Best. Swing. Ever!

Today we wound halfway up the mountains into Izmit, stopping at last at a campsite by a raging stream. We clambered down to the water, relaxed, and were about to leave when just up the slope we saw a father showing his kids the most amazing swing: hanging from a high, high tree branch and swinging out over the ravine.

"Oooooooooh," said I, wistfully.

"You should go on it!" said our hostess.

"And kick them off?"

"They'll be so pleased to meet an American! Right when they got out of the car, they were saying 'I love you,' weren't they?"

"Maybe that's the only English they know?"

She was dragging me up the bank.

And, actually, they seemed agreeable enough. (They were camping there, they had the rest of the weekend to swing.) I got on the swing, the father gave me a push, I swung over the creek and back. Our hostess cried, "Do it again!" and I kicked off to go -

Except of course the nice Turkish father didn't understand her, had already grabbed the swing rope, and my momentum dragged him halfway down the ravine.

Fortunately nothing but my sense of mortification was injured.

We went a bit farther up the mountain, and then doubled back down the same road. This time the swing was free, so I gave it another go.