sunset over samos

We flew from Istanbul to Izmir this morning, about 45 minutes, over lands where Alexander the Great marched his army, 2300 years ago.

We toured the spiffy port area, where, in years past, Greeks massacred Turks and vice versa. I passed an old man who was tooting away on a primitive wooden reed instrument and was captivated by the hypnotic, nasal sound. He had a stack of the, of course, and I had to buy one - 4 lira - probably too much. I will need to practice far away from the group!

We drove out of the huge, congested, sprawling city and, after a bit, turned off onto remote secondary roads, up into the forested, dry hills.

We stopped at a teeny village for one of OAT's special 'discoveries' - a visit to a small family-run organic farm, where we met the Turkish family, who served us a very fine lunch on their porch, with sweeping views of the surrounding hills. It really felt like the middle of nowhere.

The family was very welcoming - after lunch, we were invited inside the house, to their living room, where we were served tea and they, with our guide Barish translating, answered our many questions. We had some time before we had to move on, so we walked a short distance from the farmhouse to the little town center.

There, we met some young boys who were kicking a soccer ball around. I asked if any of them had ever heard of Obama, and got blank stares. We walked across the tiny square where the town elders sat under a tree. It was definitely a patriarchal scene - no women in sight. The men asked us some tough questions about US policy regarding Iraq and Turkey. They had heard of Obama, and sniffed in disapproval at the name 'Bush'.

Earlier in the afternoon, I had heard the mid-day call to prayer coming from their little mosque, so I asked if they had their own imam just for their town. They said, 'would you like to meet him?' and we all said 'sure'.

Inside the mosque gate, we found the young imam (white shirt and dark slacks), standing on a bench, trying to puzzle out a connection between a dangling wire and a detached loud-speaker. He seemed happy to take a break and answer our many questions, the first one being 'are you the imam or the electrician?' He laughed.

After a bit of interesting talk about his sermons and government financial support, he asked if we wanted to see the mosque interior. I took a breath, pointed to the minaret and said, "what I'd really love, if it is permitted, is to climb to the top of that." He grinned and another man led me to the locked gate at the base, unlocked it and motioned for me to follow.

The view from the top, of the village and surrounding fields and hills, was grand and the sensation of being up there just great. The man chattered to me in Turkish but all I could say were the words for 'thank you' and 'pretty'.

Before we said our goodbyes and thanks to the townspeople and headed off into the late afternoon sun, one of the guys in the group, a retired electrical engineer, completed the loudspeaker wiring. Everybody felt great about that.

It took an hour to drive to Ephesus, which we glimpsed in the distance. We continued on to the coast at Kusadasi, arriving just as the golden ball of the Sun set behind the craggy line of Samos, offshore in the brilliant haze.

Checked into our surprisingly-deluxe hotel (Charisma) and got cleaned up for dinner. There's wifi here in the room, so I am composing this on my little ipaq, one damn letter at a time.

Tomorrow, we walk in the steps of St. Paul, visiting the theater where he was soundly booed.

One final note. I commented on the wiring done at the mosque. The engineer mentioned that the young imam had purchased the wrong kind of connector and, if he ever messed with the setup and did something wrong, he'd be seeing Allah sooner than expected.