On the Finishing Line to Istanbul
Highway, Metropolis and the End of the World
The last kilometres to Istanbul are tough ones.
We battle a steady headwind on the highway, get involved in a bizarre argument about feline consciousness and fall in love with Istanbul. We leave Turkey for winter after finding out in Marmaris, what it means to finish on a (v)-high-(brating) note. Have fun reading!
Table of Contents
- The Gateway to the Orient
- On the Culinary Trail in Ipsala
- Gestures of Kindness
- Another Culinary Expedition
- A Hard-earned Sim Card
- Alléz les Bleus
- Exceeded Expectations
- Couchsurfing with Onur and Veste
- It’s Begging Cats and Dogs
- Erol’s (Bikepacker)-Shelter
- Of Oversized Hotels and Undersized Elevators
- Level Complete, Check!!
- A Quick Trip to Asia
- Night Bus to Marmaris
- A Farewell on a (V) high (brating) Note
Some names in this article have been changed to protect privacy.
The Gateway to the Orient
We have cycled over 4000 kilometres through half of Europe, now we are on the finishing line. The border to Turkey lies ahead of us: The gateway to the Orient! There is indeed a gateway at the border crossing. Framed by a huge, white-tiled building, it rises up in front of us. Contrasted by surrounding, uncultivated fields, the oriental building strikes us almost as a mirage from the Arabian Nights.
We Foreigners, We No Turkish
Somewhat intimidated by the border guards with machine guns, we don’t dare photograph this wonderful sight. An unproblematic check of our papers later, we cross a heavily guarded bridge over the river at the border, Meriç Nehri.
I recall the word for “hello” from a trip to Turkey a long time ago: Günaydın. And so we shout a cheerful Günaydın to the border officials on our right and left. The catch: as it turns out later, Günaydın doesn’t actually mean “hello”, but “good morning”, and it’s already 3 pm. That would explain the grins on the faces of the officials.
Welcome to Turkey!
After the astonishingly pompous border building, the landscape on the other side of the border is rather dull. We look out over endless amounts of harvested grain fields. Black ravens are pecking leftover grains. There is smoke in the air from numerous small fires on which the farmers burn straw and weeds.
On the Culinary Trail in Ipsala
Cycling on the hard shoulder of the two-lane motorway we struggle against a strong wind. We decided to no longer camp out in the wild until we reach Istanbul. This has to do with the current tense refugee situation at the Turkish border, but especially with our recent scary animal encounter at night.
Retrospective
Near Kavala in Greece, we had found the perfect camp spot. At midnight we were both startled out of our sleep when we heard a barking and howling sound coming closer and closer to our tent. We were on a hill in the middle of nowhere and didn’t know how to react. So we turned on the light and talked to each other at a normal volume. The barking animal slowly moved away again.
For the next twenty minutes the barking came close and moved away again. Eventually it disappeared altogether. But it sounded aggressive and creepy. Whether it was a dog, a coyote or a wolf, we don’t know. But the experience was enough to put us off wild camping for a while!
Camping in this area would be tricky anyway, as there are no trees or mountains to seek shelter between. Luckily for us, we get a decent room with breakfast at the Parkhotel Ipsala for €36. We store the bicycles and have enough time to explore the small border town in the evening!
And what better way to immerse ourselves in a new culture than to enjoy the local cuisine? At a small restaurant in town we have Lahmacun (Lack-Ma-June) and Pide, served with fresh herbs and salad. For the equivalent of €6 including drinks, we might actually be able to afford this more often! It seems to be watermelon season right now: Around us, farmers sell their fruit directly from large trailers. Of course, we also test the best supermarkets in town: Bim becomes our new favourite discounter. After extortionate prices in Greece, we can finally afford sweets again. Yes ok, finally MORE sweets again I mean! A pack of Haribo’s fried eggs will do for now.
Gestures of Kindness
After a breakfast of olives, cheese, boiled egg, jam, bread and tea, we set off: The same two-lane motorway, the same headwind, the same dreary landscape. Despite the fact that we don’t have to cover many kilometres or ascents, cycling becomes torture these days. We are glad that we have each other during this time and can complain together about the “bloody wind”.
A silver lining: The hospitality of the people. The most beautiful gesture catches us by surprise. As we struggle along the highway, unsuspecting, a truck pulls up in front of us. The driver holds two packs of biscuits out of the window, which we grab while passing. Beaming with joy and waving, we ride on. The truck overtakes us again – it had only stopped for us! On two more occasions, truck drivers offer to take us and our bikes all the way to Istanbul. People at the side of the road often greet us and invite us for a cup of tea!
Another Culinary Expedition
In Malkara we drag ourselves up one last killer hill before arriving in the small winding old town. We stay in a hotel again today, call us richy-rich, but this time we pay just under €30. For dinner today we get Dürüm Kebabs and Ayran, a slightly salted yoghurt drink. The owner of the small restaurant prepares the flatbreads for the Dürüm from scratch in front of our eyes. To finish, he coats the whole wrap with ghee. I have never eaten such a delicious Dürüm wrap before – and never again after that! In a small patisserie we buy a plastic dish with pastries: about 10 deep-fried balls doused with sugar syrup. For 10 Lira, the equivalent of 60 cents. We should have bought more of them, Joel concludes afterwards.
A Hard-earned Sim Card
The next morning we pack up our bikes in front of the hotel on the narrow pavement. We have to smile about the reactions of the locals: It is clear that in a small village like this one, “exotic attractions” like us rarely pass by. But either we are completely ignored by the pedestrians as if we were invisible or people stop at some distance and stare blatantly at us for minutes. There is nothing in between.
At Turkcell we get a Turkish sim card with internet. Joel is so cheeky that he badgers the manager until he brings us a coffee. Getting the card turns out to be more difficult than expected. Like a surprisingly large number of young people in Turkey, the employee doesn’t speak any English at all. Fortunately, there is Google Translate. After being asked a bunch of weird questions (i.e. the first names of our parents), an hour later we are the proud owners of a Turkish simcard.
Alléz les Bleus
We are back on the highway. In addition to the persistent headwind, the landscape is getting more mountainous. Gradually we feel exhausted. At noon we search in vain for a suitable place to take a break. Finally we stop in a small parking bay between a few trees. There must have been a restaurant once, but all that is left now are the foundation walls. Piles of handkerchiefs, plastic bottles, packaging and other rubbish lie on the leaf-covered ground. Well, at least there’s no wind, we think to ourselves, and roll out the yoga mat on the wall so as to not sit in the rubbish. And then suddenly someone shouts excitedly: “Heeeeey!!!”.
Kevin, a bikepacker like us, has chosen the same parking bay for his lunch break. He couldn’t have seen us from the road. What are the chances! Kevin is about as happy as we are to meet like-minded people. We exchange a few sweets with the Frenchman, complain together about the nasty headwind and then ride on together. Suddenly everything is much nicer: The climbs easier, the descents funnier and the breaks more engaging. We still have a French national flag left, which Kevin proudly puts on his bike (Alléz les Bleus!).
In Tekirdağ we part ways. Kevin, the crazy one, wants to ride the 150 km to Istanbul the following day, so we say goodbye for this stage of the journey. The next day, we can follow Kevin live on Instagram as he sets off at 5 a.m. and actually arrives in Istanbul after about 13 hours of riding.
Exceeded Expectations
When we arrive at Hotel 12 Rooms, our expectations are not particularly high. The building is in the middle of an industrial area. Joel chose it because it is within walking distance of the student quarter of Tekirdağ. Here we will meet our Couchsurfing host Onur tomorrow. Once at the hotel, we are lucky: there is one last room available, but it has not yet been cleaned. Never mind, we wait in the small quiet courtyard and even get an espresso while we wait. Then the time has come and we are allowed to lug our 1000 bicycle bags through the narrow hotel corridors. But it is worth it: the “room” is incredible: it is a whole suite with bedroom, kitchen-living room and bathroom. We expected a number of things, but not this! After the energy-sapping day, however, we are so exhausted that we mainly make use of the sofa.
Couchsurfing with Onur and Veste
For the next day, we have found accommodation via Couchsurfing for the first time in a while. Since Onur is only free in the afternoon, we sit down in a café. About ten minutes later, a young couple approaches from behind. “Are you Joe?” the woman asks, addressing Joel. It takes us a moment to realise what is going on. Standing in front of us are Onur and Veste, our Couchsurfing hosts, who happen to come to this very café to work!
Shortly afterwards, another Couchsurfer, Balthasar from Sweden, joins us. The three of us chat and drink tea while our hosts work in another corner of the café. Balthasar has just hitchhiked from Greece and is overwhelmed by the hospitality of the Turkish people. It usually takes a few hours for someone to give him a lift, he says. When he arrived in Turkey this morning, he was immediately offered a ride. We realise again how slowly we travel: For the distance Balthasar covered this morning, we were sitting on our saddles for four days.
We spend a nice evening with Onur, Veste and Balt. It turns out that Veste is studying medicine and revising for her neurology exam the next day. She’s pretty much at the end of her tether, I feel transported back to my time as a med student. It’s nice to talk a bit about medicine again, but unfortunately Veste doesn’t have much time.
In the morning Onur makes us breakfast: grilled bread with Turkish feta cheese and olives yummy!!!
It's Begging Cats and Dogs
As we set off, it’s drizzling and – surprise surprise – we have a headwind. Again. What changes, is the landscape: The fallow fields give way to more industrial and residential buildings, as the villages along the road transform into towns. In Marmara Ereğlisi (a name with seven syllables! Tongue twister!) we eat two Dürüms in front of a small kebab shop. Attracted by the smell, the entire community of stray animals the place has to offer gathers. It is literally Begging Cats and Dogs! A small kitten, no older than two months, takes shelter from the wind on my luggage carrier.
In the afternoon we reach Silivri, where we have found a place to stay with Erol via warmshowers.org. To our surprise, Erol’s house is inside a gated community. To the security guard at the entrance Joel just says: “We are here to visit Erol.”She briefly talks into her Walkey Talkey, then we are allowed to pass. Funny, I think, how the lady knows exactly where we are going just by mentioning Erol’s first name? It soon becomes clear why.
Erol's (Bikepacker-) Shelter
We arrive at a large, two-storey house with a garden and a pool. Immediately we can tell that we are at the right house. A vehicle that looks like a bicycle with a roof is visible through the large windows. Upon being invited in, we don’t quite know who is who in the minimally furnished living room. Two young men are working on their laptops at a large dining table. An older man introduces himself as Nicola, the owner of the strange vehicle, and finally Erol joins in. He is an enigmatic entrepreneur whose age is difficult to estimate. While he talks to us, he keeps pacing back and forth so that we constantly have to turn our heads.
A year earlier, he states, he had started to take in bicycle travellers. Now he continues because the requests just keep coming. In addition to the steady flow of bikepackers, Erol is granting accommodation for two young Russian men, who are acquaintances of his twenty-something girlfriend Natasha. What exactly Erol does for a living, however, we will never know. Although he proudly shows us all kinds of projects in his house – a room for photo shoots, a 3D printer and some kind of compostable plastic – he is vague about how exactly he finances his lifestyle.
Erol provides us with a bedroom and bathroom just for ourselves. We even get clean towels! Overwhelmed by the hospitality, we suggest cooking for him and the whole group as a small gesture. Erol, however, politely declines, stating everyone here has their own schedule. We should, however, feel free to take whatever we want from the kitchen.
Turkish Pizza and some Self Reflection
We strike up a conversation with Arkadius and Sasha, the two Russians. Arkadius even speaks a little German. He tells us that he left Russia after the announcement of the military mobilisation. His wife and little daughter are still in the country. He does not yet know what he will do next. A visa in Europe would be nice.
I realise that I have prejudices against the two young men at the start. Because they are leaving their country instead of standing up against the current injustice. I think about it a lot. We expect people like Sasha and Arkadius to rise up against their regime, putting their entire future at risk. How would we react in a similar situation? Would we resist? Or would we also walk away? How far does our responsibility for our government go? The longer we talk with Arkadius and Sasha, the more I realise that they are also both victims of a regime. Even if it is not obvious at first glance.
Together with Arkadius and Sasha we go to a small Pide restaurant nearby. An older Turk, traditionally dressed in robe and hat, takes our order. He prepares the Turkish pizza before our eyes and puts it into a typical wood-burning oven. Nothing goes better than pide and a cold beer, which we consume in front of the small shop.
It's All Over, Don't Worry
Back at the “Bikepacker Shelter” , it turns out that Erol is a true advocate of a future controlled by artificial intelligence. At his computer, he shows me, with fascination, a new technique that creates artificial images from keywords. Of course I try it out. A wide variety of images are generated from the keywords that I enter, “a wooden loft by the lake, futuristic”. I don’t seem to react enthusiastically enough, because Erol prompts me to read the Wikipedia article on Stable Diffusion. (After about three lines I give up, how much do you understand?).
He then delivers a lengthy monologue on the future of the world. His favourite line: “It’s all over, don’t worry!” While Joel and I try hard to follow the conversation, the rest of the group has already tuned out. They seem to be tired of this particular discussion. As the consumption of stimulants increases, the debate also heats up. Finally, it becomes almost dicey: The topic is cats. And about whether they have a conscience.
“Haha,” Joel laughs, “Cats don’t have a conscience!!! They’re animals!” Suddenly Erol is right in Joel’s face: “So you think cats have no conscience? Do you? Do you? You know what? F*** you, f*** you, f*** you!!!” For a short while, no one says anything. Then Joel backs down and things relax again. Whew. For a brief moment I thought we were going to have to sleep in the street.
Lightning Never Strikes Twice
You think that’s enough madness for one evening? Not quite. Because Nicola, the man with the quad-bicycle, is also telling us his story this evening. And it’s unbelievable.
One could say in bikepacker jargon that Nicola is an old hand. The Italian has been travelling alone on his bike for years. While cycling through Mali in 2018, he was unexpectedly forced to dismount by two armed motorcyclists, then blindfolded and kidnapped. “I knew,” he recounts, “either they would kill me on the spot or abduct me for ransom.” What followed was an ordeal that would last for 22 months. Nicola was taken to various places and saw horrible things. It wasn’t until 2020 that he was released, along with a priest, a Mali politician and a French social worker. “What did you do all day while you were imprisoned?” Joel asks. “Ha, that’s easy,” he laughs bitterly, “nothing. They are Islamists, everything is forbidden. Sport, reading, laughing, dancing, alcohol … you name it, all forbidden.”
Currently, Nicola is on his way to the Middle East on his bike. Is he not scared after surviving a kidnapping? He shrugs. “Lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place, mate!” Everyone is visibly perplexed.
Of Oversized Hotels and Undersized Elevators
With increasing frequency, there is no longer a hard shoulder on the busy D100. Cycling becomes a matter of concentration. Arriving at the Trade Fair Centre, a labyrinth of streets, car parks and sky-high buildings awaits us. The place is bustling and we squeeze through a multitude of parked cars until we find our hotel.
Our hotel? We are quite surprised that the room we booked via Airbnb is in a hotel of about 18 storeys. Equally surprising are the events on the ground floor: Dozens of small companies are lined up in tiny offices, each possessing a number of rooms to rent out. The landlord of our room is no less surprised: Two bicycles? Where is he supposed to put them? At first Joel suggests the underground garage, but there is no space for bikes. Eventually, he manages to persuade the manager to let us squeeze our bikes one by one into the undersized elevator and take them with us to our room. Much to the displeasure of the many trade fair guests, who now have to wait for the elevator.
The Somersault-Escalator
To avoid having to take a 200 metre long diversion, Joel has a glorious idea: An overpass leads across the 8-lane road to the other side. There’s a small catch: our bikes don’t fit in the elevator. Overconfident, Joel heads for the escalator with his fully packed bike. He gets on it as the stairs roll upwards. The bike straightens up, turns over and backflips together with Joel. With his back he lands on the escalator sliding downwards! Just barely he manages to drag the bike and himself off the moving stairs. The bystanders, including myself, look at him aghast for a moment. Then he starts laughing. People come over, put his bike up and help him to his feet. Luckily nothing happened!
Nevertheless, Joel seems to have learned nothing of it and starts a second attempt – this time with success. On the overpass people kindly remind us a few more times that there is an elevator. Bugger, we should have bought smaller bicycles!
Level Complete, Check!!
Have I mentioned how big Istanbul is? According to official figures, it is the most populated city in Turkey with 15.9 million inhabitants. That is almost double the size of London! And honestly – that is exactly how it feels. We have been cycling through this huge city for 50 kilometres now, and still haven’t reached the inner districts! Luckily, however, a friendly man approaches us and explains: “From here you can ride to the sea and along the water all the way to the centre of Istanbul!” And he is right! From now on, we even have a proper cycling path. Thanks for nothing, Komoot! “You should come by my restaurant for dinner, even Gregor Gysi (a German politician) has been there before!” the man mentions hopefully. He has a fish restaurant. Unfortunately, he chose the wrong tourists…
It is unclear at what precise point we actually made it. But eventually we decide at a quiet place with the skyline in the background: Now!!!
We cycled from London to Istanbul, covered 4500 kilometres with our very own muscle power, fixed 5 punctures, endured heat and thunderstorms and made thousands of memories.
First stage: Check!!!
A Quick Trip to Asia
We stay in Istanbul for a fortnight. Time to recharge our batteries and not ride our bikes for a while. Instead, we take full advantage of the cheap public transport. After buying the wrong Istanbul Card like a stereotypical tourist (because we chose the ticket machine having ENGLISH written on it…) we enjoy the large network of trams, trains, buses and of course: ferries! With the ferry, we can go over to Asia for just €2.50! It’s just great that Kayaköy on the Asian side, is the perfect place to drink a cold beer.
We only have one unpleasant experience: On the way to Taksim, a man walking past us loses his shoe brush. Joel picks it up and runs after him. The man thanks him profusely and insists on cleaning Joel’s shoes (sneakers). We agree and talk to the man for a while. He finally insists on cleaning my shoes as well. I don’t want to, but Joel says, come on, just quickly, we’ll be leaving soon. The man fiddles with my shoes (also sneakers) for what feels like an eternity, but they don’t really get any cleaner.
We thank him and Joel hands him 60 tl (€3.50). At this, the man shakes his head in outrage and says, “No, no, this service costs 160 tl (€9).” Disbelievingly, Joel clarifies that HE had done the man a favour by picking up his brush. After all, Joel, did not even want this “service”. Offended, the shoeshiner leaves. A sour gut feeling remains nonetheless.
Istanbul, We Love You!
We also have a visitor: Joel’s father spends a week with us exploring the city. This means we really get our cultural fix as well. From a visit to the Hagia Sophia and the Grand Bazaar to a climb up Camlica Hill and excursion to the Princes Islands, the city has heaps to offer. Istanbul has a beautiful flair and will always have a very special place in our hearts for multiple reasons…
Nightbus to Marmaris
The plans for winter are set and it is clear: Within 7 days we have to be in Marmaris, 800 kilometres away, to catch a ferry to Rodos. This is utopian for us by bike, so we decide to travel by night bus. Funny, I think. We started this adventure in May 2022 with a night bus and now we are finishing our first stage with a night bus!
A few days before the journey, we even take the time to go to the “otogar” (bus station) in Istanbul. Making sure that it is possible to take bicycles on the bus, we want to buy our tickets in person. Between the about 100 bus companies, we decide on Kamil Koç, the Turkish partner of Flixbus. Simply because it is the biggest company with the most buses. As usual, the young man at the reception does not speak any English, so we work with Google Translate and pictures of the bikes on our phones. After a lengthy discussion, we get the answer we need: “The bus driver can take bikes.” Great! However, there is no note on our tickets about it. Hopefully, it will work out.
Indeed, we have no major problems on the evening of our departure. The front wheel of the bikes has to come off, but we had expected this beforehand. After the bikes are stored safely, Joel joins the young bus attendant to wash his hands. “He wanted a tip for helping with the bikes,” Joel tells me upon return, “he asked for 200 tl ( €11), but luckily I only had 120 tl ( €7).” Well, nothing is free in life, at least the bikes are on board!
A Farewell on a (V)high(brating) Note
In Marmaris we have a two day breather before heading on to Rodos. We chose the perfect apartment: A top-floor flat with a large roof terrace that offers a great view over the harbour. We had been warned in advance by the landlord that the flat was on Bar Street. In the evenings, so he says, the music from the surrounding bars can be quite loud, so you might have trouble sleeping. We accept, because the reviews on AirBnB are all positive. One young family even wrote that their child had no problems sleeping. Besides, it is November and we don’t expect many tourists. How noisy can it be?
Honestly? The noise is not even our biggest problem. It turns out that we are not only on Bar Street, but also on “Disco Street”. One disco is on the ground floor below our bedroom and the other one is in the neighbouring house. The noise is deafening, yes. With earplugs, the volume can be reduced to an acceptable level. But our earplugs don’t help against the whole flat vibrating with the bass until 1 am. For the second night, we upgrade our earplugs at the pharmacy and move the mattress from the bedroom into the living room. At least this way we escape the double sound system, the vibration of the bed frame and the one DJ’s terrible taste in music. His favourite effect: the airhorn. He must be mistaking Marmaris for Magaluf.
We think back to the reviews and wonder what kind of child could have slept here. If it wasn’t already deaf back then, it certainly is now.
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Love it and Istanbul will always have special memories for me
Aidan x
Love it and Istanbul will always have special memories for me
Aidan x