Despite being dealt the crushing blow of learning that Turkey is not the Nirvana of falafel I'd supposed the Mediterranean, near-Middle East country would be, I am excited to be heading to Istanbul tomorrow. I feel similarly to how I did before I went to China, not really knowing what to suspect. However, from all the good reviews, I imagine that Istanbul will be a damn sight more enjoyable in the traditional arts of booze, food and nightlife, if not in terms of raw force of exotic strangeness and shock.
I head out in the morning with Mary Keany (Yikes! I just remembered I need to book the car!) to Heathrow where we'll meet Todd, who's coming over from New York, and Sean, who's coming even farther from South London, and the four of us will hop all. The. Way. Over Europe to where the West clichély meets the East. It is a tiny bit weird that I will be only 750 miles from Iraq; that's not close by any normal-world standards, but I've driven farther than that in a day, so puts some perspective on how far from whatever Britain's Kansas is I will be.
OK, must go pack; will be sure to leave all my inflaming images of Mohammed at home - we don't want to go through that again!
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