Sunday: We found the streets eerily empty for 9 am. The plus year old Turkish coffee shop was closed. A dapper little man approached me, spoke politely in Turkish.
I said we are looking for coffee. He motioned to follow him and I did. He was at least 89 and I figured I could defend myself plus he seemed to have good intentions. Jeff trailed warily behind. The restaurants were opening but no customers yet. It turned out he thought I was looking for a toilet.
Once that was straightened out he got us into a restaurant and we got our coffee. Then our guide showed us his missing finger? Jeff said thank you in Turkish, the old man pressed his heart and jauntily headed away the way we had come. Now we roamed the narrow streets of the old town, more like alleys but people lived there, it was like a maize.
We weren't exactly lost but didn't want to retrace our steps either. Eventually we found a busier street and passed the Museum of National Struggle Then there were a string of sidewalk cafes so we stopped for a coffee. Over Jeff's soldier I saw a familiar looking statue two blocks away - hey that's our street. Lost no more. We picked up a Turkish churro from the street vendor, stopped by our room for awhile to cool off then headed back out to the main tourist area.
We shared an olive and halloumi cheese sandwich and I had a beer. Halloumi was invented in Cyprus by the way. The money exchange was closed so we will pop in there tomorrow.
