The one where I fly over 10k miles to win a bet

On Sunday night, I found that the Turkish government had banned all international video streams. Its no doubt an attempt to curb the proliferation of porn. In this case however it was barring me from watching the mighty Cincinnati Bengals kick the hell out of the Baltimore Ravens which would have been made even sweeter by the presence of a native of Baltimore staying at the Bahaus Guest House, nestled a block from the massive Blue Mosque to the north and the Black Sea to the south. Where I slept, you would be awakened by the prayer call from the minarets at 530 am, you would also hear the occasional screech of a seagull.

Because there would be no football game that night, I walked down to the sea with two Aussies, two canadians, and two Irish gals. We sat on the giant rocks at the foot of the shore and watched the old men fish with their long poles with neon green tips. The Fishermen eyed us and said little to eachother in soft voices. Our vantage showed us the low lights of the Asian side of the city, connected by one high bridge of a multitude of ferry boats that run through the night. The shipping traffic was quiet for the evening and ready to ramp up in a few hours and we swapped stories for a few hours until we walked back. I had earlier in the night told some people I was considering a quick trip to New York to kidknap a friend who was supposed to met me in Amsterdam previously, and by the time I reached the common room on the top floor of the hostel he was drunk and smoking a waterpipe with apple flavored sheesha.

"This guy says he might go to New York tomorrow and then Athens. Or just Athens." He pointed at me. He hadn't believed I had the means and will to do such a trip. "Just going to get a mate."

People stared.

"That's right." I nodded. "Might as well give me a travel show."

He laughed. The hostels of Europe are full of Australians, and Canadians with giant Mapleleafs on their bags so no one mistakes them for American, they are nearly all extremely good natured.

"Why not just call the friend?" Someone else asked.

"Cause. Peer pressure."

"That's more a romantic thing. I mean, if you were doing it for a girl it'd be romantic...but just a mate?" Piped in an English girl, from near Nottingham (I recognize subaccents now. I am that awesome).

"That would be romantic." I agreed. "But honestly, if I feel like it I can fly to Maine for lobster or Chicago for a hotdog."

"You'd fly to Chicago just to eat a hotdog?!" He sounded dubious.

"Sure why not? It'd take about the same time as the train ride to Athens from here."

"Wicked. So why don't you?"

"I don't like hotdogs THAT much."

"I knew it, mate." He laughed and I felt my eyebrow cock.

"You wanna bet I will?"

"Bet what?"

"You going to Athens next?"

"Yah."

"Bet a gyro. They cost a euro." I pronounce these words the same way.

Six hours later I was on a van to Ataturk airport in Istanbul. I got a better view of the sprawl of that amazing city. The real part, I suppose, where they did not have nightly kebap carts where for four lira you see the man take your marinating skewer and place it on the grill and chop vegetables. This is where the buildings show wear, layers of old paint and cracked stone and laundry hangs desperately onto rusty balconies a few feet from the satelite dishes. Istanbul is the 5th largest city in the world, which I did not know. More than any other city I know it has the terrain to reveal itself to you. You can walk or drive and find suddenly a surprising panorama of some new sprawl of the city. I really loved it there and made a note to myself to return soon, and explore Ephesus, Gallipoli, Troy, and Kappedocia.

Twelve hours later I was standing in the terminal of John F. Kennedy airport back home. I texted and called nearly everyone on my phone, just to say hello and be a pleasant surprise.
Four hours after that I was in O'Hare airport in Chicago. The chargrilled tube of processed cow hearts with peppers, dill pickle spear, mustard, onions, and cheese tasted like victory laced with heartburn. I took the picture of the dog with the day's paper and my salute.

I stayed an extra night in Wisconsin because a friend of mine from the undergrad working in a bookstore days was interviewing for a job in a small town there.

On Wednesday morning I caught a flight from O'Hare to Kennedy, to Athens which is where I am writing this right now. There is no sign of my vanquished foe, but two people I had met in Romania walked in the door and greeted me warmly. The thing about the road, and the traveler culture is that these meetings are not uncommon. You find people again weeks later and are happy to see them. The sun is out here, and it is warm. From the roof you can see the Acropolis, and the very very attractive Canadian girl who is working reception is playing from her list alt rock from the mid 1990's as if she is beckoning me and knew I was going to be here.

Nothing is out of my range. Not these days.