Day 59
Sleeping location: THERE IS TO BE NO SLEEP
Distance (km today/total): 29 / 5454
Estimated climb (m today/total): 0 / 46100
Bike shops visited to procure box: 5
Day in three words: Bye bye Turkey
I didn’t sleep amazingly due to recurring dreams of falling off things, but waking up to that view again made things a lot better. I packed up pretty quickly and set off for Antalya. On the way back to the main road I realised that I had lost both the foot off my kickstand and one of my mini bike locks. Either of these could have been from the bus journey yesterday, the bumpy road to/from the canyon, or pushing Maggie through the bushes; both were annoying to lose but thankfully not essential. After a quick jaunt back down various dual carriageways I arrived in Antalya and began my search for a bike box*. This should have been easy as I had messaged a few bike shops and one had replied saying they had “the box you need”. But upon arrival, they didn’t have any boxes. Neither did the next two. The fourth had a box but it was battered and broken down, and looked way too small for Maggie. I was assured that this size was standard. Maggie is a big girl, both long and tall, so I decided to keep looking.
The next place was bonkers and brilliant. It was a scruffy old shop with loads of weird bike prototypes everywhere. There was a dog and a little girl wandering around freely. They were confident that it could be done but that my luggage would have to go in a separate box. I went with it as I got a good vibe from the place and figured they would be cool with me leaving everything there for several hours whilst I explored the town. About five people (some of whom appeared from who knows where) then set to work in a whirlwind of activity. All of their boxes were indeed too small so they fashioned some kind of cut and shut job from multiple boxes and tons of parcel tape. The whole thing was over in about 15 minutes and would probably have taken me a couple of hours on my own. It was worth the eventual cost (about £20) for the lack of stress and the memory of watching it take place.
With that job taken care of I went for an explore of Antalya (after one last Turkish breakfast and a liberal rinsing of the cafe’s wifi). It’s super touristy but also very beautiful. It sits on top of cliffs and across the bay are rows of huge mountains, blue in the afternoon sun. The old town is a maze of quiet streets, crumbling buildings and well-preserved historical stuff. I spent a few hours just wandering in random directions and seeing what was there. A few random things I enjoyed:
-The owners of a restaurant looking absolutely bemused at the delivery of an enormous fish
-A sign for “toilet fotocopy” which is probably better if not understood
-Walking past a cafe playing Superstition by Stevie Wonder, then hearing the twinkly bit from Riders on the Storm by the Doors, and realising that it was in fact the latter and that the two songs have almost identical bass lines
-Seeing a lizard take down a cockroach
-Watching the sun set behind the mountains on the other side of the bay
-A strange cat who would randomly rest its head on strangers, including me, but didn’t seem to enjoy actually being stroked and scratched the woman sat next to me when she petted too hard
There was time for one last bit of Turkish fun before I left. One of the guys at the shop was called Bilal and spoke a bit of English. He had mentioned something about a lift to the airport, and I figured I’d go with it as it would probably be an issue getting my two big boxes into a taxi. He called up his friend Erdam, who pulled up in a Lada estate that was probably older than me. The two boxes were hoisted onto the roof rack and secured with just two straps, then the three of us set off. The engine sounded like it had been lifted from a WW1 fighter plane and the two of them spent much of the journey laughing like crazy. The whole thing was utterly surreal but we made it without any issues, probably because the Lada struggled to get over about 50kph. Both of them seemed like really good guys and we had a nice goodbye in the airport drop off bay.
Checkin was all surprisingly ok and my two enormous boxes (one bike, one luggage) were accepted after a bit of umming and ahhing and $30 to cover the excess weight. I also managed to get through passport control despite not having had a visa for any of my time in Turkey**. The flight was at 1.20am and arrived at 3am, so I’ll end today’s entry in Turkey and start Jordan tomorrow. I will miss Turkey, I’ve had a wonderful time here and it’s pushed its way up my list of favourite countries. It’s got natural beauty in spades, lots of history, delicious food, and the people are amazingly friendly and hospitable, especially away from the tourist trail. Counterpoint: beer’s a bit crap.
*For the uninitiated: I am flying from Turkey to Jordan in order to avoid the strife in Syria. Airlines are inconsistent with regards to how a bike must be packaged for a flight, but generally it needs to be in something. A box (cardboard, that bikes are delivered to shops in) provides a bit of protection, and makes it less likely that the bike will be refused, so I decided to get hold of one of those.
**I came out in December and thought my visa was valid for a year, but it’s actually only six months, whoops.
Distance (km today/total): 29 / 5454
Estimated climb (m today/total): 0 / 46100
Bike shops visited to procure box: 5
Day in three words: Bye bye Turkey
I didn’t sleep amazingly due to recurring dreams of falling off things, but waking up to that view again made things a lot better. I packed up pretty quickly and set off for Antalya. On the way back to the main road I realised that I had lost both the foot off my kickstand and one of my mini bike locks. Either of these could have been from the bus journey yesterday, the bumpy road to/from the canyon, or pushing Maggie through the bushes; both were annoying to lose but thankfully not essential. After a quick jaunt back down various dual carriageways I arrived in Antalya and began my search for a bike box*. This should have been easy as I had messaged a few bike shops and one had replied saying they had “the box you need”. But upon arrival, they didn’t have any boxes. Neither did the next two. The fourth had a box but it was battered and broken down, and looked way too small for Maggie. I was assured that this size was standard. Maggie is a big girl, both long and tall, so I decided to keep looking.
The next place was bonkers and brilliant. It was a scruffy old shop with loads of weird bike prototypes everywhere. There was a dog and a little girl wandering around freely. They were confident that it could be done but that my luggage would have to go in a separate box. I went with it as I got a good vibe from the place and figured they would be cool with me leaving everything there for several hours whilst I explored the town. About five people (some of whom appeared from who knows where) then set to work in a whirlwind of activity. All of their boxes were indeed too small so they fashioned some kind of cut and shut job from multiple boxes and tons of parcel tape. The whole thing was over in about 15 minutes and would probably have taken me a couple of hours on my own. It was worth the eventual cost (about £20) for the lack of stress and the memory of watching it take place.
With that job taken care of I went for an explore of Antalya (after one last Turkish breakfast and a liberal rinsing of the cafe’s wifi). It’s super touristy but also very beautiful. It sits on top of cliffs and across the bay are rows of huge mountains, blue in the afternoon sun. The old town is a maze of quiet streets, crumbling buildings and well-preserved historical stuff. I spent a few hours just wandering in random directions and seeing what was there. A few random things I enjoyed:
-The owners of a restaurant looking absolutely bemused at the delivery of an enormous fish
-A sign for “toilet fotocopy” which is probably better if not understood
-Walking past a cafe playing Superstition by Stevie Wonder, then hearing the twinkly bit from Riders on the Storm by the Doors, and realising that it was in fact the latter and that the two songs have almost identical bass lines
-Seeing a lizard take down a cockroach
-Watching the sun set behind the mountains on the other side of the bay
-A strange cat who would randomly rest its head on strangers, including me, but didn’t seem to enjoy actually being stroked and scratched the woman sat next to me when she petted too hard
There was time for one last bit of Turkish fun before I left. One of the guys at the shop was called Bilal and spoke a bit of English. He had mentioned something about a lift to the airport, and I figured I’d go with it as it would probably be an issue getting my two big boxes into a taxi. He called up his friend Erdam, who pulled up in a Lada estate that was probably older than me. The two boxes were hoisted onto the roof rack and secured with just two straps, then the three of us set off. The engine sounded like it had been lifted from a WW1 fighter plane and the two of them spent much of the journey laughing like crazy. The whole thing was utterly surreal but we made it without any issues, probably because the Lada struggled to get over about 50kph. Both of them seemed like really good guys and we had a nice goodbye in the airport drop off bay.
Checkin was all surprisingly ok and my two enormous boxes (one bike, one luggage) were accepted after a bit of umming and ahhing and $30 to cover the excess weight. I also managed to get through passport control despite not having had a visa for any of my time in Turkey**. The flight was at 1.20am and arrived at 3am, so I’ll end today’s entry in Turkey and start Jordan tomorrow. I will miss Turkey, I’ve had a wonderful time here and it’s pushed its way up my list of favourite countries. It’s got natural beauty in spades, lots of history, delicious food, and the people are amazingly friendly and hospitable, especially away from the tourist trail. Counterpoint: beer’s a bit crap.
*For the uninitiated: I am flying from Turkey to Jordan in order to avoid the strife in Syria. Airlines are inconsistent with regards to how a bike must be packaged for a flight, but generally it needs to be in something. A box (cardboard, that bikes are delivered to shops in) provides a bit of protection, and makes it less likely that the bike will be refused, so I decided to get hold of one of those.
**I came out in December and thought my visa was valid for a year, but it’s actually only six months, whoops.
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