After finding our way in the dark with a defective map to
our hotel, getting back to the airport was child's play: a
stroll down the hill to the bus stop, find a bus that said
"Aksaray" on the list of destinations, and good to go. We
were quite early, but a little song and dance at security
chewed up some time - apparently, lili had travelled tens
of thousands of miles with a standard issue lever corkscrew,
no problem, but it caused a tizzy here and was confiscated.
In the process, she mislaid her passport; after much angst
and thorough reinvestigation of every possible hiding place,
it was refound, and life was good. We celebrated by going
to the Beer Port for more Efes and a glass of a local
wine called Yakut Kavaklidere. When check time came, and
no change was forthcoming, it became clear that the rather
cute waitress was stalling so we'd have to hurry off without
our substantial change. We didn't fall for that and kept
calling after her until she poutingly forked it over. Put
lili off Beer Port, to the degree that when we found another
one at Besiktas some days later, she shuddered.

Anyway, we strolled to the gate in plenty of time.

TK2332 IST ADB 1700 1805 321 19EF

Another crowded flight, a mercifully quick one. Dinner was
a cheese sandwich, which I didn't eat. Pickup at Izmir was
seamless; a jovial driver picked us up along with the
Lieberherr family, here from Australia, and deposited them
after the 45-minute ride at their hotel in downtown Selcuk
and then us at the Kilisealti Guest House in Sirince, a
hill town apparently in the middle of nowhere. Our place
was up a hill on a cobbled street - very atmospheric but
not terrific to walk in the dark. It was a clean but sparse
accommodation, rather B&Bish. We asked the guy for a good
place to eat, and he led us to (of course) the nearest
restaurant, Dimitros, which was sad and empty, while down
the way there was another filled with sounds of music and
jollity. But we stuck with it and were glad we did. lili's
lamb sis was pretty nice; I had a properly oily and savory
imam bayildi followed by a meat crepe, which was floppy
and crepelike. The Akberg Cabernet 04 was dreadful to the
point that I thought the place must have refilled the
bottle with cheap swill. Suddenly the other restaurant
went silent, and one could hear dozens of tramping feet in
the dark, then the sound of a bus going off in the distance.
After which there was an influx into ours - apparently, when
the other restaurant gets rid of its tourists, the staff
comes here to relax. We stayed for quite a while, our
evening enlivened by several glasses of raki, the last few
of which were on the house, or, at least, we didn't pay for
them. We got kind of silly and giggly with the Turks and
then staggered the few steps up the hill to our rooms.