Sitting by the dock of the bay, watching the 'time' roll away. Sat here waiting for a ferry across Van Lake, I can't help but think of the Otis Redding song and the its lyrics... Life is taken at a leisurely pace here. Nobody ever seems rushed or in a hurry, apart from when they're driving of course. Middle aged men don't appear to do a great deal. I think of my working days back at home, and if I wasn't at work I was commuting, eating dinner or going to bed. Here men seem to spend all day standing around chatting, then sitting to drink tea together , playing cards, standing around a bit more and all the while subconsciously massaging their bracelet of religious beads. Life here is also very segregated. Men hang about with men and women with women. It's a shame really and I'm pleased we live in a culture where men and women socialise together. I would get bored of drinking tea all day. In fact, I am bored of drinking tea all day. Plus each one comes with a sugar cube in it so I think my teeth are about to fall out. You just don't see many women about. When you visit a house, the wives don't tend to come out and say hello, they kindly cook a meal, pass it through the door without making themselves visible and then disappear. It is a shame really, and a large part of certainly eastern turkey is anonymous.
I've also noticed a strange habit of men here of late. I saw pairs of men taking an evening stroll arm in arm - one linked into the other's a bit like the girls I used to see in the playground. My initial thought was ok, they're gay, nothing wrong with that. Perhaps Turkey is more liberal than I first thought. But the further east I go, the more I see of this. Big hefty fellas arm in arm. It is quite bizarre and I wonder how this dynamic comes about and who links into who? One has the hand in the trouser pocket while the other embraces that man's arm tightly with a tenderness you'd see from a young couple experiencing love for the first time. I don't know - answers on a postcard. Probably give me a couple of weeks and I'll be doing it...
But perhaps the most overriding feelings I get from the Turkish people I've met is warmth, friendliness and generosity. I've lost count of the free dinners I've been given, the offers of a bed (granted usually in petrol stations), groceries, fruit and veg, pretty much anything. Maybe because I'm a lone cyclist and it's a novelty for them, but I just couldn't really see it happening as much back home. Within seconds of stopping in a town, village or city, men shout me over to join them. I get talking and suddenly 30 or 40 people are crowding around pointing at my bike and murmuring amongst themselves. I've learnt the basics now so can explain the important information they all want to know: where I'm from, where I'm going, how many days, how many kms, am I married, what's my job, and what football team I support. They ooo and ahhh with each response - it's pretty easy really. My favourite response of all is when I get a look to the skies and "mahsallah!". It's basically "sweet lord!" And is the equivalent to French men saying "ooh la la" and flapping their hands about in that over-dramatic manner that I love. I can't help but laugh every time.
However before I arrived in Turkey I'd been warned about two specific things: dogs and kids.
Firstly the dogs - and I think my experiences so far have been well-documented. But I must say that distant bark doesn't fill me full of chilling terror on the same way it used to. I have realised that it is just that. Bark and hopefully no bite. It may be due to the fact that I'm now tooled up. I've also got my spray to hand and I've got the procedure well drilled: hear bark, scan into distance in the direction from which it came, assess threat level, if it's a code red and the dog is giving chase, it's fight or flight mode - adrenalin pumping as hard as my legs. I grab my spray can, turn and if still on my wheel I let off a few aerosol volleys disarming the threat. I must look ridiculous, a bit like a hapless postman being pursued by an angry dog up a garden path. But the owners, usually shepherds, just stand and watch as their beasts from hell try and attack me. In England, you'd yell in your best middle-class, pompous voice "can you control your bloody dog?!", but here they don't seem to care. And thankfully less and less, nor do I.
Secondly, the kids. Not exactly a violent armed-militia but I'd heard many stories of cyclists having stones thrown at them and generally being abused. I haven't had an stones hurled yet but when I was struck hard on the shoulder from a pebble thrown out from under a lorry's wheel I did think I was under attack. I've had kids pretend to lob things at me but that's it. I must admit though that a lot of them are little shits. They'll grab your bike as you cycle past, yell stuff, and generally be a nuisance. If they're on bikes too then they'll try and race you, which is fine, but when there's 10 of them all hollering and wailing behind you, you do just want to give them a slap. Perhaps that is the answer. But in those situations I try and think about Forrest Gump being followed across America, and I ask myself "What would Forrest do?"...it tends to work and a tranquility descends.
So dogs and kids. Equally terrifying. But charming in their own special way.
And there we are...A few musings on my home for the last 6 weeks. I've cycled 1,800km across Turkey with only another 150 or so to go. It's been fun. Certainly memorable and I've cycled across some of the most beautiful landscapes I've ever seen, met amazing people and generally gotten stuck into the culture. Next up is Iran in a couple of days - I'm excited, ill have a new currency, new culture and new language to learn...and with less than 6 weeks until Christmas ill soon be in India. I'm looking forward to seeing friends and family in the New Year and that will keep me going. As I always said, you gotta just keep turning those pedals and you'll get there eventually!
Cheerio
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