A Cruise up the Bosporus

The last couple of weeks since I last posted have thrown me into a bit of a tailspin… the days blend together as I fight to remember what it is that inspires me on this journey.

I pull away, revert to introverted ways, and brush off the power of exposure… of putting the experiences and emotions I’ve experienced into the universe for even one other soul to read.

I live to have experiences like these and for the confidence that there is more, much more to discover.

 

April 8, 2012

We woke to yet another bountiful breakfast at our Bed and Breakfast. We began chatting with a couple, expats living in Switzerland, who bore connections and resemblances to us that were rather awesome.

Being that this was to be the last sunny day for quite a while, we altered the itinerary and set out for a cruise along the Bosporus (or Bosphorus) Strait. As we walked down the winding streets towards the water, we heard the bustling of early morning activity. I’d say my favorite part of a new place is wandering in the early morning… markets coming to be, residents finding their way.

We passed the men shouting “Bosporus, Bosporus, Bosporus, Bosporuuuuuus… 2 hour not 6 hour” and headed to the official cruise dock. The cue was long but manageable… other than the well dressed couples who found their way to the front of the scowling line without worry.

We boarded the boat and settled into a little indoor sport right next to the window. For the next 2 hours, I snapped photo after photo, reeling at the joy I was feeling.

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At one stop we were treated to an offering of yogurt produced by the hosting town.

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We arrived at a small Black Sea town. Upon stumbling off the ferry we traveled into the city in search of a bite. We found a quick snack then ventured up an ill-marked trail which winded through what appeared to be backyards and well positioned restaurants. We arrived at the top of a small mountain housing the remains of Rumeli Castle. The panoramic image left me breathless as we rested on a rock by the sea, still not completely in belief that we were there.
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Before lining up for our return journey we stumbled upon the bakery in town that serves the Black Sea specialty I’d read so much about… a cornbread hosting anchovies and sauteed onions. With that and a few pastries to pay for,  I asked if I could take a photo. To my surprise the two bakers posed, then motioned for me to walk behind the counter so that he could take my photo with the head baker near the oven.

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And with that, my real self emerged, laughing at the spectacle I was living, and proving she was still there despite it all.

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