Posts from — May 2008

today’s distance: 0km
total distance: 3818km
riding time: 0h

WARNING: Lots of pictures in this post (and even more on the flickr site).

No biking today and what a fun-filled day it was. After a slow morning Gokce’s father and I set out to tour the city. Haluk is a great tour guide, his gregarious ways making the day. We reached the ferries, got across the main street of Istanbul and had a great time touring the Topkapi Palace (despite the hordes of tourists and schoolchildren a definite must I think) and the Hagia Sofia.

This is where I didn’t believe whom I saw … Philippe, a friend from Stanford Law School. He was in Istanbul for a conference and had put in another day to tour the city.

After this chance encounter it was time for food … Koefte and Piyaz was the name of the game. Apart from one other table we were the only other tourists despite the location straight across from the mass tourist attractions. Simple, but great food.

This was followed by the cistern and the Grand Bazar. Yes, we did the tourist thing, but it was great fun.

Gokce’s father is a great and funny person. More food was to follow before we got back on the ferry and headed home. It was an amazing day, Gokce’s father opening the place much better than I could have done had I been on my own.

Once there we enjoyed great Börek - homemade by Gokce’s mother, fantastic stuff. Thanks for a great day.

I’ve said this before, but now there are heaps of pictures on the flickr site, go check them out if you like.

today’s distance: 114km
total distance: 3818km
riding time: 5-6h

I woke up before Nurai and Ali. Everything was silent in the house. My preoccupation with the wind was such that the first thing I did was to look at the trees outside. Hearty breakfast, similar goodbyes and off I was. The idea the day before had been to get as far towards Istanbul as possible to make it a short day. It kind of worked, but not really.

The distance was given at 65km, but it turned out to be much more. The first few km I ate up as much as I could and things were going well. No wind, the miles went by. In Silivri I was doing a quick check up on the web and found that the flickr.com site was blocked. Strange stuff … but it was working in another cafe later in the day. I also had my first near accident as a driver was pulling towards me a bit too close for comfort. All was well though and more fun on an autobahnesque road was waiting in store. By the way, who said that universities can’t be fun?

Soon enough, traffic became much more hectic, cars trying to go in every space possible as well as those that were impossible. It all sort of worked. But it was demanding. Hills to make for a good workout and traffic to keep you on your toes. Side roads only worked for a bit and after lunch and going up a massive uphill it was back to the grind. Traffic was heavy now and I was still a good 30km out of Istanbul. Then the rain set in, making the road a bit more slippery. I was on my way up a hill when I saw what I had been looking for. A road next to a train track, not far from the airport. The saving grace at that point. Going into traffic didn’t seem like a good idea, so I hoisted the bike over the railing and walked down the side of the bridge and onto a road with much less traffic than the Autobahn I had basically been on.

The road was now slippery from the rain and the drivers didn’t make life easier as they braked in the strangest of places, but the fun never stops when you’re skidding to a halt on a loaded bike. Eventually the sun came back out and I hit the promenade that would lead me to Istanbul - the center that is. People were trying to get some fish out of the sea, kids were playing, adults were hanging out on the exercise machines that the city provides in the parks. The view was great, the city opens up in front of you, the minarets becoming more and more numerous. Eventually I was below the Blue Mosque and couldn’t help but smile about the fact that I had come all the way here by bike, knowing that this was only the start of the trip really.

I moved into the center to the Golden Horn, a bridge leading me over towards the Galatasaray area of town. Before crossing over I met another touring cyclist, easily identifiable by the handlebar pack around his shoulder. He was on his way to Jerusalem and was not happy about the traffic. He hated it. He was also carrying his pilgrimage cross a bit too prominently for my taste (he complained a bit too much generally, the food wasn’t good either and the fact that I didn’t join him in the complaint choir didn’t make me a good person to talk to). I can’t say I enjoyed it, but it was still doable and if you ride assertively (not aggressively, plenty of others who do that), things are not as bad is my take on it. Easy to say once you’re there I guess.

Negotiating my way through rows of cars, competing for the space with cars, buses, motorcycles and other vehicles I reached the Bosphorous bridge. It wasn’t a sightseeing tour. You had to be on your toes, most of the time dashing back and forth to hold your own somehow. I had asked a police officer where to go to. He said: “Up the hil here. Turn right.” He didn’t say you couldn’t go. So up I went, knowing that it was forbidden to ride across. I thought I could give it a shot. Worst thing is they turn me around, I try the second bridge. Well, once up, this is the sign you see.

Then you get this view.

Then you see a sign that I didn’t take a picture of. It says pretty clearly that you are not allowed on the bridge. It does so when you’re practically on it. And there really is no way to go back except into the traffic. That’s a no-can-do. Seriously. Not advisable. One little guardhouse on the right, I figured what the hey and went for it. Traffic was OK, cars whizzing by. No one bothered me. I took the time to a few. I also got this one.

Then the toll station. I decided to just head out through what they call EZ PASS in New York, a car right behind me. The alarm goes off. No one around and so I just cycle on. I had a bit to go to meet the parents of Gokce, a friend from grad school at Stanford. I found my way there up the hill and after some negotiating and a lucky phone call at the right time from Gokce, I was sorted out. Her father appeared cheerily a few minutes later, I follow him up a hill to their place and am told by a neighbor that I must have been very lucky to get across the bridge without being stopped. It seemed pretty straightforward to me. You should try at least I think. Traffic is doable and if you want to ride the full thing, then this one is the only place that was on my mind that could break that. short of having a major mechanical breakdown. I found out later in the day that police usually do pull bikers off the road … guess I was lucky this time.

Gokce’s parents are great, her mother unmistakably that of Gokce and her father a jolly fellow. I was loaded up with food - and pretty much ate it all. Almost feeling embarassed, but not quite. After being told by a few now that I look too thin, I decided that I must eat more. Will do that. Istanbul seems like a good place to start. So many yummy things around here. And a good few days to sample them as I am taking a bit of a break from cycling. Thanks Gokce for setting this up at such a short notice. More fun awaiting me in Istanbul tomorrow I’m sure.

today’s distance: 94km
total distance: 3704km
riding time: 6h

I never woke up during the night. I slept like a stone for more than 8 1/2 hours. And didn’t wake up until 8:30am and felt bad for letting Emine and Özcilek wait. I quickly got up and the two of them were of course bright and chipper in the living room. After really waking up we had breakfast and I had a late start (without having any regrets about it). I had given up on getting to Istanbul in one day after seeing that the wind was still coming from the East. A brief look out of the window was enough to see that. But it was sunny. I bid my farewells and took off, only to meet Özcilek again a few hours later.

It was slow riding. The wind was in my face practically the whole time and never really let off during the entire day. It wore me out. My average was barely over 13km/h until I reached Tekirdag. I stopped after an hour when someone made an insistent call for having some chai. I obeyed. Off the road for a few minutes. The bad thing here is that the terrain is rolling, meaning the wind swoops down on you even on the uphills, which can be up to 3km long. At times, the wind seemed to be all-consuming. Not good. It occupied me entirely, I wished that it would just go away. Did I ever say that I liked not having a tailwind or that I became stoic regarding the wind. I lied. I so lied. I confess: I hate wind that makes flags go stiff and that comes from the front. But it was an interesting ride.

It was also beautiful (for those that need a new background picture, feel free, it sort of looks like the Windows XP default screen I thought when I passed).

I arrived in Özcilek and soon heard my name being shouted out. Özcilek needed to get his retirement papers on the Turkish side in order before heading back to Germany and so had come to Tekirdag to fix things up. We had - chai, sitting by the water and talking about this and that. Finally, we parted ways and I headed for more into-the-wind-fun. I found an internet cafe and thought that maybe it would be good to update the website, have some Koefte (the Turkish version of cevapcici, no offense to either ethnicity intended) and hope that the wind would abate. It worked … kind of not at all. It seemed to be going better a bit, but then came back with a vengeance. I was cycling straight into the wind for more km and eventually pulled out.

Stopped to ask for a market at a gas station. The Turkish word is also market, the guy didn’t understand. Wanted to send me 10km away. I left … I turned into the little town, which is a summer holiday getaway for Istanbulians. The first person I saw I asked “Sprechen Sie deutsch?” (Do you speak German?). He didn’t. But his wife did. She came out and when I asked for a market, she said there is one 500m from here. Great. I asked for a place to pitch. She said, there are beds upstairs. I looked puzzled. She said, “stay with us!” I accepted. I was either “my chiled” or “my son” from now on. Hauled the bike in and as it turns out Nurai lived in Germany for a bit 30 years ago. She claims not to speak any German, but she understands a lot (apart from thinking that I was on a motorbike, realizing that I am human-powered only an hour later). I changed. Coming down, food was all set up and we had dinner. Then her sister from Karlsruhe was on the line and we chatted for a while about the tour and what I was doing. I can’t say how lucky things turned out to be on a wind-wise pretty awful day. More fun was to follow with a couple that had spent their lives in Austria. Will now slumber off.

today’s distance: 112km
total distance: 3609km
riding time: 7h
altitude: more than 1000m

This is a long one, but I think it’s worth reading.

crummy … ghastly part I … ghastly part II … put off … strange things happening on highways in Turkey (or me just not catching on) … Turkish hospitality is back in full swing.

What a day. I felt like … well, on of those days. Crummy. Didn’t feel like eating. Didn’t feel like biking. The weather was overcast in one shade of grey. It was cold. I felt miserable. For the first time I thought “what the hell am I doing here? Why am I on this stretch of silly road, biking into a strong wind?”

I forced myself to eat and felt slightly better. Eventually I hit the Autobahn to Turkey. It was the wrong road for sure, but I thought what the hey, let them throw me off. I don’t care. Not that there was any way to throw me off. The whole road completely fenced in. It was new, smooth asphalt. And ghastly. Here is why (thanks to Björn for throwıng this on youtube.com as it is blocked in some places):

There wasn’t a car on the road it seemed. For the entire time I was on these six km or so, which took me roughly 20 minutes, I was overtaken by six trucks and seven cars. That was it. No traffic it seems between the two countries. The Greek side was a no-brainer. But we are really serious about keeping nasties out it seems.

Then I got to the border and this may be me speaking as a naive European or just someone who has grown used to not having borders around much. But what I saw was making me shake my head. There were soldiers on the bridge separating Greece and Turkey. I thought about taking a picture, but then it became pretty clear that it would not be a good idea. I passed three sets of guard houses with Greek soldiers. A river. The border. I meant to take a picture there, but the Turkish soldier in a similarly silly-looking guard house as the Greek one made a gesture to move on. The Greek behind me did the same. Hm … I sense an international incident. Just kidding. Didn’t want to be caught in the literal middle of things. I got the “Welcome to Turkey” from a young soldier, smile on his face. He was standing in a silly-looking guard house. I snapped this one, not sure that they liked it.

The Turkish side was simple as well. Got my stamp, moved on. Got to the first town, nothing of interest moved on. Got to the first sort of city and felt hungry. No Turkish currency, no one to change Euros and no ATM. What the … Everyone told me to go into town. Didn’t want to. Big store. They will take my credit card. They didn’t even let me park my bike in front of the store. Not in anyone’s way, but a simple precautionary measure. The security guard told me to put it to the side of the store where no one woiuld be there to see anything. I refused. He told me to put it away. I left. Find another store. Didn’t want to bother. Tried to change money at a gas station, which announced it would change Euros. They didn’t like the bill I had, a 50. He just shrugged and turned away. I asked what was wrong, my face a big question mark. He just waved me off. What happened to Turkish hospitality? Alright, final store. They took my credit card. I had food. I also saw and ATM right there. I was game.I moved on over more hills. Rolling hills, never a flat stretch. Wind from the front. Always. Tiring. The combination of hills and wind literally ate me up.

Before reaching Malkara, I encountered a strange scene. Or maybe I was slow. A woman stands at the side of the road. Nothing strange here, people hitch a ride of flag down cars all the time. A car to the right, maybe a relative waiting to make sure she gets away safely. I pedal past and she says something, I shrug my shoulders, smile, make a gesture that I can’t take her along and move on. About 300m up the hill I take this picture.

Then this one.

She had moved up the hill towards me. I thought she was heading into the town. A bit far to walk, but hey. She reaches me and starts saying all sorts of things which I don’t understand. I tell her thatI don’t understand and that I don’t speak Turkish. She still babbles. I am packing my camera away. Then she makes a universal gesture … and the shoe finally drops. I shake my head. She seems unhappy. Had thought my stopping was for the business side of things. She curses me and walks away. A truck stops, she gets in. I move on up the hill. I can still see the truck about a mile ahead of me and she gets out again. That was quick. She flags another car down, which eventually moves out of sight. Call me naive, but this was unexpected at the time and place it happened. Sure, these things happen anywhere … but it took me completely by surprise when and where it occured.I reach Malkara and am pumped out. I need a break. Ask for an internet cafe, thinking that I should upload the pictures and then bike on for a bit longer. A courier driver,who lived in Germany for a month (no German though, but he proudly shows me his German cell phone number) signals me to follow him. Up the hill again. It was slow going, but he sets me up with internet and water and bids his goodbye after a while. The internet cafe is full of kids, 8 year olds playing Counterstrike. What a scenario.

More wind and more hills and then I see a village. Figure I would buy my things there. I find the market, want to move up the step. The owner comes out, I say my hello and want to move into the store. He shuts it right into my face. Ouch. I think misunderstanding. Nope. He turns the key, looks at me and walks away. I stand there in disbelief. Other men start staring at me. I get slightly angry, thinking whether I had done something wrong. Dressed conservatively. Not that it mattered here. I make clear that I want to buy something and the others yell after the owner. He turns around and struts off. I leave, feeling a mixture of disbelief, anger and disappointment. Did I offend in any way? Cultural difference? Was I held to be from the US (note to my US readers: it sadly is the case that people from the US are not well-regarded in some parts of th world and to make things easier I identify myself as German right away; the anymosity is geared towards the government though and not individuals, but they bear the brunt).

I bike on. Pretty worn out by now. Pretty disappointed and slightly angry. Over a hill and I see a tiny town at the bottom of the hill and before heading up for the next one. I decide that this is it. I am done, tired and beaten.

I get there and kids playing soccer see me and the group runs towards me. I say relax and they repeat it for like five minutes. We find hte market. It is closed, but open a minute later. I do my purchases, but even before a woman approaches me in German. She translates, tells people where I am from and where I am going. She says her husband will be here soon, he had worked in Berlin for 35 years. There is a good spot to camp or at least we would find one.

Then Özcilek comes in and we hit it off right away. We chat, have chai, the bike all the while in front of the little market with the women watching it. Chai is a strictly male affair. I end up being the talk of the village. It is a small place, but Emine and Özcilek have a big, big heart. As we had back to the bike, Özcilek offers his place to stay, says it’s cold outside (it was) and I could spend the night at their place. Good idea I thought and a welcome opportunity to clean up after a long and hard day. Turns out that Özcilek had left Turkey, wanting to stay Germany for only a few years, but has been there for 35 now. He works in Berlin and is only here for a few weeks during the year, but close to retirement. His two sons live in Berlin and he wants to stay there for a few years. I hit the shower and Emine cooks some delicious food. Over more conversation (confirming my experience with the woman on the road - it had been news to Özcilek as well when he arrived for a holiday a couple of years before) involving sports, politics and life in more general terms, we sit there until midnight. I drop into bed, exhausted but extremely grateful.

today’s distance: 127km
total distance: 3496km
riding time: 7h

I woke up early … no wonder given the place I was sleeping in. Christos’ mother must have seen me moving around (the former workshop had windows all around, which was great for people watching the night before, but gave you the aquarium feeling somewhat) and soon she came out with some hard boiled eggs, a huge slab of cake (essentially a huge amount of yeast dough) and another Coke for the way. When the door was open the night before (more like a one-second affair) I had seen a couple of icons and religious paintings inside, figuring that the family was rather religious. She also gave me a small neclace made of a wooden cross. My own stance on religion notwithstanding, I was moved by the gesture and will keep it as my now second good luck charm.

I set out not really feeling that anything would be adequate, so all I could say was a big thank you. I bumbled around in the next village a bit, looking for some hot springs, but finding more storks and some other motives instead.

I rounded a lake, with the ocean to my right and the lake to my left. Birdwatching was great, the numbers were simply amazing. I eventually turned off the main road and got on smaller side roads, making life much more pleasant. Met someone from Mannheim in a shop that I asked directions in. Fun stuff. The guy lived in Greece, but his kurspfalz dialect was clearly discernible when he spoke Greek. Over little hills and dirt roads and little trails I got to the ocean and continued over more rolling hills to a good spot to have lunch. A church yard overlooking the ocean. Moving on I was forced away from the water only to return to it later again. I had thought I could visit an island off the coast (Samothrakis) by ferry, but I found out thanks to a nice storeowner that the next ferry would go late the next day only. Given that I was to meet up with Hussein’s family in Istanbul over the weekend I didn’t think it would be good to spend another day in Alexandropoulis so I thought I would take the rest of the day slow. It wasn’t to be. I ploughed on and have come to halt not far from a gas station the owner of which speaks German and said that I should pitch my tent on his grounds, he’d be happy to have me.

One note: today I have been warned twice of heading to Turkey. Once by the owner of a hotel (nice guy apart from the comments) who talked about rape and all sorts of things and that I should be careful of people there. “They are simply not European …” I wasn’t going to go into a big discussion with someone whose minds was so made up, but that same sentiment came across in more and more conversations and seems to be more prevalent the closer I get to the border. The two ethnic groups are living close together here and from what I heard rather well side-by-side. That’s why the comments surprised me even more. Needless to say, I think they are bunk and that bad people may be everywhere … so much for politics on this day.