night before a day in konya

from goreme to konya, last seat on the bus, going up the step as it was pulling away. i caught an evening bus to get me into konya at night -- it is about a three-hour trip.

arrived in konya under a full moon. after weeks of touring tiny villages of a few hundred people at a time i did not expect konya to be so _big, especially since i'd read about how it is so religiously conservative. but it is big. took a minibus from the bus station to the city's main street: after a long time exploring dark avenues lined with shuttered shops a security guard walked my right to the front door of the hotel ulusan from where four of them were sitting outside the front door of their protectorate, flitting worry beads and drinking tea.

the thick-handed hotel doorman came down to meet me -- he was expecting me, i'd phoned from the minibus -- and carried my bag squeezing up the tightly winding staircase. there was a little cot tucked in behind the main desk which was done in laminate and rolled on wheels. he gave me my key, led me to my room, indicated the blue-tiled showers down the hall, made the sign for bed, and returned to the front desk without saying too much more. it was after midnight.

my room had shiny square floortiles that went right to the edge of the walls and were solidly gritted in and sealed with sealant -- a serious relief after two weeks of living in a porous stone building in cappadocia where i had to hang my food from the curtain rod because of ants. pale rose coloured walls and a polished wood dresser, and a little peach-painted lavabo with a marble top and the sink cut right in, with a plastic cup upside-down on a shelf. a chair for two, two pairs of slippers beneath, and on a table at arm's length was a plaster ashtray done up to be a chick dreamy in a rowboat, round bum but nothing more covered with a flowing cloth: doubtless drifting out over the aegean to lesbos to see for herself what goes on there.

breakfast was a cripsy pancake, a chocolate pudding and a nice big cup of tea, all of which was brought to me without me having to ask. among the thumbed paperbacks on the common-area bookshelf, no english books except an agatha christie. the light fixtures were all bright, low-watt fluorescents. one night in a lovely little hotel.