The sun turns to shadows over the Agean Sea and it is time to prepare for the reset of body and mind required for the journey home and for being at home. The visits to art collections such as the items in this post that were found in the courtyard of the Bodrum Castle. That juxstapostion of history and new commentary was one of the great gifts of this journey.
There were times I perpetuated the myth that I would become a master surfer. That did not happen. Parading with a board to get some poster girl’s attention was as far as I got. More lessons next year.
We could climb to great heights and overlook bays and valleys. We were blessed with sunshine and people on the journey. We laughed, shared story and spent too much time worrying about who was getting older faster. The app did tell us we averaged 10.7 km per day walking and over 10 flights of stairs each day. We were physically blessed.
There were many times on this journey that the trinket peddlars created visual chaos. The made in some-other-country souveniers and the wanna-be-famous brand names litterd the street stands like confetti at a wedding. Yet behind each sun shading awning there was a person struggling to provide food and drink for house and home.
After a careful introduction to the tradition of headless statues in the guild halls, Margaret thought she might try a new roll in retirement. Along the path in Ephesus we learned that marble statues were expensive to carve and that all male bodies tended to look the same in a toga. The tradition in the guild halls was one of simply removing the head of the operater and installing a new head on the old statue. Simple and even simpler if you only dealt with males. Female figures were not that universal, nor that prevalent.
We stumbled on a lot of doorways on the journey and the casting-out-spells eyes on this exemplar was worth sharing. The dental work requires a little love and care as does the colouring. In Turkey the eye symbol was used superfluously to ward of dark spirits and bring good fortune. As I was sitting in Bodrum with my feet touching the sand as I read the closing chapters (arguments) of the Marilyn Robinson novel, Home. It was time.
The suitcase says it all. Packed and ready to go. Home? Again? Blessed and humbled! In the openings are the vistas, gardens, flowers, stories, laughter, children and hugs.