Turkish Baths

These age-old relics are a pain in the neck. For 95 lyra you get a fat old man in a striped towel (towels pictured above) to scrub you down after laying on a heated marble slab, looking into the rotunda's dome. The fat man will spit on the ground you will walk on, and he will bend your body in half while trying to crack your back. If you are anything like me (and afraid of popping your shoulder blade out of place) you will scream, because he will be pulling your left arm up behind you while he pushes the rest of your upper body down. Then--critical moment--he will laugh at you, say in broken Turksih, "you have nothing," grab your head, and snap it left, successfully proving he can crack something in your body. Two days later, you, like I, will not be able to lift yourself out of bed because your neck and right shoulder hurt too much. You will take handfuls of Ibuprofen, go to the doctor, get a bag of Codeine, and finally sleep well--all night, in fact--and then walk around Varna, Bulgaria, still unable to turn your head, but happy you are well rested. You will find a Bulgarian pharmacy with a box of "Nuroflex," sporting bright flashing lightning bolts flying out of a white pill and the word, "Forte" written next to it. This, the monoglot Bulgarian will assure, is Ibuprofen. And whatever it is, it will help you, almost cure you of your pain on the sixth day of immobility.

Last night, I had the pleasure of finally resting my head, without pain, on the beach in Varna--to see the stars. On my walk back to the ship, past all the bars and clubs on the beach where SASers were dancing, I noted a couple snorting coke off the side of a trash can, and I had enough flexibility to turn my head and look back.