I had only managed three or four hours sleep when the sun started streaming in through the hostel window, Ibrahim still snoring away in the corner. I felt terrible but I had to get up because I had managed to find a host through couchsurfing who was going to work at nine and had suggested that I arrive before then so that he could welcome me. So I signed out of the hostel and began to make my way back a few kilometres across town. I stopped off by the Blue Mosque to get some more pictures although after the last attempt someone made at framing a picture of me with Hagia Sophia, I decided to do it myself this time.

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I pushed my bike on the pavement most of the way because the roads in the centre of Istanbul aren't particularly favorable for cycling. Just as I had crossed the bridge away from the historic centre a New Zealand man came up to me, shook my hand and introduced himself as Dino, and the woman he was with as Suzy. He explained that they were also cycling from the UK to New Zealand and I realised that I had seen their journal, NZ Bound by Bike, online. They were on their way to pick up their Iran visas at the embassy and none of us had much time, so we agreed to meet up the next day and talk more.

I was welcomed by my American host Ross who showed me into the apartment he shares with his Turkish wife Banu. He gave me a quick tour, then gave me a key and told me to make myself at home, and then left me alone in his apartment while he went to work. You really do have to love the amazing amount of trust some people have. Once he was gone I quickly stripped his apartment of everything valuable, found a large amount of cash hidden in his bedroom, took his wife’s jewels and the TV and made a run for it.

No I didn't. I went out to look for a bike shop again, using directions given to me by Ross. It was all the way back across the bridge towards the historic centre again, and so I walked all the way pushing the bike. I actually did manage to locate a bike shop this time, it was in the bike shop zone. I found one with a guy who spoke English in it and explained that I needed to replace the bottom bracket. He told me that it would be 28 lira for the bottom bracket and 50 lira (16 euro) service charge to fit it. This seemed like rather a large service charge to me, and certainly more than I, as a non-millionaire, wanted to pay. I asked him how much the bottom bracket removal tool was and he said it was 15 lira and so I decided I would do it myself and bought the bottom bracket and the tool.

I walked all the way back across the bridge to the apartment and set to work. I knew very well that I wasn't going to be able to do it. The bottom bracket had been fitted three years ago and had done fifty thousand kilometres. It was rusted and worn and I had been riding it broken for hundreds of kilometres. I knew I wasn't going to be able to do it even before I went in the bike shop. It was an impossible job for an amateur, I knew that very well. I just forgot when I heard how expensive it was going to be to have someone do it for me. So I tried and of course I failed. The thing was completely impossible to get out. I cursed and threw the bottom bracket removal tool across the hallway.

So then I had to push the bike all the way back across the bridge to the bike shop. I told the man that I couldn't get the stupid thing out and he grinned and said "I knew you wouldn't be able to. This is a job for a professional. We need to cut it out." Very useful, thanks. Perhaps you could have mentioned that before I paid you 15 lira for a tool that wouldn't work? I had gone in a couple of the other bike shops on the street to ask how much they would charge to change the bottom bracket, but none of them seemed to be able to do it, so I was stuck paying the 50 lira to this joker. I left the bike with him and went for a walk.

When I went back at five I was pleased to see that the new bottom bracket had been fitted but the guy told me that it had been difficult and so I was going to have to pay 65 lira. He made the mistake of bringing my bike outside first though, so I handed a fifty to him, said "thats what we agreed" and walked off with the bike.

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The next morning I went to look for a welder to reattach my broken front rack braze-on. I had been looking for one for some time - there was one near Ozgur but he was never there when we had gone to look for him, and the day before Ross had taken me to another one who wasn't able to do it because it was too small. Now I headed to the hardware store zone with my bike and wandered around narrow back streets asking people for one. I was pointed this way and then that and finally stumbled on what I was looking for - a little old man with a white beard and a hot flame in a little workshop. I took the front fork off of the bike and he put it in a vice. Actually he held it while I closed the vice. Then he had me hold the broken piece with tongs as he welded it back on. I should really have got money off for acting as his assistant. Maybe I did, he only charged my the much more reasonable sum of five lira, and he did a great job. I loved being there; on the dirty Turkish backstreets, next to a mosque, other mosques visible across the river, men running around with all kinds of pipes and tires and junk, other men coming round with tea. It was great, and now my bike was all fixed up and good to go.

In the afternoon I had arranged to meet up with Dino and Suzy, and had also invited another cyclist named Sean. He also has a journal, Looking For John Fairweather,  about his bike trip around Europe so it was to be quite the little crazy-guy-on-a-bikers get together. When I arrived at the rendez-vous point Sean was already waiting for me. We had been in touch for a while and it was great to finally meet him, and I was pleased to see that he seemed like a very nice man indeed. He was just a little bit difficult to hear as he had an unnaturally soft voice. The conversation went something like this:

"So what do you think of Istanbul Sean?"

Whisper, whisper, whisper.

"Erm. Okay. Yes it is nice. Where are you planning on going next?"

Whisper, whisper, whisper.

'Well, this is odd, I thought to myself, 'I can certainly see his lips moving, but no sound appears to be coming out.'

Whisper, whisper.

"So erm, anyway, this is where we are supposed to be meeting Dino and Suzy. They should be here soon" 'I hope!'

I'm actually very sorry to make fun of Sean on here. I know there is a good chance he will read this and I hope he won't be offended. I wasn't going to write this at all, but he wrote on his blog that I 'seemed cold' when I met him (and I assume he must mean unfriendly as I was wearing a warm jacket) and I thought it only fair that I should publish this rebuttal that if I did seem cold then I apologise and it was probably only because the guy I was with seemed to be a mute.

Dino and Suzy finally arrived and the four of us sat by the river and had some tea. Suzy and I were sat on the opposite side of the table from Dino and Sean and whenever Sean 'said' something we looked to Dino in desperation hoping he would show us how to react. The problem was that I don't think Dino could hear Sean either. Well, whatever Sean was talking about, the rest of us talked biking. Dino and Suzy are following a similar route to me through Central Asia and so it was very useful to exchange information regarding visas. They told me that they had been to the Tajikistan embassy in Istanbul and got their visas on the spot. It sounded like it would be much easier to get this visa in Istanbul rather than Ankara and as a result I began to wonder whether it would be feasible for me to get it before leaving. After our tea we took a walk and as Sean wanted to find a bike shop I took him to every single one apart from the one that had ripped me off. Dino was also in the market for some gloves so we had to take a wander over to the camping zone too, where Dino proved himself to be a very indecisive glove-buyer. After all that we had worked up a bit of an appetite and walked all the way across town to find a restaurant which had soup for three lira. We did see a place much closer that had soup for four lira, but 30 cents is a lot of money and our collective frugal cyclist mentality had us marching across town to save those pennies. The soup was very nice, as was the company. I liked Sean when I could hear him, and I have a feeling that I may be seeing more of Dino and Suzy along the way.

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That evening Ross was working late and Banu was sick and went to bed early. I was happy for an early night myself, although it is worth noting that this house did have an extra resident. Well, two actually, there was a French girl called Chloe staying in the guest room. But the extra resident that I refer to was the cat. I knew that there was a cat because we were sharing the living room and I don't think that this cat was really used to sharing the living room. In fact the fluffy ginger thing had all the room-sharing manners of a dreadlocked Egyptian. Apparantly it was on heat, so I guess it was in the mood for something else altogether. "You're not my type!" I shouted at it as it prowled around meowing loudly. The meowing was really loud and really annoying, and kept waking me up. As if that wasn't enough, the fiesty feline kept leaping on top of me in the darkness. It didn't seem to matter that it was the middle of the night. Well, not to the cat, it mattered to me. I was really starting to get irritated that I was going to have another sleepless night when at two in the morning I suddenly realised that as a human being I was far superior in intelligence and strength and so I picked up the cat and threw it in the kitchen, slamming the door shut. "MEOW! MEOW! MEOW!" I could hear through the door, but luckily the couch was nowhere near the kitchen, and I walked away and managed to get some sodding sleep at last.