No, this picture of Luke isn't the glimpse of hell I speak of
Sleep; wonderous sleep... I'd almost forgot the glorious sensation of my head hitting a soft pillow, laying carelessly in a prone position, and just letting my batteries recharge; it's a beautiful thing knowing that at last, after 48 hours of the sleepless and miserable purgatory-like existence I've been leading between airplanes, airports, and the worst country in the world- don't worry, I'll get to that in a second- I'll soon be in Istanbul, well rested and at last ready to return to the world of the living. And not as a bedraggled, downtrodden and generally reviled zombie-bum either like I was in the UK, but rather as bedraggled, downtrodden, generally reviled, but still inexplicably proud American foreigner. The fact that this life-altering night of sleep somehow came courtesy of a bench in a bustling London Gatwick Airport terminal is just more evidence of how low my standards have fallen so quickly. It's also extremely encouraging.
Just hours ago, wandering through London aimlessly with a huge and cumbersome backpack and a seemingly permanant pained grimace writhing across my face, I would have sacrificed a small child to the gods just to taste this bit of respite. In fact, I would have sacrificed a small nation to a horrific hurricane/earthquake/zombie apocalypse for even a morsel of this feeling. But don't think of me as cruel- for that nation would be Iceland. As far as I could tell from my brief but telling stay in Reyjacvik, Iceland is second to none on the depression index. Actually, calling it a small nation is misleading; Iceland is more like a very large and particularly cruel concentration camp. I'm about 99% certain that I could walk into the Blue Mosque tomorrow (that's right, Istanbul in 6 hours!) wearing a George W. Bush mask and my birthday suit, and get a more friendly reception than anyone has ever gotten in Iceland. Small wonder that this tiny little island had twice as many suicides committed in the first half of 2009 as the rest of the world combined. No seriously, look it up, it's true.* Goodbye and good riddance forever, you festering island wasteland of death and decay.
Ok, so Iceland's not really that bad. But on that very cathartic note, it's time to move onward... to the magnificent city of Constantinople, the gateway- as it always has been- between Europe and Asia, East and West, and the one place more than any other where "ours" and "theirs" coexist. It's been 10 years since this city nursed me through my youth; I think we may have some catching up to do- preferably over a beer or two.
*not actually true
Just hours ago, wandering through London aimlessly with a huge and cumbersome backpack and a seemingly permanant pained grimace writhing across my face, I would have sacrificed a small child to the gods just to taste this bit of respite. In fact, I would have sacrificed a small nation to a horrific hurricane/earthquake/zombie apocalypse for even a morsel of this feeling. But don't think of me as cruel- for that nation would be Iceland. As far as I could tell from my brief but telling stay in Reyjacvik, Iceland is second to none on the depression index. Actually, calling it a small nation is misleading; Iceland is more like a very large and particularly cruel concentration camp. I'm about 99% certain that I could walk into the Blue Mosque tomorrow (that's right, Istanbul in 6 hours!) wearing a George W. Bush mask and my birthday suit, and get a more friendly reception than anyone has ever gotten in Iceland. Small wonder that this tiny little island had twice as many suicides committed in the first half of 2009 as the rest of the world combined. No seriously, look it up, it's true.* Goodbye and good riddance forever, you festering island wasteland of death and decay.
Ok, so Iceland's not really that bad. But on that very cathartic note, it's time to move onward... to the magnificent city of Constantinople, the gateway- as it always has been- between Europe and Asia, East and West, and the one place more than any other where "ours" and "theirs" coexist. It's been 10 years since this city nursed me through my youth; I think we may have some catching up to do- preferably over a beer or two.
*not actually true
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