We drove until Ayvalık, which happened to come upon us as the sun excused itself, weaving up and down narrow, crooked roads in search of a place to stay that we could afford. Eventually we found a bed in a restored cottage that I cannot remember the name of, and settled in.
As it was an old house, there were drafts which seemed hell-bent on interrupting our sleep, but we were soon revived by one of the best free breakfasts I have ever had in Turkey. What pushed this one past the warm feeling I still have from last year's Ayder breakfast, was a thyme omelette and a pool of Ayvalık's famous olive oil— perfect for drowning that ubiquitous, bland bunny bread in.
We set out for a little wander, content and warmed by several glasses of çay, squinting under the Aegean sun.