My Best Breakfast Ever

My best breakfast ever…
I remember it well. I can still taste the combination of crusty and creamy and sweet. It was a classically simple breakfast that I had assembled myself during a walk through a small village in the hills between Istanbul, sitting on the Bosphorus, and the border with Greece.
The scenery was magnificent: green hills stretched away to pine forests with some grey stone mountains above.
There was a timeless feeling about this small place as if yesterday Greek warriors had passed through in a marching phalanx. The day had started much earlier in Istanbul. I left the small hotel in the city and then came a walk, a bus and finally a ride in a stranger’s car. But it was still mid-morning and my appetite had been fanned by the combination of exercise, scenery and the excitement of the travel. The hunger magnified all the tastes. It enhanced the flavors and the satisfaction.

I was dropped off by my lift in the middle of town. So I wandered down the street and found places to shop. From one store I bought a large hunk of the typical local bread; a crusty sourdough with some large holes scattered through it. To go with it I searched out a pot of local yoghurt: creamy and tangy fresh. The topping that brought out the flavors of both was a portion of local honey. Runny and sticky, redolent of the pinewoods, it was totally awesome.
I soon found a spot by the roadside to eat and put down my backpack with my clothes that had seen thousands of miles of travel since I left the dusty Khyber Pass just a week ago.I had travelled all the way across Afghanistan, Iran and Turkey. Many bottom-breaking miles I had ridden across parched deserts in the most basic of buses with no suspension and the thinnest of covered seats. With no heating either many nights were spent on the road in wakeful discomfort. Only when the morning came and warmed the metal can on four wheels did comfort return and sleep came.
It had been a startling and amazing first introduction to the orient. My first travel outside Europe. We had seen many strange sights and woken up in the oddest places.

But my companions had fallen away with different itineraries. I was now headed back to England – home after a four week voyage of discovery. And there was a lot of university work awaiting me at Oxford.
Having found my breakfast niche with a flat stone on one side I chewed and I swallowed. I made fast work of that one-pound piece of dough. The sweetness of the honey satisfied some deep urge inside and the creamy curds lined my stomach in a totally satisfying way. Soon I was
scraping the bowl and looking for shards of the bread’s crust that had exploded onto my lap. Then I was done; satisfied, complete and ready to go forward on my journey.
The next few miles were easily accomplished with the new enthusiasm I felt. By the middle of the afternoon I was at the border bidding goodbye to the Turkish border guards and handing over my passport to the new ones from Greece. Soon I emerged with a stamp on it and started adjusting to the new language, different currency and local customs I was facing.
But a little closer to home now with only Europe to hitch-hike through!