Departures

It's an indoor type of day today- outside is gloomy with the rain streaming down, and the wind freshening. After viewing a fine Obelisk sneakily taken from Karnak, and the base of a huge ancient cauldron (cauldron bit nowhere in sight), it's off to see what the Romans did best- plumbing.

The Basilica Cistern is a remarkable example of engineering dating from the 6th century. Designed to provide the water supply of ancient Constantinople, it comprises of 337 underground pillars, covering an area of 140 metres by 70 metres. The whole cavern is lit up with ambient colours and accompanying orchestral music. It's easy to imagine you're in another world, as the rain water drips down into the carp filled ponds below.

Back up in the (slightly) less gloomy streets, I make my way through the weather to the National Museum. The show piece stuff are Ye Olde Sarcophagi, the main one once considered to have been for the legendary Alexander The Great. This theory has largely been dispelled, but the craftsmanship would have done the great man proud. Tantalisingly, it does also retell parts of his life. The stone coffin manages to be both exquisite and grand simultaneously, and is one of the most extraordinary museum pieces I have ever seen.

In amongst all the extravagance lies what is, for very different reasons, an extraordinary glimpse into the mists of time. There are a number of gravestones of everyday people who expired more than 2000 years ago. Each one has an individual scene involving the deceased and family members, and a final message of goodbye. Here are two:

"I have been exiled from this life, Zothios, son of Milos."
He has lived for 25 years and 11 months. We his parents, Milos and Eia,
have erected this gravestone in his memory.
Farewell, passer-by!

It's owner has buried the dog Parthenope, in gratitude of their happiness,
(mutual) love is rewarding, like the one for this dog:
"Having been a friend to my owner. I have deserved this grave."
Looking at this, find yourself a worthy friend who is both ready to
love you when you are alive, and take care of your body (when you die).

Back in a warm hostel room, Den, a middle aged Malaysian crew member of a berthed tanker, greets me as I enter. He's a real comical and genial character, his energy and countenance belie his age. We enjoy a humorous conversation before I turn the light out. I notice he's trying to sleep in the most ridiculous position. "Why are you doing that, Den?", I enquire, with great curiosity. He replies: " Well, I didn't want to point my feet at you as I slept." Some people can be incredibly considerate.