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We continued munching on nuts up to the entrance to the Topkapi Palace, the heart of the Ottoman Empire. I naturally avoided the circumcision room. I was very impressed with the jewels on display. The sultan’s armor had diamonds and emeralds the size of baseballs. I have a lot of respect for somebody who can step on battle field with jewelry of that value and not get raped. We crammed a lot into one day and I was dead on my feet so we didn’t wander far from our hotel to find food. …
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I convinced Jenni to take another day trip, this time to visit Masada. At the bus depot it was like joining a herd of sheep. If there was a terrorist attack it would not be good. Jenni kept reminding me of that. Alongside the Dead Sea and after passing a few scattered Bedouin camps I found myself wondering how far it was to the next tree. Masada was a magnificent plateau in the middle of nowhere. It’s hard to understand why anybody would be motivated to conquer its walls unless motivated by pride. …
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When I woke I could not shake that dirty feeling. I had felt cleaner waking up on the floor of train stations. It was early. The sun hadn’t come up yet and Jenni was planning on sleeping in, so I headed off to the ruins of Ephesus. That trek started out as a long dark walk. Luckily I eventually hitched a ride. When I reached the front gate the sun began casting long shadows but it was still very cold. …
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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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As we approached Salzburg the clouds parted and the sun came peaking through, signaling that a good day was ahead of us. In one of the travel guides there was an interesting youth hostel alongside a casino. I knew from my last visit to Salzburg, that the hostel had to be on the cliff overlooking the old city. Once our train arrived we headed straight toward a phone and contacted the hostel to see if rooms were available. Good news but we had to be quick because they did not take reservations. …
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It was a relief to be back on a dry train. When we reached Paris we found it almost impossible to find ourselves a friendly word from the locals. It was like the Parisians were trained at youth to be rude to foreigners. Their rudeness came so easily it must have been a mandatory subject in their schools. …
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I picked up a pair of apples and a few candy bars for the trek, while Jim checked the train schedules. “Track four, ready to go” said Jim. After a minute or two with no train, it dawned on me that Jim most likely misread the schedules and picked the wrong platform. I retrieved the schedule from Jim’s bag, “I’ll hold the bags, you go check platform six” I bluntly stated. In the tunnel between the platforms I could hear Jim’s echo, “Its going!!” …
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We wandered among its narrow streets that radiated out like spokes to a wheel. Bicycles danced across our path. Up one of these many streets we spotted a small coffee shop adjacent to one of the more picturesque canals. It was a good day for mischief. It had a large window and we noticed that the table upfront was vacant and had a nice view of a small flower market. …
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Sometimes when I take photographs I place more value on where I am standing than what I am looking at. In Rouen I stood where Monet stood. I preferred the light and shade of a subject, the dark spaces that define its character and capture the surroundings of the moment, revealing its alternations. That evening’s twilight was a symphony colored in grey and rose that I watched as I waited for the sun to set. …
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One night at Mik’s place while passing around the pipe, he weaved stories of sprits possessing the trails between the white horse and the many rock circles heading north. I could almost visualize these images he was painting and hear the pounding of drums in the wind, as I focused in on the flames dancing with the beat. …
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I woke with that taste of too many cigarettes and one too many beers and wandered toward a morning coffee before it was back on the road again. We started down the coast searching for another room, kind of back tracking over the previous day’s plans but we ended up in Monte Carlo instead. It had just begun raining as we headed up one of the steep hills looking for shelter and a cup of coffee. We sat down alongside a window and while we sipped our coffee I noticed a motorcyclist get hit from behind. …
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We were on the road for about an hour after sunrise. I was passing a small automobile with what looked to be three construction workers on their way to work. As I sped up to pass them, I caught some of the loose gravel and slid sideways into them. I’d say we at least traded paint but when I slowed down to deal with the situation they kept on driving. …
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When we reached the port we began to wander about. We really didn’t know which way to proceed but luckily we crossed paths with a couple who spoke English. They were retired Americans who had been living abroad for the last three years. Instead of joining a country club or pursuing some hobby back home they decided to see the world at a slow pace. They explained that they would live in a different city every three months or there about and they planned on doing that indefinitely. …
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Our train ended in Karajevo where we were left to wait for a bus. There was nowhere to hide from the cold so we all had to move around a lot and it seemed like the bus was ever going to show. We had scattered moments of sleep, moving here, moving there, trying to forget how cold it was. That was one bad night. The bus eventually showed up late and wasn’t scheduled to enter Dubrovnik until around breakfast. I just dazed out looking past my reflection at blackness that was the sea passing by in a blur. …
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Along side the rising sun and took the early train toward St. Malo. On that train I caught up on filling out stories on post cards and when I finally reached St. Malo the post office was my first destination. I was still disappointed that I had lost my address book back in Scotland, but on the other hand I had fewer cards to fill out. After I got situated in my room, I took a walk along the shore. The ocean was crashing against the wall with an authority that made me feel alive. …
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