January 26, 2014
The fat man was reaching for the kettle again: And all I wanted was a banana
The next morning me and Turkey had a falling out. This was based on the fact that the wide shoulder had long since disappeared and I was now forced to share a narrow road with an unusually high percentage of large trucks, all of which was made much more dangerous by gale-force crosswinds. What was most frustrating was that the truck drivers seemed to be completely unaware of how dangerous it was when they blissfully passed a few inches from me, thus momentarily blocking out said gale-force crosswinds before sucking me back across the road and almost under their wheels. They were still tooting their horns of course, in a "hello, nice to see you, I'm about to almost kill you" kind of way. I quickly realised that the only way I was going to survive was to pull over and stop every time a truck came, which was often. But as the old saying goes, slow progress is better then being dead.
I passed through a town, hoping that I might meet someone to cheer me up, but, perhaps because it was a Sunday morning, there was almost nobody about. A rather stupid looking stray dog did come to sit near me when I stopped here to eat something, but turned its nose up at the bread I threw it. The whole world seemed against me as I carried on out of the town and back into the open countryside, the relentless winds sweeping across the empty fields, and the never-ending chain of trucks looming in my rear-view mirror.
At length I arrived in a small village and a little boy of about twelve waved at me, shouted "hello," and beckoned for me to stop.
"Hello" I said, "What's your name?"
"Akhbar." I took off my glove and shook his hand. He had a cheeky smile and never stopped grinning. I noticed his mother looking on shyly from a bus shelter.
"Where you from?" he asked.
"England. Why do you speak English?" I was curious how a young lad spoke it so well.
"Where you from?" he repeated.
"Erm... England." I said again.
"Money, money!"
'Ah, so that's why you speak English!'
"Money, money!"
'Oh no, I'm being mugged by a twelve year old now.'
I looked to his mother for support. She clearly had no idea what we were saying.
"Do I look like I've got money?" I asked him, pointing at my dirty clothes and tattered bike.
"Yes." he replied with cheerful honesty.
"Well why am I on a bicycle then?"
That stumped him. "Ok. Goodbye!" he declared. I patted his arm and cycled off. I think he was a good kid, probably just got in with the wrong crowd after kindergarten, he'll probably still turn out alright if he turns his back on the life of crime.
I returned to the road, happy to still have all my money but still battling against the conditions. Halfway through the day I arrived into the town of Saray. I had some great concerns now because I had to make a left turn, which would make the gale-force crosswinds into gale-force headwinds and I wasn't entirely sure I was up for that. Having a place to stay near Istanbul the following day was my main motivation for continuing, but the wind really was strong enough to make me consider delaying my arrival. What I really needed to do was sit on a park bench and eat a banana, and have a jolly good think about it. But as soon as I sat down and got out my banana a man waved me over to him. I put my banana away and followed his beckoning arm motions over towards a marquee-type building. He told me to lean my bike outside, showed me into the marquee and sat me at a table, where a glass of tea was brought to me. All of these things he did entirely by sign language, not one single word had been spoken. The man was middle-aged, a bit fat, looked Turkish. He was with his daughter, a plump girl herself, of about ten and they had a black puppy. He finally introduced himself, although I'm afraid I cannot now recall his name. I do remember his daughters name to be Merika and that the proprietor of the tea-marquee was Mustafa. Mustafa was an older man, wafer-thin, bald and bespectacled, somewhat skeleton-like in appearance. He looked very much like he subsisted entirely on tea, which was apparantly the only thing on offer here. The marquee of tea had six or seven tables and in the centre was a warm stove which I was very happy to sit by.
Nobody could speak English to me, although the man encouraged his daughter to. 'Oh no please, she isn't going to ask for money is she, I've already been mugged by a twelve-year old boy today, a ten-year old girl really is too much!' But she didn't mug me, and in fact was too shy to say anything at all and ran off to play with the puppy. I finished my tea at which point the fat man immediately ran and bought me another, and I was far too comfortable by the stove to refuse. Well, I say he bought it, the skeleton had stepped outside at this point and so he helped himself, but I assume it was paid for somehow. Up until then there had only been the four of us, but during my second tea many other men entered and sat drinking tea, most of them older but also one guy in his twenties. He was dressed in trendy clothes and also poured his own drink before grabbing a newspaper to sit doing the crosswords while the puppy sat licking his ankles. Very little was said by any of these men, they all sat in relative silence drinking their tea, as Turkish men have always done of a Sunday afternoon, and probably will always do. And now I was one of these men.
I don't even drink tea usually and after the second one I was feeling a bit sick. All I really wanted was a banana. The fat man was reaching for the kettle again so I jumped up and said thank you and shook his hand and left before any more tea could be offered. He came outside to see me off and I asked him where I could find the left turn I needed. He demonstrated with some more very effective sign language but decided himself that this wasn't enough and told me to wait while he ran off to a nearby building. I guessed he might return with a map of the town but what he actually came back with was a motor scooter. He was to escort me personally. So, abandoning his young daughter and puppy in the name of hospitality, he rode off and I followed down some narrow back streets until we arrived at the correct road out of town. I thanked him profusely for his kindness and waved happy goodbyes to him. I was out in the open fields again, and I still hadn't eaten that damn banana.
After this very nice little episode, I was ready to forgive Turkey and make friends again. On Turkey's part, all of the trucks had taken the other road out of town and the now quiet road started to pass mainly through forest, thus blocking out the wind and making the going one hundred times easier. Yes, Turkey was once again very much in my good books as I cycled on happily towards Istanbul.
And then it started to rain.
Today's ride: 75 km (47 miles)
Total: 13,117 km (8,146 miles)
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