April 14 Amasra P.M.

After lunch and a rest, we headed for the fort on the headlands, past Amasra's dead hero, 1979-2007. Yup, a rock star: the Romans and Genovese took care of their own monuments – I wonder if this was the work of the town or Baris Akarsu's estate. Somebody didn't inherit his motorcycles, flanking him like the leopards frame the goddesses. We went almost to the bridge and did the Bear Skin Neck thing (Cape Ann insiders joke), shopping for gifts. In most Turkish places, dogs are a rarity, but in Amasra they were common. We saw this puppy a bit later, ready for adoption: the mama-dog was not interested in having her pup taken (low growl) and we of course had no means if we had succumbed to such cuteness. We then hiked the cobbled road and stone steps to the parapet of the Genoan fort, where Ataturk looked over the town in steely profile. We passed this basilica, now a museum, formerly possibly a mosque from 1460 to 1930, on our way to the overlook toward the breakwater we had walked in the windy but sunnier morning. Jim took a little side trip down a steep stone path to find this stunning fixer-upper – maybe a bit rundown (to the foundation) and a bit out of the way (800 feet of pathway), but location, location, location. (Jim figures how far his Social Security would go, and how much trouble it might be to learn Turkish: then there's the Gail issue....).

Back along the headlands, we peek into another mosque/museum to see the open space and fine minbar. The glare on the floor has given me an excuse to show the local culinary theme, the Amasra salad, in one of it's variations. Continuing down to the bridge we pass what Gail calls 'Martha Stewart gone wild', as a worker delivers bags of concrete from a van on the steep, narrow, cobbled street. We turn sideways to pass.

Back at the hotel for dinner, we say farewell to Amasra, and it says farewell to us.