Tea and Minarets

The perfect tarmac continued on a mostly descending tip. I was still so excited to be in Turkey, and the descent to my first Turkish city was very pleasant. I noticed the scenery, somewhat reminescent of Spain for its aridity, friendly people, and makes of vehicles I'd never encountered before.

Arriving outside Kirklareli, the first thing I noticed was the minarets of the city's many mosques, of course. Then the near desert landscape that surrounded it. I fınd there can sometimes be a sense of unreality about being in a place so different to the other places one has been; at many points in my time living outside NZ, I have had moments where I have to ask myself if I am really here. This was another of them, and I expect there will be many more to come as I continue eastward.

I was eager to get into the town to see how the architecture and other differences might strike me. People shouted hello as I rode in, a few kids asked for money. I found my way to the centre, then started looking for Internet. The net cafe was full of young Turkish guys watching streaming video and TV. I was offered tea on arriving, which I gladly accepted. But what's this? Youtube doesn't work? Google maps not too happy eıther? I hadn't realised Youtube was banned ın Turkey, although people have other ways of gettıng theır 'Tube fıx.

Then I passed most of the day updating this blog and looking for Couchsurfing hosts in Istanbul. I left the cafe as the sun was going down, preparing to buy some provisions and go camp somewhere outside the city.

In a small supermarket, a man started speaking to me in heavily-accented English. He told me he was Canadian, but he sure didn't sound like any Canadian I had ever met! Vlad had a Russian mother and had been born in Asia, which was why he had a classic Russian accent. In spite of the accent though, he spoke perfect English and it transpired he was also cycling Turkey and heading for Istanbul. After chatting a bit I decided to go easy on myself and join him in the hotel where he was staying.

Vlad speaks a small amount of Turkish, it having common roots with other Asian languages he speaks. He asked the proprietor if there were still any rooms available for the 30 lira he had paıd for hıs. When I went to pay for it he asked for 35 lira, funnily, and I was given a double room (the old trick of hoteliers everywhere). I couldn't be bothered to fuss about the 5 lira - perhaps when my Turkish improves.

Cockroaches in the bathroom. Hadn't seen that since the dodgy hotel Rochelle and I stayed in by the train statıon in Marseille, haha!