My Turkish Holiday

          I had no idea what to expect cycling into Turkey.  To tell the truth I knew very little about this country except that i could find plenty of kabobs to eat and that the men love their mustachios.  At first i was shocked to see how modern this country is,  i was expecting something on par with Morocco.  But of course you have both the BMW's and the donkey carts wheeling down the same road.  You realize that some people are living the same as their ancestors did a few hundred years ago, except with a cell phone in hand.  This was starting the adventure for me, entering Turkey.   This bridge of land connecting Europe and Asia with so much diversity and history proved to be both uplifting and rewarding as well as disappointing at times as i cycled over 2,000 kms from Greece to Georgia.  Here's my little report.

 My first stop in Turkey was Istanbul.  I arranged to stay with a local man named Yassar who lived in the old part of the city, the place is called Sultanamat.  Yassar is a member of the online "couchsurfing" community where travelers stay with locals offering a place to sleep, and in my case hopefully wash, free of charge.  The only thing required really is to be open and share information about your culture.  I like this as you can learn more about a place by talking with the locals than by hiding in a hotel room with sat TV.  It turned out that Yassar was extremely nice and also knew plenty of Turkish history and culture, which he was eager to share with me.  I found that as long as the conversation was not focused on America or American foreign policy he was great to talk with and agreeable.   (This is something that as an American traveler you come to live with, the fact that many people are counting the days and literally praying for when America goes "down".  Some people have no problem telling this to your face then expect you to agree with them.  Bizarre if you ask me. And im not just talking about Turkey but all through Europe im hearing this talk.  Quite frankly im over it.  All countries have their problems, right?           "Hello, my name is Miles Raney.  Iv traveled to the other side of the globe on my bicycle to meet you.  Can we please talk about something else, something constructive, something positive.")   So after five days of Istanbul crazyness I was ready to move on and see the quieter side of Turkey.  But as it turned out the morning I was supposed to leave was the morning I got robbed.

      The night before I was gearing up, washing my clothes and organizing all my important documents, making sure I had enough cash to reach the next city and checking that I had all my belongings.  I do remember locking the door before dosing off to some music playing on my itouch.  A common thing that took place during my stay was that one of the servers that worked at Yassars restaurant would come and shower when he finished his shift at night.  I was assured that he was a good friend of Yassars partners and a trustworthy fellow.   So it was no different on the night I was robbed; their was knocking on the door, i let him in, and then i fell back onto the bed and passed out.  When i awoke it took some time to notice what had happened.  I started packing the dried clothes and brushed my teeth.  Then I looked to the table where my Otlieb handlebar bag was with slr camera, credit cards, passport (with Chinese visa), International vaccination card, 400 TL$, and about 3,000 photos of traveling Europe.  Gone.  I looked to the smaller table next to my bed for the itouch and it too was missing.  What was going on?!  Did someone come into my room while I was sleeping and take my things? Was I set up?  I started to freak out and Osgar, the DJ eventually heard my yelling and ran upstairs to find out what was going on.  He looked stressed as well saying both his phones were missing but his laptop was still in his room.  How can I know this for certain or if he's just pretending to be another victim so im not suspicious?  I lose it saying that i want the police here NOW! I want the waiter/server here NOW!  I wanted to know how/why this happened on the last evening of my stay, which I made clear to Yassar the day before.  Why did the server not lock the room door when he left my room and then why did he leave the downstairs door unlocked as well, which he admits doing.  It was later that we found the camera footage of the man who stole my things.  He entered the building about 40 minutes after the doors were unlocked by this server early in the morning according to the statements and the timed footage.  The man on the video was clearly not the server and in my opinion the image quality was so poor that I doubted any possibility of ever identifying him in person.  What to do?  Im thinking this is so sketchy, where to begin?  OK lets go to the police station.  I go and notice that everyone from the restaurant has been there for some time, given their statement, and now are joking with the two policemen now in from of me.  Osgar is translating what the police officer is saying and now evidently its my turn, last but not least, to give my statement.  This is somewhat painful as im now reliving the experience of loosing so much, photos i cant buy, bla,bla, bla.  Osgar is telling me as I write out a list of items I no longer have that the Turkish government is giving refunds to tourists who have been robbed and that i shouldnt worry.  Im about to crack. 
       I still look back and wonder what really happened, was i set up?  I dont blame Yassar or believe he could do something like this, but i doubt the credibility of the younger men working at the bar and restaurant downstairs.  I stayed another four days with Yassar waiting for a replacement passport and cash sent from Alaska via Western Union.  The cash took time and Yassar and Osgar fed me and took great care of me during this difficult period.  It felt strange not to have a single penny or any ID in such a large city as Istanbul and i was certainly feeling depressed.  When the temp. passport was delivered by UPS I noticed immediately that it wasnt going to work and that I would have to request for another full passport.  But not in Istanbul, at this point Istanbul was driving me crazy.  I just needed to move forward and put this town and experience behind me.  So I left that afternoon after good by's with some of the locals and Yassar.   Time to cross the Bosphorus into Asia. 
     

Blue Mosque, Istanbul

ferry across the Bosphorus.  I tried to force a smile but couldnt manage it.

       My first objective was to cycle out of Istanbul without getting hit by a truck or car.  Sounds easy enough but from Greece it took two full days of  combat cycling through outlying cities and Istanbul to reach the center.  The traffic was so bad I had to take these "Pow-Wow's" to regain my composure, then try again with my toes crossed.  In hindsight I was incredibly lucky to only have a lot of close calls and a few stories to tell my nephews.  All in all it was a stupid idea.  So how to exit Istanbul(ALIVE) on the bike going east?  On my dodgey map it indicated a ferry service about 70kms east from the center, from the Bosphorus.  From there it was a quick hop, about 10 kms across the edge of the Marmara Sea to a much quieter place with farms and small villages.   I was happy with this decision.  After day one of cycling out of Istanbul I had a great campsite in the foothills alongside Lake Iznik. What a dramatic change in landscape and atmosphere to my restless days above a dance club with no other option but to count the hours.  Free at last, free at last.

A change of pace.  First night out of Istanbul.

 From Iznik the route I chose was a beeline to Konya, then east to Cappadocia (Nevsehir Province).  Cycling this part was strait forward.  The roads were mainly used by trucks hauling supplies to central Anatolia and usually (on the road) are not so friendly with cyclist.   I would have my breakfast at the local truck stops, which consisted of either: a brick of margarine in a sea of honey w/white bread, or  slices of simi-soft cheese with olives, maybe even a salad of tomato and cucumber.  This was always washed down with Turkish tea or Cay as the locals call it.  This black tea they call Cay is too strong and not suitable for drinking and biking in such a hot climate.  I would drink a cup of Nescafe and be on my way.
      The temperature got warmer everyday as I traveled southeast into interior Turkey and I wondered if my continued route through the south was a good idea.  My daily routine was based on how to maximize my time on the bike, to stay out of the sun as much as possible, to cool down using the water springs along the road, and of course, hydration with Coca-Cola products and water.  The last part is no joke.  I feel like now having cycled 40,000kms around the world in difficult places; Western Sahara desert, western Bolivia, northern Argentina and Chile, Namibia, and now Turkey(Placing as the hottest) that now I have a little experience of what works and what does not.  For example, a pint of yogurt followed by three cups of strong tea is a bad idea to pound before a ride.  Iv tried beer as well but it turns out that this causes detrimental effects on your system when pedaling in 100 degree weather.  Its trial and error man.

       So I arrive on another sizzling day in Cappadocia with not a lot of expectation but some curiosity.  It was definitely worth the trip and much larger in scope than I had originally thought before coming.  Is this not why we travel, to know by direct experience.

erosion is an amazing force.  Wind and Water

an old church carved into the rock

    If ever you decide to visit this wonderful place, do it on a bike! I got into town early so I grabbed a map and pedaled around Urgup, then the other villages.  The name Cappadocia dates back to the 6th century and refers to the Syrians who desended from Japheth. Please look up Acts 2:5.
       Later that evening I stayed at a campground and took a much needed shower.  Im amazed how dirty and grimy I get traveling on the bike. Im usually willing to pay exorbitant amounts of money just to bathe and wash my clothes.  This is how it goes when you are wild camping every night and dont find a clean stream or lake to bathe in.  You deal with it.  I will be the first to say that bike touring is not as glorious as it sounds.  Maybe its just my style of traveling.  Your usually dirty and tired and hungry and people are usually looking at you like your crazy IE (dirty, tired, hungry).  But the rewards are so gripping and intense that you soon find yourself hooked and on the other side of the world from your home exploring more.  So here I am.

     After the second day in Cappadocia I pedaled off toward Malatya, the apricot capital of the world.  If you have ever had the opportunity to taste the dried apricots from Turkey than this is where they are coming from.  It was during this stretch of road that the heat really started to effect my "Lance Armstrong Performance" or my LAP.  With this pace there was no lapping going on and this is unacceptable.   I would get off the bike after a long session in the heat and realize i couldnt walk in a strait line, like i was drunk.  No joke.  I needed to be more respectful of the climate I was in.  Unfortunately the respect came in small doses and after I committed to a line through southern Turkey(Too little too late). My prediction; The heat will be bearable.  So apricot country was beautiful and no matter where I stopped along the road people insisted I take more and more of this fruit. Both my panniers and my belly were full with apricots and I also had plastic bags full on front and rear racks.  So much weight but so tasty, a perfect meal for cycling.  You must see it to believe it, the size of the sub valleys and main valley, the number of trees, the number of apricots on one tree.  Many trees with stilts supporting the branches heavy with fruit.  The people camped out in small communities in the fields working day and night, picking the fruit, drying the fruit.  Enjoying the shade of an apricot tree while having an afternoon cay. Men, Women, Children all taking part in this work.  Hard work.  Honest work  Its funny though, even after my apricot gluttony in Malatya I still long for another bite.

the Kurdish road construction crew

    So let me try and explain this whole Turkish/Kurdish debacle.   First of all, during my stay in western Turkey (Turkish) the people had nothing but bad things to say about the Kurds.  Oh, they will rob you, kidnap you, give you problems, will murder you.  Murder me?  Wow!  And im not just talking about a few people but the majority of people I came in contact with, trust me this is a lot when traveling on a bicycle.  I had a little trepidation planning my route through this country as many miles wandered through Kurdish territory.  And now this bata coming from the locals, was i foolish to continue with my plans?

      The Kurdish people represent a significant number of people in Turkey even though they are a minority. They inhabit the east and southeast of Turkey and the core is located in southeast Turkey, west Iran, northern Iraq, and northern Syria.  Unfortunately, the man who drew the map overlooked this and now you have a people divided, who are being forced to assimilate under there separate states of government.   What is the out come?   History will show that the Kurds have been here longer than the Turks, or Ottomans.  They have their own language(Indo-European) and culture, which the Turkish government has tried to forcibly assimilate to Turkish, starting in 1930s.  This was actually one of the conditions that Turkey had to fix in order to gain favor with the EU and make it possible to join the European Nation.   Of course this will never happen but Turkey did make changes to this particular policy, maybe even for the wrong reasons.  So now you have an aggressive force on the Kurdish side who call themselves the PKK, it stands for something like the workers rights movement.  I must make note however, that not all Kurdish people are for this kind of action and want peace above all things.  They do not support the PKK.  The PKK are considered a gorilla force and have been laibled by America and the EU as a terrorist organization since the late 80's.  The Kurdish people above all things want equality and to preserve their culture and dont take an aggressive stance.  During my ride through Turkey there were many clashes in the south and southeast between the PKK and the Turkish Amy.  Solders on both sides were being killed and I realized that I needed to be extra careful cycling this stretch of road.  Let me just say I was far from these areas and in no danger.

        By the time I had entered Malatya I was in Kurdish territory.  There was no sign or checkpoint, you just notice how people refer to things.  For example, the tea is no longer Turkish tea but Kurdish tea.  Wow, OK, no problem.  This sorta came as a surprise as I was expecting the Kurds further east and south.  It all became crystal clear one day traveling on a small back road to Nemrut.  Do I have to explain again how hot it was?   I cycled by a road worker and asked for some water because I had ran out and started to feel a little desperate.  I was parched and according to my map the next village was another 30 kms or so.   He was a tall middle aged man with a clean shave and a cigarette in his hand.  He gestured that he had no water than looked me and the bike over.  Noticing the Turkish flag on my bike he gave me a strange look and said, "This is Kurdistan not Turkey".  Strike two.   I rode off a little disheartened and still in need of water.  One thing was for certain, that flag had to go.  

        It was a last minute decision and my last opportunity to travel directly south about 200kms to a place called Namrut.  I was wanting to explore more of the back roads in the mountains in western Turkey but none of them led through a region, only ending at a village.  From the looks of the map this road too looked as though it dead ended only 80km from the main road near Malatya.  I started to ask the locals if the road led past Namrut to Severik which would make it possible to continue east without double backing my route.   Everyone agreed on this point and so I made the correction on my map and after receiving an armload of apricots was on my way.  The route proved more difficult than expected.  This is mainly due to my poor map which showed only 50% of the mountain passes, a real problem when your counting on water from village to village.  (A high mountain pass or two between villages when your spent and thirsty can pose a little problem.)  After the third pass I new I would have to dig deep on this one.  For as far as I could see I was looking at the most rugged terrain with road inclines up to 10%.   It was unbelievable that with each mountain pass and decent the hotter it got.  The mountains were certainly barriers between the warm air in the north and the hot air in the Syrian plateau.  The question was, how hot was it going to get?  I still had plenty of passes and mountains to climb as I pedaled south.  It was too late to turn back now and I was determined to see what lay ahead on this route over Nemrut and down to the Adiyama province.

so beautiful the Kurdish mountains are

    I was running low on food (apricots) and moral when I came across this site, a little oasis in the valley flour.  It was here (no name on map) that I stocked up on biscuits, soda pop, water, bread, and some old vegetables that you would never eat unless you were in my predicament.  All in all a pretty decent meal to end a solid day of biking.  My campsite was choice as well.

a Kurdish campsite

Nemrut

represent'n

Antiochus ancestors

     The next morning I got an early start.  It was nice to be in the shade for most of the morning as I climbed to the top of Mount Nemrut.  After two days and over 4000 meters elevation gain on the bike in 100+ degree weather I find myself here.
     Its special moving through the world under your own power, making your own decisions, choosing a path your clueless about, overcoming obstacles.   No doubt this is what we are all doing in life.
  Nemrut is located on a mountain top over 2000m in the southeastern region of Turkey.  This place is believed to contain the sacred tomb of Antiochus I.  It was during 62 BC that Antiochus had built a "tomb sanctuary" with statues of himself, two lions, two eagles, and a list of Greek, Armenian, and Iranian Gods.  The statues each inscribed with a name of a deity.  One stone slab shows the oldest know image of two figures shaking hands, between Antiochus I and Heracles.
      It was unreal to see these carvings in such an environment, atop a mountain.  There was a cool breeze and I took my time up there imagining the work and skill involved to build such a site.  Trying also to imagine the statues as they were, unmolested by people and nature, thousands of years ago. 

ferried across Ataturk Lake, (dammed river).

     These experiences are so ephemeral that you really need to soak it in while you can.  Before I knew it play time was over and I had to start moving again.  The good thing though was that I had a 1500 m decent down to a ferry service and then 40 kms to Severik. The ride down was over before I knew it but still exhilarating.   I was glad i made the extra effort to see this part of Turkey even if it meant a little misery on the bike.  IT wasnt over.  But could I continue with my plans eastwards to Van lake and the Iranian border?  I made it into Severik late in the evening a bit frustrated.  I had no problem with camping outside the town but the kids made it difficult yelling for money whenever they saw me on the road.  This continued for miles and the kids turned into young adults.  At one point as I was desending a steep hill and a group of young men formed a roadblock with their bodies lined up in a row.   I continued picking up speed and hoped they would move out of the way.  They obviously wanted me to stop by the way they were gesturing.  I felt a bit uncomfortable about the whole situation, their actions, me feeling like I needed to fly by them with speed.      This brings up a topic that I feel is a big problem in touristic places and one of the main reasons I rarely hit the tourist traps. TOURISTS GIVING MONEY OR ANYTHING TO CHILDREN IS WRONG!  This is not natural for a kid to stand next to the road all day waiting for the next tourist needing to feel like Mother Teresa.  You as a tourist look like an idiot because you think by throwing money at a problem (what you perceive as a problem) that it will then be fixed.  Believe me you are fueling the fire and turning proud people into street side beggars.  In this respect money is poison to these people and you are the administer.  This seems a bit harsh but you must travel to understand whats happening in these places.  Jumping ahead to Cermik, I was cycling out of this town when I noticed a few young men (early 20s) on the side of the road talking loudly.  As I cycled by they stood up and started shouting for money.  I kept pedaling then turned around and used the same line demanding they give me money.  They seemed surprised by this and I went back to pedaling.  The next thing I knew one of the men grabbed the back of my shirt demanding money and the bike came to a halt.  I turned around with the look of death and my arm cocked back.  I dont think he liked what he saw by his response, immediately letting go and returning to his wolf pack who were now all standing behind him about 5 meters from me.  Sometimes when things get harry, like the ancient tribes, you must give what you got.  The point Im trying to make is these kids that ask for money continue this behavior into their adult lives because they have been rewarded.   Its sad to see a strong young man, nicely dressed  capable of work and thought, act this way.  Moving on.


     So I stop at a gas station just out of Severik and ask the attendant if its ok for me to camp behind the station.  He looks at me as though nothing could be more normal and fitting.  Naturally. I scavenge the shelves inside for any worthy calories.  More biscuits, chips, liter of juice, chocolate donuts, crackers, soda pop.  Definitely not the South Beach diet.  I take all these goodies outside where the man has a half dozen lawn chairs and enjoy this interesting meal.  BON APPITITE!   I was exhausted and retired after the junkfood binge.
     I managed the next morning to make it into Severik.  By 9 am it was too hot to cyle in the sun.  I found a local cafe were I was planning on killing some time and was then invited into the owners house directly above the cafe for breakfast.

   

In the shade.  proved fairly accurate when compared to time/temp signs in EU

      I took a shower and had a bed to sleep on through the afternoon heat.  That evening I made the decision to head directly north to escape the heat. It was too crazy and maybe a little dangerous to push it through this rugged country in this climate.  It was even more miserable when a storm from Iraq and Iran started blowing sand and dust into the jet stream and into southern Turkey.  I couldnt see anything and wondered if there was some fire off in the distance, then realized their is nothing to burn in the desert.  Whats going on?
  The low point of this trip was the stretch between Severik and Cermik.  The road was literally melting and bubbling, making cracking and popping sounds and looked like an oil slick. I could feel the weight of the bike sink into the asphalt and bog down requiring twice the effort to keep moving.  I was now fighting a direct headwind that was so hot i literally was laughing to myself, maybe I lost it a little too. Breathing now became difficult and I started to worry a little if I was able to get out of this environment under my own power.  I never amagined that it could get this tough on a bike.   And people say roadbik'n easy. 
    I continued until dark that first day out of Severik and then camped off the road out of sight from drivers or any people.  The temperature drops so slowly and I admire my surroundings.   Im in the badlands with rugged rocks and gorges, some farmlands and fields here and there mainly growing grain for cattle.
    Im awoke by five men outside my tent, all have flashlights, and two I notice have rifles. A man kneels down next to my tent and holds out a sheet of paper with some writing on it.  He starts speaking in english, "Its not safe place for camping you must come with us."  Im awake now.  I ask whats going on? why is it not safe? But its clear he only speaks Turkish.  I indicate that I want to see identification cards, not that I have any control over the situation or any choice, I just wanted to see how they react to this.  The man who read the card promptly pulled out his wallet and showed me what looked like an ID but it was hard to tell in the dark.  I was starting to get worried.  How did they know I was hear?  Im so stealth when I seek a campsite and I thought I had mastered the art of wild camping.  Im a fool.  I start packing my things and hand my bags to the men I assume are solders who in turn shuttle this gear to a car parked back on the road a few hundred yards away.   Im following this procession and then start loading my things into what looks like a taxi.  OH, NO! I hate taxis in far away places.  The last time I got into a cab was Congo Kinshasa and that was a crazy experience.  The last thing they loaded or tried to load was the bike.  We tried many different methods but it just wouldnt fit.   The man in charge(with the english letter) pointed down the road and leaned the bike up against me.  It was at this point that I started to cool down and relax a little, after all, they weren't about to stuff me into a taxi in the middle of the night, off in Timbuktou.   I pedaled forward with the car lights shining from behind illuminating the road not knowing my destination.  Every so often a giant scorpion would try his luck crossing the road.  Maybe I had some luck coming my way.  About seven kms of hilly road led to the Turkish military base and I sighed a breath of relief.  The place they recommended for camping was a little too close to the road but at this point I just needed to lay down and process what just happened, maybe even get some sleep.

 

My first hotel room out of Istanbul.  Elazig.  mirrors are a great source of entertainment.  Forget weight watchers, join my program today.   follow me & loose 20lbs in less than a week.

                                                           Traditional Kurdish food at the music festival in Tunceli.

        I must say that the Turkish military posts saved me as I traveled through this hot, desolate land into Elazig.  They would beckon me to their forts to enjoy the shade, refill water bottles, and of course a cup of cay was offered.  Unfortunately I couldnt take any photos.  I was continually blown away with the kindness and hospitality shown to me during my stay in Kurdistan.  Many days went by without purchasing a single meal or something to drink.  Everything was offered as a gift without any strings attached.  In my travels the Kurds rank #1 and this was a highlight for me.  Go and see for yourself.
      My route was through the mountains from Elazig to Tunceli and then up to Erzurum to collect my passport before crossing into Georgia.  I stayed in Elazig for one night at a hotel in the center of town.  It took three hotels, as I had no passport or ID, before one German owner looked at me and allowed me to stay one night.  Its against the law in Turkey and most countries to let forengers stay for lodging without procuring a passport.  I knew my predicament and if it wasn't possible I was willing to cycle out of the city and camp.  But I was persistent and thanks to that German fellow I had a bed to sleep in if only for one evening.

      The next day I heard some talk about some festival happening nearby.  I wasnt too sure what was going on and where I just continued on to Tunceli about 100Kms from Elizag.  I soon discovered that the music festival was happening right here and that there was two days left.  This was actually a big deal.  The biggest Kurdish festival in all of Turkey is held every year in Tunceli.  Kurds from Syria, Iran, and Iraq are coming for this event as well as some Turks and Europeans.  I soon discovered that I too really enjoy this music.  Its almost like very modern Native American music you would hear on KMBA.  Heavy percussion, melodic guitar rifts, and beautiful women/men singers.  For me it takes time for the this stuff to sink in and now I look back and realize how special this festival was.  The sounds, smells, and visuals.  These people have so much to be proud of.  There was a little tension at times with the PKK flags waving in the air.  I dont believe I saw one Turkish flag during this time.  But most of the people just wanted to hear good music, uplifting music.  There seemed to me a certain tone to the music and lyrics that suggested a people discriminated against.   This could just be me as I dont speak any Turkish but this is just the feeling I got.  Not that the music was sad to listen to.  On the contrary, it was like, stand tall and be proud of who you are and where you come from.   Its the same thing, same story America has with Native Americans. 

Kurdish band from Istanbul

   All great times eventually come to an end and it was hard leaving behind this unique town and a good friend as well.  I had the pleasure of meeting a university student who openly declared he was part of the PKK and that his father was the PKK.  Only after some time did he tell me this and not in a bragging way, just to explain were he's coming from, his story, if you will.  I stayed with his sister and her husband in their house and ate meals together with most of the husbands family.  HE spoke horrible English and relied on his phone to do most of the translating, but still we had some good discussions about the Kurdish people and traditions.  I think this was important for him to explain to an outsider what happened in the past and whats happening now with Kurdistan and Turkey.  Let the jury decide. But sometimes its too complex to know right from wrong, whos good and bad.   "And this is what the solders were protecting me from that night out in the badlands." hmm. 
         Never cycle in a county where the people are practicing Ramadan.  Not that this poses any serious problems but for your enjoyment as a cycle tourist who needs food and water to get from point A to point B, trust me.  During August  most Muslims are in the holy month of Ramadan, a month of fasting lasting from sunrise to sunset.  Its during this time they refrain from eating, drinking, and having sexy time.  It is in this way they come to know humility and sacrifice.
     I was surprised to discover that this month also grosses the most profit from grocery stores.  I have no issuse with this as im just an observer but the amount of food I saw people carrying home was amazing.  I admit I would do the same if I was in their shoes.  I just got a little frustrated how people treated me during this time.  Like your almost not welcome.   We are doing "this", what are you doing.  A little holier-than- thou attitude if you ask me. Very cold.  I would cycle into a town soaked with sweat and eventually find a store where I could buy some food and drink. It was obvious Im in need of calories and water.  But I always got dirty looks from people and sometimes the men would come up to me while I was eating and repeatedly say "RAMADAN! RAMADAN!"  What can I say to this but "OK,OK".  "How about this? not everyone on this planet is the same, with the same opinions and beliefs.  Whats important is that we respect one another. Right?  I respect you and your beliefs, can you respect me and mine."  Let me make note that at this time I had crossed back into Turkish territory.   My point is not to make the Turks look bad and the Kurds look good.  Im just making observations as I go.
         And I did go. Strait to the hospital after getting hit by a small cargo truck.  The impact to the lower left back and butt was intense and I was sure something was messed up or broken down there.  I had woke up early that morning to be able to reach Erzurum before it got too hot.  Had breakfast, then pedaled down the road.  The road had very little traffic and was in my opinion pretty safe.  One moment I was pedaling the next moment I remember a sharp pain, then being airborne in the superman position heading toward the ditch.   I looked over to my bike which was now upside down in the air parallel to me, head high, and to the right.  Im thinking this cant be good.  It turns out I was right.  The landing was just as painful and I lost a little wind and a little skin before i came to a complete stop.  I was in shock for a while then started feeling and moving around to check the carnage.  All in all I was more worried about my bike laying about 20 yards off the road in a field.  How did the bike manage?  Could it still be ridden? " I,I,I!"  Then my attention was back on me and my body.  How could I get hit that hard and not have any serious problems?   It took some time before the man who hit me walked over and drug me to the side of the road.  I told him I wanted police and an ambulance.  He said no and started collecting my bags that had tore off the rack and were now laying next to the road.  I noticed I was breathing deeply and getting more concerned about this whole situation.  Next he walked over to where my bike was and wheeled it over to his truck and loaded it along with my bags.  I was feeling a bit helpless lying there wondering if I could even walk.  The man came over and helped me limp to his truck. "Ok, I deffinitely cant walk."  "Thats painful".  Im in his truck looking for any ID while he finishes loading my stuff.  I find his truckers time card with his picture and name in the slot in the dash.  I feel safe now but still in pain.  At the hospital the x-rays showed no broken bones.  I sustained only scraps and bruises and my back still feels a little kinked.  I was lucky.  From then on Iv been sketched out by passing cars, flinching so hard one time I almost fell off the bike.   Im currently looking into getting a mirror for the bike.  So back to the hospital.  They cleaned me up and sent me on my merry way with the Military to give my statement of what happened and who was at fault.  So im there at the station (Military/Police) wrapped in bandages and one of the officers ask for my passport.  I hand him the crumpled up paper that Iv tried so hard to use as an ID (My statement of what happened in Istanbul, my name, nationality, and some bullshit stamp) for almost a month.  He reads it very carefully and then looks up at me in disbelief.   I raise my arms and say "my Turkish holiday".

Kurdish herders in norther Turkey, before entering Georgia.

 returning from working the fields

    After a full day of rest I hit it.  About 120kms, 1300m, hit it.  I was in good spirits because I had once again entered Kurdish territory.  Not a fitting end to a simi-problematic bike ride, but thats a good thing.  More of a happy ending.  After all I still had my health and except for a few minor speed bumps the wandering traveler got another life experience.  
 

Kosovo

     Kosovo has had a rough history of war with the naborıng states of former Yugoslovıa, namely Serbıa.  In 1999, (the Kosovo War) NATO stepped in and through a ''humanitarian war'' made it possible for Kosovo to gain its independence later in 2008, whıch makes ıt our newest country.  I wasnt sure what to expect from Kosovo and i admit i knew very little about thıs place other than it is predomenately a muslim culture and located on a hıgh plateau ın the mountains.  So i went to fınd out.

               I enter Kosovo from  Kukes, Albania and contınue to Prizren wıth the wınd at my back.  As ım blown along i notice the dıfference ın peoples appearance, some, not all women are wearıng the burka and occasıonally im seeing a muslaman.   Mosques now can be found ın every vıllage and maybe even a church.  Not too different from Albanıa ın affluance and ınfrastructure but ıt seemed lıke more was goıng on terms of constructıon and busıness ın Kosovo.  Thıs ıs just my observatıon, however, thıs could be why they are soon to joın the EU.   Agrıculture, bıg and small busınesses, road and buıldıng constructıon;  the locals are fınally able to focus on just makıng a decent lıvıng and not on fleeıng to other countrıes for refuge or fıghtıng ın war.  Granted thıs country ıs poor by US and most of the EU standards, ıt seems lıke ıts on the rıght track.  

old turkısh bath house

      I spend the fırst day ın Prızren wonderıng the streets for some food and to see the sıghts.   I found sheep on a stıck served wıth a sımple salad of cucumber, tomato, onıon, and herbs.  ım always amazed at how good local produce tastes.   The eatıng doesnt stop there, thıs ıs an all day event consıstıng of what ı call ''cafe hoppıng''.  A coffee here, some pastrıes there, some ıcecream, soda, fruıt.  Its rıdıculous.  Hey, when ın Rome rıght?  But really, ı got hooked on the fresh produce and usually just made my own salad wıth some cheese and bread for a meal.  I lıke to keep ıt sımple.      

     I decıde to contınue up the Lepenıces rıver ınto the malı sharrıt mountaıns.  I wanted to see thıs part of Kosovo known for ıts natural beautı, most of thıs area ıs actually a nature preserve.  I clımb over a

 pass then down to Ferızaj where ı meet a guy named Anvı.  He tells me about the earlıer, not so pleasant days ın Kosovo when he was a translater for the NATO troops.  BONE STEEL ıs the name of the NATO camp stıll actıve today not too far from Ferızaj.  Its quıt obvıous because of all the humvees patrollıng the roads and the troops walkıng through town, not just here but all over Kosovo he tells me.  He says ''all ıs well now, not to worry, we have peace now''.   And for some reason ıt dıd feel peaceful.  ı never felt uncomfortable at any tıme durıng my travels through Kosovo.  In fact the people were sımular to Albanıans ın theır kındness and hospıtalıty.  I fınd ıt ınterestıng that people who have the least are the most gıvıng.   

      My plan was to cycle ınto Serbıa from Kosovo whıch at fırst seemed quıt sımple.  Just a small clımb over the mountaıns to the border and a new country wıth new experıences.   But ıt was not meant to be.  I get to the Serbıan sıde of the border park my bıke hand over the passport, pretty standard.   One of the polıce offıcers offers me water to drınk and a chaır to sıt.  So ıts even better when he hands me a beer and a snack quıte sımular to my experıence crossıng ınto Montenegro.   Im thınkıng thıs ıs a great, what a endıng to a day of cyclıng; enterıng a new country, drınkıng a beer wıth about ten Serbıan polıce guards.  Im thınkıng everythıng ıs ok when one of the guards comes back wıth my passport.  ı fınısh my beer and start walkıng to my bıke when the guard starts motıonıng up the road to Kosovo and sayıng somethıng ı cant understand.   Thıs ıs typıcal, the language barrıer, but not always so devıstatıng as when you are told you cant enter a country.  For what reason?  Why?  I want to hear theır reasonıng.   Im sure ıts some BS polıcy put ın place by the Serbıan government and not the decısıon of these guards to refuse me entry to theır country.  What ı learned ıs that there ıs stıll tensıon between Serbıa and Kosovo, maybe just a lıttle but ıts there.  I felt bad stormıng off the way ı dıd, after all ı just spent about three days cyclıng to thıs border from southern Kosovo.  But ı turned ıt around and thought about how much ı enjoyed Kosovo.  Whats the problem?

Shemshı

I so I return back over the pass ınto Kosovo and stop at a small farm on the mountaın sıde.   A man named Shemshı ıs outsıde smokıng and walks up to me and greets me.  An ınterestıng man wıth 11 chılderen and remembers fleeıng to Macedonıa when the Serbs started bombıng.  He shows me a part of hıs house that was dıstroyed by mıssıle fıre.  Shows me hıs hens and other farm anımals.  We just sıt outsıde Shemshıs house relaxıng and watchıng the sunset. It was great to spend tıme wıth thıs man who has seen such a change through the years.   Im sure for hım, these are the good old days.

Albania

            So now im off the touristic Adriatic coastline and moving through Albania, Kosovo, and through more of the Balkans.  Its funny but after 5000kms and 55000 meters of cycling through Europe its only now that i feel like im really traveling.  Im loving it!  It happened when i crossed over from Montenegro to Albania.  The smells of suntan lotion blowing off shore and the early morning beach marches changed to a mixture of scents not too familiar, even a bit funky. The streets now were filled with bicycles, donkey carts, motor bikes, and of course the godforsaken Mercedes Benz .  Ok, now im getting somewhere i thought to myself.   I stop at a local cafe to get out of the sun and have a coffee.   A few locals call over to me and in mixed english/russian welcome me into their country.   The first night was fairly uneventful staying at a campground just outside of Shkodor.  I made a tour of the city first, which reminded me of a few towns in Morocco, then enjoyed riding into the evening.   The best time to travel on the bike is early morning or evening when the locals are starting or finishing their work. In this case im watching the farmers harvesting their crops, donkey carts off in the distant fields laden down with hay or vegetables.  These are special moments for me and i take my time getting to camp.   

         I start the next day climbing into the hills.  Its great cycling over the passes here in Albania because all of the roads were constructed low incline for the donkey carts.  I cruse up the switchbacks which are much easier than the swiss alps but of course there are twice as many, a little mental trickery.  By the end of the day im pretty burnt out and start to look for a place in the wild to camp.   The sun is setting and i feel my body finally starting to cool off.   "You just cant jump into the sea anymore, you need to toughen up, your going to and through southern turkey in the summer." i  tell myself.   I notice a girl on the roadside herding some goats and stop.  She says hello and speaks some english, where she is from and how far the next town is.  I notice as she saunters through the ferns that she is collecting something close to the ground and ask what this is.  Its not long before she is holding out the palm of here hand full of berries.  Im thinking they are maybe wild strawberries or something like this, very tasty.  So i thank her for the info and the berries and continue up the road eventually reaching the town of Rrape.  I notice a farm on the hillside and ride over to the house just beside it.  An old man is standing outside smoking and saying something in russian i cant understand.  Then a woman comes out and addresses me in Italian and then English.  I tell here my story and that im looking for a spot to set my tent for the evening.  She is helpful which has usually been my experience asking locals for a place to camp or whatever.  I had the greatest view of the mountains and the sunset from this small bench Anna lead me to.  I enjoyed watching the sun setting and of course feeding this incredible appetite of mine.  

         Im sort of in this haze looking out at this sunset when a man walks up to the bench and introduces himself.  Edmond spoke no English at all and after some sign language it was clear he was inviting me to come stay with him.  Without hesitation i collected my things and followed him to his house were he treated me to a great Albanian experience.  The cottage was cozy but immaculately cleaned and i noticed the wood stove burning in the corner of the living room.  I was introduced to Edmonds wife Katelina and their small child then invited to sit and watch a video of their wedding on this vcr.  Edmond and i started watching this video and then the food came out, pasta with fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, fried sausage, fresh wood oven baked bread, local cow cheese, and this strong vodka like alcohol drink called Rike.  At first glance the bottle looked like a perfume container, and i guess the second one did too.  After all Albania is a little strange. Well after the 5th shot and 2 hour of this entertainment i was managing fairly well.  I ate plenty and finally the film ended, what a relief.  Fresh strawberries for desert, a hot shower, a couch to sleep on, and a dream come true for a wondering traveler.  This is what its all about.