V still not herself, but still the best travelling and snuggling companion a lad could hope for.
Heidi swooped by and picked us up at noon. Did her training run for Pikes Peak to get us to a mountain lookout with a sweeping view of the Aegean and a bevy of islands including Lesbos.
Heidi and V perched above the Aegean
There is much beauty here, but we are stuggling with the human factor. Turks seem to care little about appearances either personal or environmental. It is undoubtedly our cultural prejudices which jaundices our eye in these matters, but, as Sulemon the Magnificent would say "There you have it." Many houses in Turkey, it seems, come in two conditions--half built or falling down. The effect is as described above, but the causes are telling. The first condition is as a result of a history of frequent and severe earthquakes, just look at Ephesus. The second, we have been told, is the result of frequent and severe taxation which can be sidestepped so long as your home or office or shopping mall is "under construction."
A good illustation of Turkish construction, this block in the middle of the road has been placed there to prevent people and cars from fall into it. An unfortunate consequence of this technique is that sometimes people trip over the repair. I took this photo while writhing on the ground in pain, which explains the odd orientation. Remarkably focused considering my condition.
Heidi had us down off the mountain and skidding into Ayvalik in time for the market. What a unique treat to see this treasure which we would never have found without our Heidi at the helm. This was the village weekly market undiscovered by the florescent wrist-banded infidels. It ran for miles through a warren of small cobble-stoned streets and lanes. A range of goods from fresh walnuts and cheese to cheesey t-shirts and walnettos were on sale at reasonable prices from vendors who did not attack you like a flock of crazed pigeons. Kept expecting the whole scene to turn to black and white and have Bogart walk around the next corner.
To add to the authenticity, it was raining, and the merchants had combined to cover--at least partially--the walkways with a patchwork of umbrellas and tarps. After an indeterminant length of time and with both of us suffering whiplash from repeated "Wow, did you see that's" we emerged, as Jonah from the whale, into the sunlit central square and the largest food market either of us had ever seen. For those of you from Vancouver, imagine Granville Island times 10. Piles of peppers, towers of tomatoes, bounties of beans, chests of cheezes, orgies of oranges...I could go on, but V would swat me. Imagine FOOD, fresh, local and splendid. We bought some. And socks.
Back to the spa in time for a dip in our private pool. We had been told earlier that a large group of autistic children and youths would be checking in. Our first meeting came at dinner in the dining room. Each youth had his (mostly boys) or her own adult assistant which we later discovered were their mothers. The large group was, based on our limited experience with autistic children, very quiet and orderly, and there were lots of smiles and some social exchanges. The big surprise for us came when a DJ took to the stage, and began blasting out very loud and lively Turkish rock music. The kids loved it and the dance floor was crowded with youths having a great time. They seemed to love the noise and all the commotion.
Watched a very large and powerful thunder and lightning storm from our cell, and fought off flies who sought to take refuge with us.
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