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A Grand Expedition
Topic Started: Apr 21 2009, 01:44 PM (152 Views)
A.Q.
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Beautiful Snowflake
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"Peter, wake up, we're here."

Petros jerked his head from heavy sleep against the train window, and looked around wildly. The compartment was empty except for Yao and himself. He could see silhouettes through the window standing to leave, and through the window the bustling platform. His companion was already standing with suitcases in hand, so he scrambled himself to his feet, grabbed his pack, throwing it hastily across his shoulders, and followed Yao out the door. The pair made their way down the aisle and stepped out the open door onto the platform.

They were met quickly by a white-uniformed customs officer, a mustachioed Syrian, who brusquely asked for their papers, their names, and their purposes in Greek.

"I'm Petros Vazier, a doctor, and this is Yao-Shih Pak, a chemist. We were invited by the Theotokos Medical College to perform a demonstration." The officer had to ask him to repeat what he said --Petros's accent was very bad. The man looked them over, and then the papers, and then finally let them into the station with a shrug.

"Welcome to Constantinople."

Yao led the way into the "South Justinian Station - Chrysopolis," or so the sign said, gazing around at the spotless granite architecture.

"It smells, strange," he muttered to Petros.

"That'll be because there isn't as much smog as Al Qalaa City. Not as many factories here. That sky," he added, pointing out the window, "it's really blue, isn't it?"

The chemist didn't get a chance to answer, because they were hailed by priest in long black robes, with a large cross hanging from his neck.

"Ah, you must be the Qalaa'i doctors. You can call me Father Delphiki. You two stand out in this place, you know. Especially, you, Mr. Pak. The College sent me to make sure you didn't get lost before you even made it across the Bosporus."

The Father grinned at the two, surprising them with several gold teeth glinting out from his bearded face.
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A.Q.
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The Father provided them with a running commentary of the sights during their carriage ride, pointing out every famous church, monument, or anything else old and important-looking. Yao's attention was rapt, he had been the one who had studied all of the maps and photographs of Constantinople, obsessing over this trip for weeks. Petros was more guarded-- the scene around them seemed too Anatolian, too much like the towns they had passed through on the train. The colonnaded bazaars were all well and good, but he had been expecting more forums and Western architecture.

This Delphiki was a perceptive one, and quickly picked up on the Persian's disappointment.

"Don't worry, son, we're still in Asia. Chrysopolis is the home of Constantinople's Turks and Syrians, and they've mostly imported their own ways of living. You'll be getting a taste of Rome soon enough."

The Father grinned at him again and pointed to the Straights.

"Look there. That's Leander's Tower, in the middle of the water. The story goes that there was a maiden named Hero who lived in there, and her lover Leander would swim every day out to the tower to see her. She would light a lamp to guide him. One night though, a storm blew out the lamp, and Leander got lost and drowned."

"And there," the priest turned and pointed out to a verdant garden they were approaching, "Is where the more modern lovers meet." His eyes twinkled.

There were indeed several young couples cuddling in the shade of the trees, and well-manicured walkways and fishponds crossed through the park. A fountain stood in the largest pond, an Aphrodite spouting eternal water from her pitcher.

"Oh, to be young and welcome back into that garden, eh? You gentlemen should enjoy your youth. Take a break from your madrassas, take advice from an old man."

Petros liked this man immensely. He seemed relaxed and worldly, far from the image of the cloistered monk that he had expected.
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As the carriage pulled up to the ferry building, the men stepped out into the Mediterranean sun, and Yao shaded his eyes, bespectacled eyes too used to his studies in darkened libraries and labs. Father Delphiki tipped the driver generously, and gestured his charges towards the boat, a two-story, square boat painted a cheerful green. They were accosted by a ferryman at the dock.

"It's five denarii for Galata, gentlemen, unless you've got... Father Delphiki! I hardly recognized you in those robes! what are you doing here?"

The father gritted his teeth and murmured conspiratorially to the ferryman.

"Not today, Bruno, I'm on duty."

Petros was starting to get the feeling that this priest was not so strict in his vows, especially when it came to women, if Bruno's sly grin was any indication. But this amused him, rather than made him doubt Delphiki. He could never see how the clergy could maintain so stern a lifestyle, it seemed like the service of their respective religions was a punishment sometimes. Neither he nor his companion were very pious, a condition that the doctor's parents, at least, were loath to admit.

The father paid for their passage hastily after that, and escaped onto the ferry, practically dragging the Qalaa'i behind him. The boat, after a few minutes, began to chug across the straight. The two marveled once again at the cleanliness of Constantinople, with its sparkling, clear blue water and clean air. Al Qalaa's environment had suffered from the pollution of its industries, and Petros and Yao agreed in their detestment.
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