A delightful Turkish bath...

You are worth to people what they expect from you, teaches Gracian. Not what they owe you. Only fools bank on gratitude, the wise count on desire. When you stop giving hope, you are of the past! To prosper, seed promise, every day! This reminds me of a story:

The sweaty Mullah weary with the chaos of the big city felt it was time to take a good bath.

The chambers and washrooms of the old Court hammam in Konya were swarming with merry people glad to escape the sandy heat of the simoom, the poison wind of the summer.

As his garment was poor and his face shy, Nasreddin was thrown a soiled towel, stinky slippers, a tiny piece of scorched soap and given, of course, no attention. Well, at least they let him in.

On his way out, he did not forget to leave an amazingly rich tip - a small gold coin.

The following week when he went to the bath our Hoça was treated like a pasha: large soft towels, sandal-wood clogs, silk peshtemal, precious scented soap at the soaking pools, refreshing drinks, total massage - at the limit between heavenly pleasure and true pain - with abundant perfumed foam and even other attentions, all ended with finest soothing oils, in the half-light of the rest room.

On his way out, he threw a small copper coin to the tellaks.

"Why master? Didn't you like the service? Last time you gave us gold."

"Ah, but the gold was for this time, my good man. The copper is for the last time."