The puppets dream of Marmaris – but land in Miami, and beyond!

Beaches of Marmaris on the Turkish Riviera

Beaches of Marmaris on the Turkish Riviera (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A week or so ago, after my 14 hour work day, the puppets longed for sleep. On the way home in the car, they even began to fight for space on my head, where they like to hang upside-down like bats when they are ready to sleep for the night.

As I walked in the door, at least a few of them were dreaming of the warm, pine forest-laden hills and blue waters above Marmaris – and wishing for a warm sun instead of a chilly early fall evening with no stars in sight.

M. met us at the door. OK, he said, time to pack your passport and your bathing suit, we are going away to relax for the weekend. The chorus of little dancing ladies cried out “what an amazing guy!” And indeed, he is. But as the old blues song goes, “you shouldn’t advertise your man.” So, I won’t. Kenne, the manners puppet, clucks her approval at this, an example of ladylike behavior, as it is her job to maintain just this sort of behavior.

English: Turunc/Marmaris/Mugla/Turkey

Turunc/Marmaris/Mugla/Turkey (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Upon hearing “bathing suit” – the sleepy puppets sprang back to life, hoping that their dreams of Marmaris were coming true. Running around like a herd of fertile foxes, they began to pack as if there were no tomorrow, debating along the way about whether there are indeed Kervan Saray stops between New England and Turkey, perhaps in the Azores? Eventually, the morning broke, and after loading all of the puppets and their necessities into my carry-on backpack, M. and I commenced leaving separately with our knapsacks, in order to trick the beloved dog out of separation anxiety.

Boarding the bus for the airport, I invite you to just imagine the jingle jangle that accompanied us given all of the puppets’ çay gear, prayer paraphernalia, walking staffs, magic markers, dress-up outfits, Turkish food necessities and the like. That band of puppets, they travel heavy, let me tell you.

The chorus of little dancing ladies is still in shock that I only packed one medium-sized knapsack for the whole adventure. Kenne was not even polite in asking “and what, m’lady, will you do if you are not suitably attired for any possible occasion?” I just shrugged my shoulders and let her know that I didn’t care, but that I had packed a black sundress in case I needed to dress up. I had been up pretty late in the night, finishing a project for work, and I was in no mood to tangle with my own personal Ottoman era Miss Manners for the simultaneous modern and ancient ages right here in my head.

So, we beat a hasty and light retreat for the airport…and although we were, yet again, ethnically profiled in the airport, before long we were walking the gilded streets of the Miami airport – on our way to Tulum, Mexico.

To be continued…

This entry was posted in Puppets on the move around the world, Visits from the Karagöz puppets and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to The puppets dream of Marmaris – but land in Miami, and beyond!

  1. Alan says:

    . . you’re going to ‘cheese’ in Mexico? WOW!

  2. Jack Scott says:

    Tragically, Marmaris has been ruined by mass tourism. I’d stick to Mexico. Have a fabulous time.

  3. E. says:

    Indeed, I agree. You can’t blame a puppet for dreaming! Shh…don’t let them know it isn’t the Marmaris they may remember from the end of the Ottoman era…they are stuck in a time warp, you know!

  4. E. says:

    CHeese? Lost me, friend!

    It’s all my better half – his big surprise!

  5. Marmaris is one of the liveliest and most interesting resorts of Turquoise Coast.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s