The backache was gone. I had had later twinges, but another night's sleep and things were good. The bed here is one of the less comfortable ones and I must have slept crookedly on my back the first night.

I must sound a little like a hypochondriac, what with colds that go away (real) and kidney stones that disappear (speculative). But I was concerned. Really I suppose the mileage is starting to show on this Indiana Jones.

We were up at about 6:30 and showered, and dressed until about 8. We had breakfast with the Sammons, this time for what I assume was the last time. There is little chance of seeing them in Istanbul. Pat noted that Mary Lynne tried the Cappy Cherry he bought last night and agreed that it was great. She drank a can and a half of it. This stuff is bottled by Coca-Cola but not available in the US. What a pity. They do have some fruit drinks in the Coca-Cola line in the US, but they are all under the apparent separate brand Minute Maid. I doubt Minute Maid has anything this good.

The back wall of the lounge where we have breakfast is a Camel cigarette ad that I find very funny. It is maybe four feet high and eight feet wide. It purports to be a film ad for a film called The Wild and the Brave though I sort of assume that no such film ever existed. On the right there is a picture of a man and a woman, both in their mid-30s, both in sort of African hunting gear. He is in the foreground with a big Camel cigarette between his fingers. She is standing behind him looking statuesque. To the left is the picture of them fleeing an angry bull elephant. He is standing on the landing strut of a flying helicopter. She is hanging over the side holding on only by his hand. The ad says, "Taste the Adventure." Wow! Now that is excitement. We didn't do that when we were in Africa.

We did not have a real itinerary planned for the day except that we wanted to go to the Open Air Museum. I think the idea was to take it easy. Pat asked us directions on how to get to the bus stop where he would be picked up at 9:15. I suggested we could walk them down and show them. Yet again we wished them well. This time I really think it was the last time. Then we climbed back up the hill to our room. Whoa, what a climb. One does not take it easy living up a hill like this, there are just varying degrees of strenuous activity. We decided to sit on our porch and write until we got our strength back.

We intended to head out something like 11 am after getting caught up in our logs. The day was clear. So we sat and wrote. An Australian family came through and we talked to them about what Anzac Day had been like and our plans to go to Australia. They left and some other guests came by. I noticed the woman was reading The Seven Pillars of Wisdom by T. E. Lawrence. Basically the film Lawrence of Arabia is based on this book and on a reworking of the same material, Revolt in the Desert. We talked about that Syria where they had visited. We talked about cinema. These are Clark and Ria Olson who live a little north of New York. She is Belgian-born and a translator. She looks a little like Vanessa Redgrave. Clark looks a bit like Richard Dreyfus with a neatly trimmed white moustache and beard. He does woodworking. Before we knew it was 1pm. I told the Olsons that we were going to the open-air museum and suggested that they join us but they had arrangement to make including setting up a tour for the next day.

We headed out for the open museum. Different countries have different things they call open-air museums. This museum was at one time all one huge church carved and hollowed out of the volcanic cones in this area. In a way I have not seen in any other region of the world volcanic force has pushed up cones of what looks to be a soft stone. A cone may be 30 feet to 100 feet high and maybe half of that in diameter. The rock is soft and crumbly. It is easily shaped. Here in this valley many small buildings were carved to make one church. There are crude geometric under paintings and in the 11^th and 12^th century there were still crude but more advanced frescoes painted on top.

We decided to walk from town to the open-air museum. It seemed to be just on the outside of town. It turned out to be about a 45-minute walk in the hot sun, mostly uphill. The scenery is otherworldly so that probably makes it worthwhile. It is sort of a cross between the American Southwest and Mars. But I realize as we are getting to the museum how much the walk has taken out of us. We each get a coke. The man gives us each a can and a yellow straw. The straw is leaky and what we are drinking is Coca-Cola foam. I give up and drink from the can.

The official name of this museum is the Goreme Acik Hava Muzesi. You walk in a big circle going into buildings. Even this time of year it is crowded with tourists. Since the only light for many of the rooms is through the doorway, people blocking the doorway is a problem. One climbs up rough steps to go through little doorways to get into claustrophobic rooms.

The cones have names like The Nun's Monastery, the Apple Church, and the Snake Church. The latter is so called because it shows St. George slaying a snake. We take some pictures for some tour groups. Joke with some Japanese. We spend maybe a couple of hours there. On our way out we see the Olsons coming in and make arrangements to get together for dinner. We head back out for town. Funny this road seems to be mostly uphill in both directions.

I want to belatedly wish my mother a happy Mother's Day. So at 5pm we want to call her. That will be 7am in California. It is now about 4 so we stop for a snack. I get a big kabap sandwich (to share with Evelyn) and a fresh-squeezed orange juice. There is nothing sweet about the orange juice, which tasted like lemon juice. Of course, I like it sour. More tourists go by carrying the Lonely Planet. Evelyn says next trip like this she want to put a different cover on the Lonely Planet just so we don't look like everyone else. I suggest we put on the cover of the Lonely Planet India book. That would really confuse people.

At about 4:30 we go to the PTT office and ask how we call home. We are told we have to call from this phone inside. We verify the access number with him. He wants us to dial it now, but I say that I want to wait until 5pm. So we wait and other tourists from our tour yesterday come along. We talk. At 5 we call. Wouldn't you know it, my mother was called from the shower. I should have called earlier. "Where are you calling from?" "Goreme. You know, in the Capadocia Region of Central Turkey." (Sure he knows. Right. Well, he can look I up in the atlas.) But it makes something of a hit to call home from someplace really exotic. We talk a little about Turkey and politics. Well, it will give them something to tell their friends, that they talked to Turkey.

Little did I know that I would have to fight to save my love on the way back to the hotel. We were climbing the hill (ugh!) and there in a little grassy patch were two turkeys. Yes, there are turkeys in Turkey. (I think I have heard they give them a different name.) I took a picture of the male. Good stuff for the photo album. As we were walking the male turkey stepped in front of us to take a closer look. Evelyn asked if they peck hard. I don't see how they could. They have that wattle in the way. I tried to step around and the turkey jumped at me kicking out with his claws. A minivan came along and suggested we wave a turkey steak at it. Big help. But as the van distracted it I walked by. The turkey went after Evelyn. The turkey actually jumped at her a couple of times as she tried to pass. Evelyn asked if I could find a way to ward it off. All I could find was a piece of wood bark on the ground. It would break if I tried to do much with it. But I whipped it at the turkey's head. The bird was not anxious to have its head whipped with bark and walked off. The threat was enough. I should have used my umbrella. That grows fast from a bird's point of view.

Back at the room we had some time before dinner so I put on the radio. It was playing American Country-Western music. I should have gotten some Coke and some Doritos and had them while I was listening. The storeowner would have been tickled pink to have me pay in American money. I would find it a lot tougher to go Turkish back at home.

Meanwhile the weather was changing and I went out to enjoy it. The sky goes like gray cotton. There is a constant rumble of thunder. Evelyn and I go out to watch the lightning on the sandy mountainside. The birds are reeling as if to get their last bout of flying in before the rains come. Perhaps they are looking for what they will use for shelter. Lightning scratches streaks in the sky. Across the way on the caved mountain women in veils to cover their heads rush around pulling in wash. The storm changes from sprinkling little drops to dropping heavy, pendulous bursts of water. Still there are parts of the sky that are blue. And some are white. But overhead it is a heavy gray. I am getting wet. I jump inside the door and clout myself on the head. This is the feel of Goreme, the feel of a clout on the head. I felt it again and again in the underground city. Again and again as I clambered under rocks I felt the concussion. Again and again as I climbed into low cave entrances in volcanic chimneys. And the low door of my room partakes of the tradition. This is the feel of Goreme.

At 7:30 we meet the Olsons and head down the hill for dinner. They had somewhat dressed up, but I knew it was still a long muddy walk to the restaurant. The Planet recommended the restaurant in the Hotel Ufuk II. We go there and it is a walk up a sort of muddy sandbank. We get to the restaurant and it turns out the kitchen is being renovated. The owner recommends another restaurant, Tardelli's. We decide to try it. Evelyn and I have lamb kabap. We get a salad and a Haydari for the table. Evelyn shares a bottle of wine with the Olsons. We talk about the usual: travel, food, movies, books. We compare stories of when the Olsons were in China with when we were there. They thought the Western breakfasts were great in the early 90s. In 1982 they were pretty bad and we were always better off if we could get Chinese food instead of Western. Clark is also a Russell Hoban fan, like Evelyn. We discussed the effect Ted Turner has had on film. I am less critical of Turner than most serious film fans. Yes, he colorized some films, but he also restored them to do that. If you say you lose the subtlety of lighting that the director of the black and white film intended, so what else is new? Even on film that changes with time and certainly the adjustment of the TV set affects it. And Turner has made a lot of nearly unavailable films become widely available. The damage he did by colorization is minimal compared to the good he has done for cinema fans. And Turner is giving a billion dollars to the UN. Bill Gates spends his money on himself. I think Turner's TV news is not very good, but overall I think very highly of Turner. I don't have much good to say about Bill Gates. Gates is just a selfish, immature little boy who cornered a highly profitable market. Compatibility has value to business so whoever made the operating system that American business standardized on would be very rich. That was Gates.

As we climb back up to our rooms the sky is partly cloudy. There is a full moon and it silvers the edges of the clouds. To stand at the base of one of the cones with the light glinting golden off of it and look up at it and the sky is a beautiful picture, but one I cannot capture with my camera, unfortunately.

We get back to the room.

Toilets in Turkey work about as well as turkeys do in toilets.