TURKEY STUFF, PART DEUX:

Here's a picture of me squishing Hodja, the fairytale character after whom my beloved temporary abode is named. As the saying goes, "It is not me who is sitting backward on the donkey. It is the donkey who is facing the wrong way."

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!

That's Turkish humor, I guess. The best thing I can say about my lodging is...at least it's not in Kabul.

After the somewhat smart-aleck comment from my continental sibling regarding the position that the highly-revered country of my current vacation holds among his snooty European amigos, amis, freunds, and amicos...I give you this. Where else, I ask, can you find restaurants like Pacific Med? I'll let its sign do the talking.

That's what I thought. On with the tour.

Next door to the Pacific Med is "Ed's Bar and Swimming Pool." Yes, there's nothing like basking under the tin roof, sucking down cold Tuborg lagers while lolling around in a chlorinated bacteria bath! I ask, does the Rue de Montmarte have an "Ed's Bar and Swimming Pool?

(Soon after this picture was taken, the construction team at Ed's completed the ambience by covering the whole front of the rooftop "porch" with chicken wire. There is argument about whether this is to make it harder for IED-toting Muslim loonies to toss explosives IN, or whether it keeps drunken GIs from tossing the aforementioned Tuborg bottles OUT. I come down on the side of the latter, having spent a couple of hours last evening at "Cheers" across the street with a bunch of Rickenbacker loonies who were holding court, three stories up, in the open air.)

I leave you with a picture of several of my compatriots and myself, hoisting a glass of the national drink (RAKI) at the carpet factory where at this very moment, in another room, well-paid 12-year old girls are weaving expensive wool and silk carpets for American consumption.

More later if I get another chance to post...