Restart from Istanbul!

From Kathmandu to Istanbul, the restart

Here’s an update on the journey. As you may know, a transfer from Kathmandu to Istanbul was made. A hard and difficult decision, but an unavoidable one. A visa for China/ Tibet didn’t materialize, despite efforts made by DHL to arrange for me to be invited by a DHL representative. A big disappointment that took a lot out of my motivation. Yes, I could have tagged along on a touristic trip and get on a bus with a group. "But that’s not what I wanted!" (shout this out the way Al Pacino did in the Godfather III). I wanted to go there by bike, on my own. And that’s what Chinese authorities don’t allow. A bitter pill to swallow, which made me rethink the whole enterprise. A route along the Pamir Highway was considered, but proved to be too difficult roads to negotiate for the Parcycle. Also, the extra weight of the camping gear turned out to be a real point of consideration. Those twelve kilos got send back to the Netherlands. It’s already hard as it is.

Then, looking at the map, and skipping over countries with an ‘iffy’ reputation, we made the decision to make a transfer to Istanbul and take it from there. I was okay with that. And although the Dutch and Turkish governments are engaged in a feud, I wasn’t going to be deterred by it. I relied on common sense and good nature by the Turkish people. I also promised myself to avoid any politics and not to be an opinionated Dutch ‘know-it-all’ A-hole. We tend have that reputation worldwide…

And you know what? The moment I met my Turkish counterparts they all turned out to be a real breath of fresh air. And without even bringing politics into the conversation, all Turkish people I spoke and dealt with, they all were very apologetic about how current affairs are played out. Thing is, what you really want to look for in any restaurant, hotel, shop or public place; is the portrait of Atatürk. He is a much cherished historical figure in Turkish culture, and thé founding (God)father of the modern secular Turkey. And nowadays a symbol of opposition. I always felt reassured when I saw his portrait on the wall, even in a restaurant that operated under the name ‘Erdogan’…

But, I skipped over the travel from KTM (Kathmandu airport) to Istanbul Atatürk Airport. Wow, that was an exercise in patience! First three long queues to get to the gate. One to get into the main entrance, the first of two security checks. The second, checking in. Then passport and visa control, that took more than an hour. Then, a luggage check and you’re good to go. So, that’s four queues, I miscounted… The Nepalese sure like their formalities, I tell yah! Be sure you get there three hours before your plane takes off, or it will take off without you…

A nice flight with Turkish Airlines, two good meals on board and yes, even a couple of beers! But what a surprise at the airport. The longest queue for passport control I saw in my entire life! On top of that, I also was forced to buy a visa for entering the former Ottoman empire. 25 euros, the price to be paid by the Dutch for what..? Politics? I couldn’t resist the mere thought of it… But in the end I got through, although the customs officer looked like he wanted to eat my brains raw… Never saw a man so disgusted with his job as this character did. Not a very warm welcome. But that all melted like snow in the sun when I met up with Cankut (pronounced as John Good!) of DHL. He picked me up in a company car and drove me to the centre of the city to have some really good kebab. He also dropped me of at a hotel in the heart of the old city. Great idea, and I made good use of the opportunity given. At least I could be the tourist I always wanted to be, haha!

So, waiting for my bike to arrive I did some obligatory touristic visits. None the less, very nice. Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosq, the Grand Bazaar, a boat trip on the Bosporus, the Hippodrome and so on. In fact I did more sightseeing in Istanbul than in Kathmandu. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I felt more at home in Istanbul. I immediately noticed the cleanliness of the city. No dust, dirt and the traffic seemed almost tranquil compared to the Indian or Nepalese. Also, the beggars, open sewers and lepers in Kathmandu more or less depressed me. I’ve been in poor countries and seen a lot that can be called heart breaking. But this time, it was a bit too much. And what got to me the most is the mentally ill in such countries as Myanmar, India and Nepal, and how they are (not) treated. They wander the streets begging, repeatedly mumbling the same sentence, and basically they are on their own. The cannot fend for themselves, it’s a miserable sight. And in these countries, life is hard. Most people have a hard time scraping a living together. Selling the same things, one stand after another. Or sorting out garbage, it really makes you appreciate how fortunate we actually are…

So, arriving in Istanbul felt like coming home. And I got great receptions by the DHL teams as always, at the Servicepoint, Head Quarters and at Atatürk Airport. But it never gets boring, nor do I get complacent about it. I feel privileged, being able to do this with the DHL help and support I get throughout all the countries I have visited. They really made me feel welcome and the respect I got is highly motivating to press on. And with the bike arriving in good order, I was able to do just that. One more interview at HQ, and off I went.

Istanbul – Saray 120 kms

First stage after considerable time off, was a hard one. Negotiating through heavy traffic on the D-100 was a challenge, to say the least. A six lanes highway, on which you are allowed to ride your bike on. But I wouldn’t recommend it. Great help I got from a fellow cyclist who was doing his training. He rode in front of me or behind me to warn and sign off oncoming traffic. The exits were the scariest to overcome, and he did a beautiful job. Not being selfish he waited for me on top of the climbs, and let me tell you, those were some steep hills! Even met up with a DHL delivery van, and got some pictures of this coincidental meeting.

Once I left this ‘road of death’ I ventured into this strange ‘no man’s land’. Turned out to be a highly militarised piece of Turkey. Eerie high risers behind barbed wired walls, confirmed my suspicions. These were military compounds. A nearby town called Tepekent was one of the eeriest of places I visited in my entire life. Not sure if it was decaying or under construction, but it had the feel of an abandoned filmset, or some town solely constructed for fire department purposes or military training. Glad to be out of this web like weaved streets, I also left my original route. Took a wrong turn, or whatever. I didn’t care. When you rule out the mosques, the Turkish signs and number plates, one could easily think one was in the Belgian Ardennes. Same rolling hills, long but not too steep, but they can mentally wear you out.

Catalca emerged, but too soon to look for a room. So, I decided to ride on. And into the great outdoors with hardly anything in it, I went. Hours went by, a lot of slow climbing, and at some point in time it became imperative to look for a place to stay. In a small town I was told to go to ‘Saray’, for sure there’s a hotel. With fading daylight setting in and 23 kilometres to go it was another Houdinian escape from total darkness… But I got lucky. I stayed in the best hotel in town. Never despair, is my motto. Nil disperandum, and ad fundum, hahaha.

Saray – Kirklareli, 76 kms

Surprisingly tranquil ride. If you dismiss the occasional car that flies by trying to break through the sound barrier. These roads are quiet, but some motorists and lorry drivers can’t resist to really floor it. ‘See what this baby is made of’, seems to be the train of thought fuelling this asshole like behaviour… But not in a Indian or Nepalese quantity, so stress levels are way down, hahaha!

First hotel I saw, I went in and got a room. Modest, but with all the trimmings you want in a hotel room, albeit that most of the interior dated back to the nineties or even earlier. Let’s call it a time capsule. Okay, it had Wi-Fi, but only at the reception, or lobby. But I do not complain when I only pay 60 lira. That’s a bargain, considering everything. The next day I filled up good at breakfast and pointed the bike towards the Bulgarian border.

Kirklareli – Malko Tarnovo, 50 kms

Not the longest or the most difficult of stages I did so far. But one of the prettiest, and nicest to have done so far. Long persisting climbs, like in the Ardennes as mentioned before. A few kilometres before the border I met a couple of English cyclists going the other way. A little talk and exchanging experiences and it was off to the border. Relatively easy I was waved through, but I made sure my passport got stamped and then into Bulgaria. A few kilometres in, and the road seriously deteriorated, as I was warned for by the English dude. But never mind, easy going and mostly downhill. And today, the 17th of April being a rainy day, I decided to make it a writing day. Enjoy the rest of your Easter holiday! We’ll be in touch, I’m sure.