From Marty Leipzig:

     Humorous anecdote time: During my last sojourn overseas, I had
     some accumulated R&R (much R&R&R&R&R) time coming. Being the
     rather bizarre type as I am wence, I decided to go to Turkey.
     Eastern Turkey. Agra Dagi in fact (those not in the know call
     it Mt. Ararat). Just for grins as I had become rather
     disenchanted with Russian vodka and decided that Uzo and Kamish
     was more to my liking (scotch is STILL awful stuff), I wanted
     to see what all the brouhaha was about in that general
     vicinity. Armed to the teeth with Berlitz phrase books
     (and a cheeseburger in my pocket) (another story altogether),
     I wandered up to the Beryozka and ordered up a round trip
     flight to that legendary country.

     Fascinating.

     I was told that virtually anything oriental was available. Silk.
     Damask.  Other stuff (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

     Fascinating.

     As I deplaned the Aeroflot Ilushin IL-76, I was already loaded
     (ahem) down with other worldly trinkets, and wanted not of the wares
     they had to market. I was on a mission, to find what the hell was so
     intoxicating to the hoards of "Arkeologists" who traversed afar to
     search for the legendary "Noah's Ark". I was not soon disappointed.

     "See here ! Bits of the genuine ark!" crowed one hawker.
     "Yessir, Mr. Large American. We take you to resting place of
     the most holy ark!" I felt as if I had stepped into a Monty
     Python film.  "Wood from the ark and pieces of the true cross"
     yelled one adventurous businessman, obviously confusing one
     myth with another. Tawdry bits and pieces, obviously meant for
     the hoi polloi, not wearied, weathered travelers like myself.

     "No, nein, nyet. Where's the real stuff?" I asked.  Out of the
      shadows emerged a small, yet sulky, man. "I have what you want" he
      intoned, "Follow me". Always being one for adventure, I did just
      that. Through the bazaar, down dark, dank passageways, completely
      losing whatever I had previously held as points of reference. But
      no matter, I was on a quest .

      Off we went, further and further, into the gloom (yet it was near
      noon in the outside world).  Still we went, further into the
      unknown. At this time, my sixth or seventh sense of danger was
      ringing like a smoke alarm in Dr. Goldberg's office just after he
      lit up an Uppmann's. Just where was I being led?  Remembering that
      this was a true story, I pushed on. Finally, after navigating
      numerous dark passageways and ill-lit alleys, I found myself, quite
      alone, in a foreign country in a foreign place led by a foreign
      individual. "Here is what you seek...", he notes...as he pulls
      back a finely crafted and psychopathically embroidered damask
      curtain to reveal...

      ...A large ships wheel (much like that seen in "Star Trek 5. The
      Search for more money") and a crudely lettered plaque reading
      "S.S. Noah" . Not knowing what to think, I just
      stood there and marveled on how soundly I had just been had.
      Casting a glance over to my guide, I couldn't help but note that he
      was barely able to contain himself.  He exploded (No. Keep reading.
      This isn't a Steven King short story.) into a series of guffaws and
      belly-laughs. "Sir. The look on your face. You do not believe
      Amed?" Through the laughter and his suddenly improved English,
      Amed told me how he would lure the unknowing down through what I
      had just been through to view his masterwork. I asked him what the
      others thought of his little display. "Most see it as a grand
      jape", he said, belying his obvious British education, "but those
      bent on finding the true ark..." "Go on, please" I implored him.

      "They want me to stand next to it so they can take pictures."

       In the bar, over toasts of Kamish and Vodka, we roared like the
       Lion of Judah over that last line.

       It WAS a good trip.


... To walk on water, you have to know where the rocks are.
--- Blue Wave/Max v2.12
 * Origin: A Little Corner in Time BBS (1:106/113.0)