Category — Turkey

So, with the package on its way and most likely taking until the end of the week, I figured I would try to work on my Azerbaijan visa here in Ankara instead of waiting until Tbilisi in Georgia. So we called the embassy in the morning, they told us to come by at 2pm. It is way out yonder actually, about 20km away from the center and the rest of the embassies. As Haluk and Guler had to run some errands, we combined the trips to a new development area which is full of embassies. Nice embassies at times - mostly with some semblance of their national heritage, but the area was also quite clearly lacking in true character.

Once we got there, the embassy was closed we found out. The security person really tried to get one of the Azerbaijan consular staff out, but they flat out refused despite having given us the 2pm time slot in the afternoon. So much for that. We should call. When? Right now. OK. Haluk calls. He is told to call back tomorrow morning! What??? This is all we can do, call back tomorrow is the answer. So, we are playing a stupid game. I figure I would join in the fun and it gets even more absurd. When I ask whether I can talk to someone in German or English, I am first transferred. Then the next person hangs up. Same question on the next call. And the next only to be bumped off by the first person. Just hung up. Alright, finally I talk to someone who does speak English. But he refuses to talk to me in English. “Only Turkish!” “But you understand me?” “Not a problem.” “Can I ask you some questions then?” “Only in Turkish.” “Are you kidding me?” “No, you can ask, but only in Turkish.” It was a bit frustrating. He clearly understood and spoke the language, but refused to speak in English. Yikes. I gave up. There are two more chances (there is a consulate in Kars and an embassy in Tbilisi) and that should be sufficient to get a hold of the visa. But ah … the power of consular staff.

Took this one of the busted rim … I will keep the smaller part as a memory.

I will leave the fancy daily km marking out today … it’s kind of annoying given that I am not pedaling any km. Day 69 is quickly told … not much going really. I am waiting for my package and am hopeful that it arrives tomorrow.

Day 70: there is some hope that things are looking better today. It’s been a few days and the projected delivery day is today. Or so I thought. Here is what a personal disaster looks like when it happens (in the grand scheme of things this is of course meaningless, but let me at least have some glimmer of hope that this may be important). I am poking around the web and get a message from Dieter. I had emailed him indicating that the tracking number search came up empty. He was going to check.

Then this message from Dieter: “Markus, the package has just been returned by DPD [a rather reputable German logistics company], no comments attached! We are speechless - are checking into things!” I can only imagine what the scene must have been like for Dieter and Dirk at the store. Speechless, wide-open yes. They had been getting things ready at a snap, had called every carrier to make sure that they chose the best option. DPD had promised to deliver things by Monday, if not by Tuesday at the latest.

What happened was that the package never left Germany at all. [UPS and DHL didn’t provider faster service and charged a much, much higher rate - say EUR 350-450; for that price I can fly to Germany myself; let me say it strikes me as unreasonable]. So, the package was back. I called DPD and tried to find out what happened. They said they didn’t know the number they had provided. Argh … this is bad stuff, major blunder as far as I am concerned. The full story follows in brackets, skip to the next paragraph if you’re pressed for time.

[So, I get a very friendly dispatcher on the phone and try to find out what went wrong. He promises to get on the case and asks that Speedzone give him a call so he can get to work. As it turns out, DPD subcontracts to companies which serve as drop-off points. Withing the world of DPD, these subcontractors don’t have the status of companies, but are slotted as private individuals. Apparently - here is what I don’t understand - private individuals can not send a package to Turkey. According to the friendly dispatcher (this is not meant ironically) the Turkish company they are partnering up with wouldn’t accept it. My point: how does the Turkish company know. It’s not like the subcontractor has a plane and flies the package to Turkey. They hand it off to DPD right there and then. And if it is indeed the case that their drop-off points are private individuals for their accounts, why doesn’t the software reflect that and flash a huge warning sign? And why do Dieter and Dirk get a positive answer from the DPD phone representative to start with?]

While Dieter and Dirk figure out the alternatives, Haluk and I hit up the local bike store scene. I take my old wheel with me (it has to go anyway) and we eventually find the good people at Delta Bisiklet. The bike store is a really good one - except that they don’t have a rim for my purposes. That’s too bad. We get the cassette of though and clip the spokes, we also saw the damaged part out of the rim. I am still fuming somewhat at this point at DPD - how can you get things so wrong? Things are better though after the visit at the bike store. Cann (pronounce Jann - J as in Janice), the store owner is extremely knowledgeable and I also meet a guy who I thought works there, but turns out to be one of the best downhill bikers in Turkey (so he says). The interesting thing is that as we take my wheel apart, he asks whether he can use the spokes and the rim tape. It’s a yes, of course, but it does show that I’m a boy used to luxury (and for that matter we all are - I haven’t seen anyone in Germany reuse rim tape). He does say that he will dedicate his next win to the parts he now has on his bike. Thanks!!!

When I get back, Dieter has spoken to DPD again - they first refused to take the package again claiming that they can’t. Eventually they find a way and promise to get it here ASAP. Keep your fingers crossed … and I am taking bets for how long it takes. So, tell me what you think!!! A massive thank you to Dieter and Dirk for going through all the hassle and to Mr. Sch. at DPD for making things work in the end (well, that thank you will fully go out when the package makes it here).

The evening winds down with a walk around the area (where I took the picture below and this will mean something to only a few, though one person should be getting back with me about it) and some good food. It’s made better by some emails I receive and some instant messaging that makes the day.

the days’ distance: 0km
total distance: still 5005km
riding time: 0h

The last couple of days were slow ones … as the ones before and I must say that I don’t mind. The wheel is on its way and there isn’t much that I can do but wait for it to arrive and clear customs.

The main thing this weekend was food … first the Koefte festival. Haluk had been eagerly awaiting to show off his Koefte-making talents and he didn’t promise too much. They were absolutely fantastic. We had dinner at his brother’s house who also plays in the same band as he does. They go and play in a fancy hotel in Antalya in the summer, while at the same time able to enjoy the niceties of said hotel.

Here is part of the Koefte ceremony …

The final product was blocked by some Turkish filters …

(just kidding, I forgot to take a picture)

Sunday was my cooking day. Haluk had hinted at one point that I should step up at one point. I had suggested one thing, his eyes wide-open he asked mockingly whether it was dangerous. It came down to some yummy stir-fry - given where I was heading I thought I would give the Westernized version of Chinese food a try. We had some trouble finding ginger, but eventually came up with a dried version - not ideal, but it did the trick ultimately.

today’s distance: 0km
total distance: same old, same old (5005km)
riding time: 0h

Given that this day was slow … speaking of which, take a look at the sticker on the VW Beetle (just click on the picture for a larger view).

So, back to the slow day. Because it was slow, it gives me a good opportunity to let go of some thank yous to those who have given me words of feedback as of late. The blog now has a good number of regular readers and your comments and messages (by way of email, comments on the website or otherwise) are always greatly appreciated. One subscriber for example reads the messages while taking a break giving swimming lessons in Spain, some read printouts while waiting at the doctor’s office, others are too tired to read the long-winded texts I am producing, but they really like to take a look at the pictures here and on the flickr site. Yet others have taken a liking and can’t seem to wait for updates after finding it quite frustrating to have a new message pop up every day or so in the beginning. Others (e.g. here and here) are touring themselves and are having similar experiences in a lot of ways. Thanks for letting me know about all this and keep the comments and questions coming.

There are two people who have sent me a particular uplifting and challenging message. M & M’s anniversary is approaching in about three weeks time. They are as they say “avid” readers of the blog and have decided to forgo an expensive dinner on the occasion and instead make a donation that day (for more information on the charity portion of this project, go here). Specifically, they will donate the amount of kilometers I am covering that day in Euros. Thank you M & M for this and I am planning on not making it a rest day I suppose.

The remaining day was filled with visiting relatives in the sprawling mass that is Ankara, passing by the country of bread among other places and eating yummy chocolate banana cake to top things off.

today’s distance: 0km
total distance: same old, same old (5005km)
riding time: 0h

Off to a late start again. It’s sleeping time these days and a) I am catching up a lot it seems and b) it is deeply necessary it also seems. Take today. I slept for about 9 hours during the night and then in the afternoon for another 4 hours. I usually never sleep in the afternoon. But it seems like my body is telling me to do something so it gets what it asks for right now. And that is food and sleep.

Before my comatose afternoon, I wanted to get some information on my US visa from the embassy here in Ankara. I figured that information wouldn’t really hurt and that I might as well start the information gather process. My questions largely centered around time issues as I will need to apply for a longer visa if necessary in some part of Central Asia. So here we go - Haluk drives me to the embassy, I am sort of prepared with prior internet research and know that the Ankara embassy operates by appointment only. So much for rules. There have to be exceptions. I show up and ask whether it is possible to speak to a consular official. Turkish security tries to direct me to the internet and the phone. That didn’t work I explain. They say no. I ask for the supervisor. They send me to a different gate. I speak to the Turkish security supervisor, a nice guy as it turns out. His name is Murat. I explain the situation … bike tour, not much time due to visa restrictions, try to have things in one place, yada yada. His first reaction: “You’re crazy! I used to be a bike myself, but not a 15,000km one!” He also says that speaking to a consular official is impossible. They changed the rules a couple of years back - no exceptions. I try the “I’m a lawyer and know there are always exceptions to the rule” angle and he says he will see what he can do, speaking to his boss. If he says no, it would be a no. He seems sympathetic due to the biker bond. The little Turkish I have picked up so far makes me realize Murat is going to bat for me. He explains the situation in great detail. When he turns around, he says: “Go back, my people will let you in!” A big thanks to Murat.

I get my answers that I need from the consular staff, know that things are generally possible now and that it is possible to not leave the passport with the embassy for purposes of issuing the visa (kind of hard in former Soviet countries, where you need to have the passport at all times as I have found out in a subway station in Tashkent at one point; milita asks me for the passport, things are OK - but an old lady curses them out for pestering foreigners for no reason - great scene) and that I should be able to have a visa issued within no more than 3 weeks with all documents being in order. That should be possible in the end.

As Haluk needed some things from the mall we also entered one of the countless of such consumption temples here in Ankara (you know you’re there when you see a big mobile phone company store starting with an N, a mobile plan provider starting with a V, a Swiss formerly very hip watch company, a sweat-shop producing athletics store and the ubiquitous coffee company with a Seattle, WA HQ). You also know you’re there when hip young Turkish couples try to get fit by using a game console to get fit.

The trip here was also an exercise in being catapulted from the Turkish hinterland (where biking shorts are looked at suspiciously and with a derisive snort at times) to the fast-paced and extremely modern face of Turkey.