Two weeks now and not a pip. You must be salivating for the next leg of my journey, laid out in exquisite prose for your reading enjoyment. (Can a journey have more than two legs? I mean if there is a journey animal, then it can, right? maybe four? I know. The journey animal has 10 legs as there were 5 members of the original touring lineup. Don't stop believin') In reality you most likely deleted the link and I am typing a pointless diatribe to my self. C'est la vie.
The trip over left the slightest bit to be desired. The champagne was served in flight slightly above the preferred temperature (48°F). The airline stewards did not greet me with the traditional "Good morning monsieur Carroll" to which I am accustomed. Furthermore the pepper-flaked pate infused Brie was a touch on the runny side.
Oh yeah, in "real life" I sat sandwiched between a snoring Englishman and one of 14 women all wearing the same shirt going to Istanbul for some sort of female version of a bachelor party. Lovely.
After listening for hours to them make noises not unlike a flock of hens discovering an open bag of chickenfeed we arrived in Istanbul. There I was picked up by my gracious and wonderful partner, the beautiful, the intelligent the resourceful, Rana.
The first few days have been filled to the brim with a murky liquid called jetlag. Whoever tells you it doesn't exist is selling something. A heavy malaise hovers expectantly over even the most minute action. For example, every time I sat down I felt like I'd been doing ab exercises with the men from that "300" film. Out like the lights at an all-girls boarding school was I.
Now that the jetlag has run it's course like the cruel drug it be, we decided to go hiking today . I can't tell you how beautiful it was. It was beautiful (ok so I can). At least that is until I fell off of a rock wall looking while looking at the black sea. I'm fine, I'm fine. No need for the letters and flowers I'm sure you were going to send, but I was doing one of those "things." You know those things that your mother told you not to do.
I was "horsing around" on the rocks and I paid the piper with a leg like a used bowling pin. Wee. The walk back to the ferry that had brought us there was fine, didn't feel a thing. Once I sat for a while though my shin ballooned, a marshmallow in the microwave-like heat of Istanbul.
With some trouble I disembarked and made it to the Dolmuş (a little yellow mini-bus) which would take me to safety. Here I lie. Beer in one hand, leg (the third leg of my journey?) elevated, and shin covered in a makeshift ice pack (frozen onion rings). Oh how the semi-mighty have fallen. More soon. Love to you all.
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