Advertisement
Published: December 17th 2013
An old wine house, Turkish music in the background, a glass of red and a head full of memories.
What to write for my final blog? I could reminisce about the places I’ve seen, the experiences I’ve had or even write about the history, food or culture. I could write about the people. It’s the people who I have met and shared this journey with that have provided the best memories. You ‘people’, you know who you are. You have questioned my logic, challenged my beliefs, shared your stories, given words of wisdom and touched my heart. It’s these connections that I have treasured the most.
‘Back to the real world’ so they say. Turns out I’ve actually been living in the real world; I encourage you to try it sometime.
My final story is of the events of my last few days in Turkey. It’s no more special than any other story from my trip, but I think that it is a fitting closure to this blog.
Thank you for taking an interest in my journey. I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoying living it!
THE JOURNEY ENDS BEGINS
PART 1 – THE INNER ARTIST What a glorious way to spend my last week, I'm staying in the old city within the popular coastal city of Antalya in Turkey. Winding thin streets are full of boutique hotels, ancient ruins, small restaurants and shops selling popular tourist items like rugs, artwork, linen and jewellery. There are hardly any vehicles, a few taxis to drop off or pick up holiday makers, but the place is full of people exploring on foot.
I've spent the last few days laying on the beach reading and my evenings walking around the old city discovering new streets, new restaurants and new things to look at.
The sun has just disappeared behind the mountains in the distance. The soft light from the street lamps and music from all the restaurants now creates a romantic atmosphere, perfect for loved up couples I constantly pass in the street.
Tonight I aimlessly wonder and admire the old brick buildings along a paved road. I reach a large door way with a sign above it that reads ‘Estanbul Art’. On either side of the door are two small display windows, each show casing about half a dozen rings. I’ve seen many jewellery stores in Turkey, but these are interesting designs unlike all the others.
I step into the shop through the big black doors and instantly take a liking to the place. It's a simple room with a tall ceiling, cream walls and a slate floor. On the right there is a glass table top supported by 3 stumps of wood. It's scattered with random rings, some with big stones, and some with little, all in silver and vey unique. They sparkle under the spot light as I walk in further. Beyond the table is a wooden cabinet displaying some other pieces and at the back of the room, there is a red sofa and an old tattered Turkish rug hanging on display. While the rug looks well worn and potentially eaten by moths, I can see that it's displayed with pride.
The main attraction in the room is where a man is seated under a spot light at a desk where he is working on a piece of jewellery. His tanned shaven head almost glistens in the spot light. His facial features are soft and I can see that he is deep in concentration. He appears very stylish in his caramel coloured chinos and dark fitted long sleeve knit. His desk is cluttered with small tools and gadgets. A lit cigarette smoulders as it sits on the edge of the table alongside many other burn marks.
"Merhaba" he says
"Hello" I say as I take my attention from what he is working on and look him in the face, instantly his eyes have caught my attention
"Have you been in my shop before?"
"No" I say and it feels like I am almost staring at his dark brown eyes, they are so hypnotising, I don't feel him looking at me, rather into me.
"Let me explain." And he tells me how each piece made in the shop is an individual piece. He tells me that his preference is to design and make the piece together with the customer, that way "each mark on your piece is meant to be, it's destiny". As he explains how he believes in destiny and how he gets great pleasure working with customers to create their master piece there is a glow about him that makes me smile.
Throughout this whole conversation, what intrigues me the most are his eyes, they said more than his words. He's an old soul for sure, but happy or sad? I couldn't tell, lost? Possibly, passionate about what he does? Hell yes. They say that the eyes are a window to your soul. All I know is that he was looking so deeply into my eyes that there is no doubt he was checking out my soul.
He didn't need to talk for long, I knew I was going to come back here and make something. It really is meant to be.
"I want to make a pendant" I say as if it is as important to him as it is to me "It will be a pendant that reflects my time travelling, I need to go away and think, work on a meaningful design.... I'll be back" And with that, I walk out of the shop. My mission, release the inner artist, create a master piece.
The next morning, the child like artist within, decides that I need a sketch book, a grey led pencil and a sharpener. I find my favourite cafe, sketch book open, pencil in hand......... Blank..............Nothing.
Spending so much time alone means that my inner dialogue can go a little nuts. I reflect again on my trip. My mind always seems to reflect back to the many conversations I have had with people from all walks of life. Through all these conversations several things remained consistent on what I learnt about myself. I need to open my heart, I need to follow my heart and my family are always in my thoughts where ever I go.
With these things in mind, I put pencil to paper and start to work on a design. I finally come up with what I want my master piece to look like. My pendant will be shaped as an open heart as a reminder that I must open my heart to experience life, love and opportunities. For the past 8 months I've been following way marks on my treks to guide me in the right direction, so I will put a way mark on my heart to remind me the importance of following my heart. The easiest part of this design was putting my family's initials on the inside of my open heart. No matter where I am, or which path I take, I know that my family will always be in my thoughts.
Dam I make a great artist! I got this artist thing in the bag!
PART 2 – THE EYES I couldn't wait to go back to the shop and show Eyes (I didn't know his name, so I've decided to call him Eyes) my design. He's going to be so impressed! He will see that I have wonderful artistic abilities; he'll think I'm a natural artist with raw flare. I mean, how brilliant is my design? Eight months of lessons into 1 pendant. No doubt he'll suggest I patent my work, he will know my talent will be discovered soon. I bet he will want to claim that he discovered me! I don't blame him; it'll be good for his business. (Nothing like a little bit of inner artist self love talk)
That evening, sketch book in hand, I proudly walk through the door of his shop. His shop really is a wonderfully magical place. A place for artists, and I feel it as soon as I enter. I love the way the subtle spot lights highlight the jewellery and the sweet sophisticated music of beautiful pipes and drums plays in the background. There sits Eyes, in the most important chair behind his desk, tinkering away on another grand design. He sees me enter and just like the other day, his eyes are locked on mine.
"So I know what I want to make, I've thought about it, I've got a design" I say so proud that I don't even say hello.
"Hello, that's great, lets start now, show me your design".
He puts down what he is working on and steps away from the desk. I pull out my sketch book like the pro artist I am and show it to him. My anticipation is almost killing me on what he is going to say, I am sure he is going to squeal with delight just as I had when I finally finished it.
Eyes looks at my design, I'm not seeing any kind of reaction at all, and you would think with eyes like his you would be able to read what he is feeling. He's clearly holding it in, processing the beauty of my design; he's taking a moment to really appreciate my talent, that's what he is doing right? Eyes, come on, give me something..... Don't you want to ask me what it means? Ask me Eyes, it has meaning, a story, ASK ME ASK ME.
As my inner voice is screaming at Eyes to ask me about my design, he simply looks at me and says "I've got a piece of silver big enough to make that, you sit here" as he points to his chair "Let's get this underway".
Really? No questions Eyes, just let's start? I'm an artist Eyes, don't you need to understand my master design to help me make it. Oh I know, maybe he doesn't need to ask, I mean, he IS an artist too, he probably already gets it.
I sit in the chair behind the desk, the artist's side, and he pulls up a chair on the opposite side of the desk. He places my sketch book up with the design on display so we can see what we are making. He cuts some silver, hands me a file and it's begun, I'm filing, and I'm making my pendant. He makes us some coffee, lights a cigarette and sits back down to help with the filing.
"What is your name?" He asks, and it's funny really, because I felt like I already knew his name, it's Eyes. Speaking of eyes, curious deep brown eyes are staring again.
"Belinda"
"A beautiful name, mine is S......., I'm German/Turkish, been in Turkey for 18 years now". His name starts with S, but it is a strange name that I can't pronounce, 'S' was all I could remember.
A few seconds of silence then he asks "Are you in love?"
Are you in love? You just asked me my name; you can't ask me if I am in love. In love with what? This silver? Turkey? A man? Myself?
"Am I in love?" I repeat back to him in almost a way that says 'really, you just asked me that'.
"Yes"
"With a man?" I ask clarifying the question.
"Yes" he said and his eyes were trying to draw me in as if he was looking for the answer that came from within, rather than out of my mouth.
"No, not at the moment" I say very casually like it's going to just happen any day now.
Maybe he is just trying to understand my piece; it is a heart after all. Oh dear, he's looking at me with those eyes, he knows I know he is reading my thoughts. Cease eye contact Belinda, awkward. File, focus on the filing.
"Have you ever been in love?" he says.
Oh god seriously, what is it with these questions. We just met, way to get to the deep stuff.
"Yes, I think so, a long time ago" I say.
Eyes continues to look intensely at me, he smiles and says "Your prince will find you soon". Like he knows something that I don't, sees the future and knows what it will bring. In my mind, I respond to his comment with 'Of course my prince will find me, he just has to go find a white horse and pick up his shining armour from the dry cleaners'. I can't help but smile, I entertain myself so much I sometimes wonder what the world would think if they could hear my thoughts.
Before the smile has left my face Eyes states "You are so quiet".
'And you are so full on, I don't mind these questions, but please, buy a girl a drink first!' Ok, I didn't really say that, I mean, my inner thoughts did, I just didn't say it out loud.
"I know" I say, "I'm shy, always have been".
We continue to work on the pendant, cutting, filing, bending, and filing. We talk about music, we talk about family, he talks about his wife and how she gets jealous because he does a lot of work with female clients. When he talks about his wife his eyes change, they fill with sadness.
As we make the pendant he essentially lets me do everything and he just guides me on what to do next. 'I'm going to touch you' he says every time he would touch my hands to help me file the right way or hammer something. His curious eyes continue to interrogate me the whole time.
"You are so closed" He says.
"I'm shy"
"No, you are not shy, closed".
Well Eyes, if you had have asked me about my pendant you would know that I am trying to open my heart, it's clearly not working though is it. I just look up at him from my filing and shrug my shoulders, I didn't have a response.
"We need to straighten this silver now, I'm going to touch you'".
Yes, yes, touch away, maybe I'm so closed because you keep telling me you are going to touch me and it sounds weird even though I know it isn't.
"Now bang the hammer here 2 times"
"Ok"
"Harder" he instructs "Harder like you are angry, maybe someone at home, a boyfriend or something" he says looking at me like that will ignite some inner fire within me.
I pause, I try to think of someone who makes me angry, or something that makes me angry, but I can't think of one thing. What a lovely feeling "I don't have any anger" I say, I truly didn't, nothing, I can think of that makes me angry. As I look at Eyes while I say this, I realise that what he really means is 'I'm angry, bang it hard for me'.
The relaxing music continues, the magic continues and I can see my heart starting to take shape. How the heart is shaped is very important, it has to be open. As we work it into shape Eyes says
"Like that?"
"No, open more; the heart needs to be open"
We play with my heart shaped pendant and we finally get it open just as I had imagined.
"Oh gosh, it's past 11pm, we should stop now, finish this tomorrow" Eyes said as he suddenly looked at the clock "My wife will be angry, I must get home".
He places my heart which now sits open just as I had imagined into a jewellery box and tells me to take it home and think of the final details that we have to finish tomorrow. Heart in hand, I practically skip out of the shop down the winding streets back to my hotel. Tomorrow my master piece will finally be complete, tomorrow my artistic skills will shine.
PART 3 – THE POEM As soon as I awoke the next morning, I pick up my pendant from bedside my bedside table and admire it. Yes, I'm a great artist! Only a few minor details to go and this master piece will finally be complete.
I lay there contemplating getting up for breakfast and I can't help but think about Eyes. The intensity of his eyes, his questions, it's intriguing. The way he references his wife, how the look in his eyes saddens. How he looks at me and I feel like we are communicating without using words. I feel drawn to him, not in a sexual or physical way, in a way I just can't explain.
I finally make my way to my hotels pristine courtyard for my fresh Turkish breakfast. They are playing beautiful music like I listened to in the shop the night before. I have my grey lead and sketch pad with me and as I try to write notes on my trekking experience I'm distracted by the music and my thoughts are taken elsewhere.
Without warning, I get the urge to write a poem, I'm not even sure what it is about, but as the music plays, the words keep coming. Before I know it my poem is complete. I read the poem again, I'm not even sure where it came from, but it's there. I feel so moved by the words that I even feel tears in my eyes. Not because I'm sad, not because I'm happy, but because the words are real, my words, my feelings, I really have been on a journey. It's almost like last night, when I opened the heart of my pendant that it opened my actual heart and this poem was the first thing to come out.
PART 4 - THE PENDANT It was time to go back and see Eyes and finish off my master piece. I'm really becoming an artist now, first my pendant, then a poem, what next? Maybe by tonight I'll have written a book or maybe that's what I'm writing now?
As I approach the shop I almost feel a little hesitant. What questions are in store for me today? It's only 2pm in the afternoon so at least I know it will not be a late night and that should make his wife happy. I see Eyes standing out the front of the shop, smoking a cigarette, having a conversation with another man in Turkish. He sees me coming and winds up his conversation and throws his big captivating eyes my way.
"And how are you today?" he says with a big smile on his face.
I want to say 'AMAZING' because I just had a poem fall out of my head or maybe it poured out of my heart, but either way, I want to tell him I feel almost exhausted because being an artist is such hard work. If I tell him that I he will understand because he's an artist too. Instead, I keep my response boring and say "I'm good thank you, and you?"
"I'm sorry about last night, my brain was wreaked and my angry wife......" and before he could finish I say.
"That's ok, it was late, I was tired, it was a good idea to stop."
"Well" he says "let's go inside and finish your pendant."
In the day time his shop has a very different feel. The music isn't playing, the spot lights aren't on and because it was such a sunny day outside, it feels a little dark. It doesn't help that the only 2 windows in the shop have the curtains drawn. The only light entering the room is through the big open black door.
"I was thinking of you last night" Eyes says as he looks at me in anticipation of some kind of a reaction.
Eyes was in fine form, true to his style, straight into the heavy stuff. Unsure how to respond, I think the look of 'ummmmmmmm, awkward' answered his question and he continued "You are so quiet, closed off, you need to relax more"
"I'm just shy" I say, like I have continued to say, but I know he is looking for a different answer.
We start to put the final touches on the pendant. The loud buffing and polishing machine noises became our music that afternoon.
Buffing and polishing complete all that needs to be done now is to take the pendant to an engraver and pick up a chain.
"Let's go out and find an engraver and chain so we can finish" Eyes says with delight.
We walk out the door and walk down the street. First we look for an engraver who will write my families initials on the inside of my heart. The first 2 shops we visit say it's too hard to do, Eyes tries to convince me to put the initials on the outside of the heart.
"No, it's my family, they need to be inside my heart" I say and I think ' If you had have asked about my design you would know how important this is.'
When we get to the third shop the engraver again says it can't be done, Eyes explains to me that they can't use the machine to engrave inside the heart because of the shape. I tell him to ask the guy if he can free hand write the letters.
"He says he can do it, but it won't be perfect"
"That's ok" I say "My family aren't perfect either, so really, that works out perfect."
Listen to me, such an artist, a poet now; it's all just flowing so naturally. And funnily, I know that when my family reads this, and because they think that are as funny as me, they will be thinking 'Yes, a real artist, a bloody bullshit artist'.
Engraving now complete, chain purchased, we walk back to Eyes's shop.
We walk in silence taking in the hustle and bustle of the busy streets until we reached the quiet section leading to the shop. Eyes turns towards me and gazes at me and I know there is a question on its way.
"Why do you think you are so quiet?" he asks.
I look at him, I don't know how to answer this question anymore and I can't help but giggle and say "I'm shy, I just am, always have been".
He looks at me again; I can see he is not satisfied with my response.
"I don't think you are shy, quiet? Yes, but not shy" and without breaking eye contact he continues "I think you are too hard on yourself, judge yourself too much".
I didn't respond, mostly because I think he is right, in fact, I know he is right. I walk in silence. I sense he was waiting for me to break the silence by responding to his comment, agreeing or disagreeing. Instead, he's statement is running over and over in my mind. I almost want to laugh because I have heard the words "you are too hard on yourself" many times over the last 8 months. I don't understand what I did that made him say that comment. I feel a little angry towards him because I guess the truth really does hurt. I want to say "You don't know me, don't pretend you do". But I don't say it, I don't say anything because I think I'll look like an idiot. But who's really the idiot here? Am I judging myself again?
PART 5 - THE FINAL CUT AND POLISH We finally make it back to Eyes's shop and we walk through the door.
"One last polish and we are finished" he says with excitement and I wonder if he is more excited about this piece than me now. While he polishes the pendant he asks if I prefer pink or red and I choose red because in my opinion it's a stronger colour and pink is for puss... not so strong people. As he finishes with the polish he grabs a red rose from a bunch of roses I hadn't even noticed and presents me my pendant hanging across the rose.
"Ohhhhhh" I sigh like I always do when I someone gives flowers (which quite frankly isn't enough lately) "Thank you. I can't believe how amazing this pendant has turned out."
He takes the pendant from the rose and delicately clips it around my neck. I was waiting for the "I'm going to touch you" comment, but he manages to put it on without even a small brush against my skin.
"There is a mirror over there" he points.
I walk across to the mirror and admire my hard work, my family, my open heart, the way.
"Thank you" I say as I hold the pendant on my neck "Thank you for helping me make this." He smiles and I can tell that he knows that I really mean it.
"You must write a message in my book" he says as he grabs his customer feedback book and opens it on the glass table. I sit down to write my comments, there is so much I want to write, I want to tell him how it has been the most awkward, exciting, intriguing experience I've had in a long time. I want to tell him what is going on in my head. Instead, I write the story behind my pendant, what it stands for and what it means to me.
He pulls up a chair in front of me and as I put the pen down and he closes the book. "I'll read this later, when you are gone" he says.
"It's nothing special" I say wanting to ensure him that there were no secret messages to look for "I just wrote about my pendant and what it means to me".
He was smiling at me as I spoke but then his smile disappeared and his face become very serious. "Is there sadness behind your eyes?" he said as he moved his hand towards his chest to mirror where my pendant was hanging. "Sadness behind your pendant?" he continued.
He'd hardly finished his sentence and I cut him off "No" I say firmly "There are only good things behind this pendant" Maybe he should read my comments now. Maybe he should have asked about my pendant before we even started making it.
He paused, looks down at his hand, there was that awkward silence again and as he lifts his eyes to make contact with mine he whispers "You will find your prince".
"I know" I say confidently.
He was still staring at me in a very serious manner "In life, there are 3 dates that are destined for every person" he explains "They day you are born, the day you get married and the day you die". His eyes focus in on me and I realise then, that the sadness he thought he had seen in my eyes was merely a reflection of his own sadness. He sighs, his body sinks into the chair "I'm in trouble" he continued "My wife, I think I made a mistake".
As he spoke, I felt like this is what he really wanted to talk to me about the whole time but he just didn't know how. What advice could I possibly offer? He told me about his problems with his wife I realised he wasn't after my advice at all, rather my ears; he just wants someone who will listen. I sit there and listen and as he finishes his story tears well up n his eyes. He looks at me again, and as a tear rolls down his check he begins to smile and he nods as he says "But you will find your prince". He straightens in his chair and rubs his eyes "Ah look at me" wiping away the tears. "I'll read your comments when you go" he repeated just as he had said earlier.
I stood up and told him I would return the next day to pay him for the pendant.
I leave the shop and walk down the street back to my hotel. My thoughts turn immediately to the poem I wrote that morning. All afternoon all I can think about is the poem and Eyes's sad story. Something inside keeps telling me that I need to share my poem with him. That evening I write the poem out for him and accompanied it with a cover letter. Will I really give him my poem? I don't know if I'm brave enough.
PART 6 - THE PAYMENT When I wake the next morning all I can think about is delivering the poem. I start to doubt if giving a stranger a poem is a silly thing to do. I mean, who gives a poem to a stranger? I guess he isn't a total stranger, I had known him for a few days. I defiantly don't want him to get the wrong impression; this is certainly no love letter. This is a poem written for me, but something inside just keeps telling me that I must share it with him.
Most of my day is consumed with thoughts of Eyes, thoughts of his many stories and thoughts on what he might think of my poem. I keep reading the poem over and over again all day, to the point where I don't need to read it anymore as it is imbedded in my brain. It's my last week on this amazing journey; I would never have guessed that in my last week I might be writing a poem and sharing it with a stranger.
That evening, as I approach the shop I see Eyes, in his usual position, out the front enjoying a cigarette. When he sees me his body language changes and the harshness in his eyes softens, I think I even see a smile. And so he should, smiling is contagious and I was smiling so hard it almost hurt.
"Hello" I yell.
"How are you?" he responds.
"I'm good!"
"You look" and he pauses as he assesses my general presence "relaxed" and he says it as a compliment.
"I'm great, life's great, another beautiful day in Turkey, a late breakfast, laying on the beach, reading, perfect" and I can see he is feeling the pure contentment that I am experiencing and I can sense him absorbing my positive energy.
"Come in, come in" he says as he leads me into his shop. The beautiful music is playing, the lights are dim and the spot lights shine brightly above. It really is a delightful place and it feels so special stepping inside again. Maybe it is because I know that this will be the last time I'm here.
"You looked so relaxed" he says again with a big smile.
"I am, I really am, it really has been another amazing day"
Before I know it, he is sharing many more stories with me about his life, how he has been a broke man, fought in the war and been shot. He talks about the famous poet Rumi and how he has travelled miles and miles on a journey to meet a spiritual person to help guide him on his life destiny.
I could sit and listen all day to his stories. They are so interesting and I feel like every time he tells me a story I get another life lesson. Today I'm on a mission though, I want to give him my poem and the longer I sit there, the more my mind starts to question if giving him the poem is the right thing to do.. "He's going to think you're a childish school girl, you can't even write anyway, don't be so stupid!" The voices in my head are playing mind games. At that moment, our conversation is interrupted by a man entering the shop. It's a sign, it's time to leave.
"Belinda, this is my German friend, he comes every year so I can make him something" Eyes says.
"How lovely" I say and I squeeze the poem I've been holding in my warm little hands "Well I should leave you both to it then"
Eyes moves from the German man and stops directly in front of me, he grabs my hands together inside of his, looks at me and says "Thank you" with the softest kindest voice I've heard him speak the whole time "It's been such a pleasure" and he bows his head down and lifts it back up so his eyes are level with mine "I wish you well". He tightens his grip around mine and I can feel his warmth, his energy.
"And thank you, for, well, everything" I say and as he releases my hands I give him the money and poem which I had tucked inside.
"Do I need to count the money" he jokes as he holds it up.
"No, no" I say, I don't really want him to discover the poem right this minute. "It's all there, trust me"
I give him one last look and smile. "Goodbye". There was no looking back now. The note, the poem, delivered. I walk right past the German man and out the door. I head down the street, in a kind of dream like state, so proud of myself for actually giving him the poem.
"WAIT" I hear in the distance behind me and as I turn around I see Eyes yelling, waving the money above his head.
My first thought, oh god, he's read my poem and he's about to tell me what he really thinks.
"WAIT, you gave me too much money, there is too much here".
I wave my hand back at him "Gosh no, it's ok" I say.
"It's too much".
"No, it's not, thank you" I yell back and I turn around again with a big smile on my face and I keep walking.
I know he's seen the poem, he wouldn't have had time to read it, but he's in possession of it now. You know what, he can judge me all he likes anyway, his comments can never be as harsh as the ones I dish myself.
I almost giggle in uncontained bliss as I head off on my final night of red wine, sweet music and a beautiful old city.
Turns out I'm no artist, nor am I a poet.
I'm a dreamer though, and I'll always have my dreams.
PART 5 – THE LETTER Dear S
I've never written a letter to a stranger before, but Friday morning I woke up and as I sat and ate breakfast a poem came into my head and I had to write it down before I lost it. When I wrote it down, I realised that the poem didn't come from my head, but rather from my heart
Friday evening I couldn't stop thinking about the poem and I couldn't stop thinking that I had to share it with you. I'm not sure why I felt like this but the more I sat and thought about it the more I realised I had to give it to you.
I thought of my pendant and it reminded me that I need to open my heart. So I've opened my heart, I've written a poem and I'm sharing it with you.
I'll never know what you think of the poem, it's not important, you believe in destiny and there was a reason we met.
I needed a pendant.
You needed a poem.
B
25-10-2013 – The Poem
I'm searching.
What do you look like? Will you be big and bold or small and shiny?
What if I cannot see you?
What do you feel like? Will you be soft and fluffy or hard and sharp?
What if I cannot touch you?
What emotions will you bring? Will I cry tears of happiness or shed tears of pain?
What if I cannot experience you?
What if I have found you already? Will you tell me you are there? What if I never find you? Will you know that I have searched?
I've been searching
I've looked in the mountains, I've looked in the sea, and I've looked in large cities and small villages.
I've looked where it is hot; I've looked where it is cold.
I've asked for directions, no one knows what I'm looking for, not even me.
I'm going to find you.
Now I'll start searching in a different place.
Today, I'll start searching within.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.157s; Tpl: 0.031s; cc: 10; qc: 48; dbt: 0.0542s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
Kate
non-member comment
I loved this entry chic that much I read it twice. You got more of of this trip than you will ever know xx