M-whY

This was my first time traveling by day, and so it was also my first glimpse at Turkey's countryside. At least half a foot of snow covered most of it. Strangely, while I've had difficulty sleeping on buses at night, in broad daylight, I could barely keep my eyes open. I fell asleep, and didn't stir until we made our first rest stop. Shortly thereafter, we passed a sign that read, "Bolu 12"

"Are Bolu and Safranbolu the same?"

"Not sure, I think so," answered Warren.

"We're almost there then." Half an hour later, after making the briefest of stops (just a quick opening of the doors to allow a couple more people aboard), I began feeling uncomfortable. "I think we were supposed get off back there," I said, mentioning the sign I saw. "We've definately gone farther than 12 kilometers. We might be headed to Ankara now... Damn, I never seem to end up where I want."

We studied the map of Turkey a bit more carefully, and thankfully discovered that Bolu and Safranbolu were actually two different places. The latter had the standard otogar, from which we were shuttled to Safranbolu's town center. Old Safranbolu's town center was still a little farther away.

The first dolmus we caught was actually going in the other direction. "Eski (old) Safranbolu? Eski Safranbolu?" Warren kept asking random Turks on the street, who helpfully pointed us the right way. The correct dolmus took us a couple kilometers down the hill, dropping us off in a quiet residential neighborhood.

"Looks a bit eerie," remarked Warren.

We located the cheapest pension listed in his Rough Guide. The lights were on, but the entrance was locked and peering inside, no one appeared to be home. Nor did anyone answer the doorbell. The next place we scoped out was asking too much - 30 lira (US$1 = 1.3 TL) per person per night was more than we were expecting to pay - so we told them we'd think about and kept searching.

"I'm sure there are plenty of cheap pensions around," I said, and sure enough, came across a place asking only half that. We checked in and left our gear in the room.

Dinner was suggested, and we found a place still open and sat down. The manti - some sort of mince stuffed pasta - we had came in too small portions and was dreadful. "Okay, that's the appetizer, now we go look for the real meal." A tiny shop had cold pides in the window, and looked like our only other option. Served lukewarm after being heated over a coal grill, they were at least filling.

"Merry Christmas," we wished each other, a token acknowledgement of the holidays.

Snowflakes fell from above as we made our way back to the pension. "I'm... dreaming... of a whiiiiite Christmas," Warren started singing. Whatever. You can have your white Christmas. I'm dreaming of some mashed potatoes and gravy!

Thanks to everyone for their support and comments! Knowing people are reading keeps me motivated to continue the updates!