And we're back . . .

The best thing about Turkey, of course, was the company I was keeping.

Other memories, I find, are not so much about the mountains and caves and farms and other-worldy landscapes and temple ruins and water pipes . . . but rather (in no particular order):

• Sitting on the patio at the B&B in Şirince (pronounced, I think, sher-IN-ja) listening to the muezzin chant the call to prayer.  I'd heard that call a good number of times and it always sounded foreign and exotic, but this time it also sounded beautiful.  What a wonderful voice that guy had!
• The young guy who worked at the Şirince B&B.  He had modest skills English skills, but my wonderful wife's question "Do you take care of the goats or does someone else do it?" was rather beyond his abilities.  I tried to help by doing my best goat impersonation.  He laughed and laughed and couldn't say anything for at least a minute.
• The old guy at the Şirince B&B.  He didn't speak any English and I didn't speak any Turkish, but I tried a couple "Thank you's" and his three-tooth smile was blinding.
• A fabulous (and insanely cheap!) dinner at Mevlevi Sofrasi Restaurant in Konya, on the balcony overlooking the fabulously picturesque Mevlana Cultural Center and mosque.  This was the wonderful wife's When-Harry-Met-Sally meal:  An "Uunnnhh!" following each bite.
• The whirling dervishes' ceremony at the Galata Mevlevihanesi on our first Sunday afternoon in Istanbul.  I loved the movement.  I loved the music.  I loved the seriousness -- the spirituality -- of the entire ceremony.
• The night manager(?) at our apartment on Istanbul's Asian side.  Like the old guy at Şirince, he didn't speak a lick of English.  But what a sweet guy!  When we checked out, I did that Turkish thing that shows affection and respect -- touching my temples to his (first the left, then the right).
• This was the first trip we took where we used a travel agent and arranged for "transfers" between airports (or bus stations) and hotels.  Gosh, what a  convenience!
• A good, inexpensive restaurant in Kadiköy -- the name of which, unfortunately, I can't recall.  After a good meal, the waiter told me that the dessert I wanted wasn't available that evening.  He suggested another.  I was reluctant -- who wants a dessert with mozzarella cheese in it?  I gave in.  He brought out something that looked like burnt shredded wheat and yes, it had mozzarella inside.  And it was one of the best things I've ever tasted!  This was my When-Harry-Met-Sally moment.  [Update:  The restaurant was Niyazibeh; the dessert, künefe.]
• Back to Şirince.  We took the minibus into Selçuk 15 minutes away at the bottom of the mountain, and then another minibus to Tire (pron. TEER-eh) to see its market.  I don't know if it's the biggest one in Turkey, but if there's one bigger, I don't want to see it.  This thing was enormous!  I can't count how many times we got lost.
• The people were almost without exception spectacularly friendly and helpful.  I like to think that I'm pretty willing to help people who need it, but the Turks put me to shame.  Stop someone on the street and ask for help -- Where's the Mevlana Restaurant?  Where do I get the bus to Selçuk?  Where's the ferry to Beşiktaş? If he knows he'll tell you or show you or take you there.  And if he doesn't know he'll ask other people until he finds out . . . and then he'll tell you or show you or take you there.
• Istanbul is enormous.  No, make that eeennnooorrrmmmooouuusss! And crowded! And traffic, both the pedestrian and the motor vehicle variety, is insane!  And I never -- not once -- saw anyone lose his temper or even appear frustrated by congested sidewalk and streets.
• I had been looking forward to the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul in the expectation that it would remind me of the souks in Riyadh 35 years ago.  Wrong.  A lot of junk with English speaking touts standing in front of almost every shop telling us that they have a cousin, nephew, brother in America and wouldn't we like to come in to take a look at their rugs, clothes, jewelry.
• On arriving at our hotel in the Asian part to Istanbul (10:30 on a Sunday night), I went out looking to buy water and beer.  I'll leave it to you to guess which was for me and which for the wonderful wife.  Lots of people out walking around or standing in small groups on street corners -- and I felt perfectly safe.  While I was buying my beer and water at a little hole in the wall shop on a side street, the police came in, checked the clerk's documents (business license, maybe, and driver's license) and then arrested him -- after kicking me out of the store.  I think we saw the police arrest, or at least hassle, someone every night we were on the Asian side.  
• I should mention that after being rousted by the cops that first night on the Asian side, I almost couldn't find my way back to our apartment. Not a comfortable feeling.

 And before I forget I should give a shout out to Turkish Airlines, which is -- what's the word I'm looking for? -- fabulous!

• Leg room!
• Restaurant-quality food!
• Real knives and forks!
• Free beer and wine and soft drinks and snacks!
• Affordable fares!