From one (very Turksish) festival to another (very British one), then a wedding and some other nice stuff

19 08 2013

We arrived in Artvin after a tough climb winding up the steep hill. Our Couchsurfer host of course lived at the very top! After being welcomed into the home of Murat and his family we were treated to delicious home cooked meal by his lovely wife and full Turkish breakfasts every morning. We tried to contribute by offering Italian coffee from our Bialetti coffee machine but this didn’t go down too well with the tea loving family. That weekend was the famous Kafkasor festival where they have bull fights in a specially designed arena which is only used once a year for this purpose. We visited the festival and spent all day there watching with a lot of anticipation for some action. (The bulls did not want to fight as it wasn’t rutting season so were mostly stubborn and just stared at each other) The majority of the time it was called off due to lack of fighting and there was no blood or real fighting. We had a relaxing few days seeing the sights and even had time for a beer at the top of the ski centre close by.


Our plans had changed slightly due to us both hearing the news of jobs in China. As we had both signed contracts, we needed to get a medical from a hospital which would include a chest x-ray, HIV test, blood tests and an ECG. We had to go to a large hospital so this was how we decided to go to Trabzon. We had been told it was a nice city to visit so we hitched a ride in a large lorry all the way and with the help of Rhiannon found a cheap hotel. We booked into the Benli hotel (we were a little unsure as it was so cheap 35TL a night for both of us) and had a look round the city which was surprisingly more European than the rest of Turkey. It felt a little like staying at Faulty Towers, the light switch was outside the room and there were a few strange characters hanging around (see below). A cycle touring couple turned up and they said there were no rooms but said they were welcome to put their tent on a balcony of someone else’s room.


The hospital visit -thanks to Elif the helpful translator- was very uneventful and within two hours we had a blood test, x-ray, ECG and had seen the doctor, all for the small price of about £30 each. Jimi found out he has a rare blood type and will be donating his blood at every opportunity.


No matter how much I try, I can never escape football. Luckily for Jimi there just so happened to be the FIFA under 20′s football World Cup happening in Turkey and on this night there was a match in Ankara. South Korea and Columbia were playing not far from the hotel so we bought our tickets and roped in a couple of other cycle tourers from America. Jimi bumped into a South Korean tourist who came along as well. It was a great football match even from a non-football fan like myself. It went on to extra time and penalties (of which there were 7 each) and we left the stadium after midnight when South Korea had won. By the way, the player above number 10 Quintero is one to watch or buy on Championship Manager.


We cycled a few days along the Black Sea Coast which was up and down, we stopped off to see Sumela temple which to be honest looked better on the postcards than it did inside. We met another cyclist called Hassan who we cycled for a few days with and it turned out that he had met some of the same people we had met in Antalya earlier in the year (Robin and Crystal).


Camping with Graham and the arrival of an ambulance.

We arrived at Sinop late at night and decided on a little campsite a few kilometers from the town. We were looking forward to camping a night or two for a rest but we didn’t expect the campsite to be quite so peaceful and relaxing. We pitched up, skipped dinner, had a few beers and nuts and slept well. We awoke to the beauty of the black sea and were right next to the beach, there was a hammock next to the tent and everything was lovely.


We met a fellow traveler from the UK who was on a motorbike and we instantly became friends. Our little break turned into a 4 night holiday and we had a ‘right good laf’ and enjoyed Graham’s company. He’s a veteran traveller and we all enjoyed telling funny and embarrassing stories. He’s even written a book if any of you fancy a read - In Search of Greener Grass by Graham Fields. 

We were sitting around having some beers when an ambulance pulled up and two Norwegan men were driving it. They were heading to Tajikistan to deliver the ambulance they had bought and donate it to them for charity. They shared a van full of booze with us as they were going to Iran and worried the van would be searched. Here we are doing our bad boy band impression.


An embarrassing accident.

There are times when cycle touring that unfortunate incidents cannot be avoided and this was such a time. We both must have had some bad water from a fountain along the black sea coast. As we settled in the tent for the night on the beach (the only suitable place for miles) thinking we were in a for a peaceful sleep with the waves lapping behind us and the sound of seagulls. We were wrong and this lovely beach spot turned into an all night party. The little tea hut turned into the place to be and awful pop music blared out all night long with people coming and going in a boy racer style fashion all night. It didn’t help that the bad water turned to bad stomachs and we both had to keep dashing out of the tent in the night to relieve our poorly tummies. I had not recovered by the next day and whilst cycling up a hill stopped for a rest and then did the unthinkable (I will let you work it out for yourself) but a very embarrassing moment at which I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry…so I cried, a bit. I managed to sort myself out in between passing cars and a nearby broken down truck with the help of Jimi not knowing whether to laugh, or laugh. I thought I’d tell the story as its funny and embarrassing, but these things happen to the best of us.


Throughout this trip we have only had 7 weeks so on more than one occasion we have hitched a lift by a passing lorry. The first was a novel experience as we covered the same distance in a few hours that would normally take us days on end. After the first few times however we got more comfortable and Jimi would even lay on the bed at the back and have a snooze for a few hours!
One such time we hitched and the driver said I’m not going where you want to go but I’m going to Bursa today. “Ok we said Bursa it is then”. This is how quickly plans can change when cycle touring, and even more quickly when hitching. Off we set to Bursa a good 400KM away knowing we would get there a little after dark. We checked our trusty Rough Guide and found a cheap hotel and booked in. The driver then stopped 25KM form Bursa and said ‘I’m not going any further so you will have to cycle the rest.’ Or the equivalent of that in Turkish that we roughly translated. Our Turkish has improved greatly and we can now have conversations about a variety of mundane topics- eg. “it’s too hot today”.


Ramazan and Iftar meals.
We arrived in Bursa just before the Iftar meal in the evening. It was Ramazan so Muslims fast all day and then eat at sunset, this was around 8:30pm. We watched, fascinated as the tables were set and hundreds of people sat around waiting to eat the feast. As soon as the call to prayer came from the mosque everyone tucked into their feasts hungrily. We later joined them for Iskender/ Bursa kebab and Ayran on the streets and it was nice to experience this with the locals. But the best meal of the trip had to be with our friends in Ankara, below is the best Muglama chef in town with happy customers


A fun week in Istanbul

The next day we cycled to the ferry port and got on the ferry across to Istanbul which would be our final destination by bike and our home for the next week. As we arrived and were cycling along the coast to cross the Glata Bridge, a school of dolphins danced playfully in the Bosphorous welcoming us to this beautiful city.
A week was spent being guided round the dance spots, beaches and drinking holes of Istanbul. We cycled to the top of Çamlıca Mah and saw the whole of Istanbul, I visited a beautiful peaceful beach with Rhiannon’s friend Brenden and it was hard to believe we were still in Istanbul at all. We didn’t experience any trouble at all but saw the aftermath of the demonstrations and still many riot police and water cannons dotted round the city.


More trouble with the police.
After a busy and entertaining week in Istanbul we got to the airport ready for our three week break in England. This is Rosy and Jim so things weren’t as simple as first thought, I mean how hard can it be to get to the airport, get a plane and arrive home?
As we crossed the border control we were stopped and taken through to the police room and told in an angry and shouty manner that we had outstayed our visa and we were to be fined and banned from the country. We tried to explain we had a valid tourist visa which we bought when we entered in June but they would not listen to us. They said pay the fine or you will be banned for 5 years. We paid the measly 38 TL (about £15) and they made us sign a form saying we were banned for 4 weeks. This could have been fine if we were leaving the country all together but we have a flight booked to Istanbul in 3 weeks where all our belongings are, then 2 days later a flight to our jobs in China. The police didn’t seem to care in the slightest and they would not let us either call the British Embassy or anyone else for that matter.
The senior police officer then spoke to us a little calmer in English and explained you cannot have a residence permit and visa at the same time so one was invalid. He said we can go to the Embassy in London and they can grant us an emergency two day visa to get back in.
As soon as we arrived in London we went to the Embassy and they said this would not be possible but a very kind lady helped us and applied for this visa but said it could take 6 weeks and we may not get it at all but said if someone was in Turkey they may be able to help us.
Off we went a little deflated and unsure of the next moves, this would need a lot of sorting out and decision making about what to do next.


London was fab, Me and Jimi met up with a few friends and then stayed the lovely Jess and Jamie’s for the night, treated to a delicious dinner and bottle of red and a nice catch up. I then met with Mina, Harri and Jemma who I had not seen in a while and we had a day on the river front and then met Matt in Camden. I realise how much effort it takes to get around London and there are so many things to see and do, two days was not enough with my lovely friends.

Secret Garden Party fun.

We jumped on Rhiannon’s band wagon when she said she was the artist liaison manager at a festival. This sounded like a good plan, working a ‘few’ hours, getting festival tickets, food, drink and listening to a bit of music on a sunny weekend. We sorted our transport from London and Jimi left a day earlier with Jamie which in turn saw him in fancy dress in a shiny cape, ‘dancing’ the night away with Jamie and his pals! We arrived at the beautiful site and were soon hard at work. I got the job of driving the golf buggy around transporting the artists to their stages. One of these journeys included a band of ten piled on the back of the buggy singing follow the leader, leader leader. Jump and wave and jump and wave! Big up Rose! I wouldn’t say it’s the worst job I’ve ever had. Jimi meanwhile was in charge of the radio, co-coordinating us around the site and ensuring these sometimes demanding, but mostly lovely artists got to where they needed to be in time for their slot on stage.
One of my personal highlights was standing on the stage in from of around 10,000 people awaiting the start of the paint fight then taking photos whilst keeping clean and paint free. I enjoyed being able to go backstage and see what goes on behind the scenes at a festival. It was a pleasant weekend and I will certainly consider doing more work at festivals in the future.


A comfy bed at last, even if it was only for two nights.
After a busy week and long hectic weekend at the festival me and Jimi were grateful of a very comfy bed, a delicious dinner and an early night at Aunt Gillys in Cambridge. We had time to rest and catch up with Jess, Isla, Sam and Gilly before another busy week of wedding prep before the big day. Gilly kindly drove us to Norfolk where all the family were waiting, even my mum and Mads drove down for a few day’s to see us with baby Ruby. We spend the next few days making decorations, testing the real ale, flower arranging, cooking food, wrapping cutlery and everything else that planning your own wedding entails. We were all in bed by 9 every night tired out after all the hard work and ‘Lewis duty’ we had all been assigned on the rota. It was a pleasure to be entertained by Lewis and Mickayla all week but they sure know how to tire us out.


There were a few minor incidents of panic, when the beer had not arrived, the marquee people were late, the sound system or flowers had not arrived and then all the electrics blew! By Friday night Izzy was close to losing the plot and we were all in bed at a reasonable time.

What a day! We had a wonderful wedding which was perfect in every way and we all had a lot of fun, dancing playing games and catching up with family and friends. Here is a shot of the wedding crew.


This blog was supposed to be posted a long time ago so will now include a little bit about the last three weeks in the UK. We have had time to catch up with a lot of friends and family and have been to baby Rubys naming day, Jimi even managed to get 600km cycling done on an old Puch racer (most of it with big little bro Jake), a volleyball tournement at Aunty Bev’s and a really good catch up with friends in Shrewsbury.

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We have finally sorted the visa situation. Our Chinese Visas were delayed and we had to rearrange our flights anyway at our employers expense. We will now fly to China on Saturday 25th after a stop in Istanbul (if they let us in) to pick up our stuff and then start work the next day. Its all very exciting and we are both looking forward to our new adventure. We feel EXCITED and PENSIVE as our photos here accurately depict…..

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An oddly explosıve few weeks

8 07 2013

After a few restful days in Cappadocia, watching the hot air balloons go by and swimming in the campsite pool we reluctantly set off again heading east towards Kayseri and Malatya. We were told the road to Malatya was busy and monotonous so we thumbed a lift. A kind sales man driving from Istanbul to Malatya in his pick-up took us on board. It was all we could do to keep him awake as he seemed to be falling asleep at the wheel. A coffee and a prayer (“not for us thanks”) stop helped. Outside Malatya he showed us his apricot orchard (Malatya is world famous for apricots) and we ate them and mulberries straight from the trees.
On arrival, we had arranged to stay at a Couchsurfers’ house but he was out for the evening so his friend met us and whisked us off to a restaurant in a neighbouring town. We ate mother and sister kofte and a whole platter of delicious meat, baklava, fruit and finally of course the obligatory pot of chai. Ali would not let us pay for a thing and we had only just met him, he said you are my guests. In fact we were technically only on loan to him for the evening!
We met Ilyas and Zerah at their home and were shown to our room. Ilyas is a teacher at a local school and Zerah a university student, studying to be a teacher. Their son was adorable and a great entertainer of us throughout our stay. He is the same age as our nephew Lewis and speaks better English. They were really perfect cycling hosts; interesting conversation, great food but they knew we would be tired and need to rest too. One evening was particularly interesting, as you know there are are a lot of people unhappy with the oppressive nature of this government. It involved one very brave woman standing (literally) up peacefully for what she believes in and trying to make a difference to the future of her child. The numerous plain clothed police, oddly, did not see it that way. They made quite a fuss and when they learnt we were foreigners, who (stupidly I know) had forgotten to carry their ID with them, the fuss got bigger and turned in our direction. After a bit of an argument, Rose won I think, we were put in the back of a cop car with the press who had been filming and interviewing for over an hour flashing their bulbs as we entered. After several hours when our passports had been presented and the police seemed happy that we were not the international saboteurs that they had first feared we went to the hospital to see a doctor and prove that we hadn’t been harmed. Finally we went home, stopping off at a supermarket for food, where on leaving we found one of the plain clothed coppers lurking in the shadows outside. Awkward. We said hello to him; didn’t know what else to do. The next day the British Embassy called us and told us to be cautious and that the best course of action would be to leave and head away from the South East for the time being. The best way to do this quickly would be to go by bus, so we booked a night bus to Erzerum. We had intended to go to Lake Van and further South. Keeping our plans flexible is a good way of dealing with eventualities such as these.
Thank-you Ilyas and Zerah for showing us the importance of backing up your beliefs, and for demonstrating how to make a lovely family home too.
Oddly enough, as on my (Jimi) last bus ride to Erzurum four years ago, the bus broke down repeatedly, with one of the tea boys jumping of every 10 minutes to hit the engine with something hard. On arrival to Erzurum we abruptly left, heading north into the green hills that surround the city. We were so tired from the overnight bus that we pulled into a disused petrol station and slept on the forecourt for several hours. We lunched out at another petrol station, a mistake. Note to self, if something tastes like it’s gone bad it probably has so stop eating it you stingy bugger. I was a little ill for the next couple of days. Rose was fine and enjoyed leading the peleton.
For three days we climbed high passes and rolled through incredibly green valleys thick with grass, unusual compared to the rest of Turkey. We met Samil and Selep who invited us to their house for a typically amazing Turkish breakfast, thanks dudes. They told us that the locals here were lazy, that they could grow crops if the wanted but preferred to take the easier and less monetary route of keeping a few cattle. We can’t honestly say we’d do any different.
At Ispir we turned into a valley which on the map looked like it would be a lovely couple of days on a quiet road camping by a river. However we had inadvertently stumbled into one of the huge hydroelectric dam projects which are so controversial in Turkey. Of the people we spoke to there seemed a mix of reactions to the dams. Some think it is progress, others are sad for the destruction of communities and eco systems and some are even quickly building properties on condemned land so as to make a profit when the government pays them off. The valley is narrow and has steep rocky cliff faces on either side. The first 20km was complete but the final 80km was one big building site. A terrible road surface with huge trucks carelessly rumbling past all the time made for an unpleasant ride. We decided to do a long day and get out of the valley. At 5pm we were stopped at a construction checkpoint along with all the other traffic and made to wait until the blasting and resultant rubble was cleared from the road. We pootled on again dodging the potholes after 6pm and after a few kilometres were rather surprised (see sh%t our pants) when a huge explosion went off high above the very spot we had rode not 3 minutes earlier with the boulders, big and small, tumbling down. We rode with a little more urgency after that. We didn’t make it out of the valley but we did succeed in finding a camp spot by a tea house that acted as an OK (the game, not an appraisal of facilities) gambling den for the workers when they’d knocked off.
We rode into Yusefeli and found a campsite to rest, make arrangements for our new jobs in China, drink beer and plan our next leg.

On the not so-silky-road

16 06 2013

We knew it was time to leave Antalya when we awoke on a fine sunny morning and mutually agreed, ‘it’s a good drying day”, we had spent too long with the oldies!


Lem and Tez in their haste to be rid of us had suggested we leave before 6 to avoid the Antalya heat. So followed their advice were on the road by 6, pm. This of course meant that we didn’t get far before dark and our first night was spent camped in some wasteland behind a run down dolmus depot at the far end of Lara.  The irony of it was that drifting over the piles of rubble and rotting tyres we’re the delights of Mozart and Beethoven, that we’re being played at the rooftop restaurant of the 5 star hotel not a kilometre from our spot.


The next day we turned north and into the Taurus mountains on an ‘earth’ road that slowly climbed throughout the day. Eventually we dipped down in to a valley and having pushed the bikes across a river found a quiet spot in the grassy basin of the valley. Having drifted off to sleep, we awoke with a bang, and another and a bark or two. Gunfire! Alarmingly close. We sat up, shots continuing, not knowing what to do. The options we’re; going to see what was going on and risk interrupting a bullet, or lying down  and hoping that they didn’t come our way. We lay down, they came our way. Close enough to shine torches on  our tent and shout something at us. Ashamedly whilst we whispering what we should say back they moved on and we had missed our moment. The battle (with what we don’t know) continued until dawn and we slept fitfully. Non the wiser we snuck out back across the river and headed further, and higher, into the hills.


After several hours, climbing through the treeline and over a pass of about 1500m we descended a short way into a huge green and yellow carpeted valley that was filled with herds of cows and flocks of sheep. We perched our tent on small grassy gantry that gave us a commentators view of proceedings as we watched the shepherds riding donkeys and using dogs to cajole their beasts into their respective safe zones for the night.


The following morning we arose hungry as supplies had run low. We could, however, see at the other end of the valley (5km away) that there was a village that would certainly be able to provide some food. Unfortunately as we were heaving our bike up a steep bank to return to the track I (Jimi), and I believe this is the correct medical turn, ‘did my back’. The pain was great, the range of movement not, and it was almost an hour before the painkillers kicked in and I could bear to get up off the ground and continue. Uncle John’s first aid kit to rescue, not for the last time that week.


We crawled slowly to the village, resupplied with cake, powdered soup and pasta. The rest of that scorchingly hot day we gently climbed the hills and slowly rolled down the other side.  Eventually we spent a restless night camped by a small but busy quarry.


The next day we limped in to Beyşehir where we ate kofte sandwiches and did some online medical diagnosis of my back. When on the road again in the afternoon we grudginly decided it would be a good idea to hitch to Konya and visit a hospital. We pulled in to a layby to begin the thumb jabbing and found Ibrahim, a lorry driver from Istanbul, having his lunch from the pull out kitchen that Tukish lorries have on their right side. He was off to Konya and had no cargo, for now. He offered to take us and the bikes with him. After some tea and a chat, in Turkish so it was slow going, we were off. The 80 km was covered worryingly quickly. Seeing how puny we must look to lorry drivers and how little attention is paid to the road in between cigarettes and phonecalls got us thinking about putting our helmets on in future. Unfortunately we did not follow our own advice. Nether the less it was a pleasant hour spent with a kind, if careless on the road, man.


By the time we arrived in Konya it was 6pm and too late tostart what we thought might be lengthy hospital procedures. So we checked in to a hotel courtesy of the Bev ‘Hilton’ Costello emergency funds. Cheers Bev x. In the morning after we had pillaged the breakfast buffet for all it was worth (we’re still eating the proceeds 7 days later) we we’re led to a hospital by a friendly chap from the hotel. As soon as we were introduced as yabancis (foreigners) we were thrust into a room where the doctors and nurses were having a chat. My top lifted and back poked for several minutes. Now we’re no doctors but I’m not sure the ECG scan that followed was necessary (54bpm). Just as they we’re packing us off a doctor who spoke some English arrived and took some interest in my back. He suggested it was a muscular problem but if it hadn’t improved in 7 days to come back. I had a shot in bottom to relieve the pain and the whole experience was done and dusted in 30 minutes and cost the same in Lira.


Feeling comparably pain free for the first time in days we spent an enjoyable afternoon in Konya wandering around the Mevlana museum and bazars. We tried some local food too, the Firin kebap and Etli Ekmek are recommended. At about 4 we were heading out onto the Konya plain, the clouds were black and the industrial landscape was pierced with lightening. We tried our best to beat the clouds and the rain by cycling quickly along the long straight dusty road. We pulled into a gas station and was greeted with the usual, “çay?” We accepted and sat chatting to the garage attendant in Turkish, he repeatedly said, “yağmur” (rain) and it didn’t look as if it would stop anytime soon. He offered for us to stay there and we decided this would be the best option. We were ready to put up the tent and he said, no I have a room for you. There were two bunk beds and he let us use the kitchen to cook.


Later in the evening when the manager had left, the man on the night shift quickly invited his mates round to use the internet, sit and drink tea and gamble online, it seemed they talked and laughed and smoked all night, regardless we slept well and awoke to sunshine and the long road ahead.

As we got 10km down the road, a campervan pulled up beside us and id ” we have your drinks, do you want drinks?” Jimi thought they were offering us cold drinks like in the Tour de France but they actually had our cups we had left behind in the garage! We thanked them and said we may see them again.


The road was 100km of straight road, quite busy with traffic and field after fireld of agriculture. We both turned on our i pods and were listening to something to take our minds off the boring nature of the road. My mind wandered (Rose) and suddenly I was off the the road, tumbling down the sloped edge of the road, hitting my head on the tarmac and cried just loud enough for Jimi to hear through his headphones. I was in a pile on the floor, covered in cuts and bruises and sobbing. With Dr John Costellos first aid kit, mums rescue remedy and the help of  Jimi I was patched up but still feeling sorry for myself, but grateful there were no broken bones. A gallon of tea at then next garage helped me to feel better and we sorely plodded on along the endless road.

***Sıde note from Jimi. When İ returned to my bıke to retrıeve the fırst kıt I ınstead reached for the camera and slyly took a pıcture of Rose at her lowest ebb, lyıng ın the gutter, cryıng and bleedıng. Have I joıned the ranks of people who enjoys others mısery ı dıdn,t thınk to myself at the tıme. But ı dıd feel a lıttle guılty. What would you have done? Anyway, I was absolved of these feelıngs an hour later when I was chastısed for not takıng the afore mentıoned photo. Humans eh? Here ıt ıs.


We reached Sultanhani, a old caravan saray on the Silk Road, and decided it would be good to go to the campsite and have a shower and a rest. The owner was lovely and gave us more tea and we showered and they cooked us delicious chicken. The dutch camper van people were also staying there so we shared a beer with them and swapped stories.


Between me and Jimi we were like an old couple wincing in pain and hobbling around. Thanks to the supply of analgesics and muscle relaxants we were doing ok and I was glad of the antiseptic cream and lavender for my grazes.


We cycled through fields and fields of sand and nothingness, not even a tree to shade under, we reached a town and started to make lunch, now we are something of a spectacle, two tourists on bicycles in the middle of nowhere! The farmers wife offered us çay, we declined,  but she went to the house and brought us some fresh (very fresh) ayran (like sour milk) which tasted like cow and was so strong I had to hold my nose as it would be rude to refuse. She even took our plates and washed them up for us, refusing to let me do it!


We cycled on towards Hasan dağ (mountain) much to the shock of locals telling us that there are BIG dogs up there, be careful. Apparently the locals think there are wolves roaming in the mountains and are afraid to go there.  After being accosted by 20 village children we made our way to the top and much to Jimis dismay, we were nowhere near the high spot he hoped to be so he could climb the mountain the next day. (The fact it was full of snow and he had a bad back wasn’t the problem!)


The next few days were more straightforward. We camped one night in a restaurant on a river in the Ilhara Valley, which was nice. Then in a farmers field outside the underground city of Kaymakli before arriving at our current base of a campsite in Cappadocia where we have been swimming, drinking beer and doing admin for a couple of days.


Right now we’re off to Malatya and then Diyarbakar.


Goodbye Antalya

3 06 2013

Well that’s it for us and Antalya, we’re back on the road again today. So, what will we remember from this extended pit stop?

Firstly, the pace of life in this relatively small Mediterranean city is slower than that of Manchester, and even other neighboring Turkish cities. We have thoroughly enjoyed cruising in the middle lane, for example swimming in the sea on our lunch hour is a rather nice way of de-stressing. Whilst here we’ve worked full time but not a regular 9 to 5 schedule like we did previously. The downside of this is we’ve often missed each other because one is working evenings for example and the other in the day.  We’re currently in the process of applying for teaching positions in the far east at international schools that keep regular hours so as to avoid this inconvenience again.


During our time we have unexpectedly returned to the UK several times. Funerals, babies and major operations are all tactics that our families have shamelessly employed to garner our affections. We suspect they may be working a commission contract with Just another reason to get back on the bikes and pedal east if you ask me.


Personal highlights have to be: new year in Istanbul and the surprise visit of the decadent Jason Middleton, skiing in Davras with the gorgeous Claire and fortunate Matty Walker, hiking in the surrounding Taurus mountains with friends and on  personal level ‘that volley’ I scored in my final football match (Omer- you know!). Day to day it’s been great to be able to eat out all the time and enjoy a truly outdoor culture. It’s a little different to the escape and evade rain tactics of Manchester life.

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Now the obligatory thanks. Firstly to all our friends and colleagues for being stand up folk, or barmy enough to be endearing. Secondly our students for giving us the motivation to leave the beach and drag our sorry behinds to work. And finally to Lem and Tez for being as generous as they are tolerant and letting us squat in their basement and hog the sofas for what must have seemed like longer than 6 months. Here they are celebrating our imminent departure.


(Our version of) Turkish Hospitality

11 04 2013

Jimi  and I spent hours deliberating about what to write in the blog and which bits of our Turkish life we could share. However Jimi’s mum has kindly solved our dilemma by writing this brilliant article, not for us, but for one of the Turkish national daily’s;  Today’s Zaman. We are posting her article as it has everything we wanted to say, but better she is with the English (what’s a noun again?). We will update again soon but for now this will more than suffice. Enjoy.


7 April 2013 /ALISON KENNY, Antalya
There’s a lot of chattering in my house at the moment and, although it’s all in my native tongue, I can barely understand a word.

I catch snippets of conversation emanating from serious-looking individuals, heads bowed intently over their work, bizarre-looking tools in hand. Sometimes similar sounds waft in my direction from the same somber heads, this time riveted to laptop screens or poring over maps and guidebooks. The conversations go something like this:

James: “Twenty-eight-inch wheels? But surely you can’t get any replacements for these over here?”

Alex: “Ah, maybe, but they roll for longer.”

James: “I thought all Thorns came with Rohloff hubs?”

Rose: “Only as an extra.”

Around the world on two wheels

And so on. It’s like a whole new language or a whole new world, and one that I will clearly never belong to, nor, to be truthful, do I wish to. These are the words of a new breed of travelers known as “cycle tourists.” Until two of my children became suddenly and inexplicable obsessed with bikes — as children they had never shown more than a passing interest in their childhood bicycles — I had absolutely no idea just how many people were prepared to set off around the world on two wheels. I can fully understand the wish to travel to foreign parts and even the pleasure of being in the open air, but am still struggling to understand the attraction of pedaling uphill on a bike loaded with all your worldly goods, including the kitchen sink, with nothing but a bleak night in a tent to look forward to.

I also had no idea of just how many of these tourists pass through Antalya. It was, of course, no surprise when my son, his girlfriend and my eldest daughter turned up last October, all looking suitably sunburned and ridiculously fit after their 5,500 kilometer trip from the UK. They had warned me about their imminent arrival and, though I managed to be absent for the event, I have had plenty of time since then to hear all the gritty details of life on the road. For my daughter, the three months in the saddle were perhaps enough to abandon her bike in Antalya and hop on a plane to İstanbul to seek her fortune, or perhaps just to enjoy the comforts and contrast available in a big city. The other two have equally happily swapped their specially padded and balanced bike seats for the rather softer options of beds and our sofas for the winter months. They are now, however, beginning to get itchy pedal feet and busy plotting the next part of their round the world cycle tour.


guilliam and lillian photo

Wild camps and warm showers

Like all moms, I like to think that my children are unique. But when it comes to cycle touring, quite clearly they are not — far from it. I now know from personal experience that there are many people from all parts of the globe who pack up their belongings into a few saddlebags (or is that panniers?) and set off around the world — because I’ve actually hosted them in my house.

Although operating on a tight budget and therefore camping (preferably “wild”) most nights, living off semi-cooked lentils and pasta, all the while huddled in four-season sleeping bags and watching out for rabid dogs, they occasionally need respite from their self-induced life of hardship. This is where we come in. My son and his girlfriend (James and Rose) cleverly joined the website, appropriately named, Warm Showers ( before leaving the safety of their home in Manchester. Unlike its “rival” website,, Warm Showers is specifically aimed at those who understand bicycle banter and the needs of those who have traveled long distances in the saddle. Joining this website entitles the members to turn up and stay at the homes of other participants. Obviously, the deal involves the use of a bed (or sofa), preferably the chance for a hot wash and, if possible, the use of a washing machine rather than a quick rinse in a passing stream. During their time in Manchester, James and Rose hosted a couple of Koreans, a pair of Australians and a solitary Frenchman. In Manchester, they were able to treat these foreign guests to the delights of warm beer in British pubs, over-sized portions of greasy fish and chips and a guided tour round Manchester United’s football ground. What more could any self-respecting traveler hope for?

With Joo and Soo

Turkish hospitality

During their journey here, they also made use of a few warm shower hosts en route in several European countries, interspersed between the many nights spent under canvas. When they reached Turkey, however, they found very little use for either tents or warm shower hospitality. For the majority of their nights, they were offered shelter and often food by locals in villages they passed through, such being the nature of Turks, particularly those living away from large towns. With their limited knowledge of Turkish, this gave a great opportunity to learn first-hand about the culture of this most hospitable of countries.

hamza hospitality


However, when they reached Antalya and had recovered sufficiently from their trip, they realized that although they might not be “on the road” they still had a burning desire to communicate in their newfound language — the arcane lingo of bicycle banter. Initially, they tried with us and a few of our cronies to inspire an interest in their stories, but nobody could make head or tail of their conversation. So they logged on to the Warm Showers website, updated their status to “living in Antalya,” and, within a few days, requests from itinerant cyclists began trickling in. Fortunately, it’s perfectly acceptable for participants to turn down a request if it’s inconvenient, so there’s no obligation to put up those three Finnish cycle fiends when half your relatives from the UK have just turned up for their annual holiday in the sun.

A different breed of traveler

We have, however, successfully hosted several of this breed of traveler. They may come from all parts of the world, but, no matter what their indigenous language, I’m glad to report that they all speak fluent bike banter and I am able to leave these folk to twitter away for hours about handlebars, spokes, lycra shorts with sewn-in nappies (that’s what they look like anyway), where to buy fuel for their state-of-the-art stoves in downtown Antalya and whether it’s possible to renew their Turkish visa by taking a detour into northern Iraq and re-entering from there.

To date, a very sweet Swiss couple, a lone girl from New Zealand, a charming 50-something-year-old guy from South Africa and a very vivacious German pair in their 20s have all made use of our facilities. Not only do these guests provide hours of entertainment for my son and girlfriend, they have also all made the most of having a kitchen and cooked delicious food for all of us. Their energy, enthusiasm and refreshing attitude to life are infectious. They defy the principles that my generation was brought up to uphold — the “must get a job, save money and settle down” philosophy. Instead, these people from assorted backgrounds may have saved money — but only in order to enable them to travel the world with their bikes in tow.

All seem to enjoy their stay here, spending much of their time sleeping and eating, but the rest of the time they can be found enjoying Antalya’s old town, swimming in the sea, testing out the best food spots and soaking up the good weather from the comfort of our garden. Most importantly they can — and do — indulge in endless hours of bicycle banter whilst busy mending punctures, truing spokes and greasing hubs.


Microadventure to Göynük Saddle

20 01 2013

Microadventuring is an idea we heard about through a chap called Alistair Humphreys. It can take many forms but it encapsulates any 24- 48 hour trip that you start and finish at your front door and involves spending the night outdoors. With all these mountains in touching distance from Antalya we packed our rucksacks and set off.

Göynük, a small town 15 kms west, was our destination. The bus costs 5tl, leaves form Migros shopping mall and takes 30 minutes. We asked the driver to drop us on the east side of the river, the base of Göynük canyon, and the beginning of our hike.

Goynuk Canyon

There’s a twenty minute walk up a tarmac road through a cluster of Göynük houses that have crossed the river before reaching the entrance to the National Park where you must pay 5tl to go any further. We told the attendant that we would be walking out the other side of the park that day because we suspected he would not let us camp or make us pay for a guide (signs suggested this). In future we will cross the riverbed earlier to avoid this toll.

Crossing the River

A further kilometre up the canyon path brings you to your first sight of the Lycian Way- identified by painted red and white lateral stripes. Follow these steeply to your left and you’re on the path to Göynük saddle; the high point for our microadventure. A three hour gentle to medium hike in the tree line and we were at our camp spot, a place called Alayapi’s grave, which has enough space for two small tents and is next to an old stone fortification built into the side of a rocky pinnacle.


It was a chilly night, we later learned it had been -8C; the coldest in 8 years. We gathered lots of wood before dusk and had a (safe) roaring fire. Dinner was a slight let down; we packed a tub of yoghurt instead of the veg curry we had in the other yoghurt tub! A somewhat shivery nights sleep has us on the lookout for some warmer sleeping bags in preparation for our 4000 m passes later in the year.

Cooking by the Fire

Morning Brew- MSR

The next day after coffee and porridge we marched up to the promised saddle to behold the views of the Tunç. The Tunç is a snowy peaked mountain in north of the saddle which stands at 2700m. To south lay the Mediterranean. We took some photos and smugly remarked that we had the hills to ourselves.

Conquering the Saddle

30 minutes later whilst retracing our steps we stumbled into Adrian, a cheery bloke from Paris. Last year he walked from Istanbul to Norther Iraq via Iran. He’d just spent 8 months working in Antakya and was now walking his way back to France, some buses too he added! And we thought cycling was slow. We shared some biscuits and stories before parting. You never know who’s around the next deserted corner.

Rose and Adrian

2 hours later and we were back in Goynuk town. Before heading back the city we couldn’t resist stopping at roadside lokanta for a rewarding feed. You can see the saddle over Rose’s head, if you can take your eyes off our feast that is.

Door to door in 32 hours. Total cost 50tl (£20). Puts a smile on your face. Microadventuring: give it a go!A Well Earnt Meal, eh.



A Surprisingly Pleasant End to an Unsurprisingly Good Year

14 01 2013

The good year we expected. It was just your bog standard year, you know the type: loads of parties with friends, family gatherings, quitting of jobs and cycling 5000 kms to Asia. You know nothing special, no point saying anymore about that really.

New Year, although we were not expecting to have a bad time it turned out to be really rather special. We were due to celebrate it separately. (Can you see where this is going yet?) Rose had booked cheap flights back to the UK for Christmas and New Year to be with her family, particularly her beautifully pregnant younger sister. Whilst Jim was remaining at the coalface- those puncture repair kits won’t pay for themselves you know. I (Jim) arranged to go to Istanbul for 2 nights with my Mum and her Terry to visit sister Rhi (formerly of the Rosy and Jim TDW Cult) in her new Galata pad.

So whilst Rose was living it up in the good old North of England with our two best friends, Real Ale and Cheddar cheese, Jim was on a culinary tour of Istanbul with an Istanbulite (Rhi) and the author of A Rough Guide to Istanbul (Terry).

We started the day with a swish coffee in Cafe Konak, check this for a view (and no that isn’t Robert Redford- she gets that a lot)!Moved onto Tantuni for brunch. Tantuni is spicy beef fried and served in a durum wrap. Before moving on to baklava,  ice cream and tea in the afternoon.  We then watched the excellent Life of Pi in 3D which was fantastic. Then whilst the oldies went for a lie down, me and my sis went for a few swift beers at a English microbrewery that she knows of.

IMG_6177 IMG_6139 IMG_6141

Feeling somewhat appropriately merry we made our way back across Istanbul managing to avoid the customary groping in Taksim square towards the meyhane, Gurme Boncuk, to meet the wise ones for our New Years Eve dinner.

After several bevvies and a one hour dash via 2 tubes our bladders were somewhat at capacity, so we dashed into the restaurant eager to find the toilets. As a result the scene that greeted us almost resulted in a very embarrassing accident.

Joining the oldies at the table was Rosy Pose and Little Jas, one of my all time  top 11 friends.  My slightly drunk and high on anti bladder release adrenalin brain was saying, “I know these faces but they don’t belong in this restaurant, who ordered them?”


After avoiding the afore-mentioned embarrassment I regained my composure and set about getting to the bottom of the mystery. I think I’ll let Rose take over from here….

I had just spent a lovely week back home, visiting the family, holding the babies: my niece Melissa, nephew Lewis and friends new addition Freya. I ate lots of lovely food, met up with almost all my friends and even had a turn at karaoke at the family christmas party! After a training visit to York to see Jemma Buxton was my next stop and the lead up to the most expensive night of our lives.

First I had a lovely tapas dinner with Izy and got to play kitchens with Lewis and generally love his new words and cuddles. I met Jas in the pub and we were catching up and chatting about new year and our respective plans. I said I was going to Ben and Cats in Manchester then get the plane to Antalya on New Years Day. Jas didn’t have much plannedl, just maybe go to someones house. I told him where Jimi was and their plans and then suddenly we shared a look across the table at exactly the same time, we both knew what the other was thinking…”what if we went to Istanbul to surprise Jimi?” The seed was planted!

8:37pm 30th December 2012.

Jas got to work on his super duper phone and looked up flights for the very next morning. As the evening wore on and I had a few more glasses of wine the idea seemed flawless and of course it was the only way we wanted to spend our New Year. Jason was driving so he cant even blame the alcohol for the rash decisions we made. We then got a call from Jonathan (Jimis dad) asking us to go to his for wine and cheese and a catch up. Off we went with the help of a few bottles of wine from Co-op and indulged in a midnight feast of cheese, scones, crackers, red wine. The idea was firmly planted by this point and with Jonathan saying, “Don’t be ridiculous, Istanbul in the morning! Ha that will never happen,” we were spurred on.

So at 3am Jas and I parted with Jas saying, “I’ll call you at 7am, look at flights and make a decision then.” “Ok Jason, of course you will.”

7:03 am 31st December 2012

After 3 hours of drunken sleep…..Brrrriiiiing brriiiing brriiiiing! “WOW Jason you meant it then?” “I’ll be there in 30 minutes was the reply.”

8:07am 31st December 2012

Jason and Rose in a Nissan Micra driving to London Stansted, ticketless, hoping we could buy a plane  ticket from the airport and be in Istanbul in time for the new year celebrations and at the restaurant at 8pm to meet everyone…easy!

First problem of the day, Jason had no passport so we had to go via Doveridge (Staffordshire) to collect his passport a change of clothes and then off to London to catch the 14:10 flight to Istanbul we saw advertised. That means we have 3 hours to get to the airport,hoping there is no traffic, park, buy a plane ticket and get to the check in before it closes…easy!

9:32am 30th December 2012

The sat Nav said 2 hours 45 minutes that means we would be there at 12:15 if all went right, and there was no traffic. We arrived at London Stansted at 12:06, parked the car, the shuttle bus took us to the terminal and we were inside the airport by 12:15. “TICKET OFFICE CLOSED: read the sign in front of us… problem number 2.

We went to the Atlas Jet desk and politely inquired if we could buy a ticket for the Istanbul plane leaving in 2 hours. ” The ticket sales man is not here so I cant sell you a ticket sorry.” Problem number 3.

Just by chance the computers and internet were right next to us so we got onto them straight away and found the website to book the flights. (it was a minor problem that the flights had gone up by about £50) We added all the details into the system with our hearts racing as check in would be closing very soon. After a minor issue of credit running out on the pre-pay machine Jas finally put in his details and his flight was confirmed, he was going to Istanbul…or so we thought!

I added the details and was using Jason’s credit card to pay for the flight, “SORRY WE DO NOT ACCEPT THIRD PARTY PAYMENTS ON THIS SITE” read the notification in bold red letters on the screen. Problem number 4. That was it, Jas was going to Istanbul – on his own. I hastily made a call to my mum, ” Mum could you put £100 in my bank straight away I’m in London airport and want to fly to Istanbul in less than an hour and check in closes in 20 minutes. “Of course love Ill do it right away!” (Mum your a life saver)

Brilliant I thought, Ill just book the flight with my card and we can be on our way. I added the details only to be told the flight was no longer for sale as the airline had withdrawn them. Of course, its 10 minutes until check in closes, no one would be so stupid as to think they could book a ticket 30 minutes before the plane leaves. (Oh yes there are) Problem number 5.

I called the ticket sales number and they said sorry there are no tickets for this flight, they are no longer for sale. So I sulkily went with Jas to check in and say my goodbyes wondering how I would get from Stansted to London then Manchester in time for my flight on 1st back to Antalya. The train to Manchester was £100 and I started to feel a little silly.

Problem number…I cant remember! The man at the desk said, “there is no confirmation of this flight so you are not booked on it. I have called the sales UK Manager and there are no details for you sorry.” “Surely there must be something you can do?” He spoke to the manager and he said Jason could buy a new ticket from him and get on the flight….hold on if Jas can buy a flight surely I can do the same I politely asked to speak to the manager. “If Jason gets to buy a ticket, please can I also have a ticket?” “Sure give me your details and ill get you both on the flight right away!” Were we hearing right?

1:45 pm 31st December 2012

Jason gave his card details and to our delight two boarding cards were printed and handed to us with the words, “dont worry you have to go through security and go on the shuttle across the airport to the plane but it will wait for you no problem!”

Me and Jason were giddy that after all the problems and near misses we were finally going (to even our own disbelief) to Istanbul right now. In the hurry Jason left his phone at the security and the assistant said don’t worry ill go and get it for you, the plane will wait. You would think we were some kind of VIPs and the airport was on hold for us. This was all too good to be true.

14:15 31st December 2012

Alas no phone arrived so we boarded the plane which had in fact waited for us. Jason cancelled his phone literally just as we  left the runway, saying I have to go I’m on a plane.

We were brought Efes and a tasty meal as we soared over the Alps to a beautiful sunset and great view of the snow capped mountains. We couldn’t really believe we were actually on the plane after all that had happened, 4 hours sleep and a hell of a lot of adrenalin and hare racing going on all day. I may add that Atlas Jet are a fabulous airline, free luggage, loads of leg room, tasty food and drinks and very friendly and helpful staff.

As we landed at Istanbul airport, I asked a girl if by any chance she was going to Taksim Square and if she wanted to share a taxi, sure she did, she was surprising her friend there as well. (She had of course had hers booked for months).

So we arrived at the restaurant and was quite funny trying to explain to the manager that it was a surprise and not to tell them we are here. Finally he said, “oh Supris” which is very similar in Turkish. We sat down, had a well earned beer and waited with baited (although boozy) breath. In the midst of all the excitement at the airport and thinking it would never happen, I had text Lem to say I couldn’t come and that Jas would be coming alone, I had forgotten to text to say I would now be there, so even she was surprised when she climbed the restaurant stairs to see me and Jas sitting there.

So as Jimi pointed out earlier, he was desperate for the toilet and did in fact nearly wee himself at the sight of us two sitting there when he thought he would be greeted by just the oldies!


The night was better than we could have hoped for and the flow of food, wine, Efes and Raki added to the enjoyment of the evening. We even did some Turkish dancing at midnight and shortly after Tez fell asleep at the table, we went onto a club (something we would never normally do) and had a jolly good time! The trip was well worth the butterflies, the anxiety and the money we spent. To top it off, Jas overslept and nearly missed his plane home. But as we now know you CAN check in late and board at the last minute, I guess some airline staff are kinder than others.


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