The last morning

October 10

This morning, another beautiful day dawns, clear and crisp. The weather has definitely turned. Crowded on the rooftop, we say our farewells to the city we all swear we shall revisit. The sun winks on the water, polishes the gold of the Sultanahmet Mosque, silhouettes the Galata Tower, as, off in the distance, the ships wait to channel up the Bosphorus to the Black Sea.

There’s nothing like an airport to seal memorable experiences into a separate compartment. ¬†Ataturk International is comfortable and airy enough, but you could be anywhere. The trip home was long and uneventful, except for the mad dash in Frankfurt, from wherever the Istanbul flight landed to terminal Z, located at the end of a long and circuitous route through terminals A, B,C, and D.

Eleven or so hours later, we peeled out of our seats and waited in a very long line at US customs.
Goodbye & goodnight.