it didn’t start too well at the border. there was almost an international incident. I rushed through a police line nearly causing them to draw weapons -too lazy to shoot and my clown like shouts of ‘toilet! Toilet!’ and no doubt the extreme look of terror on my face -after local water drank due to that special kind of forced local kindness lead to a rapid digestive process if not immediately dealt with post haste a suicide bowel bomber, think body without organs, would be on their hands ...and feet-face etc etc.....all very friendly it is/- i am nervous slightly---... walking briskly stopping for invitations of sweet tea etc..- though the incessant giving of tea overlays fear- lots of laughs and small children either trying to steal my wallet or look at my lack of facial hair…i keep my chin close to my chest- an old boxing tip and also learnt from a van damme film i saw on a turkish bus trip from istanbul - this reduces the chances of a wire being slipped over your neck by ninjas or jihadist posing as street traders or simply sneaking up from behind. On top of this the slightly unusual chin chest look creates a sympathy for this foreigner afflicted with such a strange affliction. oh the courage to ravel when so ravished by life’s cruelties...added to this I am also pretending to be german which is funny as my deutsch meets the same level of those kurdish workers who returned after working in deutschland post ww2 or fled from saddam’s oh so 80s gaseous genocide attempts. so far my charade is working - mein charade is gut machen? apologies to the germans///