A bean is just a bean.
Except when it's a magic bean.
Except when it's a plate of magic beans eaten at a monastery at the top of a mountain on an island in the Sea of Marmara.
You have just eaten such a plate of beans with shallots and parsley and tomatoes and olive oil, along with a plate of aubergines with yogurt, and dolmas.
And then you hiked down a cobblestone street away from the monastery until you reached the place when the phaetons were, and took a carriage ride back to your hotel, a place that has incense in the rooms and yoga on the patio.
And it's only day four of vacation.
Maybe tomorrow you'll come across a magic fish.