We left off last week with me sprawled in the Street of the Satellite Dishes, while my ankle swelled up like a misshapen pear. A couple of guys came running out of a nearby shop hauling a stool, insisting that I haul myself up on it because, as my sister translated, if I kept sitting on the curb, where I had managed to drag myself so far, I would get "sick in my rear."
Apparently sitting on cold stone or concrete, in Turkey, causes diarrhea. Read more about Holy Wisdom
In 2005, I landed in Istanbul to spend a couple of weeks with my sister Joan, who had the good sense to marry a Turk, thereby acquiring access to an apartment in one of the most storied cities in the world. And here's a bit of advice. If you land in Istanbul and your sister insists that you walk off jet lag (11 hours from Chicago, where I had flown in from Seattle), put on your walking shoes. Read more about Merhaba, Stamboul!
At summer's end in Grasmere, Cumbria, in the Lake District. Where William Wordsworth wrote of daffodils.
I said something on Facebook about the many bouquets of flowers that arrived in the hands of friends for The Last Bash, so today's travel pictures take you from my house to my garden where I captured them all before they fade. The hydrangea with accompanying daisy are from my neighbor's garden. The others range from minimalist in a jar to the lush of red and pink roses, with all the glory of the summer garden in between:
Lorrie, who steals any show.
Michael and Mary and Melissa and Johannes, who make dinner taste twice as good.
Kasandra, of blessed memory. Walking home together in the early early mornings.
Read more about Fair Weather Friends
20 years ago. My first Fair. Waiting for a friend outside the Dragon Gate. I hear a cheery "Hi, Barbara!" from somewhere behind and above me. I whirled around to see a woman I had met only a couple of times before, towering over me, dressed in flowing green, on a pair of stilts. Lorrie and I are good friends today. I haven't seen her on stilts lately - she loves to make costumes and entertain people on The Eight, the pathway that winds through the fairgrounds in the vague shape of a figure 8. Read more about The Wedding Party