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this picture is a tiny representation of the experience with the bus load of tourists. a shelf of small bottles, massage oil, olive oil with tea tree extract, small bottles of cooking oil. all neatly arranged in rows this morning: that order now laid to waste.

for an hour it was truly busy. the credit card machine decided to stop working. they offered american money. in spite of this mehmet did a brisk trade. they bled him of bubble wrap.

i came along to help, thinking tourists would speak some english, but none did -- though there was a girl who sat to the side with a pen, writing -- anyways i couldn't do much: when the phone rang i brought it to the woman with auburn hair who wears the long leather boots with square toes. but that was about it until things calmed down.

it is quieter now and i found myself a task: straightening the stack of flyers for today's event. the stack is now perfect. outside, the wooden decks get a final polish.

your correspondent has been given a new task and must vamoose. we will stay with this breaking story as it unfolds.