Lunar Lunacy

From Fethiye, I made my way to a town called Koycegiz (pronounced, with the help of a few dots and a couple of squiggly lines, like koy-chez). The town is on a lake, and I arrived a little before sunset. I decided to walk from the bus station into town, since it was only about a mile or so.

I made it to the shore of the lake, and saw the sun starting to have its fun with the light spectrum. I decided to sit down at a cafe on the water, have a beer, and watch the show. The sun took its time, falling behind the mountains at the far end of the lake with a velvety-fire glow that exuded anger: like the sun was pissed that the mountain got in the way for its big finale. Then I looked up, above the mountains.

The moon was showing off, even at a fraction of its full plume. There it was, a sliver of a crescent, stealing the show from the sunset below it. I'd never seen the moon look so.... dignified. I struggled to find the words to describe it, and in turn, shot each description down in my head....

"the moon was a smile askew in a sky that didn't get the joke"-- wait, what does that even mean??

"the moon was like a perfectly clipped fingernail..."-- yikes. that's just gross.

"the moon was an angel's boomerang, tossed to catch a falling star..." -- that's about the cheesiest thing I've ever heard.


I settled on "the moon was curved and it sure was purdy".


All I can say is that sometimes, when you're traveling on your own and the moon is looking down on you, you have to make your own conversation.