TURKEY KUSIDASE is not just a destination; it’s an exhilarating journey through the vibrant tapestry of Ephesus, where ancient whispers beckon you to explore its storied past, bustling marketplaces, and spectacular ruins that tell tales of glory and mythology!

The day kicked off with me regretting my life choices after a night spent wide awake thanks to Mr. Steroids, the ingested ones, not the muscle-ridden, God-like men that you all thought of when you read the sentence— lol. Anyways, I found myself at the Crown Lounge for Diamond members, with my friend, let’s call her M. I’m sure she will appreciate anonymity. Nothing screams “I’ve made it!” quite like a steaming cup of cappuccino, generously served with a side of curdled milk—M’s face mirrored my own disbelief as she took a tentative sip and recoiled in horror. Delicious, right? More like a dairy disaster waiting to happen! The lounge was bustling with other members who also sought refuge from their sleepless nights; I wouldn’t venture to guess their reasons :)—our horror went completely unnoticed by them, proving that sometimes ignorance really is bliss. As I sipped cautiously, my own beverage subconsciously sloshing around my cup, trying to ease M’s grimace, I couldn’t help but think of all the better options we could have chosen for breakfast. Perhaps a refreshing smoothie or even a perfectly brewed cup of tea. Cup of tea it is! While our teas were brewing, M and I exchanged incredulous looks, pondering how such a humble drink could go so drastically wrong in a place that promised luxury and comfort—maybe they were just keeping it real.

In the end, the croissants and Brie were just perfect with Earl Grey tea—blame Captain Picard—those buttery, flaky temptations were so good they could’ve convinced a Klingon to ditch his bloodwine for a culinary upgrade. The creamy richness of the Brie wrapped around my taste buds like a cozy blanket, making each bite feel like a party in my mouth, complete with confetti and a DJ. Yet, I couldn’t shake the trauma of our last culinary adventure—thanks a lot, Mr. Cappuccino, for the PTSD from that narrowly avoided curdled disaster, which I imagined tasted more like a science experiment than a beverage.

After the milk curdling incident, I beamed my way to my meeting point for the Ephesus tour, wondering if I’d need a tricorder to locate my wayward co-traveler. Yes, M, my traitorous First Officer, abandoned me under the blazing Turkish sun faster than a Klingon can scream “Kapla!” opting instead for a lounge chair and a cool pool in the adults-only solarium—where the only thing hotter than the planet’s surface was their cocktail selection. Did you think I was going to say the crew? Come on, this isn’t a holodeck simulation! More on that later… but let’s warp out of here with a small bredcrumb for future reference : SHE owes me, or perhaps a whole starship worth of loaves, considering how she left me stranded like a Federation ship in a nebula!

Once I received my tour number, I proceeded to disembark the Brilliance of the Seas and head towards my designated bus, bus number 3. Hnmmm, the numbers are descending: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, an empty space, then 2 and 1. It felt like a countdown to disaster, and I half expected to see Data step out and float away, perhaps proclaiming, “Beam me up, Geordi!” As I walked, I couldn’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed by the chaos surrounding me, like a cat trapped in a room full of rocking chairs—spinning like the Enterprise in a turbo-lift. I walked around orderly with the red “number 3 circular sticker” attached to my shirt and in complete confusion. Noticing my befuddlement and confused body language, a cruise representative approached me with a warm but slightly concerned smile. “Your bus left; go on number 5, it’s the same tour,” she said, perhaps channeling her inner Starfleet officer. With a nod of understanding but a flutter of anxiety still gripping my stomach, I cautiously approached the new bus and boarded. The thought crossed my mind, hoping I didn’t end up in Uzbekistan without a passport, because if I did, I was pretty sure I’d have to negotiate with the Klingons for safe passage! The bus was filled with fellow travelers, each one sporting various expressions of excitement and concern, all echoing the sentiment of the unexpected adventures that awaited us. I couldn’t tell if we were going on a tour or being selected for a reality show called “Star Trek: Get Lost with Strangers.”

The tour went without a hitch, and my tour guide was truly awesome, making the entire experience enjoyable and memorable. I finally met with my original group at the end of the Ephesus tour, and it felt like a reunion filled with shared excitement over what we had just witnessed. I was lucky, as the original tour guide was not as fun as the one on bus #5—a charming character who kept everyone engaged with his witty anecdotes and lively personality. He claimed to be a Richard Gere look-alike, only five inches shorter and about ten years younger, which added a humorous spin to our discussions. He was a desperate flirt, always charming the ladies in the group, but equally knowledgeable about the history and significance of each site we visited. His passion for the subject matter shone through in his captivating storytelling, making him not only a very good tour guide but also someone you wanted to listen to for hours on end. The blend of humor and knowledge made the tour an unforgettable adventure that I would cherish for years to come.

It was in the midst of the tour that I came up with the idea of following and documenting the ancient Roman roads, a path steeped in history and significance. More specifically, I aimed to trace its route throughout all the places I was going to visit, and I documented this journey with heartfelt pictures of me standing amidst the majestic remnants of infrastructure built thousands of years ago during a time when the world was vastly different. In this modern era, precisely in the first quarter of the 21st century, it’s almost surreal to think about how quickly time has flown. Can you believe that over two decades have passed since we celebrated the dawn of the new millennium? It’s a fascinating notion that evokes a sense of nostalgia. Thus, there I stood on the ,Marble Road of Ephesus a road that played a crucial role in the expansion of the Roman Empire; this historic thoroughfare allowed Rome to extend its reach and control over vast territories. The Romans ingeniously designed these roads for straightness and ease of travel, enabling not just military movement but also trade and communication across their vast empire. Moreover, they served as crucial links connecting the colonies to the central hub of power, facilitating a cohesive governance structure. The Marble road in Ephesus was originally built by Ionians but the Roman’s took control over it in 129 BC. As I ventured through Ephesus, which intriguingly lies in Asia rather than Europe, I found myself lost in thought, reflecting on the myriad of stories that this road must have witnessed over the centuries, each step echoing the footsteps of those who traveled its path long before me.

Here I stood in one of cradles of civilization, where Muslims and Christians coexisted and strived to survive together amidst a tapestry of history that has been woven over millennia. I cannot fully describe the profound feeling that washed over me; it was as if I had stepped into a living museum, rich with the stories of those who walked before us. I stood there, at a site where Saint Peter himself once professed Christianity, observing the hidden signs and messages that evoke a sense of unity among diverse peoples, past and present. I pondered deeply on how far we have come as a society and yet how little has truly changed in many ways. Here we are, thousands of years after the birth of this civilization, still grappling with issues that echo those of the past, such as conflict, religious strife, and the struggle for coexistence. I also reflected on the remarkable achievements of the Romans; their infrastructure, including the magnificent aqueducts that still stand today, is a testament to their ingenuity and perseverance. How were they able to accomplish so much with the limited technology of their time? It saddens me to realize that while I admire these ancient feats, there are still places in the world right now that lack access to fresh water, highlighting the stark contrasts between our past achievements and the ongoing challenges we face in the modern world. As I looked around, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of admiration and sorrow, pondering the resilience of humanity amid both historical shadows and present-day realities.

But all good things come to an end, and so did this tour. Back to reality. It was time to fight the sea of Turkish men selling, well, just about anything from gold and silver jewelry to fake designer purses and ‘real fake Rolexes.’ I mean, they are shameless, but I have to be honest; I did enjoy the flirting, especially when a 30-year-old handsome man boldly proclaimed to be exactly what I was looking for. At that moment, I felt like I was on the cusp of an unexpected adventure. Ok, I’ll explain—as most of you know, it is my custom to talk to myself, and I was asking, “Where is he (tour guide)?” Just then, this fine example of a young man approached me directly, looked me deep in the eyes, and said, “I am here.” For a fleeting moment, I was tempted to miss the bus and indulge in whatever story this charming fellow had to tell. He flashed a smile that could light up the entire bazaar, which made me question whether skipping the bus would lead to an impulsive yet thrilling escapade. Ok, maybe I did contemplate it for a bit longer than a fleeting moment. LOL, the thrill of the moment was intoxicating, and I couldn’t help but think of the stories I’d tell my friends later. But reality set in, and I thanked the young man with a smile and went on to the bus.

And my friends, this is all I remember from that day. I should mention that there was some Raki tasting at some point during the day — I did enjoy the Turkish Raki, but my favorite is the Greek Ouzo, with the Hungarian Palinka coming second and the Serbian and Bulgarian Raki coming third and fourth, respectively. You know, if I keep tasting these spirits, I might just start debating the merits of each like Captain Picard discussing tea! “Engage!” my taste buds demand, but I fear the only thing I could have boldly go where no one has gone before was to bed after all this indulging. Those stories are for another day.