The pilgrimage

Being a backpacker again

Dorothy had given me the shits! I even smacked her around a little. It was no good, as I turned onto the road from Budapest to Romania steam poured from the engine and the temperature gauge shot up. I quickly pulled over and lifted the bonnet to see water pissing out of the radiator. I had quite a significant radiator leak that would need fixing immediately. I filled up with water again and nursed Dorothy back to the hostel which we just left.  I sprang into action and found the details of an authorised Mitsubishi mechanic In Budapest which we promptly booked in for the following day. The next day they told me they would attempt to fix the radiator, failing that they would need to get a whole new radiator which could take 10 days. In despair I tried to remain positive “Every problem is just an opportunity it disguise” I thought.  Next thing you know we had booked and an overnight sleeper, on a train to Prague. It was my second time in Prague, however Mayara had never seen the delights that Prague held, so we were keen to load up the backpacks and check into our hostel. Anyone who has been to Prague would say its reputation is justified, and I found that its slightly dark and sinister architecture makes it an intriguing city roam about in. In the meantime I had received somewhat good news that the radiator was able to be repaired and would only mean a three day delay to our itinerary. Just like that after two full days in Prague we were back on an overnight train to Budapest to continue our journey to the former Communist controlled Romania.

Dogs & Carts

It was safe to say that Romania ranked highly in my European expectations, as day dreams of ascending through the Carpathian Mountains in the Transylvania region danced in my mind we inched closer to the Romanian border.

I was prepared for the step back in time of Romania, where horse and cart was still prominent and the simple life of a Shepard tending to his flock was the norm. What I hadn’t prepared for was the amount of bloody dogs about. The streets were filled with hundreds of displaced dogs and this made for some interesting driving moments, as suicidal dogs leaped onto the road without warning.

The initial paranoia of dodging those dastardly mongrels subsided I was able to enjoy the best driving scenery thus far in the trip. The Carpathians were described to me as the Alps of Eastern Europe and in fact the Transfagarasan and Transalpina driving routes consistently rank in most top ten best driving routes in the world, and on the Journey from Sibiu to Brasov we got to experience part of the Transfagarasan route. It was too early in the year for the complete road to be open for driving (its deemed to unsafe this early in the year) However we spent a good two hours taking on the winding roads up the mountain before we reached its closure point. Once in Brasov we meandered through the pleasant medieval city and took and anticlimactic journey to Bran castle (if you know your folklore this is said to be Dracula’s castle)

After a chaotic night driving experience in Bucharest but a pleasant couch surfing experience we were headed to Bulgaria (which we would merely pass through onwards to Istanbul) Romania was over in a flash and I felt a little regretful that we couldn’t give Romania a little longer, as it only wet my appetite for more. (What’s over the rainbow: Volume two maybe??)

Gyros, Doners, Kebabs ohh my!!!

It’s like I had reached Mecca! I had made this pilgrimage from many a mile…. to reach the source. Turkey had brought with it all my expectations and more… Kebabs and Doners as far as the eye could see, and it didn’t have the four day old greasy consistency that I had become accustomed to at the kebab joint under the bridge in Balham, London.  No! This was the stuff that border lined on a religious conversion.

Istanbul (and Turkey) brought with it many expectations from both myself and May. We had become tired of the stuffy European vibe and longed for something unhindered and unkempt, our first signs of chaos before moving onto further extremes. Istanbul was where the Middle East and Asia collides with Europe. Yes of course it was still set up for the average high rolling European Tourist, but with the edge that we were after. We visited the famous ‘Blue Mosque’ which once inside was a great place to take of your shoes and relax. What I also liked about Blue Mosque (and subsequently other mosques we have visited) is that unlike Christian churches they do not charge an admission fee (which I feel is terrible. May has repeatedly had to endure my rant that if you charge an entrance fee to a religious site I should be able to crawl all over the damn thing, taking photos with the flash on, and generally treating it like amusement park. But seriously if you don’t charge an entrance fee I will be happy to oblige the rules, but you can’t have it both ways… It’s either a religious site or a tourist spot….. Sorry where was I?)

I also fell in love with scouring the various markets and bazaars, jiving with the shop owners and bartering for things that I had no intention of buying, soaking up the intoxicating aromas in the spice markets and feeling apart of the madness

Istanbul was also my first glimpse at my forthcoming destination of Iran. I had to visit the Iranian embassy in order to get my visa stamped. As I waited I was privy to the Iranian news, which I found extremely interesting.  Picture the US news (images of terrorists, Iran’s nuclear program, and suicide bombings). The Iranian news was the exact opposite, portraying the US government as the Satanists who are trying to hinder the growth of the great Islamic republic of Iran. The Americans have conducted another series of cowardly bombings through drone strikes, more gun violence in Los Angeles etc etc…. This got me thinking that who was right or wrong? Of course I, like many of us, have been biased by western media and have been a victim of the scare mongering generated towards the Middle East and in fact Islamic culture as a whole. Yet the exact same scare tactics are being used towards the west by the Iranian media. I concluded that like many things the truth usually lies somewhere in the middle.

“Here, sit! Let’s have some tea!”

A custom that I am particularly fond of (and I intend on replicating wherever I go), Is that all business, conversations or meetings in general are done over a steaming pot of Turkish tea. Whether I am bartering with the shop keeper to buy a new Garmin GPS (because my previous Garmin was a piece of shit), or stopping to fill up with fuel…. It’s always “Here, sit! Let’s have some tea!”. This gets to the point, where you have to start denying the kind of teas…. I mean, there’s only so much tea one man can drink.

Forward or Reverse?

I was adamant to get to a campsite my GPS had locked onto just outside the city of Bursa. It looked reasonable distance to reach. The sun was beginning to set but we had plenty of time… Many things should have clicked in my head as we turned onto a couple of unsealed roads. A few hours earlier there had been a torrential downpour, and the unsealed roads were leading us further into the mountains. I still trundled along inching closer towards what I thought would be our lovely campsite for the night. I made my way onto another mountain pass that was a single lane unsealed road and slightly muddied track, “No worries” I said to a slightly concerned girlfriend, “We’ve got a 4x4” The light mud soon turned to a thick slop and Dorothy’s big butt started to slide… Still I continued. Before I knew it, it was getting dangerous, Dorothy had slid off the road onto the mountain side ditch and we were perched at a 45° angle to the ground. We were bogged and my heart raced, as I began doing what any inexperienced off road driver will do and I revved the guts out of the engine. We were soon free but things certainly didn’t get easier, we tried to continue unsure if it was better to go forward or go back. Another added complication was weighing on our minds, the other side of the road was a good 8 meter drop, which would have spelled game over for us. After a few more hair raising slides into the mountain, we decided to go back. As my father always says “It’s better the devil you know, than the devil you don’t know”.

As we were unable to turn around due to the thinness of the road, we were forced to reverse the couple of kilometres we had already come. May acted as my eyes (even though without glasses, she is nearly completely blind) and she was giving me constant directions as she sat with half her body out the car. With a few more near missus we were out and back on the paved road again. May and I both let out a huge sigh of relief and embraced each other. I then paused for a moment before driving off, grabbed the GPS and selected the function to avoid unpaved roads ….

Money, Money?

We found out that wild camping in Turkey was extremely easy. With free toilets and water everywhere, it meant it was never a problem to pull up at a truck stop for the night. Pushing on to Bergama, which is famous for the ruins of the ancient city of Pergamon, we set our GPS co-ordinates for a regular motorhome overnight stop we had been told about , just outside the city center. Here we were greeted by some young local kids who spoke little to no English, they did however have a firm grasp on the phrase “Money, Money”. Generally I don’t give money to kids like this, as it encourages them to beg, and this was no exception J I did however think it would be cool to give the kids a Polaroid photo as a souvenir. I intended to take a photo and give it to the group. Kids being Kids, if I gave a photo to one of the kids, they all wanted one. Soon they were all gleefully shaking their Polaroid pictures as we had demonstrated to them. They left with huge smiles on their faces and as I watched them leave, I too was smiling, seeing the sweet faces of laughing kids…. This was swiftly interrupted when one of the young lads ran up and booted one of the other young girls in the ass!

Japanese are sun smart

I was excited to visit the ruins of the great city of Ephesus. I even stomached the ludicrous entry fee of 25 Turkish Liras each (around 12 Euros) to gain access to hours of historical artifacts and information. (To be fair it was worth every penny, very interesting)

In addition I did get a good chuckle out of the numerous Japanese tour groups. I absolutely love Japanese tourists. I think they’ve got tourism down to an art form. Equipped with the latest Nikons and Canons, they gleefully snap all day long as their tour bus takes them from place to place. They also seem to be deathly afraid of the sun! Covered head to toe (gloves, face masks, sunglasses and umbrellas…. The whole kit and caboodle) I particularly enjoyed one lady who opted for the short sleeve spandex shirt, but with additional long sleeves worn as accessories. This wonderful outfit was topped off with cycling gloves, the mandatory visor hat and umbrella. Perhaps they were vampires and if the sun hit their skin they would implode into dust? To their credit I don’t think skin cancer is much of a problem in Japan. .

Continuing the tourist trail at Pummakale and Cappadocia

When all else fails…. Follow the Japanese tourists…

So like good little tourists we set forth for Pummakale located near the city of Denizli. Pummakale is essentially a mountain face, with a unique twist. Over millions of years salt deposits have formed an amazing white rock surface on the mountain, in which dozens of natural rock springs have been born. To look at it through photos, you would assume that it’s a snow covered mountain, but closer inspection reveals its true nature. These days thousands of tourists come from miles to bath in the (im sure urine filled) rock pools. Happily lathering themselves up with the white mud the sits at the bottom, we of course were no different. The surrounding city of course offers little else to this, so after a few hours we pushed on to province on Nevşehirwhich is the site of one of the strangest and most beautiful places I have been….. Cappadocia.

Cappadocia and the city of Goreme is like landing on the moon, volcanic rock form lunar like sculptures that we both found extremely alluring. This region was once populated by the Christians whom built their homes and churches into the rock, forming a system of fascinating underground cities. We also took advantage of Dorothy’s 4x4 capabilities and went off exploring the rocking landscape.

It was here that I had to temporarily say goodbye to May as I would venture further west towards the Iranian border and she would return to Istanbul to obtain her Indian visa. This was the first time I was to be truly tested, as May had been a huge support to me personally and was 50% of our little overland team.

The tourist trail ends!

I had been on the road for more than 14 hours, desperately trying to make up lost time. My destination was Doğubayazıt , home to the fabled resting place of Noah’s ark at the foot of Mount Ararat. For me it was the last town before the Iranian border. My day hadn’t gone so smoothly. I had a temporarily over heating Dorothy when I tried to tackle a mountain pass which would save me precious few hours (in reality I had to turn back and It cost me that much time again). It was now 10:30 and completely dark and I was still an hour from my ultimate destination…. I couldn’t go on, complete fatigue had set in, so I pulled up at a small town, that on initial analysis seemed fine. I checked into a shabby looking hotel, where the manager wanted upfront payment (this was my first warning sign). He assured me Dorothy was fine parked on the street and besides my room looked right out over her park space. I went back out to the van to grab something when I noticed a ragtag group of kids hanging around, when with a big rifle casually slung over his shoulder…. This didn’t put me at ease! I went back to my room and lay in bed and watched Dorothy for about half an hour. In this time, every passer-by took a little too much interest and finally when that same group of kids started checking the doors trying to get in, I had seen quite enough. I packed my things and was back on the road, willing myself to my ultimate destination. I checked into an overpriced hotel in Doğubayazıt at about 12:00 PM utterly exhausted.  I hurried of to bed as the next day I would need all my mental faculties, as I tackled the Iranian border.