Routes and Roots (or Unintended Consequences)

The morning of the second day we set off for Vergina, me sitting next to Gabriela, who had just that morning introduced me to her compatriot, Anamaria, our lady of the coat. She sat across the aisle from me and we talked about Istanbul (where she had worked as a language teacher) and Lisbon (which she had visited). Gabriela and she were talking about the train journey lying ahead of them- 24 hours to Bucharest. It sounded all very romantic to me of course, the whole thing was like a scene from Fortunes of War, actually, Anamaria a very propable character from the Manning story. Thus I felt ensconced and fancied myself as Guy Pringle. We passed many pink infused peach orchards and then arrived at what our guide called the telly-tubby mound, with good reason.

The tombs and the jewellery were impressive, but I could not enjoy them much due to very little amount of sleep. I tried to wake myself up afterwards with a cup of tea-bag tea (and Liptpn at that!) and found myself sitting at the same table as my compatriots, who had already started ticking the Turks off their list. Yes, I was another item on the list. We made polite talk, I was as terse as possible without being rude (an attitude which I have not yet decided whether to rue or not)

After the visit we decided to have lunch with the Romanian contingent (still very happy in my role as Pringle) and after Mr. Parker suggested that we have a sandwich at the Three Little Pigs joint, we passed, and then came to a restaurant where everything happened to be at least a euro more expensive on the bill, as compared to what the menu said. Anamaria said she would complain, Gabriela and I convinced her not to. Our fish was good, and they had brought us deserts "on the house". Then we walked to Aristotle Square where I met up with my parents, and the girls veered off to the bazaar, where they had been hoping to find nice jewellery, but which did not yield much, contrary to the guide's suggestion. We bumped into them as we ourselves were looking for the wool rug, and then we had conversations about Bursa, Istanbul and Yozgat with various members of the shopfolk in the bezesteni, I ended up buying a nice coral ring.

My mother and I then took several urban buses which took us to outskirts, and then I barely made it to my own session. After that my parents left for their hotel, and we went upstairs for the "gala dinner". There were even more Romanians at the table, so I was more than happy, thinking I must really get that train at some point in good Pringle style. After the food, the Greeks did halay, and invited all to join, and join the others did. It was a very convivial atmosphere indeed, best I've ever experienced at a conference. Dancing, I mean, how can you beat that?