American Legion

It used to be the only place to have a drink in Podunkville was the Town Tavern. Now there's the American Legion. I guess the veterans can go there and get wasted to forget the war they fought. I don't know if there were any vets there last night. I can't believe I was there myself. Podunkville is about 20 miles miles from Kansas City. It bad enough to have to drive that far in good weather but the snow on the roads have barely been plowed. I could go to Justus Drugstore for a tasty concoction or a nice glass of wine but they are not cheap. Since I'm practically broke I can't be going there often.

Well, my mother invited me to go to the Drugstore with her. "But I'm only buying you tea." I wanted something stronger than that so I brought some cash. And I lucked out. My equally bored neighbor (unemployed/living with elderly parents) was there with her two sons who were visiting for the holidays. She asked if she could buy us a drink. Great! I got some yummy infused vodka drink and talked to her charming sons, mostly about Tony Bourdain, our idol.

I was also killing time until a couple of other old high school friends called me. Jeff, who lives in Sacramento, and Jamie, who lives in St. Louis were both back for the holidays. Jamie wanted to play pool at the American Legion. He said it's 'the place' to go in Podunkville. The place to go? So if I want to see other inebriated high school friends this where I would find them.

They pick me up at the Drugstore and off we go. I didn't think of music. If I had thought I probably would have been more hesitant about going. I can't stand country music. Before I got my drink I heard the Clash. "Wow! Thank you, Jamie" He knew I'd appreciate that. So at various times to keep my sanity, I had to shove some red neck aside to play some Ramones, Springsteen, Hendrix, and the Beastie Boys on the jute box.

Oh we played pool.Unfortunately for Jeff, I had to be his partner. But considering I haven't played in 15 years, I didn't think I did so badly. And as far as seeing anyone I knew, I only recognized one. The pounds and wrinkles made it difficult to figure out the others.

As you read in my Nuisance story there are corrupt cops in this area. I swear there must be one for every residence and they are bored. I will not let Jeff and Jamie drive back to Blue Springs, an hour away. "There's plenty of room at my mother's house." I don't want to go to jail again and I don't want them to either.

Will I go back to the American Legion? Although there was music I liked and I could refine my pool playing, unless Jamie or Jeff come back to town before I leave I doubt it.

Nuisance

Nuisance loves me. If it wasn't for me he'd have a different home - if one. There's a long story that goes with the day I got my family (my mother and father) to adopt him. I would have adopted him myself except I was living in San Francisco. A place I never thought I'd leave. I was just visiting Podunkville - something I didn't do even annually. I once went four years without coming to visit - I like it so much.

So on this day, July 24, 2004, I just ran six miles. I was getting ready to swim in my parent's pool when I saw what I thought was a rat. Not unusual. My parent live close to a woods. When I was growing up I found different animals in the pool I'd have to save or just retrieve, if they already drowned. In this case, it wasn't a rat but a baby bunny and still alive. I wrapped it in some towels and gave it some lettuce to eat. I kept an eye on it periodically and then suddenly it was gone. Just minutes later I saw a small scrawny cat hanging around. "Well, I have to feed that cat or he's going to eat my bunny." I said to myself. So I did.

As I swam my laps my father came out. His dog, Henry, had just died the previous week. "I guess we have a new pet," he says. "What should we name him ?" I asked. "Nuisance." And Nuisance became his name.

After swimming my laps I jumped on my nephew's bike, that was left here, and rode to Paradise eight miles away.

I felt fit after doing my little mini triathlon and ready to see my friend, Rodney, in the city. Rodney used to have a different girlfriend every time I saw him. I used to call him the Hugh Hefner of Kansas City. I have known him since I was four and as he would go through different women I remained his friend. As I've said before Rodney is the hippest person I know. I always have a great time with him and this time was no different. Except!

Except I had way too much to drink. Rodney suggested I stay at his house in the city. I didn't want to. I didn't want to because now I had the munchies and I wanted some ice cream that I knew was in my parents' freezer.

Although I didn't know Kansas City well, I had no problem getting out and on the highway back to Podunkville. I was a half mile from my parents' house when I got pulled over for not using my blinker. Why would I use my blinker? There was no one else on the road. That was the cop's excuse. A fight ensued and I manage to spit, kick and shove him. First I'm taken to the city jail, but because I assaulted the cop I was later taken to the county one.

I ended up getting a DUI and had to do a weekend in a motel taking alcohol related classes. This was actually fun. There were lots of games and I was very competitive. I considered the other 17 guys all idiots and red necks, but there were two other girls; one, an airline hostess and the other, an athletic club manager. We hung out together. At the end of the weekend everyone, except me, was told to never drink again. I was told I could have two classes of wine a days - seriously I'm not lying. I have my report.

Oh and the assault was dropped because the cop was fired for molesting another woman.

I'm writing about this now because at this moment Nuisance is sleeping next to me and he looks so sweet. My mother is threatening to get rid of him because he peed on her pillow. We both have our issues.

Dough

For those of you that think I only load up on fatty meats I want you to know that on Sunday I went out with my vegan friend, Diana. Actually, my excuse to come to San Francisco this time was to go to Diana's wedding. I really wanted to go because she was having it at 'Millenium' a very upscale vegan restaurant. Unfortunately, I thought it was the 13th but it's the 20th. I have to leave on the 16th. Just as well, she said because she'd be tide up with family.

So on Sunday we went to 'Herbivore' an inexpensive vegetarian/vegan cafe. I had some spicy lemongrass noodles with tofu. And hey, I loved every bite. So There!

Meanwhile back at the ranch and fatty meat. We went to 'Flour and Water' (www.flourandwater.com) last night. We started off with lamb tongue salad with a poached egg and salsa verde. Usually salsa verde is made with cilantro but this was made with mint. That was good but both Kathy and I thought the tongue had too much of a vinegar taste. We all loved the other appetizer: crispy pork and black truffle terrine with pickled red carrots.

Thank god I read 'Yelp' before we left or would have never thought to order the celery root tortelloni - melt in your mouth good. The beet chitarra (basically beet spaghetti) with braised octopus didn't fare as well. I make a fabulous beet gnocchi so I was pretty critical. There wasn't much of a beet taste and the octopus was too chewy.

The seared pheasant with the roasted pumpkin puree, quince and raisin- pine nut relish was the highlight of the meal. The pheasant was succulent. We fought over the last bites!

Quince is in season and like everything in season I eat as much as possible. I said the pheasant was the highlight, but the goat cheese torte with poached quince and candied Meyer lemon made this a memorable night. Oh the Italian wines were fairly priced and we each had a different glass to end the night, but Nick had brought a delicious Story Winery 2003 Picnic Hill old vines Zinfandel, which we started with.

Now I'm so depressed. I hate leaving San Francisco. If you don't hear from me it's because I've slit my throat.

Hiatus but Not From Food

As soon as Nick and Kathy picked me up in San Francisco (in their brand new Lexus hybrid BTW) we went to buy Dungeness crab. They wanted to buy already cooked crab. I have never bought cooked crab and convinced them to buy live ones. It was the first time for them. This surprised me and it's not the first time I've been surprised by people I know are foodies but afraid to kill the food they eat. Hey someone has to kill it and if you are going to eat meat or fish I think it's better if you do it. The fresher the better.

They bought four big crabs and I put them their bathtub filled with water and salt. They were so happy. Nick fed them bonito flakes and they played around while we did other things. Then I got the pots of boiling water ready and stuffed them in. I didn't cooked them all the way. Half way through I pulled them out, cracked them, and marinated them for a couple of hours in thyme, toasted fennel seed, parsley, red pepper flakes, garlic and olive oil. Then I roasted them for ten minutes - yummy! With the left overs I made crab cakes - equally delicious.

Later in the week I went to 'Range' (www.rangesf.com) My friend Elizabeth's adorable boyfriend, Jeff, is a bartender there. He made us a gin drink with lemon verbena and egg whites called 'The Fizz'. We had a smoked trout appetizer with pea tendrils, satsuma oranges, and roasted golden beets. We also had pumpkin sage raviolis. For my entree I had duck breast with Brussels sprouts and a wild mushroom crepe - oh yeah! I didn't need dessert but it came anyway: a quince tart with creame fraiche - to die for.

The next night I went out with the girls to 'Nopalitos'. Nopa means north of the panhandle. Nopalitos is their baby Latin restaurant. Unfortunately, I didn't eat all my duck the night before and made a duck and avocado sandwich. The sauce that came with it was better than mayonnaise. It spoiled my appetite for dinner. I wanted to have the pork enchilado appetizer with two types of chiles and queso fresco, but my tummy only had room for the goat in the mole sauce. It was beyond my expectations with their delicious organic corn tortillas. I couldn't even manage a bite of the pozole or the carnitas my friends were having. Everyone else said I was missing out since it was so wonderful.

Last night I went to one of my favorite restaurants, 'Beretta', (www.berettasf.com). Last time I was here I went there three times and each time I had lardo. Lardo (like it sounds) and foie gras are what I would eat every day if I was skinny and rich. I manage to get someone else to treat me every time I go here. Last night my cousin, Catha and her husband, Ron, took me. I had lardo to myself since they were both concerned about their cholesterol levels. We also had: fava bean crostini (I told you before that I make a better one but if you didn't have mine you'd think this was the best), chicken liver pate, carbonato, mixed beet salad, gnocchi, rocket with parmesan cheese, wintergreens with persimmons and pomegranates.

Tomorrow Nick and Kathy are taking me to 'Flour and Water' - tune in for that because it is the hip spot to go. I'll let you know if it is worth it.

Hiatus

I'm sure you figured out that I'm back in the States. I'm in my beloved city, San Francisco but not for long. I'm broke so I have to live with my mother in Podunkville, the place I've been trying to escape since I was five.

For the next five months I will write about Podunkville whether you are interested or not. It's full of bible thumping racists so you might want to tune in for a different perspective or hear about yourself.

I will always consider San Francisco my home. I am a left wing socialist so being in Podunkville will be like being in prison. The only saving grace is my brother's restaurant 'Justus Drugstore'. Stepping into his and his wife's restaurant is like stepping back into San Francisco.

Who's Crazy?

Emino says I'm crazy. Did he start this rumour? While I was in Kusadasi he had his spies out watching my every move.

"Your crazy girlfriend is at the tea shop." Emino owns this tea shop and it is next to where he works at the carpet shop. I get free apple or regular tea here and half off the juices. The pomegranate juice is my favorite and I have a glass daily.

"She came to the hotel (his cousin's) looking for you." This was when his conservative cousin was in town. Emino had gone there and I got tired of waiting so I thought I would just walk by. Since his conservative cousin was there I was not to be seen. Emino is suppose to be pure until he gets married to an equally pure Kurdish girl. Anyway, Emino had already gone home and was mad when I return to his house. His spy had already called him.

Then one of his spies says he sees me walk to Ladies Beach every day. "Why is she walking there?" To me Ladies' Beach is not far, sometimes I walk there twice, making this loop that's takes an hour and a half. But I also walk there to swim. This is after the season. Emino tells his spy that I go there to swim. "She is crazy," his spy says and probably Emino too.

Another spy says he saw me at Mr. Moon's with all the other crazies. The other crazies are ex-pats that I grown to love. All sorts of nationalities are represented: Irish, British, Dutch, German, Scottish, Belgium, Danish and me, the American. This is where I have my one obligatory beer - usually. Actually I can never finish two.

Mr. Moon's is next to Fetih hair salon. I go there to see him, too. Emine is his pedicurist. Seda used to be but she moved to Istanbul. You can see both of their pictures in my blog. Now you see of all the other crazies, except Eric, the Danish artist who covered his face. Efren, who is wearing a San Francisco sweatshirt, is the proprietor of this hang out.

But as far as I'm concerned it's Emino who is crazy and anyone who agrees to an arranged marriage. Emino left to Van to see his family the same day I went to Istanbul. He told me he would call. When he says he will call it's not long before I hear from him. But I waited a long time. I knew something was wrong. I knew he was having a hard time getting away from his family to call me in private. I was right. When he did call he told me his family was pressuring him to marry immediately. His family thought he should have married years ago. They want to know why he is refusing. Emino would benefit from marriage. He'll receive money. But I know Emino has been corrupted. but he can't put it off much longer. He wants to see me again. Of course, I want to see him again. I also know we would never be. The age difference and the culture is far to great. Oh such is my life.

This is the end of Turkey - this year. I would like to see Lisa and the crazy expats again. But I don't know what I'll do next spring. I wasn't detained or fined when I left, so if I do come back there shouldn't be a problem.

I also got through passport control in London. The officer said, "Was there a problem before?" For a second I thought, "Oh no!" but this time I kept my mouth shut. "No, I'm just seeing my niece for a couple of days then I'm going back to the States."

Top Dog

So I'm the only woman in Emino's life right now. The girl from Seattle, who bought him an air ticket, is out. He told me he was finished with her. He showed me the text messages she sent him saying if she didn't hear from him she would not come in December. She even called when we were right in the middle. Emino paused for a second then kept going.

Do I care? No way. He eventually plans on marrying a Kurd. I've always known that. He never told the girl from Seattle. She thought they would get married. I feel sorry for her. Would I want to marry him if I could? No way! And be in bondage the rest of my life? He's going to marry some young girl whose going to be wrapped up in a gunny sack.

Hey I can play the sex slave/house wife for awhile - knowing it's temperary. I even iron his shirts. I rarely iron my own clothes and I have never iron another guy's. I do it out of boredom. I can only swim so much.

He still wants me to come back next year. He will miss our fighting, our lovemaking and my excitability. He says he loves me. Well, until he has to marry. His family is pressuring him. He's trying to hold off until he's 35.

I just want one more year - maybe. I was starting to think like a friend of mine's girlfriend. He says she always thinks the glass is half empty instead of half full. I'm having a good time right and that's all I care about.

Markets

No, it's not all sex. I have been swimming almost daily, although the Turks are all wearing their winter coats. I run around in a tank top. The night's are cooler but the days have been sunny and the water is beautiful. I've gotten into water before that gave me a headache. It hasn't gotten to that point yet - far from it.

Then the markets here. There are two outrageously huge farmers markets during the week that make Pike's Place in Seattle look like a hot dog stand. I mean they are overwhelming. I go absolutely nuts. I can barely walk back to the house with my load and I've spent about six bucks. Well, slight exaggeration if I buy cheese.

I could care less about clothes. Food is my favorite thing to buy. But I only came with sundresses on this trip - another first. I have never brought a sun dress or anything resembling one on any of my trips before. Again I knew this trip was all about sex and nothing else. So like I said the weather is cool at night - too cool for sun dresses. That's okay. There is a Wednesday clothes market about the size of a shopping mall. I got two long sleave tops for $3 a piece.

Boring

If anyone is still reading this you're probably wondering why I named this blog unafraidtravel. If it wasn't for the Turkish passport control it would be totally boring. I can thank them for that. You see I used to have all sorts of adventures when I traveled, taking all sorts of risks.

In the late 80's I hitched hiked down Baja, Mexico and kept going until I got to Chile and then I made my way up through Brazil, down the Amazon, into Venezuela where I flew back into the States. This took about a year. During this time I got a ride in a truck across the Darien Gap, went through Columbia in the height of drug trafficking years, and hiked in the Cordillera Blancas when it was crawling with Sendero Liminosos.

A few years later I went to Southeast Asia. Yes, I went to touristy Thailand but my real adventure started in Indonesia where I spent four months, two of those in Sumatra, where I think every bus I took had a flat.

I went over to India and made my way up to Kashmir although because of the war there were no buses running so I had to make my incandescently.

Then there was Bulgaria where a vender thought I stole his potato chips and threaten to cut my head off. And just recently to save some money, or so I thought, I took a refuge boat to an island off of Vietnam. Well It seemed like a refuge boat.

Now it's all sex. I don't know what to say about that, but when I do I'll let you know.

Afraid of Police

I'd had become a local in Kusadasi. Every day I'd see Ali at the beach and Fehit every afternoon. Ali is the only Turkish person I've seen who can swim well. Fehit is the cute guy who cut my hair before and I had him cut and color it again. (I need a new photo of myself.) Next to Fehit salon is Mr Moon's where all the ex-pats hang out. I have my obligatory beer before going home to have Emino make us dinner.

The bum's life. But this bum needs to see Lisa. I will have to forgo sex for at least a few days.

It's quite a journey from Kusadasi. I had to take a bus first to Izmir. I caught the 10 am bus and I should've tried to make the 9 am one. Of course, Emino kept me in bed. Every morning Emino is late to work and now he's made me late too.

It takes over an hour to get to Izmir. I just missed the 11 am bus to Ezine so I had to take the noon one. The bus company employee told me it would take five hours to get to Ezine. I know the last ferry to Bozcaada leaves at 6 pm. At Ezine I have to take a mini bus on to the port and that takes a half hour. I'm worried that if there is any delay I will miss the ferry. The employee assures me that I won't.

"I'll be back in a few days so if you are wrong I'll let you know!"

I know Ezine. I know what to do to make the connections. But when I arrived the bus company had someone there waiting for me to make sure my connection was made. That was so sweet. What was sweeter was having Emino call me as I was on the mini bus. I told him I would call when I arrived, but he couldn't wait. I told him I thought he'd be glad to be rid of me for a few days. "No way!"

BTW I have a phone here. My niece lent me one she wasn't using and I got a sim card.

Lisa is waiting for me as the ferry pulls in. Although her restaurant has been closed for a month she still uses the kitchen to cook. We head to the fish market first thing. I love her baked fish, arugala salad, and the side dish of ambergine and tomatoes.

Bozcaada looks like it did when I came here in April. The tourist season hadn't started then and now it's over. Most of the restaurants are closed and some of the people I had taken pictures of have gone to Canakkule on the mainland. But I do see some familiar faces and they ae happy to see me.

There are people I am not going to see. Those people are the police. The Turkish consulate never told me I had to check in, but Lisa was approach by the police here. They told her they wanted to check my visa when I arrived. I'm not going to see them. Maybe I'm paranoid but I've been detained so much lately I'm afraid. I fear I will be detained again, fined again and worse, forced to leave again. I'm afraid they will take me away and I will not be able to see Emino again.

So Called Terroists

I guess the Turkish government aren't the only ones to dislike Kurds. Emino for the second time has tried to get a visa for the U.S. He had five invite letters (none of those were from me) and all the necessary documents. It costs him $300 yesterday to go to the Capital, Ankara, including the fee he had to pay just for the appointment. He had to take a ten hour bus ride there only to be told he was denied and then another ten hour depressing ride back.

One of the invite letters was from his girlfriend in Seattle. This is the one Emino first told me about and I accepted it. (It was the second one that pissed me off.) This girl works for Delta and even provided him a round trip ticket. Of course, she is devastated. Since I'm selfish I don't care because I doubt that he would be seeing me if he did go to States.

I'm perfectly happy with my situation now being the number one in his house. As my friend Rodney says it sounds like "Big Love" from the HBO series. I still want to go to Tajikistan and Turkey would be a good base. I'm confident that my only other competition is the Seattle girl and she never comes for more than a week at the time. I can always see Lisa then.

BTW I have not seen Lisa in Bozcaada yet. I don't know if I'm still suppose to check in with the police when I do get there.

Prostitution

As I bet many of you know, Turkish men have a reputation of wooing foreign women with the hope of money. There are books out about it and tons of jokes - it's where all the fat, ugly British women go to get laid. I was here eleven years ago and I don't remember any coming on to me, but I was still involved with James, the one relationship I was loyal to.

Emino has had two other women throw money at him. I recently learned from his brother (and Emino confirmed it) that the woman that was at his home previously bought him his air conditioning, TV, furniture, and a few other things. Of course, how could he refuse? All he had to do is fuck her. Unfortunately, for him he wanted me and he couldn't very well let me stay at his place when she was there buying everything. He told me he hated his situation and now I know why. At least, I can thank her for all the kitchen appliances. I actually feel better about this.

I think all my friends know what a tight wad I am. I am bad at birthdays and even X-mas presents. Except for travel I hate spending money and that includes buying for myself. So there is no way in hell I would ever spend money on Emino. I just want to put that out there before I go on.

Yes, the sex is fantastic, but what I really like and haven't had since my affair with the young Swede is how desirable he makes me feel. I love how he holds me tight while we sleep. I love it when he pulls me back, whether we're in bed or just sitting next to each other, when I try to get up. I love having him cook for me. I'm not paying for it.

Home Free - I Think

I failed to mention that Lisa was approached by the Turkish police. They told her they wanted to check my visa when I arrived. I wasn't directly told I had to go right to Lisa's place in Bozcaada. I was told I could only fly into Istanbul.

"I can't fly into Izmir?"

"Why would you want to fly to Izmir when Bozcaada is much closer to Istanbul?" I didn't want to say that's where Emino lives.

Yes, I was held for an hour at the Istanbul airport. I surprisingly stayed calm. But I figured they would try to fine me again. Amazingly, they didn't and even more so they let me go.

I rushed over to the domestic side of the airport and bought a ticket to Izmir. By taking a domestic flight I shouldn't have to go through passport control. Was someone following me or was I just paranoid?

I didn't have to wait long and the flight was short. I freaked out a bit when I saw the passport booths but then I saw they were empty. I took the shuttle to the Izmir bus station and called Emino.

"I'll be at the Kusadasi bus station in an hour - meet me there." He did.

Red Flag

As some of you might have read I was in Croatia when I got an email from the Turkish consulate general in London saying my visa was ready to pick up. I cut my trip and flew back to London.

The next day after arriving I brought my passport in and was told there was a mistake. They agreed that I had paid for my visa extention and I was free to re-enter. They said nothing about getting my $200 back they had fined me or the wasted air ticket - just someone had made a mistake. I left them my passport and was told to come back the following day to retrieve it. The visa would be put in it. I was also told I could only enter through Istanbul. I did not want to enter through Istanbul because last time I told them to fuck off in Turkish and Izmir is much closer to Kusadasi where Emino lives. "Please bring the receipt that shows you paid for the extention." "Why - no one looked at it before?" The employee just stares at me. The stare meant - just bring it.

Well, the visa looked really legit. How could it not be? Still I didn't trust them.
I fly to Istanbul and show the passport control employee my passport. He almost hands it back to me when RED LIGHT. He grabs it back and makes a phone call. Someone comes and gets me and I'm led to another room full of people who look like they been there for ages.

There's something mysterious going on. My time spent with Kurds might have been a problem. Both Mehmet and Emino have been in jail for their involvement. The Turkish people I met, who I thought were friends, have nothing to do with me now. They took their names off my facebook page. I hiked with an American Turkish professor for three days. When I asked for his help he said he wanted nothing to do with me. Lisa who is an expat Aussie thinks my involement may be the reason the Turkisdh gov. is hassling me. I don't know.

The Joys of Passport Control

I thought England was different but it doesn't matter the passport police are bored everywhere. They are looking for excitement. They are 'chomping at the bit' to come in contact with a terrorist or someone psychotic will do. Or someone who gives out too much information. I've been told this all my life. "No one needs to hear all that extra information you are impulsed to give out." Several people have told me this but it doesn't stop me. I keep talking.

So I start rambling about the Turkish gov. and my dilemma. "Are you on drugs?" The official asks me. "I wish I say." It was all over with. I was taken to a room where some people looked as if they had been there for days. I was then scrutinized and interrogated. I was asked if I was on medication at least 20 times and I'm not exaggerating. They brought a psychologist in to test me. She was the first one with a sense of humor. After that it wasn't too long before I was released. They suddenly had more serious problems to deal with. A woman from Africa was having a mental breakdown. I recognized the symptoms since I've had them myself.

Anyway, they decided it all a big joke to have kept me. Ha Ha I was kept for over three hours! Now I really need some drugs. Fortunately, there are lots of wine shops. I stop off and get a bottle before I head to my niece's.

Sarajevo

I didn't go to Sarajevo. I was all set to, I had my bag packed and ready for an early morning departure. When I thought no one else would show up to share the tiny room I shared with several others, another girl came.

"Where did you come from?" "Sarajevo, there was so much show I couldn't do anything." "Snow - this time of year!?" All I have are these god damn sundresses, no hiking boots or it wouldn't have stop me.

Okay now what - where do I go? I think I'll check out the internet. I sit close to the computer while one girl chats with every Facebook friend she has. An hour later she says, "Oh did you want to use this?"

I go over my emails. A name I don't recognize says he has visa information. Who is this guy? I almost delete it but I don't. It's from the consulate saying my visa is ready and I can pick it up in London. I've been cleared. I'm in shock. I change my return ticket. Instead of Sarajevo I'm heading back to Split where I'll fly to London in a couple of days.

Another note: Don't depend on Lonely Planet recommendations. I went to this great little restaurant: Fife in Split. The food was delicious and the waitress brought me two extra dishes I didn't order for me to try. I wish I had gone back the next night but I tried the Lonely Planet rec. and wish I hadn't. I also stumbled across a little local bar, where espresso, beer, and wine were half the price of anywhere else. The place was lively. There was lots of dancing and singing but not by me, although I was included by eye contact and drinks were bought.

Overrated Hostels

Hostels aren't always the best deal. Do you want to sleep on a mattress with 30 other kids sharing one bathroom? Sometimes the price is worth it but it definitely isn't worth it in Croatia. I found it hard to believe during the off season anyone would choose a hostel when people with private accommodations are begging for you to stay at their apartments or homes. It's not like you're sharing the place with them. Usually you rarely see the owners because they have their own place. They just come in to clean yours.

I made the mistake not to take a room with one of the women who met me at the bus station and went on into the old town of Dubrovnik to stay at the Lonely Planet recommended hostel. I really wanted to stay with the people I had stayed with the previous two times but they don't normally take borders. I just lucked out the first time by word of mouth. Nensi and Tio both work so I knew they wouldn't be at home and since I didn't know I was coming to Croatia I didn't have their number on me. I didn't want to wait on their doorstep so I went to the hostel.

This hostel cost 30 bucks the most I have ever paid. In New Zealand the next highest, never cost more than $20 but they were lavish. The kitchens were huge, most of the time there were several ovens. The same with the bathrooms which usually included several toilets and sinks.

This hostel said breakfast and internet was included. Well, there was one computer which five people were always waiting to use. Unknowingly I joked, "What we get toast?!" Yeah it was toast. Wonder Bread would be considered high end compared to this. Someone else said it reminded them of dry wall and that was a perfect description.

So unless you go to Croatia in July or August and even then check out private accommodations first. Actually do not go to Dubrovnik in July or August and even outside of those months the prices are comparable to Switzerland or Vienna, Austrian. I had some local man tell me that's where I should go if I didn't like the prices in Dubrovnik.

Hvar Concert

The night of the full moon the first of October Evan took me to a concert. It was in a former monastary. The singers/musicians were in the open center. Evan and I had front row center balcony - the best seats and above us the full moon shown down. The voices were beautiful. Two of the songs were old traditional Croatian songs and behind us a few men joined in. Their voices went perfectly with the singers below. I first thought they, too, were part of the group. I felt so priviledged. It seemed as if anyone who was anyone in Hvar was there and so was I!

Being with Evan came with a price - a small one. He always tried to kiss me and I did everything to squeeze away from his grip. Usually a promise to do something else with him later and no not that, though I'm sure that's what he had in mind. As much as I enjoyed the concert it was his food that I kept coming back to. Free wine and his wonderful cheese and meat samples seemed a small price for a slobbery kiss!

I couldn't believe this guy. Evan was still married and his wife lived on the mainland away form his antics. When I told him about Emino, he just wanted me more. "I should go to Vis with you and make you forget." Yeah sure. It was time to leave Hvar.

So Much for Leaving

I stayed in Hvar for over three weeks and I already missed it. The best thing about not being able to go to Turkey was being able to meet all these great people.

So much for Kachi though. I told him I wrote about him and I think that scared him, that or the price of the dinner he told me he would treat me to. I told him I wanted to know more about his prison experience and he was evasive. I decided it had nothing to do with the war and about drugs. Hey, I do not know but Hvar has a reputation. Which leads to the gossip.

Every day I saw this this beautiful woman with the cutest clothes sitting on the steps outside her dress shop having coffee and chatting with other shop owners. I commented on her adorable shoes one day. I later find out that she destroyed this man. This according to another man, but my friend Melanie said he became a drug addict. I met him too. He bummed a cigerette from me. I could not wait to get away from him. I thought he was homeless. There were a few seemingly homeless guys in Hvar bumming cigs. I tell you in Turkey a man would never bum a cig. Of course, in Turkey there are no homeless. I believe they are taken out and executed.

So where I? Oh gossip. Well that's it except for the heavy coke scene that goes on during the months of July and August.

I saw no sign of drugs - thank god. I have enough problems. I only saw generosity. Ivana, at the pastry shop, giving free goodies occasionally, Ivana, with the same name, giving me an extra big scoop of ice cream, Evan giving me deals on proscuitto, cheese, wine and olive oil, among other things. More later. Next blog possibly.

Melanie gave me a 30% discount on top of the off season price for a necklace, braclet and earrings. Next door Frani gave me half of the glasses of wine I drank on the house. He said I helped business. Well, I did get those Austrians to buy two extra bottles of wine. And as for the Austrians they took me out for a beach day, treating me to breakfast and lunch.

I spent very little in Hvar. If I wasn't being treated then I was making my own dinner. I had a great big room with a balcony view of the bay, my own kitchen and bathroom. I first spent $16 for a smaller room and no balcony but for four bucks more got the better one.

When I went to the Santa Barbara Cafe. I didn't have to say a word. Immeditately Milan or another Ivana (popular name) bought me my large expresso with hot milk. I felt like a local. Even this good looking captain who I hadn't seen in four years recognized me. I was so flattered. Although I must say I've stayed at the same home each of the three times I've been here and the family didn't remember me. I'd rather have the captian remember me!

Seven Bucks an Hour!

I will not be sending much now because my favorite internet cafe closed and all the rest of them cost $7 an hour. It takes me 10 minutes just to switch to English.

I saw Kachi again and he said he was taking me out tonight. It just so happens that the restaurant I really want to go to is his cousin's. Still I'm getting bored. I feel stagnant/paralized here in Hvar. I must make a move and get out of here. I guess I'll head up the coast on Sunday.

Even Hvar Won't Help Broken Heart

Yes, I'm in Croatia. I flew into Split from London. It was quick and I had no problems. There was bus waiting to take everyone into the town of Split. I immediately walked over to the ferry building and bought a ticket to Hvar. I knew the ropes having been here before. I only had to wait an hour and then an hour more I was in Hvar.

Hvar has changed greatly in four years. The rich have discovered it with their excessive amounts of money so the prices have gone up considerably. Fortunately they come in July and August, most of them leave in September.

The weather is still warm. It's a good time to come. I could bargain for a room with access to a kitchen for $16. The kitchen is a necessity because the restaurant prices are still exorbitant!

I met a local guy who fought in the war. He said you become an animal when you are at war. He committed atrocities. He didn't tell me what but he had to go to prison for it. He seemed like such a nice guy. He grew up here in Hvar and knows everyone. Many seemed to be his cousins. He took me out and I had a good time. I'm sure he will take me out again. He's good looking but no substitute for Emino.

Yes, Kachi will take me out again but I also met a retired Brit with a large pension. He said he couldn't spend it all so he's been taking me out.

I'm glad to have these diversions along with the great swimming. The water is perfect and feels really clean.

Patrick, the Brit, is leaving tonight. I guess I'll look for Kachi tomorrow. In the meantime I'm going for a swim

Corruption

In case some of you haven't been reading I will reiterate. I went to Turkey last April. For most westerners when you arrive in Turkey you pay $20 and you get a 90 day multiple entry visa, meaning you can go in and out of Turkey without paying any more. If you think you will go over your 90 days you leave the country and when you return you pay another $20 and that will be good for another 90 day multiple entry visa.

I knew from the beginning I would be going over so when I came back from Georgia I paid some passport border official $20. He gave me a receipt that said I paid on July 1st and it was good for another 90 days.

So on July 29th when I left Turkey to go back to the States I was shocked when the passport control officers would not let me leave the airport until I paid a $200 fine for overstaying my visa. They said that my receipt meant nothing. I did not have the correct stamp.

You know as an American I usually don't need a visa and if I do I get it at the airport or the border. I don't pay attention to what they put in my passport. I've been to over 60 countries and I have never had this problem, except, of course, when I worked illegally in Canada. (Someone told on me.) But I wasn't deported and I stayed awhile longer and never had a problem returning.

I was furious but what could I do my plane was leaving so I paid it. I thought that would be it, but no.

If you've been reading my blog you know that when I returned to Turkey the officials wouldn't let me enter. They forced me back on the same plane I arrived on. Literally forced, because I sat on the ground and they had to drag me. A love sick heart will make you do crazy things. Emino was waiting for me, wanting to make up, wanting me to stay indefinitely. I only planned to stay a couple of months and it wasn't just Emino I wanted to see but Lisa and all the other friends I had made. Like I said I've been to many countries and again, except for Canada, I never wanted so badly to go back and see the friends I had made.

I went to the Turkish consulate here in London. They said my receipt meant nothing and I should have known. Known what? Would any of you know you didn't have the correct stamp?

I've had to fill out forms, provide my bank account information, write a letter explaining what happened, and provide a letter of invite. Three people wrote me letters of invite, Lisa was one. The other two were Kurdish. I couldn't use those because the Turkish government hates the Kurds. They tried genocide in the 90's to get rid of them like they did the Armenians previously. They would like to do the same now but since Turkey wants to join the EC, much to their chagrin, they can't. Still they are heavily ostracized.

All this paperwork was sent to Ankara, the capital of Turkey. I was told it would take a minimum of six weeks before they would let me know if I am able to return. In the meantime I have a non refundable ticket back to the States on Nov. 2nd. I already used my ticket from London to Izmir, Turkey and all I saw was the inside of the plane.

This has cost me a small fortune. I thought when I came back all I would be paying for was my airfare since I would be staying with Emino and Lisa. Food costs would have minimal since Emino would be treating and Lisa charges me very little for eating at her restaurant in exchange for little work.

I miss Emino more than ever. I thought I was going to have all this fabulous sex. I need to do something fun to forget about my misery. I have six weeks to kill and I'm going for broke. I'm booking a flight to Croatia today. I have all these sundresses and no sun. You'll hear from me next from there.

Hostels

I have to write about hostels. All through Central and South America, all through Southeast Asia, India and Nepal I never stayed in a hostel. The places were so inexpensive I could always have a room to my own. The same goes for Spain, Portugal and Turkey but those came later when I had more money and could afford a room with a view, my own bathroom and breakfast.

In Eastern Europe and the former Yugoslavia I started to stay in hostels but only occasionally to meet young people and save on expenses so I could eat well. I would rather stay in some flee bag place as long as I can eat at some fabulous restaurant. Great food after hiking, biking or swimming comes next. I will go off topic here because eating well is very important to me. I would rather be hungry than go to some inferior place. I love food and I will read about, hunt down, observe and then check out even more places before I settle on the restaurant I feel worthy of my taste buds. One of my brothers, the one of two who are chefs can attest to that.

Warren and I were in northern Spain during a one day workers' strike. After literally trampsing around for two hours my brother says, "Should we eat here?" Here was a place where it looked like students were eating 'Spagetti - O's'. No way! An half hour later I had found the place. I have the place and our meal written down somewhere, but without those notes I still remember the cigar prawns and neither will my brother.

New Zealand has been the most expensive place I've been. The most expensive place I've had to pay for myself without friends, relatives or boyfriends to count on. Since food is so important I had to stay in youth hostels so I could afford the best.

I felt out of place when I stayed (and only once) at a youth hostel in Turkey. One young girl asked me what I was doing here. "Aren't you kind of old?" But in Eastern Europe and the Balkin States when I did stay at a hostel the young people seemed to think of me as some sort of sage. It just took a few years to go from weirdo to guru.

The first thing about hostels, which is on everyones' mind whose shares the multi bed room: Does anyone snore? Yes I have snored before but it is always because of a heavy night of drinking or I have a cold. In New Zealand I trekked so much the drinking was at a minimal. I pointedly asked my roommates at the hostels and they said they didn't hear anything from me.

I found this out in Solvenia. I arrived with no sleep in the middle of the afternoon. I took a nap and when I awoke a guy, who had just arrived, was putting his sheets on a mattress next to me (in Eastern Europe you sleep on mattresses on the floor like in a homeless shelter) He asks me if I snore. Some girls said, "No she's been sleeping and we didn't hear anything." That night he snored like a banchee and since he was in arms length of me I shoved him. I didn't want anyone to think it was me!

As I said this hostel was in Solvenia. It was a former prison. Now that I'm older and want a little more security I book the first night to my arrival. Everything else was up for grabs except for here in NZ but I'll get to that later. So I book my first night at this hostel and pay with my credit card. After everything goes through the hostel says that dorms are reserved for people under 25yrs. Hey I already gave you my CC # I think to myself. I email the hostel and tell them I'm an underpaid school teacher. The next day at school I check my messages while my second grade students are doing their "Do Now" an assignment they do every morning to basically keep them busy while I catch up do whatever. I have a message from the former prison and now hostel telling me I'm welcome to stay there. "Yeah! I blurt out, I get to stay in a prison. I get to stay in a prison! I get to stayyy." I stop. My second grade kids' mouths are all open. Most of their fathers are in prison. I had to explain.

As I said before I went from being weird to a sage. Youth hostels are for kids in their early 20's. Kids in their early 20's with raging hormones. Kids away from their parents. Here's what you can expect: I'm laying on my bunk bed. This particular bunk has a nice added touch - a little shelf where you can lay your book, your glasses, or an alarm clock. Since I'm laying down I can see under the shelf. Under the shelf is written: 'I had a quicky on this bunk and everybody heard.' This means the five other people who share the room with this person.

Besides the cost and meeting other young people I like that youth hostels usually have free videos to watch. The main thing that I like are the young people or people in general who are like you and love to travel. I always have much in common with them. We exchange views and travel tips. If you meet someone older I can guarantee that person will be hip. Of course that person could be me!

My Fate

Tomorrow I have my appointment with the Turkish Consulate. For the last two weeks there hasn't been a day or even an hour where I haven't been sick to my stomach. I have never in my entire life felt this way for so long. Really maybe a few hours and not more than a couple of days. All I needed to do is go for a run, ride my bike, or swim - maybe all three. I remember after one break up I did mini triathlons: run 6 miles, ride 60 miles, then swim 3/4 of a mile.

I can't do any of those things in London. But I'm beginning to like London. I would like it more if I had my bike. Still there are some great food markets here - really for those of you who think the London food scene stinks. Every Friday I go to the Borough market. I think every thing there is organic and high quality free range meats. There are a couple dozen food stalls where I always get a smoked courgette spread and an aubergine, walnut, pomogranite chutney. The wild boar sandwich is outrageous! On Saturday I go the the Clapham Hill market, more organic vegies and I bought a tiny chunk of cheese that set me back $10. It was worth it. On Monday I head to the Notting Hill market. I think it's the best as far as prices and there's a Spanish store with the cutest guy who turned me on to a delicious inexpensive red wine and an Iberico saucisson - Oh god!

I walk a lot to keep the weight down. I think my churning stomach burns off calories too.

Then there's the night scene. I keep that down because I can't afford it. But the ones I've gone to cost nil. I went with Elisabeth to a British Rubbish benefit. The 5 pound entrance fee went to the Marxist society. Talk about people who don't act their age. There were people who were definitely older than me acting silly - like dancing to punk rock music. This was right up my alley. A woman who sang jazz asked a audience member to accompany her with a tiny toy horn. It was hilarious.

I have to get this out because if I can't return to Turkey now and I have return to Podunkville I think I will seriously consider suicide. I thought about going to Croatia, but I can't go anywhere else and feel good. I won't sleep tonight.

That Kicked in Stomach Feeling

That's what I have. London is okay. I mean I could be stuck in Oklahoma City, but, of course, if I was, I would have already committed suicide.

Actually London is cool, as are my niece, Sierra, and her husband, Nick. My friend Elisabeth, who I met in Tbilisi lives here and I've enjoyed seeing her. The Tube is amusing. There are plenty of neighborhoods to explore. Explore but not buy. It's torture because there are the cutest clothes shops, charming pubs, hip wine bars, and restaurants I'm dying to try.

It's the cost. Even though I'm staying at my niece's and cook almost entirely at the house, it has still cost me about $50 a day. This is not counting the drinks my niece's husband bought, the wine at book club party, and the barbecue drinks. Yes, I have to have my wine but I shop for the best deals. The same goes for the groceries with a splurge thrown in here and there. I think the most expensive thing is the Tube transportation.

That's not why I have kicked in feeling. It's not knowing my outcome: Will I be able to go Turkey and if I can - when? What if I can't? What if I can next month? What will I do in the meantime? Where should I go? I absolutely do not want to go back to the States until at least November. I don't want to stay in London.

Then there's Emino. Because I can't see him. I am more desperate. I think he feels the same. It like high school when your parents told you you couldn't see such and such, which meant that was all you wanted to do.

As I've said my appointment with the Turkish Consulate isn't until Sept. 15th. I have three invite letters from Turkish friends. Lisa says she is going to the immigration office in my behalf. She's the greatest.

It all started in Oklahoma City

When I was 9 years old, my parents, brothers Frank and Warren, then 14 and 7, went to Corpus Cristi. All fine and well. On the way back to Missouri we stayed the night in Oklahoma City. My parents let us kids go see the movie, Grand Prix, with James Garner, which was showing near the motel. When the two cars crashed, during the movie, I became very upset and decided I was walking back to the Holiday Inn.

Did Frank care? He was suppose to watching me. Although knowing how I am, I'm sure I wouldn't listen.

It was dark and I got lost. I remember seeing a homeless person and that made me more upset, especially since I was lost. Luckily, a policeman spotted me and took me to the police station, where they called the two Holiday Inns in town. Now I can't believe there were actually two Holiday Inns in Oklahoma City. One would have been more then triple the amount needed for anyone unfortunate enough to have to stay there.

Anyway that brings me to this. Why me? Why do I always get in trouble? Well, of course, I bring it on myself some of the time, but other times I think, "What did I do to deserve this?"

On Mon. August 31st I flew to Izmir, Turkey. On the plane I met a wealthy man who was going to have his driver, who was meeting him, take me to Kusadasi. "How lucky I am," I thought. I wouldn't have to take a half hour shuttle to the bus station and then an hour bus ride to Kusadasi.

We arrive about 8:30 and by 9:00 I was back on the same plane going back to London. It was a nightmare. I couldn't believe it.

I'll reiterate what happened before. I came to Turkey in April and paid $20 for a three month multiple entree visa. I went to Greece, back to Turkey, of course, not paying the 20 bucks again, because it was within the three months.

I then went to Georgia and Armenia and back to Georgia before coming back to Turkey. This time I paid another 20 bucks because I knew my flight out of Turkey would be beyond the three months.

I was shocked, when at the Istanbul airport, that I had over stayed my visit. They would not listen or look at my papers that proved this. I had to pay a $200 fine. I thought they got a little bonus and should be happy.

So now I don't know why they wouldn't let me in. They already fined me, what more do they want? I went to the Turkish consulate here in London. I can't get an appointment until September 15th. I need a letter of invite from someone in Turkey. I'm asking every Turkish person I know and have addresses to for their help in this matter.

In the meantime I'm hanging out in expensive, drizzly London.

Plucking Chickens

I'm sure everyone out there has shaved their pubic hairs - every last one of them, especially if you're a porn star. I haven't. Oh yea I have shaved for a bikini, but the whole shabang?

My sister and her husband have these medical spas and I have used them to the full extent for things that people can see with your clothes on. Who cares what they can't see. Well, who cares unless you have a new lover, a new lover who's 25 yrs younger than you and you're still making him go south for punishment. God! Who's being punished?

My sister tells me I have to shave completely before they take the hair off. Why am I having the hair taken off then? Can't they just zap it all off? Since most of you have already done this it's no big deal to go down there with a razor with all those soft sensitive folds and hope that you don't rip them right off.

My appointment is at 10:15 - I thought. I'm in the tub with my legs spread. I'm late, I think, trying to go between the valleys without causing blood. It needs to be smooth. After over 50 yrs with hair I'm repulsed. One of those ugly hairless cats. I pee afterwards. I guess the hair kept the flow going straight down. Now it's like a spray going all over the place. There must be a system.

Anyway I'm in a hurry. I'm late. I only nicked myself a few times. There's not much blood. I tell my mom I have another appointment. I need her car since mine is still in storage. I don't explain. I'm sure she thinks it has something to do with my face.

Oh shit! I'm a half hour early. I could have spent more time down there getting the hair off. The poor girl has to shave off more, more without lotion , soap, or shaving cream since I did such a poor job.

But it's done. I had no problem touching it before, but now it looks like a scary alien. Hair was there for a reason - at least in my case.

Kansas City

From San Francisco I flew back to Kansas City for a week to visit family and friends before heading back to Turkey. And one little note I forgot to mention - the muffalata sandwich I had at Boccalone (Google it) in the ferry building - more of that fatty delicious pork meat with green olive paste that you find in New Orleans. Sorry for the side track!

When I was growing up I couldn't wait to leave Missouri. I'd been planning to leave since I was in First Grade. I didn't know what Greenwich Village was but that's where I planned on going. I also remember standing in my room and saying to myself I was never having children, I'm never getting married and I know I must be weird. I lived in what I call Podunkville. As my Los Angeles cousin, Martin, recalls when he came to visit, I laid down in the middle of the highway and said, "I can lay here all night and not get hit." That would have been the truth.

But you know what? KC ain't so bad. It's not Podunkville (although now Podunkville has Justus Drugstore a restaurant - Google it). I like KC. In fact, I think it's cool. My very hip friend Rod Parks lives here and he's about the hippest person I know. (He owns Retro Inferno and is totally into the art and music scene. If there's anything important going on in KC he knows about it. He also knows New York City like the back of his hand.) There's fabulous architecture, fountains everywhere, lots of Missouri limestone, rolling hills and the foliage is lush green. There are huge yards and gigantic houses. I also have two super lesbian cousins and their equally cool partners that live here and love it. That means something! There's an artistic culture that's swings to the left - Obama stickers are common. I rarely saw a McCain sticker. I mean rarely!

Oh there's conservative people. I have old friends, old friends I haven't heard from since high school. They have suddenly shown up on Facebook as my buddies. Friends who tried to put gum in my hair and empty beer bottles under my car tires. They are now telling me how to run my life. They're not happy that I'm going back to see Emino.

Emino did me wrong, they say. Did me wrong? Yes he lied to get me back but if you read what I had to say about myself I was no better. Hey how stupid do you think I am? Do you think I expect a relationship with someone 25 years younger? I am having fun and Rod, my dear friend says, "Think of the source." Are they jealous that I can attract someone that much younger than me? He says and I agree, "Why do people think they have to act a certain age and what age is that?" I guess they are saving up to retire to what - go on a cruise with a bunch of other fogies. Is that what you wait your whole life for?

I'm getting off track. I'm trying to saying how cool KC is but it's the surrounding area that I can't deal with - that narrow minded stogy, act your age group. Are they happy? What gives them the right to give me advice? Because they are so happy that they have no life?

You see none of my San Francisco friends had any qualms. My 87 yr old friend Gino in San Francisco didn't blink an eye when I told him my situation. "You look good," he said. "I was 20 yrs older than my wife and that didn't last long but it was worth it." Thank you Gino.

I'm leaving Thurs. I'll be flying to London first to see my niece Sierra, who works for Google. I'm hoping to get there in time for the world reknown lunch spread that Google puts on for its employees on Fridays. Yes I leave Thurs. but arrive Fri in time for lunch - I hope!

Then Emino is picking me up Mon. from the bus station in Izmir, Turkey.

Of course I'll fill you in.
Don't judge me
Rose

Is Adrenaline Related to Food

To me San Francisco means food. Everything to me means food. That's all I think about. Well, first I think about what I can do to eat what I want. This is where the adrenaline comes in. I'd weigh 300 pounds if I didn't like that adrenaline rush. But then I wouldn't be me because I love that rush.

Everywhere I go I think about food. What will be my next meal? I pick places I want to go according to the food. Amazingly good food seems to go with mountains and lots of water. Can you think of a flat dry place that has good food? Prove me wrong and if you do I'm not going there anyway. This is why I wanted to skip Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan. I couldn't swim or hike and I didn't hear about any great food.

Ah but San Francisco. I had lardo three times in the last week. Hey I've been riding that stupid bike just about every day and up every hill in San Francisco. But everyday I've eaten pork with abandon. I love pork and every product that goes with it. I also love cream fraiche, stinky creamy cheese, duck fat and foie gras. Foie gras is my favorite food.

This time in San Francisco I ate frog legs. I've been eating frog legs since I was about ten. It might have been my French grandmother influence or just me. From my earliest memory I've always eaten everything - the stranger the better. The best thing about eating frog legs was cutting their legs off on the driveway of my parents' house and having the neighborhood boys get grossed out. I then ate them, loved them and I've been eating them ever since. In Vietnam I got a whole plate full for about $3.00. But not in Sam Francisco where the curry spiced legs cost $11 for four puny little legs. They were delicious. I could have easily eaten five times the amount.

This was at "Spencer's on the Go". You get this French style food from a taco truck across the street from a wine bar where the cheapest glass of wine cost $12 . My friend, Michelle, for the first time got the curry spiced frog legs, deep fried escargot in Parmesan cheese, and pieces of sweetbread in a pork white bean stew. All of this was really delicious but the portions were tiny.

I had the lardo at Beretta. Other delicious things at Beretta were the chicken liver pate, the radichhio with saba, and the fava bean puree with pecorino. I make this spread and it's better. I'm been making this for years. I even made it in Turkey. If Beretta added just a touch of lemon juice it would brighten it up.

I am off on the bike. I'm having duck with fig sauce tonight.

Adrenaline Junky

Boy do I love to ride! In the city or anywhere I become a bike messenger again. Get out of my way you dweebs and I weaved in and out of traffic like the Indy 500 jocking for first place in line. But it doesn't have to be bike riding, I could be running, or swimming or hiking. Whatever it is I like going as fast as I can. And I like beating guys.

The other day I passed this guy with big calves- me on my shitty little bike (actually, I like Nick's bike, but it's not anywhere as nice as my expensive bikes, which are in storage at the moment). He was trying to wipe my ass to keep up. Of course, today I got passed big time. Believe me I don't put myself in a league anywhere close to someone like Mario Cippolini, my favorite cyclist although he's retired now.

When I'm riding it's seems like it's the best, but then swimming seems like it's the best, if I'm in the water. Hiking definitely seems like the best. Me alone in the mountains - what could be better? Usually I run more than anything else because of the convenience and I love that too.

I guess you could say I love adrenaline. Better than any relationship by far and I'm not lying.

Not Over yet

Just because I'm in San Francisco doesn't mean my travel days are over. Well, they are never over because I'm obsessive about traveling and everything else.

I could have stayed in Turkey and it would have been much cheaper, instead of having to spend the airfare to go back. But there was no way I was going to miss seeing my friends in SF. Have you ever left your city and then only had limited time to see everyone you know there? I'm booked and every time I come here it's the same thing.

Maybe it's just me. I collect people. Some people collect things - material things like clothes and household goods, but I collect people. I can't let go. Once you know me it's hard to get rid of me.

I'm having a great time going to dinner, lunch, coffee, hikes, walks and other outings like tonight I saw my friend belly dance at Amnesia. I also saw a woman there give a imitation of a blow job. How often can you see that? I absolutely love San Francisco!

So I bought a ticket back to Turkey. Yes I'm seeing Emino again, but if it wasn't for Lisa or my other support team in Kusadasi I wouldn't go. Nothing else is going on in my life and it seems, at least, like a good story. Plus this time I'm stopping off in London to see my niece and her husband and Elisabeth who I met in Tblisi, Georgia.

Does that sound like a plan?

Rerun

I am in my beloved city of San Francisco. Both Emino and Lisa wanted me to cancel my flight and I thought about it. But after what I said about Emino, my friend Nick (and actually other friends) asked if I was alright -meaning : Do I need therapy?

My friends Nick and Kathy wanted me to stay in their beautiful Victorian and take care of their kitties. This is not the first time I've done this nor the first time that I've stayed at their house for whatever reason. I come every chance I get. I was here four times last year.

For those of you who don't know, I'm homeless and have been for two years. I left a rent control apartment, job, pension, health care for romance. I was going to move to the middle of nowhere for a guy I met while hiking. My first impression of this guy was that he was a nut case - seriously. My friend Nancy and I were at the end of our five day hiking trip in Glacier, heading out of the park the next day. Rick said he was afraid of bears and wanted to know if he could join us. Nancy and I both discussed this in the tent that night. We decided we had pepper spray and he didn't. But the next morning after only a few hours I decided I was going to move to where he lived in Wisconsin and make goat cheese.

I've always been adventureous. I use to move at the drop of a hat, as the cliche goes, until I moved to San Francisco, the most beautiful city in the world. Except for two year long trips and many two month ones, I'd been in San Francisco for over 20 years. I had been looking for an excuse to leave.

With the help of my girlfriends and former boyfriend, James, I packed all my belongings. In the middle of January, when there is the most snow, I drove to the midwest, a place I'd been planning to leave since I was in the first grade and did as soon as I was out of high school.

I didn't want to move immediately to Wisconsin because after 30 yrs on the west coast I wasn't used to the cold. I thought I'd put my stuff in my mother house near Kansas City, Missouri and go to New Zealand for two months. When I returned in the spring I'd move to Wisconsin. I kiddingly told Rick that I wanted to ease into the tundra.

The day before I left to New Zealand, Rick said all bets were off. He absolutely did not want me moving to Wisconsin. And you know what? I've had an exciting two years. I think my whole life has been excitng and even though I've had a lot of drama I wouldn't trade it anything.

Why am I telling you this? I am an adrenaline junky. I know my little affair with Emino will not last. I'm not that stupid. He has apologized over and over and begged me to come back. So guess what - I am.

Why I Love Police

Over three months ago I made reservations at the hostel where I stayed previously in Istanbul. Except for the winter it's always high season in Istanbul and I wanted to make sure I got an inexpensive nice place. Well, the guy who took my deposit didn't work there anymore. I put a deposit down for one night but made reservations for two. The new employees had none of this information, it wasn't written down anywhere, and having traveled for nine hours to get from Bozcaada to Istanbul I was not happy.

My deposit was for a four bed bunk room but there wasn't one available. They put me in a cheaper eight bunk bed room. The new employees though friendly were incompetent. I decided to let them think I paid for two night instead of one. Karma would probably get me.

Istanbul is a beautiful city and after I had a shower the rest of my time was enjoyable although, I still couldn't eat. This is not typical behavior for me. If anything I over eat.

The next morning I take an uneventful shuttle to the airport and that's where the uneventful stops.

For most people you pay $20 when you get to Turkey and that's good for three months. People who want to stay longer, leave and pay another 20 bucks when they come back.
When I came back from Georgia I paid 20 bucks and the passport police stamped my passport and I thought I was good for another three months.

NO! I guess whoever took my money didn't do the proper paper work (or any paper work) and I was told at the Istanbul airport that I overstayed my visit. Of course, it wasn't just as simple as that. There was the language barrier. My flight was leaving in a half hour. My backpack was already being loaded on the plane. I was one exit stamp away from heading to my gate.

"Go to the passport control office." "Where's that?" I ask. But those were the only English words he knew. I frantically try to find it and when I do and officer there says I must pay more. "But I left Turkey and paid the 20 bucks when I returned. Here's the stamp that proves it."

"That stamp doesn't count, only the first one," the officer says. I tried to explain. He wouldn't listen. "Go to tourist information." I end up running, literally running to the tourist info desk, the passport contol office, and the chief of the passport control who was near the exit gate - to each of these places three times.

Why, you ask? Well, the fine was $200 and at one point, because I had learned all those Turkish curse words, I had the passport control officer throw my money and passport at me. The scene was getting pretty ugly. I thought they might throw me in jail. Maybe I should act more like a damsel in distress than a Tasmanian Devil.

Can't Get Enough Food

I had the most fantastic meal at Yosun's two nights before I left Bozcaada. I don't know why but they love me and give me special treatment, prices and extras. I hope I can duplicate at least their salads. They will definitely be on my dinner party menus.

The salads here, as I've said before, have parsley, dill and mint in them. That night it was just those three main ingredients and it was perfect. It was the dressing, which had a tiny bit of the exceptionally delicious extra virgin olive oil, Bozcaada has some of the best I've ever tasted. But the kicker was the pomogranite juice and seeds.

I also had stuffed grilled squid with dill flavored cheese; pine nuts and cardamon rice stuffed squash blossoms; roasted red peppers stuffed with herbed cream cheese; and the best, which Yusef always treats me to, a toro type sashimi - fatty raw fish that melts in your mouth.

Lisa makes perfect el dente pastas, crispy pizzas, and authentic stir fries. Her cheesecake is the best I've ever had. I use to think Cafe Grecos or L'Osteria del Forno in San Francisco had the best. Both are Italian sytle as is Lisa's, but Lisa's beats them out. Forget that awful Cheesecake Factory shit! But since I obviously eat at Lisa's often I decided to go back to Yosun's for my last meal.

Unfortunately, I was so upset about leaving Bozcaada I could barely eat. Still I ordered three mezes and two glasses of wine like I did the night before. It was all delicious but because of my state I couldn't enjoy it as much. I was sure the bill would be the same as last night 25 trl ($15). I never asked the prices at Yosun's. I usually got what Yusef suggested. I have never paid more than 25trl, but unlike any other time I guess tonight the owner was there. I was shocked when I saw that my bill was 50 trl! I didn't have enough money on me and had to run to Lisa's house to get my credit card. Yusef and Ercon, my other buddy, were embarassed but it wasn't their fault. It didn't stop me from crying as I said goodbye.

I then went to Lisa's Cafe and said goodbye to her employees; Jon who made me practice Turkish and make me say it correctly and sweet tiny Merve who always wore the most adorable clothes. I was crying big time then and I cried as I said goodbye to all of Bozcaada as I made my way back to Lisa's house to sleep. I was catching the early ferry off the island in the morning.

Bunny Suits

Even here in Bozcaada on Ayazma Beach there are women in what I call bunny suits. No not the Playboy bunny suits, but the ones kids wear on Halloween. The only thing missing are the ears. They are waterproof. I thought of bunny suits because I saw one woman wearing a pink one. I've also seen blue and the traditional black. Their husbands wear swimming trunks and the kids, whether they are male or female, wear what other kids wear. Only the mother is made to look like a sack of potatoes. She can't swim but floats around like a whale. To each their own I say but I can't help but feel disgusted. Lisa says they should be shot. "Lisa, really don't be so violent!"

Unfortunately I have no pictures.

Tenedos

I love Bozcaada and the local people. I make my rounds and practice speaking Turkish with everyone. I will have spent a month here total. In April I was the only tourist and now Bozcaada is packed, especially this weekend because the head patriarch of the Greek Othodox church is here. The patriarch hasn't been here in forty years or something like that. There is still a Greek section in Bozcaada but most were removed in the 20's. The Greeks called Bozcaada Tenedos. When the Patriarch came off the ferry he was surrounded by Greeks. Many Greeks came here to see him. He's like the Pope. I'm as religious as an ant but I shook his hand. It was all quite exciting.

When I say packed I mean compared to other beach resorts. Bozcaada is not a resort. It hasn't been discovered - really. Thank god for the all the vineyards on the island. There's not a lot of room for more growth..

Every morning I hitch to my favorite beach, Ayazma. In April I didn't mind walking the whole way, but it's too hot now. Well, not anywhere as hot elsewhere on the Turkish coast and at night there is a pleasant breeze.

There wasn't a shuttle going to the beach in April but there is now. Although it doesn't leave early enough for me. I like to swim in the morning and leave by 1 pm when it gets crowded. Sometimes it takes one ride and sometimes three and sometimes I still have to walk a lot. Yesterday Scooter Boy saw me and made a U-turn. He tried to make a detour but I said No. He doesn't understand. Today I got a ride all the way in a Jaguar.

I have a ritual. First thing is to the borek cafe, where Umit works. Savoy stuffed bread things and orange juice. When I come back from the beach I might do some things for Lisa at the Cafe and at night if it's busy with English speaking tourists I translate. I really like this because I love to talk. The tourists from Istanbul usually speak English and I get to have fun conversing with them. I feel like I've made so many friends.

Like I said before (months ago) Lisa owns the local paper. The night before, a famous Turkish lithographer, Fethi Kayaap had a gallery showing here. He was born on Bozcaada and he came back to show the influence it had on him. I got to go with Lisa. There was lots of wine from the local vineyards and appetizers. The place was filled with wealthy people and me. I feel honor to be Lisa's friend.

When Are You Going to Grow Up?!

I've heard this many times during my life. The last few days I've been running around with a couple of 26 yr old girls. I swear I'm the same age. I am perpetually stuck at the age of 26. I can't get out of this cyclone. It's exhausting. My 52 yr old body can't take it, but I see no end. I thought I had it bad but here is a couple of stories that made me feel better about my situation.

I am changing the name of these two girls for their protection. Samamtha, while studying architecture on the Aegean Sea, met a local Turk. A Turk with tatoos and dreadlocks and, of course, amazing in bed. It seems he wanted to marry her after only one night. Even more unusual was the fact that his mother wants him to marry her too. In front of Samamtha she says what beautiful children they would have and how much Yasun loves her. Does it have something to do with her being an American?

It was all idyllic until they left their oasis and went to Izmir. Then Yasun started drinking heavily and became possessive and hostile, something to do with his father I take it. The clincher was when he made out with another woman. Samamtha witnessed this and took off with Yasun chasing after her. He grabbed her arms and started dragging her through the streets. She has a huge gash on her leg from being dragged through a gutter and had to be taken to the hospital.

Samamtha decided she had to get away and during the night she slipped away and changed hotels. I would think he was a nut case and would leave the country, but no she has forgave him and when I last saw her she was on her way to Istanbul to meet him again.

Oh then there is Kathy. She met an Israeli in New Orleans. He cheated on her right and left, but when they were together she thought they had such a wonderful connection. Even Samamtha thought they were good together. Still Kathy couldn't take it anymore and went to India for a year to get over him. While she was in India she met another former girlfriend of the Israeli and discovered he was selling Dead Sea Salt in some shopping mall in Denver where it so happened Samamtha was living.

She goes to Denver and has Samamtha, who was in the middle of her masters' finals, take her to every shopping mall in the area. Well Kathy found him and since his visa was about to expire she married him. Now she still lives in New Orleans and he lives in Denver. She's not over him. Go figure!

I'm telling you this because although I am going back to the States next week I may be back. I decided my situation is no where near as crazy as theirs. I don't want a relationship and Emino doesn't beat me. I just want him to myself which he has promised if I come back - OH YEA! If I do, believe me, I will make a scene. Emino has given me permission, not that I need it!

Oh god! Hopefully San Francisco will help me get over all this craziness.

I actually love Bozcaada and Lisa more. I think I will miss them the most. I hate Kusadasi I would only be going there for the sex. I was even thinking of sleeping with poor scooter boy again, he has been so sweet. He doesn't understand why I don't want to be with him again but he hasn't pressured me. I doubt that I do though only because I may come back and that would make it worse.

Oh yea I'm good

So when Emino gets off work he comes to see me at the hotel. I try my best to wear him out before he leaves. Poor guy I don't how long he can keep going like this - lying and keeping it up for everyone. He tells me, "You're wild. I like sex with you." I say to myself, "I'm so - so out of here!"

I told you about Mehmet, the young boy in Diyarbikir. Mehmet was only 22 yrs old and he had a Brazilian gilfriend who was 47 yrs old. He has since told me that she wants nothing to do with him. If we both knew that we were both being shit on we would have slept together. I really don't Emino to know this because I want him to find him a job but he now has my blog site.

Yes, the sex was great with Emino. I'm addicted to new sex. All the positions with someone different are not boring. I tried to get my money's worth. Two months more and I would have had enough. I wouldn't have cared if he had someone else then but I wasn't ready for that yet. I couldn't take him leaving after we were finished. Our last night I kept him until 3 am. The other girl (she was 30 yrs old) must have been a fool. On the other hand she was the one staying at his house. It's nice to have a free place to stay when you go on a trip.

I went back to Bozcaada. I really want nothing to do with scooter boy this time, but he doesn't understand, since he speaks no English, why I am brushing him off. He follows me around. He waits outside the internet cafe, he walks by Lisa's Cafe a hundred times. All he can say is, "Rosa Rosa Rosa." with sad puppy eyes.

Such is life!

Stories Behind the Pictures

I mentioned in previous blogs both my hairdresser, pedicurist, and Ali, the beach boy. You must go back six weeks when I was in Kusadasi the first time. They are now my dear friends.

Fetih, Seda, and a friend of theirs, Gulchin taught me all these nasty words to call Emino. Some are so nasty I can no longer have people write their names and such in the back of my journal. One person saw the words and was shocked. I tried to explain fun at the salon. But I know they have a different opinion of me now. One word is something I don't even say at home and it's not MFer.

Ali said the guy is a bastard and I am way to good to put up with that. Everyday he's had to listen to the torrid affair and has given me sympathy. I will miss these people. I'm going to Bozcaada tomorrow. Lisa, my friend with the cafe, says to get my ass there ASAP. She needs some fun. I will not be seeing scooter boy this time. NO WAY- No shephard hut for me. Emino is bad but I really needed my head examined for that one!

Rumeli Hotel

I don't know where you thought Emino was putting me up. I would have wondered and I did before we got there. It's his cousin's place and it's actually pretty nıce. The bathroom is clean. There is always hot water, although in this heat I could easily take a cold one. I have a balcony and the main thing is the friendly staff. I don't know what they think of me. Well, I do but they don't show it what-so-ever.

Kasim is a great cook. One night he grilled fish and another perfect basmati rice with chicken in a pepper/tomato sauce. I'm looking forward to more. Well I was looking forward to more but I couldn't stand it anymore - waiting for my hour with Emino.

I wasn't the only one with an ilicit affair there. One day I couldn't leave because someone was getting a bloody nose at the entrance. I guess this guy's brother-in-law punched him out for having an affair at this hotel. Then, I am assuming, the mother-in-law, got involved too - older woman screaming big time. It was quite exciting and I was glad it didn't involved me!

More thrills but not violent - a wedding next door. I went over to check it out. I couldn't resist the dancing. Soon there was more pictures of me than the wedding couple.

Mehmet Topal

I never finish telling you about Diyarbikir. It's a Kurdish town. So is Van and Kars but Diyarbikir is known for it's radicalism. The people more than anywhere else want the world to know that it is safe there. I never even thought about it not being safe. I went to Kashmir/Pakistan in the early 90's. I went to northern Peru and did a trek alone there in the mid 80's when it was swarming with Sendero Luminosos.

Well Diyarbikir is definitely safe but the reason you should go is because of the people. Mehmet Topal for one but I hope he leaves or can leave. The city isn't big enough or sophisicated enough for him. He's tried before getting jobs in other cities in Turkey but because his ID says he's from Diyarbikir he can't get a job elsewhere. Mehmet speaks fluent English/French etc. He's helped foreign journalists by being a translator for the Kurdish language. He last helped a French journalist who never paid him. I'm worried about him. I was even more upset when the address I copied came back. Thank heavens I tried a variation and it went through.

Mehmet showed me around Diyarbikir and refused to take any money. He wasn't the only one who wanted to be my free guide. An English teacher wanted me see how safe and historical Diyarbikir is. And before Mehmet showed me around I had plenty of help from other locals. You need help because the city streets are a maze. Of course, like so many other times I was invited into a chai shop. I had two and was refused payment. See pix of all the men.

I just want the outside world to realize the political situation of the Kurds.

Fool For Love

Emino begged me to come back to see him. I was so anxious. I flew from Diyarbikir to Izmir where I had to make my way to the Izmir bus station 15 miles away. Then rushed to make the quickest connection to Kusadasi. I had a 25 min. walk in 90 something degree temperature with my packback on to his shop. Needless to say I was drenched in sweat.

He kisses me then tells me he's paying for a hotel room for me because he has yet ANOTHER woman living with him. He will pay for this room until she leaves in Aug! She had also already planned on visting him and he doesn't want to hurt her. He saıd he knew ıf he told me before I wouldn't have come - DAMN RIGHT! Where is my fucking brain? I decided to take advantage of the freebie but I'm miserable. Well, I was until I went swimming today. I'm thinking free room and I get to swim in the beautiful clear water.

Oh I'm getting sex and I'm punishing him by making him go south even if I could care less. But after the sex is over he goes back to his house. He can't sleep with me. He thinks I should stay until she leaves and move in with him then. Can you believe!

The good news is that I will come back as planned. I miss my beloved San Francisco.

Wındow Seat

Before I get my bus tıcket I decıde whıch sıde wıll have the better vıew. From Van to Dıyarbıkır I knew I wanted to be on the rıght sıde. I thought I made thıs plaın wıth my motıons because that has always worked before. I should have learned the word for rıght sıde wındow because thıs tıme I was gıven the left sıde. All bus companıes have a mını bus that pıcks you up from theır offıce and takes you to the maın bus termınal so I dıd not know what seat I had untıl I got there.

I poınted to the the seat I wanted and showed the steward my tıcket. I had scratched out the old seat number and put ın the new one. He laughed and saıd no problem. Well, there was no problem untıl a couple of hours later when a couple came on and I had theır seat. I have to tell you these seat numbers do not always mean anythıng because women can not sıt next to men and they are always rearrangıng people because of thıs. I just sat at another empty wındow seat. The steward dıd not say anythıng but I knew he was talkıng about me. He obviously thought I was a problem and he showed thıs by servıng me my tea last.

That dıd not bother me as much as beıng dropped off ın Dıyarbıkır wıthout a clue to where I was. I was not dropped off at the otogar where I knew I could catch a mını bus to the town center.

I saıd the name of the street I wanted to go to to a couple of women. Whıle they looked at my map a mını bus pulls up and I say the name of the street to the drıver. He motıons to get ın. It was not long before I realızed I was not on hıs route. I thought I had had bad drıvers before or maybe because I sat ın the front seat where I could see the horror. Thıs guy drove as fast as he could and abruptly stopped wıthın ınches fo the vehıcles ın front of us. I swear he came so close to hıttıng a kıd that even he gasped. As for me I was gaspıng, screamıng and brancıng myself for a sudden ımpact.

Just when I was never goıng to get out of thıs bus and I was about to ınsıst on hım lettıng me off he pulls ın front of my hotel of choıce and refuses any money. Welcome to Dıyarbıkı.

Mıscommunıcatıon

Not everyone ın Turkey ıs wonderful. Maybe ıt ıs mıscommunıcatıon and locals thınkıng all tourısts have lots of money. Certaınly most have more.

I had enough chaı and I wanted coffee preferable an espress but I was sure that was out of the questıon. Whıle I was lookıng at my map a young, very cute guy asks ıf he can help - Yunus and you can see hıs pıcture. Yunus takes me to a place that serves a decent ıced espresso. Yunus had only been back ın Van for less than one month after lıvıng ın Aspen, Colorado. He looked lıke a snow boarder and he was. Would you lıke to go to the beach? Well, of course, I would lıke nothıng better than to swım ın Lake Van. He calls hıs father and arranges for a car. Once we were on the road he tells me we need to get gas. "We wıll splıt thıs you pay 25 trl and I wıll pay 25 trl." I am totally shocked. An eıght hour bus rıde cost about the same. I wıshed later that I dıd not have the money on me but I had ıt and forked ıt over.

When he gets the gas he just puts ın my 25 trl. "I wıll put my share ın later." Sınce ıt only takes about 15 mın to get to the beach he does not need to do thıs. BTW Yunus asked to be my facebook frıend and there ıs a possıbılıty that he wıll read thıs. He was ınterested ın gettıng hıs pıcture on my blog.

Trash, trash, trash I swear I have never seen as much trash as I have seen ın Eastern Turkey. On the bus the steward serves everyone tea and coffee and after we are done and he collects ıt all and he tosses ıt out the door. The scenery ıs beautıful or would be ıf ıt was not fılled wıth trash. Lake Van was no dıfferent. Plastıc bags, cans, paper, cıgerette butts, etc were everywhere. The lake looked clear and blue but when I got ın yellow bubbles surrounded me. Oh and gettıng ın -women do not swım here. How can you swım ın all those scarves? I took my T-shırt off to expose my bıkını top and the mouths of nearby women dropped. I can not ımagıne what would have happened ıf there were men around to see. I had to crawl down the rocky coast where I was not seen to get ın. So much for the beach because only famılıes go there - not women wıth bıkınıs. At least I can say I swam ın the pıssed fılled Lake Van and ıt only cost me 15 bucks! I thınk Yunus had been around too many rıch Aspenites and thought thıs was a drop ın the bucket to me. The real hıghlıght was lıstenıng to Yunus` CD of the Blacked Eyed Peas.

Eastern Turkey

After walking up to the castle for the sunset I got distracted by a fruit market. (Cherries and other stone fruit are in season.) It should've have been be easy to walk back to the main part of town but I got lost. A whole family guided me in the right direction: grandma, aunts, mother, father, and children. I don't know how I got so far off. On the way they helped me practice my Turkish. By time I got back to the main drag we were old friends. All the women had on scarves and long sleaves. I had on short sleaves and no scarf. It didn't matter. They loved me and and it was like I was a family member going away. They took my picture. I didn't have my camera, which is typical. The grandmother hugged me the tightest and there were kisses on both cheeks all around.

I found an internet cafe and without my asking they kept bringing me chai. This was in Kars. I'm now in Van, Kurdish territory, sitting in an internet cafe and it's the same thing. They are so thrilled that I'm here and wanting to make sure everything is alright.

When I arrived in Van I was taken under the wings of two students. They made sure I got from the otogar (bus station) to the center of town and told me they would show me to my hotel. First we had to go their house where they lived with several other students. Of course, chai was served. They tried to teach me Kurdish, which is what everyone speaks here.

"No No No Don't get me confused! It's enough to learn Turkish." I told them I'd have my boyfriend call them and translate - that's Emino. Their English was limited so they called their teacher to come over. He spoke some English but really at that point I was overwhelmed. When I arrive somewhere I just want to check into a room and freshen up. They started making me dinner but I insisted, please no. I plan on seeing them tomorrow.

Just a little insight to the wonderful people in this area and all over Turkey.

Border People

What a great day! I left Marina's place at 6:50 thinking I could catch the 7 am marshratka to Akhartsikhe. As I walked down the tree lined boulevard I smiled at several men, something I don't usually do because it means an open invitation to what I don't know but just the same. Across the street a man in his shop calls out, "I love you!" I must have passed his shop many times but I never bought anything there. I thought that's a good ending to Borgomi and Georgia. But that wasn't the end.

The marshratka didn't leave until 7:30. I had time for coffee then. Nothing was open even though the people who were up tried their damnest to find something for me. Finally a man went into his bus company office and made me a Turkish coffee with his little kit. I call these coffees Turkish or tintos (from Columbia) but the Georgians have their own method although they all taste the same - close to mud. I've grown to like them. Another man had been helping me - telling me where I should stand when the correct bus comes. He watches for me. I have my picture taken with these two.

I thought I had the last seat in this marshratka that should seat 14, but at one point there were 21 people beating out the bus I took from Ushguli that had 17. There was no back to my seat but I had a view and I wasn't smashed or had to stand. It was a short ride, only an hour and a half.

When I got to Akhartsikhe I knew I'd have to take a taxi to the border. I could have given him 15 gel but I was leaving Georgia and the money would be useless in Turkey. I hoping to find a kachapuri that hot cheese stuff pastry but still nothing was open. People in Georgia really don't open anything up until 9 or 10 am. The driver tried to find me kachapuri on the way to the border but no such luck. I gave him 18 gel. We get to the border at 9:15 and it doesn't open until 10am. I had my I-Pod.

It was really easy crossing over, sincerely saying goodbye to the Georgian border patrol and telling the Turkish guys I was happy to be back.

Back - nothing was at the other side. There were no vehicles of any kind. One guy said he could call a taxi but I used my taxi quota for the coming year. I'll just wait in the middle of nowhere and hope I can hitch with someone else coming across the border. Posof the next town was 12 km away and where I hoped to catch a dolmas to Kars.

About 10 minutes later a good looking guy comes towards the deadend. I see him talking with the border patrol guy. He doesn't have a vehicle. There's not a chance he speaks English. I ask him if he's taking a taxi. He is. Mevlut is an electronics engineer and he speaks English. You don't how many times I've lucked out picking the right person who just happens to speak English. But that's not all I've lucked out about.

He ıs gettıng a taxı to Ardahan about an hour and half away. Mevlut wıll not let me pay. It ıs a very scenıc - green green rollıng hılls rıde and ın thıs dolmas there ıs only Mevlut myself and the drıver. (BTW I have only the Turkısh alphabet here so there are no commas.)

I thınk Mevlut would have paıd my way all the way to Kars. He dıd not thınk I had any Turkısh money. I only had an hour more to get to Kars and Mevlut made sure I was safely on.

Next the frıendly people of Kars - lıke thıs guy who makes sure I always have a full cup of free chaı (tea) whıle I wrıte thıs.

Can't Plug

Every homestay I was at I could plug. Most of the women acted like mothers. They wanted to care for you. I stayed at Lmedo's five nights on and off. Her place was convenient. It was in the old town Tbilisi, next to the baths, the hip cafes and restaurants. Lmedo cared for people. She had her hands full caring for people: her two beautiful daughters, two nephews and whenever I came back from wherever there was always another young man sleeping on the sofa ( 2:00 in the afternoon) and/or in the room I stayed. I could never put my pack in there immediately because of that. I didn't care. I usually wanted to just pee ( but the bathroom would be occupied) and splash water on my face (I did it in the kitchen sink) and take off my hiking boots and put on my Tevas. I would head out to my favorite cafe for the best ice coffee I've had in my life. As soon as they saw my face they knew what I wanted. I knew Tbilisi. I knew where the various bus stations were located, I knew the metro system to get there.

At the Kala Cafe I would use their clean bathroom and load up on toilet paper. At Lmedo's there was either none or it was sopping wet (the sopping wet brown paper towel type) from one of the kids using the shower and spraying the water everywhere. The kids, meaning the boys, were around 20 yrs old. They were unemployed college students (I'm assuming) who slept until 2 pm and stayed out all night. If you're the type that sleeps from 5 am until 2 pm you would be fine staying here. Fine if you don't mind dirty bathrooms and fleas from the kitty. My body is covered in bites now. I never slept there much but the last night was the worst. There was always some kind of racket going on - fights in and out of the house. Maybe someone was upset that I was occupying their room.

I stayed there because of the convenience and because of Dako, and especially Anna, who one night took me on a night tour of the city. The best time to see Tbilisi - the beautiful buildings were lit up and the night breeze made it bearable to walk. Anna wasn't being my guide just to be nice. She wanted to go out too but didn't want to walk alone. She was only 13 yrs old. Dari (Dako) was 14 yrs old. They both spoke English but Anna spoke it best. You can see how cute they are!

Like I said my last night was the worse. I don't know who was fighting but in the morning Lmedo unlocked the door for me to leave when she heard I was up. She didn't want to see me off like the other times and I really didn't want to see her either.

A couple of notes: drivers - you know the white line down the middle of the road? Well, that is a passing lane. The cars on each side will move over to widen the road even police cars - I swear! It happens every time I'm in a vehicle. Second note: I absolutely love Georgian people. They will stop whatever they are doing to take you where you want to go - I mean way out of their way.

The streets in Tbilisi are similar to the ones in Vietnam. I scream as I cross and I only cross with someone. I did this as a man was taking me to my desired restaurant. Then the last: I don't normally like transportation people I think they always try to rip you off. Twice I've had the mini bus driver give me a free ride because I was lost. And when I ask where the mini bus to Borgomi was located a taxi driver yelled out, "I'll take you there." A man that was helping me pointed correctly to where I should go then went over to the taxi driver to start a fight. I know he said something to the effect, "Do you think she's stupid or rich? Who would take a taxi to Borjomi hours away?"

I'm in Borgomi. Another mountain town and my last before going back to Turkey.