Istanbul is, without a doubt, the biggest city I have ever visted.
I rolled upto what appeared to be the outskirts of its core at about 2:30 pm, 'we are the champions' playing in my head and feeling a bit giddy about the fact that - yes, I had actually done it.
That was two thirty. The freeway rolled on, and on. Signs continued to point forward indicating Istanbul ahead. Then any mention of Istanbul disappeared, replaced by the names of unpronouncable burroughs - no helpful bullseye symbol and corresponding 'center' direction either. I'm there - I must be there. Five lanes of traffic in either direction, moving freeway speed. It starts to rain. I pull off into burrough after burrough, to ask "istanbul?" - I'm pointed further, further every time. It takes me a full TWO HOURS to work through these layers of high density residential and industrial rings of the city, before I find the exit I am looking for (by intuition or chance - I'd like to think intuition). This is my introduction to the city.
Over the next few days I explore. Istanbul is a city of thousands of mosques. Western Europe certainly has its masterpiece churches - Notre Damme, the Segrada Familia, The Duomo... Istanbul has about five or six masterpiece cathedrals (mosques, naturally) within its central core. Stick that in your pulpit and preach it! The blue mosque was, to me, the most impressive - alas, my camera crapped out on me the day I visited; I got two pictures I think.
I rode my bike up the European side of the Bosporous - the legendary waterway that has a choke hold on the Black Sea and saw its beautiful sea wall, billion dollar houses, and the rather impressive suspension bridges that twin the straight. I spent another afternoon touring the length of the massive wall that surrounds the old center of the city (the area that was Constantinople). In some areas it is marked out as a park. In others, the inside of the wall joins seamlessly with peoples homes. In yet others, it provides an open space for farmers who grow produce and sell it right there on the side of the road.
The Markets of Istanbul are noisy, bustling, and packed with anything you could ever want. We had the good fortune to be staying with some really cool couchsurfing hosts who directed us to one of the many REAL baazaars that serve istabul's actual population (this versus the tourist-oriented 'grand bazaar' and spice market located in the old city). We ferried over to Kadikoy to check out this tuesday and friday market where Turks buy their produce, cookware, clothing, scarves, and well, pretty much anything else.
More than the water pipes and backgammon, more than the busy streets and intense, adrenaline fueling traffic, more than the tasty and cheap food, or the living markets, more, even than the overpowering sense of history that this EurAsian city has built into its architecurally diverse and eyecatching structures however, one thing struck me the most. The Turkish people themselves.
I've met friendly people in many countries, and have been the object of (at times, quite irritating) curiosity in others (primarily albania) - but in no other country have these two traits combined in the way they did in istanbul. I was approached many times and in different environments - bars, on the ferry, parks, the street - by local folks who could see I was different and just wanted to talk to me. Nothing more. Generally they were very curious about me, my country, and what I was doing with the bike. Similarly, they were generally quite passionate about communicating their view of turkey to me as an outsider, as many Turks feel that they are being badly misrepresented by the media outside of their country. It was enlightening and incredibly refreshing to meet people like this - completely unafraid of the unknown.
My days in Istanbul were also marked by my chance encounter (they were staying at my CS host's as well) of a different pair of english bikers. These two - andy and tom - are cycling around the entire planet in for aproximately four years. Their attitude to the project really reflected a lot of things that I'd found important as well and we hit it off pretty much immediately. Just when I'd made peace with returning home, I found myself reinvigorated to travel on, and a little jealous when I would watch them start to plan their next leg. It was hell of hard to turn down an offer to ride on with them. I look forward to seeing you two when you make it over to this hemisphere, guys - what you are doing is truly incredible. To anyone who has found reading this blog interesting, I reccomend you visit Tom and Andy's website at http://www.ride-earth.org.uk/. They've even got a really good independent film company producing a video podcast for them with footage they've shot.
Alas, all good things truly do come to an end. I had some fun adventures in Istanbul traffic riding my bike box home from the bike shop where I got it (one hand on the box, one on the bars, shifting gears with my feet while dodging busses. Its the little things that make life worth living). I headed out to the airport by bike and then light rail, catching the last train of the night before spending the hours of midnight until three AM packing my bike in the box and reorganizing my panniers for the plane. 5:30 AM and I said goodbye to turkey and hello to the wierd timeless nowhere zone that is airtravel with layovers.
Then it was home - I got a little misty eyed when I looked out the window and saw the coast mountains. A little more when I saw how many friends had come out to meet me at the airport. We rode home and drank duty free whiskey before I popped in the house to spend some QT with the family. Then out for more celebratory drinking. My adventure was at an end.
Its bittersweet really. I love this place, and it will always be my root home. But there's a part of me that I left out there wandering the world with a bike and a map, and not much else. I know I will be doing this again, and maybe sooner than I think.
When I close my eyes I think of how I've slept in abandonned villages and army barracks, on top of a volcano and under several bridges, at the top of the pyrenees and in a hammock swinging from the deck of a boat on an island off spain.
I've climbed 1800 meter peaks fully loaded, drafted dump trucks through pitch black, unfinished freeway tunnels, portaged venice and survieved the arc de triomph, Albania , and Istanbul en velo. I've lived in a squat in Barcelona and Amsterdam, in a tent, and in a staggering variety of incredibly wonderful, friendly, and trusting peoples personal apartments.
I beat the mountains of Catalunya in July and road the vertical length and entire south coast of France.
I've had Baklava and Ouzo in Greece, pizza and gelato in italy (as well as pasta prepared by 'a real italian granny'), tried beer in belgium, tapas in spain, and the wealth of cheese france and turkey have on offer.
I've had so much sand on me that I literally clogged the drain when I finally found a shower.
And endless other experiences, some small and some life changing...
So - my voyage has reached its last chapter. But has this blog?
I dont think so. I've spent so long writing here that I've become accustomed to it. I intend to keep it open to write about things I find interesting and my continuing involvement with the Vancouver bike movement/culture/scene/community (its none of these things and all of them). Those of you from far and wide who've followed me along, I invite you keep visiting!
(and those of you I've met who's emails I havent answered yet - I'm getting to it! I've only just now begun to feel relaxed!)
