For those new to my blog, (or those who’d like to read this again), here is a post I wrote about visiting Turkey in November, many years ago.
I am re-posting it today because of our WWI history with that nation, and my enduring love for the country and her people.Please read and enjoy:
His steely eyes surveyed me through a sea of stubble (his five o’clock shadow grew well past the usual demarcation lines), as he slung my overly heavy backpack into the deep hole beneath the bus, one November in Turkey.
He grunted and jerked his head towards the door. I watched him watch me climb the stairs and then I turned to face the aisle. I was hit by a choking river of smoke. Some thirty or so pairs of eyes peered out at me as I made my way up the bus.
I secured myself a window seat; a window that didn’t open. Resting my cheek against the cool glass offered little relief from the heat of my forehead. The driver slid into his seat, pulled a big lever and locked us into his silver vessel of smoke, sweat and stale air, where we’d stay for the next 15 hours…
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