...or just me....: kusadasi and ephesus . . .

8:00 a.m. and we're off the boat with our tour guide, taz, and on our way to ephesus and oh, by the way, it was 98•. first stop, the statue of the virgin mary.

amazing stuff and then there is amazing stuff with us, because friends make everything better.

and just so you can keep us straight, from l to r, it's sharon, moi, carene, sharon, bob, vicki, paulie and david.

now turn around and look at the view.

the haze still had not burned off.

back in our van and we're off to ephesus. totally blows the concept of age off us smug americans.

the dig is enormous and on going.

look at these arches.

and columns, and just think of the age. mind boggling.

and the mosaic tile work they unearthed.

and well, everyone has to go sometime. these are the public toilets . . . unisex or why togas were so long and flow-y. oh, and the cat. there are 7,982 cats rambling around the ruins. they are taken care of by vets once a month. don't ask. i have no idea.

this was taken in a section call the terrace houses. amazing that this survived all these years.

here we are in front of the library because we could. can you put names with faces yet. i'll help you out one more time but after that, you are on your own: david, robin, paulie, vicki, carene, me, bob and sharon. there will be a test at the end.

here's the library without us.

and as we were leaving.

there was much more and yes i got shots of it all but unless you want to go gray while reading, i've only posted a few.

by this time we are hot. sweltering. drippy. and generally fried. back in the van to cool off while taz takes us to a rug factory to show us how wool, cotton and silk rugs are handmade.

these women sit here for hours and hours with guides to show them the puzzle they are working on. the art is passed down generation to generation.

i have always been curious as to how silk gets from the worm to my pashminas. now i know. these are the silk worm cocoons.

and then they are soaked . . . yes, my photos are out of order . . .

and then she takes a whisk broom type instrument and runs it through the vat until silk strands adhere to it. one cocoon produces a mile and a half of silk thread.

this is what's inside.

or rather who.

and finally off to the show room because yes, they want to sell us their rugs.

they were a little out of my price range . . . ok, a lot.

amazing process.

from there, we headed back to the ship for lunch with robin and david.

it's been two years since i was last in kusadasi and fell in love with carpet bags. two years and i still wanted one. bob was gracious enough to go back and shop with me. so we wandered the bazaar in and out of shops until we found this puppy. yours, it screamed, mine, i hollered back and it jumped into my arms never to be parted. it's a kilim wool and leather bag. haggling is an art in turkey. no one pays full price, so i started and less then 1/2 price. the seller looked offended and countered higher. meanwhile bob is standing behind the guy vigorously pointing thumbs down, so i countered again and again and finally the beastie was mine. happy. happy.

and now because i am me and one of the things i do best is tell tales on myself, i'm going to tell you my tale of woe in kusadasi. they had warned us not to eat raw veggies, milk products and such while in town but the rug makers presented us with tea and little platters of food. bob, the smart one listened and did not partake, i on the other hand, gorged on little tomatoes and cucumbers. so as we were wandering the back streets, the first cramps hit. followed in rapid succession by stronger and longer one. it was obvious that i would not make it back to the ship in time. bob finally found me a toilette but the little boy guarding the door looked suspiciously at the proffered euro and ran down the block to get permission from a relative to admit me. by now i am dying. i am finally permitted to enter and find three doors. the first has a toilet but the door does not lock so i scoot to the next and all it has is a urinal. the third, the same. so by now, i am crab walking back to the first because, i am wearing, of course, white short. there is no toilet seat. nor paper. thankfully, i am a kleenex packrat. and in case of emergency, yes, virginia, i can squat and go. my face must have reflected my horror because i saw fits of laughter forming on bob's face when i emerged. and no, this will not be my last toilet story.

back in the light of day, i took a few more shots.