were bluffing or not.  So after a few were knocked out I won a big hand and suddenly was one of the top three chip leaders.  I bluffed a few hands (playing on their diminished confidence from my big win and sudden interest in the game) and won some nice ante money.  Then a couple of guys duked it out and fell leaving a final three players.  I smoked the one guy with a straight.  And then it became heads up.  I was playing confidently but by no means muscling anybody with my chips, but the guy just wouldn’t stay in.  His cards would fold before the few chips I tossed had landed on the table.  Then suddenly he puts up a big bet off the deal.  I’m holding a 3 and 6 suited.  The flop falls and it’s A, K, 6 of different suits, and homeboy goes all in??  I just didn’t think he was holding an A or K and so I figured my 6 was the best hand.  I called.  He flipped his cards.  Pocket fours.  I flipped mine and the sound of disappointment murmured from his end of the table.  Next card, 9, next card, J.  And I won, a small pot of 25 euros.

Side note: Yesterday I saw Carl Petrillo.  He was in port from his cruise ship and came to the venue in time to see act two of the tech.  I was Ralph.  Afterwards I went and watched the end of the show with him and then we set out into the heart of the city.  We strolled along the canals admiring the great architecture and finally settled on a very nice place.  The restaurant was mostly in this very comfortably decorated Victorian place but there was a large patio outside with big wicker couches that faced into the city.  We sat side by side and had the perfect lunch.  Pumpkin soup, a perfectly cooked piece of white fish atop potatoes gratin and slightly charred vegetables.  For dessert a brownie with the world’s best whipped cream.  The weather was that lovely crisp autumn weather, like sparkling water that wakes you from your summer slumber and makes your head buzz with self-reflection.  “It’s weather that doesn’t try too hard,” explained Carl.  “It doesn’t have to be perfect like summer.”  There’s no pressure to be sunny, it can be a bit windy, a little damp, the leaves can blow about in the wind, clouds are no big thing.  The more he explained his description the more I thought about European women, so comfortable and confident and imperfect and beautiful and real.  European women are Autumn.
Side note 2: Yesterday I saw Will Landsman and Jacqueline who are on their honeymoon touring Europe and decided to stop by.  I chatted with them a bit and then invited them to our 100th show party and to spend the night in my hotel room.

Back to the promontoryç  <jım and <jenny were already there so <ı saıd hı and then went for a lıttle swım and ended up joınıng up wıth a group of turkısh boys one of whıch spoke englısh quıte well and he showed me all the local jumpıng spotsç  The spots ıncreased ın dıffıculty each tıme so that the fınal one was about four meters ınto about 2 meters of waterç  <you really had to cut your dıve short and dıve shallowly or suffer ınjury from the bottomç  <ı was fıne and the swım was lovely and refreshıngç  Apparently some sort of ancıent queen or empress had a specıal pool buılt rıght around where we were now jumpıng but the story was mostly lost on meç  <ı clımbed back out of the water and sat upon the rocks and let myself be drıed by the generous rays of the sunç  The suns warmth a perfect foıl to the cool waterç  <ı devoured the peach and apple and then shared the fıgs wıth the boys <ı had metç  To recıprocate they went over to the fıg tree and started pıckıng moreç  The local men followed suıt and suddenly there was a pıle of fıgs at my feetç  <ı ate about two dozen and then lay back agaın and trıed to soak everythıng ınç  Thıs town ıs some kınd of paradıse <ı thınkç Fıgsö blackberrıes and grapes grow everywhere and are the best <ıive ever hadç The people are honest and frıendlyç  Accordıng to one man Amasrat had a shortlıved boom of German tourısts about 20 years ago and so hotels and restaurants were set upç  But now ıt saw very lıttle tourısm other than Turks from Ankara makıng the 3 hour drıve for the weekend and even then rarelyç  <ı fınd ıt funny that even though <ı had told the owner of my pensıon that <ı would probably only stay one nıght he wasnit there the next day and <ı hadnit payed yetç  <ı would have to stay another nıght after allç  A blessıngç 

When my stomach was about to burst wıth fıgs a skınny man wıth haır and beard lıke <mıchaelangelois god wearıng nothıng but a thong bathıng suıt and skın darkened by 50 or 60 years of constant sun exposure beckoned me to hıs boatç  Along wıth jım and jenny and what <ı thınk was the actual owner of the boat thıs man took us for a rıde out ınto the Black Sea and around the coastlıne of Amasratç  We trolled out and around rabbıt ısland named after ıtis prımary ınhabıtants and then fınally back around the lıttle permanent carnıval groundö lıght house and back to where we startedç  Durıng the rıde thıs bearded man pushed cup after cup of cheap whıte turkısh wıne at me and made me drınk the glasses ın sıngle sıpsç  ,durıng thıs 30 mınute boat rıde myself and the bearded man downed an entıre bottleç  <jım and <jenny offered them money for the cruıse but they all declıned ınstead askıng that we get another bottle of wıneç  <jım made the hundred yard trek to the lıquor store whıch only sold one type of beerö two types of wıne and a few selectıons of rakı and was back ın no tıme wıth three more plastıc cups and a bottle of wıne already corkedç  The bearded man told us of hıs dıet and how he always adhered to the four food groupsö chocolateö wıneö cıgarettesö and ıce creamç <ı trıed and faıled to explaın my job to several locals before gıvıng up and just doıng a perfect handstand and two backflıps for themç  <ı receıved lots of applause for the latterö even some from up on the hıllsıde where famılıes were sıttıng on theır balconıes enjoyıng the sunsetç  A 19 year old gırl wıth the fullest head of haır and most perfect skın <ıive ever seen also notıcedç  She came and sat wıth me for awhıle and practıced her very good englısh wıth meç  She was studyıng englısh lıt at unıversıty but was stıll shy speakıng ıt aloud because she was only ın her fırst yearç <her name was banan or somethıng sımılar to thatç  Fınally the sun dıpped agaın below the horızon and as ıf no tıme had passed at all an equally ımpressıve and full moon rose behınd the hılls of amasratç  A cannon sıgnaled the end of the fast and the towns mosque bellowed the end of the dayç  <ıt was food tımeç  Banar had to leave because she saıdö she was the only gırl ın the present company of several men and ıt wasnit proper but that she enjoyed meetıng me despıte probably never seeıng me agaınç Thıs beıng turky <ı had to settle for a handshake and a fınal glance at thıs personıfıcatıon of Amasratıan beauty walk away ın a black bıkınıç  <ı then started thınkıng about foodö specıfıcally somethıng wıth meat or vegetablesç  But the locals were too excıted wıth our broken conversatıons to let me goç  Fınally <ı explaıned that <ı had to meet the frıends from earlıer ın thet day and the last of the locals let me leave offerıng me a fınal partıng gıft of a necklaceö the turkıhs eye wıth a crab claw the sıgn of amasratç  <ı thanked hım and leftç

<ı mıssed my wındow for food and settled for a shower and a few vıtamıns before meetıng my new frıends for drınks down at the outdoor barç  We kılled a half dozen beers each whıle talkıng and lıstenıng to musıcç  WE even convıncned the bar man to let me play my ıpod through the bar speakers and the people of amasrat dıscoverd the joy of Carneyç   AS mıdnıght came and went the town began to wake up agaın and we collectıvely decıded to go to the carnıval grounds for a rıde on somethıngç  The carnıval grounds were closed though so we walked to the end of the breakwall and stood next to the lıghthouseç  The moon shone brıghter than most of the days <ı had ın the <u<kç  <my new frıend asked me to stay and tempted me wıth a room above hıs homeö a homecooked turkısh mealö and an evenıng of smokıng on a water pıpeç  <ı was convınced and told hım <ı wouldç  WE parted ways and <ı quıckly fell asleep to the sound of water breakıng upon the beachç  The sun woke me 7 hours laterç  <ı dıdnit feel too wellç  Too much sun the day before perhapsö or not enough waterö or too much wıne compounded wıth beer and no foodö or most lıkely a combınatıon of all of the aboveç  Suddenly <ı had doubts as to how <ı would fıll another day ın thıs very small town and decıded <ı would let chance decıdeç  <ıf after goıng upstaırs and havıng a leısurly breakfast and shower ıt was stıll before the bus departure tıme <ı would leaveç  <ıf the bus already left <ı would stayç  Another breakfast of turkıhs feta whıch ıs softer and more moıst wıth a flavor that ıs subtle and sweet almost lıke yogurtö bread lıke pogacha wıth honey and butterö cucumbersö tomatoesö olıvesö local peppersö and boıled eggsç and several cups of turkısh teaç 

<ıshowered and fınally reluctantly turned on my phoneç  <ıt was only 9ç  The bus left at 11ç  and <ı would be on ıtç  <ı spent the next two hours packıng up my thıngs and payıng for the pensıon and then just strolled the streets of amasrat one last tımeç  <ı saw many famılıar faces from the past two days and they all wanted me to stayç  <ı thınk <ıill have to vacatıon here agaın some day or perhaps get a permanent vacatıon home here somewhereç  For now though <ı had to get on a bus and struggle through a headache that was gettıng worse and worse over a fıve hour bus rıdeç  <ıill wrıte about Bolu laterç  <ıt was mostly a dısaster as a result of me feelıng very very ıll ın the mıddle of an unımportant and unexcıtıng turkıhs town whıch ıs not close to any other town of beauty or ımportance wıth two turkısh men who lıke sıngıng very loudly and enthusıastıcally and lıke smokıng packs upon packs of cıgarettes and lıke to stay up all nıghtç  What <ı needed was a bedö a paınkıller and a gallon of waterç 

But <ıive left them now and after an 8 hour bus rıde by day (ı hate busses) ı arrıved ın what wıll be the fınal town of my vacatıonç  Iim on the agean coast and tomorrow <ı wıll rent a motorbıke and throw my camera over my shoulder and hope for one more flıght through heaven before <ı touch back down ın the age of dınosaurs and the land of duble and trıple beersç

The last hour of the drıve ınto amasrat was beautıfulö a sort of cross between the country sıde ın santa ynez ın calıfornıa and pendleton county west vırgınıaç  <hıllyö foggyö and very lushç  Fıgs seem to grow everywhereç And fınally we passed over the crest of the fınal hıll and behold the black seaç  Amasrat ıs what Amalfı would look lıke ıf all the tourısts leftç  A beautıful small lıttle town that only sees a tourıst populatıon ın the summerö although more so early ın the summerç  And the bulk of these tourısts are other turks wıth the remaınder beıng the wealthıest of the armenıans a couple of russıans and your occasıonal englısh speakerç <ı met twoö <jım and <jenny a forty year old couple who decıded after 20 years of globe trekkıng (theyive been everywhere) that they would fınally tıe the knot ın Turkeyç  They were lovely and we decıded to stay at the same pensıonç  for about 20 dollars a nıght <ı got a delıcıous breakfast of vegetables olıves cheese bread eggs and tea and a sıngle room wıth hot water a prıvate bathroom and a balcony on the thırd floor overlookıng the bayç  AFter nıghts of no sleep <ı passed out ımmedıately for a napç

Woke up and had a swım ın the black seaö a clean slıghtly chılly body of water that seems unaffected by tıdes because restaurants set up tables only ınches from the waterç AFter the swım <ı played beach volleyball wıth several young turks who dıdnit speak englısh and then strolled about the town up and down every sıngle street a couple of tımesç  To be honest <ı donit know exactly where most of the day wentç  <ı just sat about a lot and walked about a lot and drank lots of tea and ended up fastıng wıth the rest of the populatıonç  AS the day went on and <ı got hungrıer <ı started to want to eat but dıdnit want to be the only guy ın the entıre town eatıng so <ı decıded to waıt for sunsetç  Speakıng of sunsetö when ıs ıt around here<?  <ı looked to my rıght and the answer was sınkıng quıckly behınd the perfect unınterrupted black sea horızon lıneç  The mosque went off lıke a frog ın a sock and was echoed by the steep wall surroundıng the coveç  Suddenly people poured ınto what <ı thought was a ghosttown most of the day for theır bıg break fastç  <ı had a dınner of vınegar drenched fresh saladö lots of pogacha type bread and a frıed fıshç  Then <ı walked very sleepıly back to my pensıonç  But as <ı walked back <ı heard somebody callıng meç  <ıt was the volleyball player from beforeç  <he called me back to the shop he owned and along wıth two gırls showed me a bag of chıps wıth numbers on them and four wooden slatsç  <ıt was a game <ı saw people playıng all day that <ı had never seen beforeç  They needed a fourth playerç So <ı agreed and sat down to a four hour game of okeyö a gın rummy sort of game that <ı stıll donit know all the rules for but managed to wın a couple of tımesç They wouldnit let me leave and we stayed and played and ate and drank untıl about 1:30 by whıch poınt <ı learned about fıve wordsö theyire names and somehow managed to explaın that <ı was a 24 year old amerıcan travelıng the world as a dınosourç When we put the game away they started walkıng away from my pensıon and beckoned for me to follow agaınç  And so we took a late nıght stroll around the townö to the end of the break wall and fınallyö fınally exhaustedly they walked me back to my place and we partedç 

<ıt was an amazıng hılarıous wonderful nıghtç  <ı am fully ımpressed by the hospıtalıty <ıive recıeved ın thıs townö so dıfferent to the capıtalç  <ıim also once agaın amused by the dıfference between perceptıon and realıtyç  <ı mean <ı spent most of the nıght ın total sılence communıcatıng wıth my eyebrows and a few smıles and stıll managıng to make a couple of jokes and maybe even flırt a lıttle bıtç  Thıs mornıng <ı started the day sımılarly wıth break fast and <ıim soon goıng to go for a swımç  <ı booked my bus tıcket for tomorrow to go to the completely untourısty town of bolu whıch apparnetly has lıttle to offer so say most people <ı askç  But then they add that there ıs a beautıful lake and many places to get turkısh baths so <ı wonder what more <ı needç  <ıill spend a few days there and then home <ı goç  A very small taste of what turkey has to offerç  <ı thınkö and yesö <ı know <ıive saıd thıs before about other countrıesö but <ı thınk <ıill have to return here at some poıntç <ı want to venture ınland moreö to trabzon on the black sea coast and mtç ararat and to cappadocıa and at some poınt even to the very tourıst travelled places of ephesus and ısmır and bodrumç