1. Seeing a live and very unruly black ram led out of the cargo hold of a passenger bus.
2. Basking in the inspirational energy of a Ani Pierpont who just wrote Sinan Diaryz—a walking tour book of Istanbul’s Ottoman architecture. God, I miss American female bonding.
3. Watching Turkish woman avoid “regular” toilets in favor of the stand-up squat variety. But, I guess when you’ve been going touch-less you’re whole life, a plastic seat seems gross. (Yes, Christine, of course I’m hovering!)
4. Learning what a real supernova is.
5. Attempting to sink into the floor as a violent movie called “The Marine” began playing on a bus ride through Turkey.
6. Having a conversation about time machines with Michael over our umpteenth (Mom, this is your word!) donner kebab and ayran (something like buttermilk).
7. Time spent with Kirdir–the rug-selling, bike-renting, triathlon-coaching guy with a moustache.
8. Being served coffee, water, tea and cookies. On a bus. Does Greyhound do this?
9. The inescapable irony of having to explain that we were in the “Peace Corps”, to Turkish people, at this present time.
10. Joking with Sez, our second Turkish couchsurfing host, about the Seinfeld Soup Nazi.

For our first couchsurfing experience, we stayed with Meriç (pronounced Merich) in Bursa. He lived in a farm of landscaped, pastel apartment buildings in the suburbs. He commuted to work, drove downtown to go bar-hopping, ate lunch and dinner in a company food court and shopped at a massive grocery store built just for his subdivision. The grocery store looked a lot like Albertsons. If it weren’t for the flags, it could have been any American suburb.

Honest, sincere and accommodating, Meriç was an angelic host. He took us to dinner, drove us around, helped us fax and print and picked us up from the ferry. We stayed two nights, but he would have let us sleep in his college-like flat for a week. Mer?ç and his easy-going, Facebook-belonging friends drank wheat beer and smoked Marlboro Lights. So I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when they said to us, upon hearing about our Peace Corps service and future plans: But what about security? What about your future? Aren’t you worried? How could you just abandon your jobs? And Syria? Be careful!The same comments we get from fellow Americans.You just never know what you’re gonna get. . .

We are on the fourth official day of Wanderlust or Bust (WOB), our tour through the Middle East and hopefully Africa.

Water Bottles Purchased: 9

Strange Bed Slept In: 3

Cloves Smoked: 1

Meals Eaten Which Have Included Lamb: 6

Kind Strangers Encountered: Too many to countTraveling. It’s a medicine of sorts. It cures that whole “When this happens, everything will be fine” concept. It rids our life of reasons to hurry. And this tr?p, espec?ally, slays the concept of a destination from all vision. Because we are traveling to TRAVEL. Every DAY is our destination, and every moment our purpose. (My hubby sneaks up on me to the right).In fact, we’ve realized our Lonely Planet Turkey book, which we ceremon?ously opened once inside our sleeper car, is not the precious guide I guarded so dearly. We are not so interested in mosques, ruins and baths. These things are for tourists and we are not tourists. Charming coastal towns, w?th cushions to while away the hours w?th wine are part of a vacation. And we are definitely not on vacation. We are looking to coin our own brand of ethnodiscovery. Information like bus times, simple Turkish terms, maps and hostel addresses can be cruc?al, but they are also largely outdated in a not yet three-year old tome. Chill Out Hostel, for example, checkitt out to the right, is not as promised (or threatened). It was pretty sticky on arrival. To our relief, the shower is no longer perched over the squat toilet, but to our chagrin, the price is now 20 lira per dorm bed as opposed to 12. The world is moving fast.We’ve been to Istanbul thrice before–enough that it feels a little like a third home. It is marinated in memories of our parents and friends. We can welcome with ease what it always has to offer: metrosexual men, fresh cheap mussels, headscarfed-wrapped skin and charismatic hospitality. Last night we visited Kafeka hookah room for a Bitburger beer, and chatted with our backgammon teacher from last spring. Good times.Boudreaux began purifying water this morning with our miniscule iodine tablets–this will not only keep us diarrhea free, but save us money as well. He also created a complex spreadsheet with our daily expenses, average expenditures and a cell with a fluctuating date, telling us exactly how much longer our trip can last based on the money we plan to spend and what we make along the way. It is a strategic game now–saving money. Saying no to one more beer, eating while stand?ng up, choosing the morning-breath flavored dorm over the private double room.On to the home of a 29-year old Turkish guy in Bursa, a town in Western Anatolia, via ferry and bus, for our first couchsurf?ng experience.

Check back soon. . .