JOURNEY - on Mastering Ukemi Daniel Linden (feel good novels txt) 📖

terrible. It really helped and from there it became a systematic labor until it was finally done.

Two weeks later we were slammed by another hurricane and two weeks after that by Hurricane Jeanne. Three major hurricanes in six weeks hit Florida and no matter how much we tried to overcome the feelings of powerlessness and depression, the whole state reeled in shock and despair. The doctors called it Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.

My students came to the aid of the dojo and their Sensei and I will always be grateful and proud that I have been able to create a place that inspires this kind of dedication and loyalty. I have always tried to instill a sense of community about everything associated with the dojo and when times get very bad we see how inspired and inspiring that kind of community can be. They are still helping me.

***

I was thinking about this when I saw Oscar standing against the far wall in his very red jacket. He is an imposing figure. Both tall and wide shouldered, he is hard to miss. And he had seen us.

“Sensei! Curtis and Chris! You must be Christian? Welcome, welcome. Hello Celine!” He kissed her on both cheeks.

“Hello Oscar,” I said.

“Was it a good flight?” he asked.

I grimaced. Curtis shrugged. Christian slipped between Oscar and Celine and Chris said, “You know, back in Orlando the bars are still open…”

***

Paris is such a remarkable place that it is easy to write about. It is so easy in fact that you can get carried away. First you describe the monuments and the museums and then start to explain it by giving a little history, and the next thing you know you have written 90 pages. Or you try to keep it simple and easy and just talk about day to day things, the food, wine, and bread; only then, how can you not talk about the shops and the cafes and restaurants, the street life and joi de vivre? Another 90 pages…

No, trust me, it is much better if I just say that a few days later we arrived back at the airport for our flight to Istanbul. And when we arrived…

Chapter 9

One Step Closer

Curtis and Chris were shocked at the size of the Istanbul airport and even more so by the sheer immensity of the city itself. Celine’s father had sent a van to pick us up and I was impressed by that. We drove at a stately speed for an hour and then the driver pulled up to the entrance to a small hotel.

“I thought we were going to Celine’s place?” I said to the driver. “I was under the impression that we had been invited to stay.”

The driver looked a little uncomfortable and then the look on his face changed to one of amusement.

“You see,” he said, “She told her father that it was her teacher coming. Turks honor education and teachers. But then he learned of these..!” He pointed his chin to Chris and Curtis and Christian. “He arranged for rooms for you.” He leaned toward me over the front seat and said, “He has three daughters, all single, all beautiful…” He arched his eyebrows and grinned.

I couldn’t help but shake my head and smile. I got out and indicated for the others to join me. The driver got out and unloaded our luggage, which was formidable. He said, “I am supposed to wait until you get checked in and unpack and do whatever you feel you need to do and then you are invited to dinner at the family home. I will park the van over there.” He pointed.

We met in the lobby after everyone had showered and changed. The driver was nowhere to be found and we looked up and down the street for him. When we eventually found him I asked the driver his name. “I am Mustafa,” he said.

“Okay, Mustafa, we’re ready to go.”

“Oh,” he said. “You are much too early. Not until after five o’clock.”

I looked at my old watch and tried to do the math. “Anybody know what time it is?”

Christian muttered, “Istanbul is an hour later than Paris.” He looked up at the sky and then continued, “Paris is five hours later than Eastern Standard Time unless you are in Daylight Saving Time when it is six hours later.” He seemed dazed.

“So…” I did the switch. My watch showed 8 o’clock. “Is it still daylight savings?”

“It is 3:00 PM,” said Mustafa.

Chris said. “If it’s 3:00 PM, then it has to still be DST. And it also means we have two hours to kill. See you later.” He nodded to Curtis and they took off.

“Mustafa, did Mr. Demiroglu say what you are supposed to be doing?”

“No. I am at your disposal.”

“Well, Mustafa, let’s go for a ride.”

Christian and I climbed into the big van and Mustafa asked where we wanted to go.

“The old city?” I looked at Christian in question. “Down by the Topkapi Palace, that area. That is very near the Grand Bazaar, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sure,” he said. He drove off and we settled back to look at this strange and ancient city. After a bit he dropped us off at the Grand Bazaar and we wandered around for an hour fending off shop keepers and hawkers of everything from leather coats to carpet bags and rugs. The leather merchants would step up to you and thrust out their wares and snap a bic lighter into flame and lay it against the leather to show you it wasn’t plastic, I guess. It was disconcerting, but I found the rugs and the amazing hand woven carpets to be thrilling. I love textiles and to me the finest textiles in the world are oriental carpets. Some have 600 or more individual threads