DAY 5: THE DAY I ATE LIKE A SULTAN AND DRANK LIKE HIS BAD DECISIONS
Let me start with an apology. Not a polite, British “sorry”—one of those real apologies where you acknowledge you’ve made choices, and those choices are now writing the blog for you. I am, at present, pickled. Not gently infused. Not delicately marinated. I am a full-blown raki preservation project. Somewhere between glass seven and “who’s…