Apple and a Raki

I bite into a Delicious Red Apple. Discovering that an apple is crunchy rather than mushy is usually a delightful sensation in its own right. but today this is only a small bonus on the tip of an even greater sensation that I am experiencing while I sit at the bow of a 30 meter long gulet that motors along the edge of the Bodrum Peninsula in the clear blue waters of the Aegean Sea. We're cruising along on a sunday afternoon in late May. The sun is shining down on all the girls who lie utterly still; like buddhist monks in meditation. Only they aren't praying to the Buddha, they are praying to the Sun to bestow upon them The Divine Tan, The Holy Bronzing of Thine Skin, The Heavenly Browning.

My professor sits next to me on the bow. His feet are propped up on the finely polished wood table that is bolted to the deck. He reads Turkish poetry and sips on a glass of Raki. Raki for the professor and an apple for the student. Any other time or place and this might seem a bit odd. But on the warm and salty waters of the Aegean Sea, everything feels just right in the world.