Gule Gule Durham

With the house cleaner that it has ever been, the animals distributed to loving caretakers, one car rented to a visiting French journalist and the other donated to our local drug rehab center (bye, Helga, the Passat wagon), our two renters (upstairs and downstairs) installed, the bills paid and the fingers crossed, we said bye bye (gule gule) to Durham until next year. Hurricane Ernesto hurried us north, and our flight over the Atlantic was magical, with the Big Dipper showing the way. Despite being well-warned by Grampy Frank about the Frankfurt airport, we were surprised to find how disorganized things were. The new security regulations seem to have put everyone there in a fever of searching, but without having remembered to put up signs showing where people are to go to reach their connecting flights. We had good croissants and coffee then battled lines to get to our Istanbul flight. Once in Istanbul, we were met by Yektan and Hakan (the husband of Ayse, one of Orin's most brilliant students, who now teachers at Sabanci University, where Ayse is a professor). Both had cars, having been full warned about our massive pack train. They were very generous with their time -- and back strength, being as we are down by one back. Turkish hospitality was in full force as Hakan informed us that he was moving out of their apartment (Ayse is on her way back from Poland) to give it to us, until our apartment is ready on September 4. We toured the Istanbul that was of most interest to us -- the kids' school (massive, like a small university), our neighborhood (more later) , the grocery/wine/chocolate stores, a delicious kepap restaurant and the glorious Bosphorous.