Mehmet brings us bread in the morning and at night. They are puffy, soft, rounds of bread sprinkled with sesame seed and some other spices I cannot identify. The great thing about them is that they are warm. Since it's Ramazan (a muslim fasting month) the people wait until 7:30 PM to eat their meal for the day. Fresh bread is baked for the occasion, and we infidels get to reap the rewards of their holy time. It is admirable to see an entire city observe such a self sacrificing practice. I don't see people eat on the street, I don't see people drink and İ feel guilty when I do in front of them. I know they are watching me. I think they are a very respectable people. I don't hear the men whistling at scantily clad women. İ don't see them staring at women as they pass, I don't see drunkards, I don't hear people fighting out loud, there is a lot I don't see. I am aware that because of my lack of understanding of the language I miss a lot.
We furnished our apartment today. It will be a heartwrenching day when we go home to the states. It's a horrible feeling to buy furniture, silverware, dishes, bed linens, beds, etc. and know that you will be leaving them here when you go. Maybe we will never go. Maybe we will jump back and forth for the rest of our lives.
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I've forgotten myself. Furniture is just furniture and it can always be replaced. Experience is not just experience, and it is irreplaceable.