Posts in Batch 38
218 - Medical Tourism (Istanbul, Turkey)

Acibadem Fulya, the hospital in Istanbul, was the newest addition to the network. It had only been operating for six months. Everything was brand spanking new, and it was the nicest hospital I’ve ever visited. They have a specific “check-up” department, using  the English phrase “check-up” on the signage. I arrived and checked in at the reception desk. Although the clerical staff spoke very little English, they provided a liaison who’d lived in Houston, Texas for twenty-five years.  All the doctors also spoke English.

First, I had blood drawn, blood pressure measurements, height, weight, etc.  Next was a visit to…

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219 - Wandering the 'Bul (Istanbul, Turkey)

I defy you to visit Istanbul and not drink a shit ton of tea or smoke an assload of hookah. It’s a cultural hotbed of social interaction and almost feels like a requirement, though a pleasant one at that… until you make yourself nauseous from tobacco. Also, I’m surprised I have any teeth remaining after guzzling tea equal parts sugar and water.  

If Taksim Square is Istanbul’s heart, then Istiklal Avenue is its main artery. One can find anything and everything—shops, restaurants, cafes, bars, theaters, galleries, etc. I patrolled this thoroughfare no less than 1.32 million times. With Istanbul being the cosmopolitan “East meets West nexus,” anonymity is easy to attain, even for a 6’4” goofball American….

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220 - Proverbial Horizon (Bozcaada to Cappadocia, Turkey)

Over the course of a week, we explored by car and on foot. By day, we’d explore the culture and geology of Goreme’s surrounding areas and beyond. By night, we ate delicious food, drank ridiculously sweet tea, and puffed on a hooka until nausea set in. Although there were a fair amount of tourists, most were of the tour bus lazy-ass variety, which meant for the most interesting hikes, we had the area to ourselves. I knew Cappadocia would be interesting, but I underestimated its magical quality. Get there while the weather is cool and before the hoards descend. You’ll not be disappointed. Crannies to inspect, caves to spelunk, and phallic “fairy” chimneys to ponder….

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…or was I? (Indonesia to Turkey)

The power of language is undeniable. How evocative the act of arranging letters in a particular order can be. CIA. FBI. NSA. DIA. AIA. ASA. NRO. Betcha you’re not sure what all of those represent. Don’t beat yourself up. It doesn’t reflect poorly on your intelligence.

If what I am intimating has even a modicum of veracity, I’d be out of my fucking gourd to write about it… or would I? Everyone has a breaking point, a point when one can no longer swallow the bullshit and finds themselves compelled to speak. Perhaps I’d reached that stage… or did I?

Who likes timelines? From January to August 2009, I was in Indonesia. Curious timing, wouldn’t you say? On July 17th, 2009, two separate bombs…

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221 - Smile Because It Happened… Asshole

So, I sit, and I dream of more. Not because I deserve more. Not because I feel entitled. Not because I need more. (I do.) Only because a hundred lifetimes would be insufficient to “suck out all the marrow of life.” That’s the triumph and the tragedy of our existence, whether or not we choose to face it. There’s a moment or period in everyone's life they treasure. It may be a minute or a year, but it’s there. And that moment, that feeling, that sense of comprehension, is a feeling like no other and trumps any drug out there. If you’re lucky, moments of triumph outnumber moments of tragedy. And if you’re really lucky, you have the good sense and good fortune to cherish that remarkable circumstance because, in the blink of an eye, someday it will all be over…

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Batch 38, miscRich Plumadore