"Life in Istanbul was a shock after coming from rural Bulgaria. It's a lot like L.A. I suppose. Everybody's hustling or working some kind of angle and it’s very much a cultural mixing pot. I think that helped with my initial loneliness. There was a large Bulgarian expatriate community in the oldest section of the city next to the strait, that's where I spent most of my time. I remember there were lots of boats around, small fishing boats mostly.

"Once you've seen Istanbul you'll never forget its skyline. The city is built around seven hills, each topped with an opulent mosque. From where I used to live, the entire skyline consisted of tall minarets and colorful domes. At night and in the early morning when the city was quiet, you could hear the muezzins calling the faithful to prayer."

"Sounds beautiful."

"Yes it was nice, but anything was nice after prison."

"Would you like to go back there again someday?"

"Yeah I'd like to see it again, go back to where I lived and see how things have changed. Knowing Istanbul I bet they haven't changed very much. But where I would really like to go is back to Bulgaria. I want to read street signs and speak with other Bulgars. I miss the language."

"I've never been to Bulgaria either. What's it like?"

I ate another cracker and thought about her question. "It looks a lot like Idaho."

I took the bottle and refilled her glass. "That's enough about me. I want to hear something about your history."

"Alright," she said, looking up at the skylight. "I was first born five hundred miles east of here in a small pueblo village. It's in Arizona now." She stopped for a moment to take her glass back and I used the break to pry deeper.

"Have you ever gone back there?"

"Yes, twice." She pointed to the Bando plaque on the wall behind her. "I went back in 1540, on my second trip, to rejoin them and I went there again in 1854 when this area of the world was being settled."

"What was it like to go back?" I asked as I thought about my old Bulgaria.

"It was bittersweet, things change you know." She paused and took a drink. "Anyway, the first two times I died so quickly I didn't have a chance to do much. The third trip I tried hard to live a normal life. I was married into an affluent family in Persia before I was old enough to realize who I was. But the fourth trip, that one changed me forever." She stopped, dipped her middle finger in the wine and ran it around the rim of the glass. A haunting high note began to sing from the glass on the second revolution. "It was then, as Marco, that I learned about glass."

"Wait a minute," I interjected, "you've been both male and female?"

"Yes of course. It's chance,” she said chuckling.