(Our version of) Turkish Hospitality

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.

 

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 (www.warmshowers.org) before leaving the safety of their home in Manchester. Unlike its “rival” website, http://www.couchsurfing.com, 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?

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.

 

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 Surprisingly Pleasant End to an Unsurprisingly Good Year

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.

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.

A New Life- Turkish Style

Well we’re almost two months into our new life in Turkey and it’s been a remarkably productive start. I say remarkable because we are surprised how quickly and easily we were able to carve out a new life, both professionally and socially.

We had several weeks getting used to the idea of being settled in Antalya and we had each set our minds on getting some normality into our lives. Rose had a plan of action for gaining employment and was uploading CVs and making calls from the moment we had a roof over our heads. Jimi on the other hand had very different priorities and spent the first few days virtually begging people to let him play footy.

The award for most industrious goes to Rose for securing four different jobs within 10 days. Rose now tutors English to several sets of children and delivers English language workshops in an international school. Always a slow starter, but particularly so after the monetary pressures had diminished thanks to Roses success, Jimi (lazy) waited another (lazy) ten days until starting work at a private language school. He now teaches 5 times a week to small groups of mainly University students wishing to improve their English to further their future careers.

 

So what do we do when we’re not working? Well pretty much the same as we did when we were in Manchester. It is just the conditions we do them under that are different.For example;

Swimming: instead of paying £4 to swim in a busy pool we walk down to the park and swim off the rocks for free.

Football: (Jimi) It is almost exclusively 7 aside here and the Turks don’t like being tackled, often complaining at great lengths at the merest whiff of my incoming boot.

The pub: The breweries Efes and Tuborg have the market cornered here but fortunately they’re pretty good. Actually Jimi is brewing his own real ale for Christmas as we speak. The pubs we like are like cosy bars with outdoor seating (blankets not needed).

Coffee: We’re still drinking espressos from our camping peculator but when we fancy an hour out there’s several trendy and popular coffee shops on the main street selling flavoured Turkish coffees such as almond and hazelnut as well as European style coffee.

Hiking: One of Antalya’s greatest assets is that one minute you can be in the sea and then in 4 hours you can find yourself trekking to the top of a 2800m mountain. The views are splendid, it helps that there isn’t fog and torrential sideways rain here. In the winter we will be walking the same peaks but with ice axe and crampons.

Dog walking: Each morning we walk Lem and Tez’s dog around the local park and listen to a podcast. It’s a nice start to the day, we’re definitely going to get our own dog when we settle for good.

And food (of course): We’re still eating a lot of it. We’ve always eaten fresh food and a lot of vegetables but now we’ve taken it to another level. Not only is it very fresh but it’s so cheap too. There are several nearby markets each week and we enjoy shopping for food more than ever, the taste testing is a meal in itself!

All in all life ain’t half bad here and we’re enjoying this part of our trip  just as much as the travelling.

Turkey: It’s blooming good here!

*Warning, you may want to make a cup of tea before reading this. It’s OK, nobody dies, it’s just dauntingly long and you might need one to perk you up, or you could do as the Turks do and have seven.

We spent 3 weeks cycling in turkey and probably (sorry other countries) found it the most rewarding to travel in. But we knew this already, that’s why we have planned to stay here for several months. With this in mind we have separated this blog into little categories. It seems overly flattering it is in the slim hope that the people who issue the work permits are reading. We hope you enjoy it.

Generosity

 

In the beginning we were left astonished by the fruit seller who gave us some grapes for free instead of upping the price, as we would normally expect as daft looking foreigners on even sillier looking bicycles. By the end of our few weeks cycling through Turkey Rhiannon was quoted as saying, “So what free stuff did we get today?” Which I think unflatteringly demonstrates how quickly we had become desensitised to Turkish generosity. The answer to her question on this occasion was 6 teas, 2 bunches of grapes, tomatoes, cheese, bread, raki and onions. How you might wonder, well it goes a little bit like this: cycle along, say hello to someone who then invites you in for tea (it is difficult to say know, in the end we had to limit ourselves to only accepting 3 times a day otherwise we would never have got anywhere) and then sit and talk for an hour whilst your cup is constantly refilled. The Turkish people we came across were almost always interested in what we were doing and on learning of our trip would offer us a gift, this would often be food, in the form of breakfast in their house or fruit and veg from their stall or car.

On one occasion it was late in the day and we were looking for somewhere to camp when a man in the vineyards begun frantically waving and whistling at us. Now this is always a critical moment, we must quickly evaluate someone’s sanity from distance, in our experience some people are genuinely enthusiastic and kind and others are just downright crazy. On this occasion we were struggling to find a decent camp spot so despite our misgivings decided to give the guy a chance. After a strange interaction in the middle of the vines we established that we could not camp here because we must stay at his house, a farm in the nearby village. ‘Hamza’ was his name and we stayed for two nights and had a lovely time, cooking and eating fresh wholesome food, drinking homemade Raki and repairing the bicycles whilst Hamza milked his cows and tended to his vines. We had a much needed rest and more importantly had a small glimpse at life in rural Turkey. Hamza if you’re listening, thanks for having us and I’m sorry for my dancing and breaking the sink..

Actually Knowing Something about a Country

On the boat over to Dikili something was different, eerily different… we knew this country, we could say hello, order dinner even, we knew the dinner would be good, we knew the people were friendly, we knew how much stuff cost, this was all new to us.

How would we cope with this unprecedented power? Quite well indeed actually. It is such lovely feeling to be able to communicate with people in their mother tongue rather than having to point and gesticulate, or find an English speaker (this does make you feel quite useless after a while.) Whilst Rose and I know the rudimentaries of Turkish Rhiannon has lived in Turkey for 6 months and worked hard to get to grips with the language. So with her leading the conversations and us chipping in we were able to have rather enjoyable interactions, with the bonus of improving our Turkish quite sharply. I think this really contributed to our overall experience of travelling through rural Turkey as the confidence this gave us enabled us to deal with situations in a relaxed manner. This has not been the case in other countries where understanding nothing of the language can lead you to feeling anxious (almost always without reason) in certain scenarios. Plus you get to know local people more easily and it is through them I think that you can truly get a feel for a region.

So, I think in an ideal world we would travel to new countries with some language skills, but in reality this just isn’t feasible. To get to Turkey we came through 11 countries in 12 weeks, even for the adept hyperpolygot this would present a challenge. So I think we will make the most of our extended stay in Turkey and continue to muddle through future countries. It isn’t so bad, but it just isn’t as good.

Grub

Another amazing thing about this country is of course the delightful food and if any of you have been to Turkey you will know what I mean. The first stop on our culinary tour was a pide restaurant. This is a thin pizza like base with different toppings, cheese meat, spinach and chillies on (no tomatoes base). These are a delicious and cheap lunchtime snack or evening meal with the complimentary salad that is offered in all Turkish restaurants.

All the salads in Turkey are fresh and delicious, none of this wet or soggy lettuce leaves.  In fact many of our evening meals were dependent on what we could pick during the day. Fruit and veg are being grown on every patch of land there is.

Our favourite places to eat out were these Turkish workers cafes that serve hot food. These cost around 5 lira each and are almost enough to turn you to vegetarianism. The only problem with getting a plate of beans or slow cooked aubergine or peppers (and probably the reason they taste so delicious) is that they are drowned in oil, this is not such a bad thing when cycling though!

As Jimi mentioned before, Hamza invited us to his home for dinner. I was delighted when (I thought) he said “Tavuk Mango” which I interpreted as chicken and Mango. Mmmmm delicious I thought something different, I wonder where he will get the mangos from. When he barbequed the chicken and there was no Mango, I thought oh he’s forgotten to get the mango, but Tavuk Mangal actually means BBQ chicken. It was delicious and we had a rooftop feast of Chicken and salad, pilav (rice) and some Chi Kofte that Rhiannon rustled up. Let’s not forget the home made Raki which he offered (more or less forced on us) but was a delicious compliment. He made the Raki – which is like Sambuca – but drunk with water so it goes cloudy, from the grapes from his vineyard.

Rhi wrote a blog about campsite cooking so you can see some of the recipes of the delicious food we made on her Campsite Cooking blog.

Camping

During our trip as you have heard, we have had some funny experiences of our nightly accommodation. The wild camping has been some of the best as there is so much unused land that we find a hidden spot, usually out of the way but mostly near a main road, and more often than not we are frequently approached by farmers and hunters with large guns or a huge pack of sheep with the shepherd and sheep dogs. The ‘sheep’ dogs however in Turkey are purposely bred big dogs known as ‘kangals’ that are vicious and do not like the idea of cyclists which they think are in fact trying to steal their  sheep. We had many occasions where these ugly creatures growled and barked as we passed them guarding their sheep.

On one occasion Rhi and I (Rose) went off to investigate an abandoned barn, we set off 500m through the field and then noticed a farmer and his sheep. He started shouting at us, but then turned and walked off so we carried on. A few seconds later I saw the dogs and shouted to Rhiannon, “the farmer has dogs and they are coming for us, quick!” I sped off as fast as I could but didn’t hear Rhi behind me shouting “stop and they will stop chasing us!” Three large sets of teeth were at our heels and barking viciously. I sped off and poor Rhiannon was left to shout at them to stop. It was close and they did eventually back off and we were unscathed but none the less were very shaken. The trick we have realised (but in my panic did not remember) is to stop and get off the bikes, shout in an angry farmer sort of way and then pretend to throw stones at them. Much to Rhiannon’s disgust I had left her behind to deal with the dogs on her own and throw things their way. Jimi did not know what to do as he rounded the corner after looking for a camping spot elsewhere to see us surrounded by large angry dogs. The situation soon resolved when they realised we were no threat to their sheep and our bikes were nothing exciting.

Bayram, it’s like Christmas

As we climbed our way through the Taurus mountains on our last leg of this year’s cycling we didn’t know what would be ahead or how many hours of uphill we would have to cycle that day (we were using a tourist picture map). The weather was noticeably milder and we stuffed extra layers on, fished out our unused winter gloves and plodded slowly up into the mist.

Meanwhile Rhiannons bike, ‘The Doctor’, had been experiencing mechanical problems. Both front and rear racks had snapped on one side and we had cable tied and gaffa taped them. As a wise man once said, “if you can’t fix it with cable ties and gaffa tape then you haven’t used enough.” This was becoming very much our mantra. But these problems were now compounded by rear brake failure and recurring punctures caused by a battered old inner tube.

We contemplated hitching the rest of the way to Antalya but this was to be our last night on this leg of the trip so we decided to spend our last 90TL on a hotel room, a celebration beer and a nice meal in a restaurant. We limped into Korkateli and tried to find a room, but in our haste forgotten it was the eve of Bayram and the town was buzzing with people rushing around buying last minute presents in all the shops. Alas there was ‘no room at the Inn’ and all the hotels were closed for the holiday season. In pitch black we cycled to the edge of town and camped in someone’s garden. This is like anonymous generosity I guess. There were the obligatory dogs barking in the distance and the sound of the mosques singing out the prayers as we set up camp. We felt our last night of the trip should have been more of a celebration but I guess it was more fitting. As it was we had a lovely evening and early to bed as we knew we would have to be up extra early to leave in the dark. It’s always a surprise in the morning to see your surroundings in the light for the first time.

We awoke to a live performance from the nearby mosque and a chilly mist in the air. We picked a couple of apples from the orchard and embarked on our final days riding. The roads were unusually empty. We exchanged, “iyi Bayramlas,” with the few people we saw heading home, cars full of kids, food and presents to exchange. It really did feel like Christmas.

As the day went on and we passed through villages, we saw more people, increasingly often carrying large knives. Why? Because the Bayram tradition in Turkey is that each family who can afford it will buy a live goat or sheep and slaughter it outside the front of their house.  The meat is then shared with the poorer neighbours.  We looked on as the whole family gathered round the goat outside their house ready to be slaughtered and skinned for the traditional dinner. They were more than happy to pose for pictures as they celebrated.

We flew down some 1000 metres of altitude in the final 2 hours and were in Antalya by lunchtime. We had celebration Urfa kebabs in the old town before heading to Jimi’s mum’s place. We knocked on the door and begun our Bayram carol singing we had been rehearsing. A confused Terry (Lems husband) answered the door and as we carried our bikes into the back yard it felt very strange. It still does. When you get used to moving on everyday it feels quite foreign to have some roots and put your feet up on a settee to watch a dvd.

The End- Sort of

Although the bikes are being rested for a few months, until we have saved enough money for the next leg of our journey, the keyboard is not. We are going to continue blogging about life in Turkey and the challenges and adventures we encounter.

Thanks for tuning in

Rosy and Jim

Greece, Punctuated by a Birthday

On leaving Macedonia the first thing to do was fix Rose’s puncture again.  We then met a couple of French cycle tourers coming the other way who explained to us that they had been sleeping in the grounds of churches and that this was a widely accepted practice. So for the first time in our trip we immediately went in search of God’s house. The first was surrounded by many barking dogs and we decided against it. The second was on a small hill being overlooked by a village. With no-one around to ask and light fading fast we pitched up and the chef got to work on a nice noodle number.

We were up early to evade discovery, but thwarted by two well hidden punctures did not leave the church until 9 o’clock. Flat tyre syndrome continued as we had another 2 to repair before lunch. We did have a lovely country road to follow that wound through the hills, the wind swept farms and past some friendly packs of dogs. We asked about sleeping in a church but were informed, “forbidden” and “police” so we spent the night in an apple orchard completely hidden from view. Maybe we weren’t welcome at these camping churches after all. Of course we awoke to people working just metres away- damn that agricultural work ethic- and another 2 punctures! So we stealthily pushed our bikes out of the orchard into safe ground before repairs could begin.

This day was spent wholly on a motorway which was no fun at all. The only entertainment coming when Rhi punctured both tyres and had 3 holes in one of them. I think we must have been going a bit mad to have enjoyed this!

We found a lovely camp-spot in the scrubland near to (and still in earshot of) the E96 and its 4 lanes of traffic. Rose and I slept well. Rhi on the other hand was too excited, as it was the eve of her 27^th birthday. Rhiannon woke us early and we were forced into giving her presents and making her a full English breakfast. Although I suspect the latter was not wholly altruistic, chortle chortle. This joyous occasion was interrupted by an invasion of hunting dogs who were surprised to be on the trail of herby sausages instead of the usual rabbits. We pretended the ensuing gunfire was a six gun birthday salute and uneasily crept back to the relative safety of the motorway.

A short but hectic ride later and we were in Thessaloniki. We couchsurfed here with Hlias and Moto, a pair of jugglers (not out of choice) and bike enthusiasts (very much a choice). They explained that many of their friends were unhappy living in Greece and were trying to find a way to live in another country. They are mostly pissed off with the shit money situation, everything is very expensive and the wages are very low. It costs €1 for two tomatoes and a chef in a restaurant will be paid around €2.20 an hour. We ate a delicious meal in a local taverna and drank a couple of beers to celebrate Rhi’s birthday.

The next day was an even more monumental occasion, ‘the doctor’- Rhi’s bike- was getting new tyres. So now wearing Schwalbe Marathon Plus’s we are hoping for a puncture free few weeks in Turkey. We took  the overnight ferry to Lesbos – from where we would take a shorter one to Diliki, Turkey the following day enter Asia.

On Lesbos we couchsurfed with a lovely lady Nefalia with whom we shared some warm and interesting conversations, a swim on a deserted beach and some of her Mum’s home cooked delights. We even witnessed a miracle- Rhiannon said no to a party!

Macedonia Bears All

After arriving in Struga in a dream like state- an 11km downhill at 40kmph can do this to you- we sent Rhi (‘the chef’) to the shops to buy the ingredients for dinner and off we set to find the campsite for the night. Our new found friend Jonny had a ‘no campsite policy’ so Jimi had to regretfully inform him that we would be staying in a campsite as we had not had a shower for four days and needed one. Jonny replied with, “Ive not had a shower in  a month.” I was shocked at this and we plodded on down the road to find the campsite. It was of course closed and there was a fence up so we could not even get in and sleep there free of charge. We circled the surrounding areas to find a wild camp spot and could not see anywhere apart from an old land fill site which had old bones which to our disgust were the size of human ones and we were a little worried about this spot! We decided it had gotten too dark and we could not find a spot so we agreed to get a room and set off in search…it was low season and we could not find one close. Just as we gave up hope, a Mercedes crawled along beside us and we were asked if we would like a room, €50, ‘no thank’s we said and carried on. A little down the road,  a BMW pulled up and a man peered from the blacked out windows and said ‘room?’ we said we were looking for a camping spot and he said ‘come and stay in my house’. We were a little dubious about this but followed him anyway and trusted he would help us out with a little bit of grass to camp on. Further down the road, we pulled up outside a huge pink luxurious apartment block with a grass lawn and extravagant water features. Lovely we thought, we can camp on his lovely grass, perfect! He then said to us ‘ it’s far too cold to be outside, would you like to just have an apartment?’ We said we have no money and he said no its okay, you stay inside as its too cold outside.

A luxurious 5* apartment awaited us and he brought us towels and bedding and looked after us as we were his own! He explained there is only tourism there for two months of the year and so the apartments are empty and we may as well use them.A great nights sleep later we awoke to find I had my first puncture and we did not want to leave the luxury of the apartment and the beautiful hospitality of Aris who was so kind to us. We felt again its only a small act of kindness but can touch our hearts. We set off full of warmth- although still unclean as there was no running water- and feeling happy about the Macedonia and what it had to offer us.

After a little party on the pier we bid an emotional farewell to our new found friend Jonny and bid him a safe trip ahead.

Lake Ohrid is an extremely clear lake and we were told one of the clearest in the world, it was very cold as well. Rhi sat with the fish nibbling on her toes while Jimi had an Indian style bath and washed in the water.

 

 

We knew there was a large mountain ahead of us, we stuffed ourselves with bread and cheese and prepared for the climb to the other side of Macedonia. We started the climb and realised it would be tougher than all of the other climbs, so 3 hours later and ploughing on in the heat we decided to stop at a wood chopping clearing and camp there fore the night. Dinner was cooked and by the time it was dark and we had filled our hungry tummys, we were fast asleep by 8pm, resting our bodies for the next days climb.

We awoke to the screech of tyres and quickly got ready and found a man with an axe in the clearing close by, me and Jimi exchanged glances nervously but the little old man waved and said, “Good morning” (to our delight). The final climb to 2200 metres was a slow one as Rhi hadn’t slept much and had an upset stomach (either that or herEPO was running low). The view at the top was magnificent and well worth the 6 hour climb. We read the information at the top as we admired the view, only to realise where we camped in the national park was home to brown bears, Balkan lynx and Balkan chamois. Wow we thought we had a close shave there.

It took a mere 30 minutes to speed down the other side of the mountain and through the apple orchids which were abundant. We picked a few and they were some of the most delicious apples we had tasted, a great reward after our two days efforts. Rhi was still not feeling well and she decided the 30km to Bitola would be a little too much and decided to hitch a lift, so off she got into a transit van with a man and his wife and we cycled on. I of course took a picture of the van to be on the safe side. They were Macedonian Turks who ended up taking Rhi for coffee and cake, finally her Turkish language skills were coming into play.

 

Bitola greeted us with a bustle of three weddings and songs and dancing in the streets, Rhi found a hostel and we made traditional Macedonian sausage, egg and chips! We got talking to a Macedonian man in the hostel and he said, I cant believe you actually stayed in that national park, the locals don’t stay out there after dark as they are feared of the bears and wolves. ( I am so happy we did not know this before)

Macedonia had been an adventure and we were happy, we met Aris, and happily we didn’t meet the bears.

Albania

The few people we had met coming the other way had used a common word in describing Albania- interesting- so we were unsure of what to expect. Often when crossing a border in Europe there is no immediate difference, this time it was not the case. In Montenegro the only thing you might see by the side of the rode would be a donkey, here there was really rubbish everywhere and a number of small fires filling the air with a disernable aroma. Also whereas before we might get the odd beep and a wave here about 8 in 10 people were doing so, we really felt like celebrities.  We cycled through Shkoder, which Rhiannon describes as being like the wild west, to a campsite on the edge of Lake Shkoder. On the way we did a crazy thing, we just rode across a train tack without stopping to look, guess what, a freight train was coming and only 80 metres away! We scolded ourselves for our stupidity.

Here we met Swiss Martin who has been riding around the world on this motorbike for 6 years, he was a really nice guy with lots of great stories. We share a moment of jealousy as he departs at 60kmph knowing he can see 10 times as many places today than us. However we remember that we get to see everything in slow motion, absorbing more and anybody can speak to us at anytime, we are often meeting local people this way.

The next day with some local knowledge advice we head south, after hearing about the craziness of main roads in Albania I tried to steer us down some nice country lanes (the white roads on the map). We started on some tarmac, then it turned to gravel, then gravel and mud, then mud, then a grassy path and then we were just in a field. Oh yeah, this must be why everybody is on the main roads. It was really nice to cycle through the little farming villages and speak to people but we got nowhere slowly. We stopped for coffee in a small village,  the man spoke no English, he refilled our water and when we came to pay he would not let us. A small gesture like that was a nice touch.

Another problem with cycling these routes is that there are many viscous street dogs and guard dogs. We now know to walk past slowly with the bike between you and the dog and carrying a few stones to throw at them, often just imitating a throw will do the trick. But the first time we were set upon I just pedaled as fast as I could until the dogs were out of breath, Albanian street dogs must work on their speed endurance if they are going to catch me. I then turned and heroically, from a safe distance, photographed Rose and Rhi being defended by a nice lady with a big stick whilst her son on his moped giggled hysterically.

That night we could not find anywhere to camp and a nice chap called Leon helped us find a hotel and negotiate a room in Hotel Ambassador for £15. I was then invited to drink some beer with the owner and Leon translated. It was a nice time. Albania is so cheap we realise we can afford to eat out and going against previous advice we ventured out post 4pm and were rewarded with a feast of grilled meat, salad, rice, chips and bread with a beer each for under £10.It was just pot luck as we were in one of those rare places where English is not spoken or used in the menu, this is a good thing. In the morning we collected our bikes from the bingo hall they had been locked in and set off, it was not until 10km down the road that I realised my compass had been stolen, this made me very unhappy. It was probably the most used piece of kit and a present, also it hurts to be stolen from. I vow not to let one person spoil my outlook, however it takes a few hours until I can take my own advice.

On the roads here you will find everything and everyone. From lorries to donkeys and fruit sellers to kids playing football, the road is for everyone. But everyone is in it together and everyone wants to get home at the end of the day so we felt pretty safe in comparison to other main roads in other countries. After following an OK yellow road we bite the bullet and join the motorway, to our surprise despite the hype it isn’t too bad at all. We have cycled on similar in almost every country. The difference here is that all along both side there is something being sold or made so we cannot pull off for a rest. Don’t forget we are being waved and jeered at by almost every passer by and children run alongside or chase behind us wanting our attention. There is one 5km stretch as you enter Tirane, the capital, which is blooming bonkers but after that we cruised in to the centre and settled in the National Opera House cafe. Here we met 2 other cycle tourers who have been cycling in Albania for 3 weeks, they gave us the low down on all the roads and high passes, they also advised us to just ask people for a some grass to camp on. So that night we set are sights high and asked a 4star resort if we could camp, of course we could but only behind the resort in the field, this is fine with us and we slept well with the soothing sounds of heavy machinery from the all night quarry.

After a good day’s ride over a high-ish pass, more grilled meat and navigating our way through the pot holed roads of Elbasan we asked at a small hut bar if we could camp somewhere. Of course we can, we can sleep on the floor of the newly built restaurant. At this point Jonny (later to be ‘Crazy Jonny’) arrived much to the amazement of the locals, there was now to be 4 strange English people travelling on bikes sleeping in the restaurant and through the evening many people came to look at us. We did not mind as it was all very good natured. They even brought us plates of fruit and came to join us at one point, not speaking any english, just sat staring at us all. It certainly made for stories to tell their mates about the “crazy engliagh people”. Jonny has also cycled from the UK and is heading to Sofia to take the bus home. He is living on a diet of bread and chocolate spread and wearing denim to cycle in- the definition of crazy!

The next day we all cycled together slowly through a valley knowing that at the end we must go over a high pass into Macedonia.

It was a real slog  but the views were fantastic and we felt really good on reaching the top, it was the biggest climb we had done to date. Not for Crazy Jonny though, he has cycled through the alps to get here.

We blew are last few Lek on all the vitals- wine  and beer- and rode down the last 2km to the border. Albania we have had a bloody good time, thanks.

 

 

Montenegro

Once again our own ineptitude to research an upcoming country amazes us and we arrive at the border knowing nothing. The passport control man was a right joker, he wanted to confiscate Rose and Rhi. I said that this would be OK and on seeing my sincerity hastily released them. We then met a motorbike man at the shop who recommended the Bay of Kotor to us and warned us against being outside after 4pm in Albania. So marginally better informed we rode down the Montenegrin coast,  again taking advantage of the hospitality of closed campsites.

 

The Bay of Kotor really is something special. We cycled around it at a snails pace so we could enjoy it for as long as possible. In Kotor we bought the most tasty smoked ham we had ever eaten and some pretty decent olives too.

After Croatia we really noticed the lack of foreign tourists here, I think because of this we have had many more chats with other travelers  swapping stories and advice alike. The coast is pretty heavily developed and the main road not much fun to cycle on. The secondary roads are much more fun and we often found fresh water wells to cool off in and top up the supplies.

There is also a number of tunnels to negotiate, we did not much enjoy these.

After only four days we headed into Albania and another unknown!

 

 

 

The Great Croatian Escapade

Firstly as she will be riding with us until Antalya I feel we should introduce Rhiannon in a little more detail for those who don’t know her and as her brother Jimi has the artistic licence to do so:

The curious case of Rhiannon

Rhiannon rides a bike like no other. Despite its fixed components and spherical wheels she manages to make cycling look like a novice hill walker scrambling up Crib Goch, flip flops and sombrero in tow.

After two days of marvelling at this epic struggle we were forced to briefly hospitalise her. Her chest pain finally brought tears to her eyes and we took a taxi to the emergency ward. After a thorough examination; a verdict of a pulled muscle was administered and she was dismissed before they could photocopy the passport, much to the surprise of the receptionist. Rose and I did try to take this opportunity to put Rhi under house arrest orders for a week whilst we pedalled away, but fearing we may ‘party’ without her  and revitalised by the doctors diagnosis, she had a second coming and vowed to soldier on. I even caught her doing these insane sit ups down by the dock one morning.

This diagnosis had also had the effect of improving her riding style, where before she would be out of the seat more times than Tyler Hamilton up the road to Bayonne and stopping more times than our old dad in his middle aged fell running crisis, she is now forced to ride more smoothly and at a steady pace which greatly pleases us as it’s much safer to stay as one group on these busy Croatian coastal roads. Such has been Rhiannon’s improvements that questions have arose over her means. “I’ve never tested positive,” has been the all too familiar rebut. So we await the inevitable USADA’s case to be built before we can clean up our Tour de World guest star. She can however cook up a mean fish, potatoes, salad and even makes beans and tomatoes taste amazing.

We have substituted “the translator” for “the chef” and she now delights us with the ‘campsite cooking’ meals every night. But don’t worry Jake she can’t speak a word of German.

Anyway on with the blog…

So after the last post, Jimi wrote about us leaving Rijeka and heading to Zadar on the ferry the next morning. We awoke at 6am after an early night and well rested, it felt like we were sneaking away in the dead of the night as we cruised down the hill in the dark into Rijeka. We were greeted by a smiling sailor who sweetly said, we are not sailing today, the weather is too bad, we all looked up into the beautiful rising sun to what looked like a promisingly beautiful day. Rhiannon replied with a laugh and “ha! Ha! he’s joking, it’s the funny Croatian sense of humour” he smiled again and said “well you can wait if you like but we won’t be leaving until Wednesday.” We watched as other eager tourists loaded with their backpacks were told the same thing and slinked away, wondering how they were to reach their destination, fortunately we did not have a flight to catch the same day as some tourists did.

So of we set back up the hill to Rijeka in the hope of catching a ferry the next day which we hoped would take us to Zadar. Happy to be on the bikes again after a lazy few days at an abandoned festival we headed full of energy (well half full) and found a lovely wild camp spot 60km towards Rijeka.

We were in bed by 8pm and awoke and set off the next morning by 7:30. Arriving into Rijeka we were told, sorry no bicikla on this catamaran, you cannot leave Rijeka today and will have to get the overnight ferry to Split tomorrow as this is the only one you can take your bike on. Not to be disheartened by this minor set back, we booked the tickets and set off in search of the campsite. Low and behold, the campsite did not exist although we were told various legends by 3 different locals. We gave in and Jimi found a small cheap apartment however on seeing two girls ‘Mama Ana’ upgraded us to a bigger apartment with ‘more room to rest’. We communicated with Ana in little broken words from French, German, Italian, Turkish and English and in the end she said “ahh my children, call me Mama!”

Safe in the knowledge we would be leaving Rijeka (a full week after Jimi and I arrived there the first time) and catching the night ferry, we settled into the apartment, did some bike maintenance and watched a film. Not quite the camping and slumming it that we would usually be doing but enjoyed the luxuries all the same. The next day we headed to the ferry port but were cut short with Rhi and her broken rib and decided she should see a doctor. I settled in at the port and Jimi escorted Rhi to the hospital just to be on the safe side and unsure if she would be able to continue the trip if her rib was worse than expected. 30 minutes later they returned and Rhi was diagnosed with a pulled muscle in between the ribs, much to everyones relief.

Finally after a lot of waiting around and me worrying about getting the good seats on the ferry, we boarded and found some comfy seats in the salon, ready to bed down for the night and awake bright and breezy in Split, ready for the next leg of the journey. Me and Jimi looked worryingly as 40 rugby men boarded the boat in front of us, concerned about the rowdiness of the sports teams/large groups we had previously encountered. Rhi on the other hand had a little smile on her face in the hope that somewhere amongst them they may have a little party on the boat she could get involved in. We met some fellow cycle tourers from Slovenia who were part of a travelling theatre company called The Pink Aliens and we shared a bottle of wine and some tales on deck. We even had a wonderful nights sleep, just about waking up before the ship docked in Split.

Rhi received a message from the Chrisophere, her friends called Chris who are travelling and climbing in Croatia, saying they would be in Split that evening and so we decided to find a room and hit the town and then continue on from there the next day. We searched for a tout for a room and of course there was not one to be found anywhere until finally we were approached by a man who promised us a lovely new apartment for 5 people with sky TV, air con and right in the old town, for the price we asked of him. We walked across town but he wouldn’t let us put our bikes in the apartment, he said they would be okay outside in the street but we were not risking our bikes being stolen so regretfully had to turn down the as mentioned beautiful apartment and try to find another room. We were met by another man who had a room, but he wanted too much money, another had given the room away and finally we found a small basement apartment, which just about would sleep 3, let alone 5 but after searching for hours we settled for this and decamped here.

This is the  reason it is easier to pitch a tent, set up camp and cook our dinner than stay indoors. 

Me and Rhi went in search of fish (at a market) but we didn’t understand why everyone was saying no until we realised they closed at 1 and we were too late. We eventually bought some fish and Rhi made amazing fish supper which was ready in time for the arrival of the mighty Chris’s. We all headed to the square amongst the beautiful old town and had a few drinks and headed back found everything closing as it was midnight. We were directed to the beach and to the ‘euro club’ which was empty when we arrived. Jimis late night party disco dream had come true and the rubbish beer and shit music added to the atmosphere of it all and was helped along with a few local shots of honey rackya. Me and Jimi left Rhi and the two Chis’ to it, knowing we cannot party as much as them three and headed home.

“Poor old Rosy Pose” was the saying the next morning as the ‘euro party’ (I blame the Chris’s and the ‘honey’ shot that did it but I did not feel well at all, and was not looking forward to the ferry crossing to Hvar, knowing the wind was strong.

We made it and across to Stari Grad and headed to the campsite, which was actually closed with a few campers but locked toilets. This did not deter us and we pitched up knowing it unlikely we would have to pay. A beautiful harbour was waiting us and since we did not pay for the campsite, went out for pizza and some home made wine at the harbour. This may be the time to explain about Croatian pizza. Croatians make pizza, nearly if not as good as the Italians and the pizza is crispy and tasty and after trying a few pizzas in Croatia so far have not had a bad one yet.

The next day was one of the best days cycling we have had. It was beautiful scenery all the way along the Island.

From there we took a short ferry back to the mainland and continued south. We stopped in Neum in Bosnia for the night (it was suprisingly beatiful and after finding a campsite, the man said ” wait there in ten minutes a man will come and watch you all night”. He sure did and we were guarded, Im not sure what from as we were the only ones there camping amongst the olive trees. (Mum auntie Bev and mads); there was a cat there called Tigger, same colour as our tigger and he sat outside our tent all night! Jimi learned he had passed his PGCE so we had an impromptu graduation dinner which was fantastic.

After some more miles and another ferry we reach Mljet. Jimi had been looking forward to this island for weeks but unfortunately it coincided with Rose’s knee being very sore and Jimi having the flu. So whilst Rhi explored the island we rested up in the beautiful village of Sobra for three whole days.

After two nights in Dubrovnik, a few more Spritzers (fast becoming Jimi’s favourite drink) and a hair raising ride down another busy coastal road we have left Croatia.

We have had a wonderful time, taking in some breathtaking views and met some lovely people along the way, cycled some of our best days and are pretty excited about the unknown of Montenegro, Albania, Macedonia and Greece…