Via Istanbul (not Constantinople!)

While pregnant with Logan, I had the pleasure of flying through Turkey to get to Larnaca, Cyprus. Let me just tell you, those crazy Cypriots love them some karaoke all... through... the... night. God bless their little hearts. We stayed at a pretty fancy hotel, that of course I don't remember the name of, and we spent less than a few hours there awake each layover.

 Apparently you can just pick a place and dig and 9 times out of 10 you'll find a little bit of history right underneath your feet.

I drank deliciously rich Turkish coffee each morning, looked out onto the Mediterranean sea, let the warm moist air soak over me as I trekked along the beach and between the adjoining hotel. It was very peaceful there for a country torn between it's Greek and Turkish roots. I could use a little peace right now.

The hotel grounds overlooking the Mediterranean.

Old Greek style alleyway between our hotel and the neighboring hotel.

I wrote about this SCARY ASS HIGHWAY on a previous post. Good times.

"I wish I'd had the pleasure of staying here longer. I cried when we passed the Starbucks on the way back to the airport. More because I needed to get out of the BUS OF DEATH and off the HIGHWAY DROPPING INTO THE OCEAN than my need for caffeine. See exhibit A above. Shoulder schmoulder. You save money when you don't bother to put up guard rails on the OCEAN SIDE of the road."

 Because WHY NOT.