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Ben June 14, 2009

With a few bad words I decide that it is probably best to turn back. This is not the best start to a week cycling with Olof, a friend from Sweden. We left home in a rush so as not to miss the boat across the Bosforous, as it turned out the boat went all day. On arrival I was over charged for the ride which was the first sign of what was in store. Just a few hundred meters down the road we met two cycle tourists who informed us that the road ahead would be tough, we took quick mental notes of all that they said and moved on. Soon after Olof got a flat tyre, we then discovered that his spare tubes were in his bag which was lost by the airline previously. Using my spares was also no good due to his wheels. It wasn't good, but we continued, soon after I realised that I'd mounted my chain incorrectly, we fixed this with some hassle. That is when I noticed my pocket knife was missing. Combined with the fact that with just one bag, Olof was not able to carry anything extra, we decided to return to Istanbul to sort everything out for another attempt the following day. Sometimes that is the best option.

With 45 mins we were back, a smile on our faces just thinking of all the small things which can go wrong. A call to the airline reveals that the bag is in Istanbul, to be delivered later that day, perfect! Naturally they can't find the flat so the bag is returned to the airport, typical! Olof races there and back with a chain smoking taxi driver in half the time it should take. Everything is in place for a new start tomorrow.

Arriving in style

Ben June 8, 2009

I hold on tightly and focus on the narrow white line painted on the road. Cars brush past just inches away. I look for a way to escape, but the double barrier makes this impossible, or if not, more dangerous than keeping going. I pedal on, finally after 3 km there is a gap and I can leave the the motorway, I feel quite relieved. The day started off on a two lane road with plenty of room for me and the trucks, I looked forward to getting to the coast and seeing the sea for the first time. After just a few kilometers the farmland turned to factories and the air became thick with smog from the manufacture of every imaginable product. Chimneys big and small belched smoke in a range of colours, black, brown, white, yellow. This mixed with the every increasing fumes from the traffic to shroud the land in a yellowish blanket. My excitement about the sea vanished as my map told me it should be just 1 or 2 kilometers away, I strained to see it, but nothing. Finally I was able to make out a dark coloured boat on the horizon, but still the water was invisible through the smog. The road eventually reached the sea and the turquoise of the Mediterranean became visible, the factories vanish behind and apartment blocks and seaside hotelssprouted like mushrooms out of the landscape. The 2 lane road grew to 3 then 4, 6, 8 and 10. Horns honked, buses swerved, trucks lumbered, fumes belched, engines rattled, brakes screeched, and I pedaled. All this and my speedometer tells me I'm still more then 30 km from the center of town.
As I board the ferry destined for Asia, Istanbul glows all along the horizon, minarets and domed roofs accent the skyline. The big smile on my face is proof enough that I made it in one piece to this fascinating city.

Three countries in one day

Ben June 3, 2009

The wind swishes through my hair as I whizz down the hill, the mountains behind me fade into a faint shadow on the horizon. The vegetation thins and changes from a lush green to darker shades of browns and yellows accented by vineyards like an oasis in the barren landscape. The soil changes from near black to lighter hues of red and brown. The air thickens as the humidity increases and the churches turn to mosques, interrupted only briefly by an excursion through orthodox Greece. The feeling of Europe is rapidly fading, the clip clop of Bulgarian horses pulling hay laden waggons, each with a driver who's face tells the tail of a life of hard work. All this feels like a dream from the distant past as I cruise down a calm Greek highway, passed only by the occasional motorist out for a Sunday drive. The fields of labourers toiling to supply food to the masses are gone, Greece is on holiday perhaps? Or are they all sleeping? I reach the border without finding an answer. Dogs begin to appear from nowhere, lounging on every street corner, just waiting for a lone cyclist to pass in order to give them an excuse to get some exercise. My passport is stamped by a cheerful officer and I'm waived on to a narrow road, tall barbed wire fences on either side. Gun embankments on both side create a real feeling of tension, armed soldiers pace back and forth counting down the minutes and seconds until their compulsory military service is over. There lack of interest makes them no less intimidating, weapons at the ready in case the someone decides they've had enough.
Suddenly I feel like a celebrity as people begin to waive and say hello everywhere, in the first 20 minutes in Turkey I was given more hello's than the entire rest of the trip. I see already that this will be an interesting part of the trip.