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After a morning cup of coffee I took a direct route to the train station and boarded the first train heading towards Barcelona. I didn’t offer Jim a single word. He either followed or went his own way and at that point I wasn’t going to give it too much consideration. I wasn’t interest in continuing the conversation from the night before so sat in my own compartment. About a quarter of the way to Barcelona a group of travelers from North Africa joined in and donated some hash for the ride. …
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We proceeded down this path through a country side park, colored and shaded by many trees and leading into one of the many veins of London’s underground. When we resurfaced we were in the heart of London. It arose more from the haze of my memory than from the morning fog, my childhood memories of nursery rhymes and children songs accompanied every step. …
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I was awakened by the sound of sweeping in the distance. It’s funny how things looked different under the light of the day. I really thought we had selected an isolated location where we could be unnoticed but the fact was we practically slept on top of a monument. It was comfortable and no one bothered us and would have been perfect if we weren’t sharing the space with a colony of ants. …
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I planned on taking a bus over to the ruins in Lindos but Jenni wasn’t feeling well and wasn’t too motivated to go anywhere. “I’ll see you tonight” I told her. The thought of missing something changed her mind and she decided to come along anyway. It was a nice sunny day with a cool breeze. A gorgeous little white washed village lodged under a Roman acropolis. …
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A small mini-bus arrived and toted us off to Pamukkale. I only knew what I had read in the bible and in travel brochures about Pamukkale. I understood that it was one of the seven churches Apostle Paul wrote letters to and was coined the “Cotton Castle” of the ancient world. There was an extremely old hot spring that was believed to have healing power and over time became a center of a pagan cult. Large limestone steatite created a beautiful arrangement of pools. …
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After packing up my clean clothes I headed off early into the city, sat behind a cup of coffee just off the main square, with pen in hand I watched the city wake up around me. I found myself staring at the unique inner walls of the St. Catherine’s church. The inside was different from what I expected from its outside. It captured my attention and soul. The contrast between the dark and light was not like others churches I have visited. I sat off in one of the corners and for some time stared at the many faces looking down on me. …
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Jim joined the hostel attitude. He didn’t want to go anywhere, see anything, he just wanted to stick around the hostel and wash his clothes, so I sought out on my own. I checked out Albert Einstein’s home and then the modern art museum. “One man’s treasure is another man’s trash”. I love art but sometimes. I wandered the market and the local stops searching for Christmas gifts, but ended up buying chocolates to satisfy my taste buds instead. …
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The storm passed through very quickly. When the sun rose I gathered up my things and without even saying goodbye I headed down the volcano like I was escaping. I had just come out of a sulfur cloud, was coated in mud and must have smelled like shit. I sure felt like shit. When I finally made it back down to the residence below they too were cover in mud. I’m glad somebody could laugh at this. The first two people I saw were in the process of shoveling themselves out of the mud. …
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The clouds were telling no lies, this time they opened up and delivered rain. Bicycles were now out of the question, so we planned on thumbing our way south. We were hardly out of town when Jim started whining again. He’s like one of those thimble banging monkeys. Once his key gets turned there’s no way to turn him off, until his springs loosen. …
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This world was filled with small narrow roads hidden by hedge groves, secluded lakes, isolated rivers, hills to climb and valleys to explore. Tracking down a castle, graveyard or whatever we had earmarked on our map of antiquities was like our very own secret treasure hunt. Then at the end of every one of these little adventures, we found ourselves staring again at a wonderful pint of local ale, in a small pub in the center of whatever it was the center of. …
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With all the time I’ve been spending on trains I started to find it difficult to sleep without the cluttering of wheel against rail. I had an address of a hostel in Frankfurt that somebody had suggested along the way. It was late and dark when I reached Frankfurt and I didn’t have the best luck making sense of the piece of paper I was carrying. …
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We arrive early into Istanbul but were without coinage and to compound our dilemma that day was the Sabbath. All the exchanges in the station were closed. We walked across town and ended up being directed to a major hotel in the area, but they would only exchange money if we weren’t guests of the hotel. “Get a room and we’ll exchange money for you” the receptionist repeated to us twice. The only other option we had was to charter a taxi to the airport, but the taxi wanted to double charge for having two occupants. So Jenni went to the airport while I stayed behind and watched the bags in front of the hotel lobby. …
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I was disappointed that Jim didn’t have the same level of interest in seeing these local sites. I started referring to Jim as “Stationary”, because literally, he’d stay in the train station and read a book while waiting for me to return from my trek. Wasting opportunities like these between the pages of some romantic novel seemed foolish to me when this is all new. …
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I woke up with a serious problem. I don’t know if it was the combination of the exercise the other day, the consumption of alcohol or both but my arms had stiffened to the point where I could not extend them beyond a forty five degree angle. I tried carried my bags first in one hand and then the other using the weight of the bags to help stretch out my muscles, very scary. …
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With the birth of a new day we began to head back to fetch our bags from the hotel. Beyond all odds we managed to fit all of us and all the baggage into one cab. Two of us had to lie across laps in the back seat. Our taxi driver slid in an eight-track and we were off to the airport. I found it odd that the stewardess confiscated only the US passports and then forced us to sit in specific seats, “the American” section. I guess in case of hijacking that would better protect the locals. I believed my eyes closed for just a second but when they opened we were landing in Crete. …
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