Turkish Delight

The stuff commercials are made of: dancing beautiful women dressed in national customs, male counterpart dressed the same, the beat of the drums encouraging the women to dance. Welcoming our smiling faces to their country.. Turkish delight being handed out.. our sea legs ready for the land. We've arrived to Kusadasi, a port city of Turkey on our way to Ephesus.

Local men stood off to the side completely stopped their work to watch us walk off the boat. I felt like circus animals come off a loading cart.. ‘the circus has come to town ladies and gentlemen’. Immediately I felt the eyes on us, especially on ‘my girls’. So innocent are they.

‘Turkish delight. Lady you want Turkish Delight? I am Turkish Delight. Where do you come from? I like your eyes. No be afraid of me. I not be scary people.’ And so it went on like this. The girls in my group giggled.. timid yet boldly responding to the calls. Are we so starved for verbal appraise? How I remember being charmed and flattered by such comments, and if I’m honest.. still feel the lure but know better now.

Again I steer clear of the marked paths and veer off down the side streets. It must seem the locals recognize I’m ‘one of them- fresh off the boat’. Yet I sense their confusion in why I’d be wandering down these unpaved trash filled streets- ‘does she know she’s wandered too far off?’ I tend to always walk as if I know where I’m going, even if I don’t. Dirt streets.. open meat markets are grounds for dogs searching for food.. men searching for women. Yes we are in the meat market now.