This morning was the first day for me on the Fez Bus. A group of young people (and old me) were on time for the 0700 departure from Istanbul. The group is what I expected, about two-third's females from Australia, traveling in groups of three. So far, so good.

The bus is new, an Isuzu with A/C with seats the size of one buttock. The tour guide is a 28 year old gal from Australia who likes Abba and has been around the Fez circuit nine times already in 4½ months.

It is hot here. I am being a good boy and drinking cold, bottled water by the liter. We traveled down the coast (the bus route is circular and counterclockwise) and I just sat on one buttock while the bus made it's way out of smoky Istanbul. I am not relaxed yet, today I kept having this terrific urge to check my e-mail at work. The Isuzu bus does not yet have a link to our network.

We stopped for a tea break at about 10:00 at a clean, well lit place for trucks. There was a cafeteria. Steam table food is especially good here and, since it was before lunchtime, the offerings were fresh. I had a plate of stuffed eggplant stewed in Olive oil, whose name translates to 'The priest fainted'. Scrumptious.

The first real destination today was Gallipoli, and all except for three were dropped off at the former battlefield, now a mecca for those from Australia and New Zealand. This history is incredibly gripping for them, and several were surprised that I was opting out of the weepfest. This particular bit of world history frankly means little to most Americans unless they have seen the Mel Gibson movie. I smartly excused myself and made it to the hotel. The other two that stayed on the bus are from Eugene, as in Oregon.

My room, a single, clean but not ensuite, came to about $7. When I went in I noticed that although it was clean and had been freshly painted, someone had neglected to install a window to the outside world. Next door was a double with two windows and a balcony, and for an additional $3.00 I was happy.

I wasn't hungry at dinnertime, so at about 10:00 pm I wandered the streets. The hotel is right next to the ferry dock, the temps were still in the 80's and families were still out strolling. It looked like any Saturday night in Paris, kinda sorta.

I found a man with a food cart. His product was mussel sandwiches. Tempura batter-fried on a french roll for about a dollar. Tasty, but I was not satiated.

Then I found the pide of the gods.

In a wood-burning oven, open to the street so that I could see the logs, pide (Turkish pizza) was being made and sold where all could see, a bit of old-fashioned hucksterism that nobody can resist. At least not me.

I ordered a pide with ground, spiced lamb and cheese. The pizza paddle, the longest that I had ever seen, brought it out after a few minutes and the chef slathered some olive oil on it, the put it back for a moment to finish it off.

Per my request, they sprinkled some ground, red chili flakes upon it and packed it up to go. The bill for the wood-fired pizza came to 900,000 Turkish lira, or about $2.20. I sat on my balcony with a cold Efes pilsner and ate pide. It was enough for two and I could not finish it.

At midnight I decided to go to bed. The bus departs at 0900 and I needed to sleep. I set my alarm watch and then put in ear plugs to drown out the street noise. Go figure.

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