In fact, these are all probably quite true, determinable from the inescapable need to address our truancy, alone, but that last week, in the sentimental expression of  “oh man” accompanied with eyes looking to the floor and a drop of the chest in a warm sigh,  “that was good”, was really, really good!

To say we were lucky is an understatement; we were downright blessed. In fact, that statement really ought to be spread across the whole of our social experiences of Turkey in the last 35 days of our journey, and the whole of our past three and a half months in general, with obvious standouts. But we reserve that sentence now for the last week, for that is the subject of this post, not a total recall or sentimental recollection of our favorites of the journey as a whole, written so as to find some closure. No, this is just about the last week, which one could argue, does the job on its own.

We arrived to Istanbul a day earlier than expected, and were having some difficulty connecting via telephone with our contact there. We arrived on a ferry just after dusk and decided to grab a hotel room in Sultanahmet, to recoup and attack Istanbul city streets to find Celal (in the Turkish language ‘C’s are pronounced as ‘J’s) the next day. We got a fresh start in the morning, leaving part of our luggage at the hotel we were to check into in four days time.

Riding around Istanbul was a trip and our map only covered, in detail, the center of the city 20 million people. We were in search of Bagicilar neighborhood and kept an eye on our compass to keep us heading generally in the right direction through the labyrinth, until a man on a messenger’s scooter asked us where we were headed – in Turkish, of course – and no sooner had we said, he was off with a wave of his hand indicating his hire as our fearless leader through the muck of round-a-bouts and underpasses and streets nary have seen a tourist. He led us almost nearly all the way to the center of Bagicilar, often blocking traffic to get us through roundabouts safely. It took us maybe an hour and a half to navigate the 20 km to Bagicilar (bah-je-lar) that would have otherwise taken us three on our own.

We got to the Mosque where we had planned to meet Celal and were immediately surrounded by a large group of curious men, intrigued by our bicycles, and amazed there were tourists in their neighborhood. We tried to answer their questions as we waited for Celal and were really excited to find ourselves outside of the tourist center, laden with prodding vendors touting the best of Istanbul in their respective restaurant.

We were to stay in Celal’s uncle’s home, and we didn’t really know what to expect, at all and what we got was far beyond our expectations…..way beyond.  We are enamored with the Aslan family.

There wasn’t a single person in the whole neighborhood that didn’t seem to be one of Celal’s uncles, or aunts, or cousins, and one by one, they came to the apartment to meet us. We were showered with incredible food on the low table in the living room, smoked nargile and worked navigate our language barriers. Luckily we had Celal, a Rotary International exchange student in Woodstock, IL the year prior (hence our roundabout way of getting into contact) to help translate.

We stayed with the family for four or five days until we had to check into a hotel we had arranged, in order to have an address to ship our bike boxes, prior to our departure from the states. It was hard to explain to the family why we were going to stay in a hotel and not finish out our stay in their home, because we couldn’t really explain it to ourselves. We felt a bit empty and insincere when we first sat in our hotel room alone. It didn’t feel right, but we needed to do it. We had work to do, those bikes weren’t going to disassemble and pack themselves and there wasn’t really anyway to sort out our final tasks in the Aslan’s home. Not because it was small or anything had any derogatory characteristics, no we say this because of their overwhelming hospitality, and our incessant curiosity produced an environment that would drive one to tell oneself, on a reoccurring basis, ‘Oh that important task can wait until a little later’.

Of course we saw the sites, feel head over heels with Islamic tiles, found the best bowl of lentil soup, bartered at the Grand Bazaar and strolled as tourists in Taksim. But our Istanbul is in Bagiclar.  We went to the Aslan’s for one last dinner the night before our early morning departure, (this time without, Celal’s translation service as he had to go back to school) and left with open invitations to visit their family in the east of Turkey, and plan to do so on the second leg of our cycling Journey, aka, our Honeymoon!

Our Motor Scooter Guide through the twisting, turning, round-a-bout, filled street of Greater Istanbul! Our morning Hero!

Our first Dinner with the Aslans

Smoking Nargile, Eating Walnuts with Raisins and learning Turkish until the wee hours of the night

Bendirhan (Father), Canan (Daughter), and Sebiha (Mother)

Celal, Our Hero!

Shopping at the Local bazaar in Bagcilar

Chad give Celal a haircut, Sultan Style, at the Grand Bazaar

Chad with The Queens of Bagcilar

Attending a Kurdish Wedding with the Aslans

We tried our best to stay in step as we danced the traditional Kurdish style. It was suprisingly difficult, but extraordinary to watch.

Jowita with the Bride and bridal party

Ilhan's baked his first cake with the support of only a few women in the kitchen!

The Second day of the Kurdish Wedding. The bride and Groom are both around 17 years old!

Last night in Istanbul with the Aslan Family

Night time sight seeing with Celal and Ilhan

The Spice Bazaar

Getting schooled in Backgammon, the most popular game in Turkey, by Celal and Emrah

Time for Nargile with Celal, Emrah, and Burcu

Jowita tries her hand at carpet weaving. We were told, this carpet, which will measure about one and a half meters long, while take two years to complete.

Jowita in the inner courtyard of the Blue Mosque

the tiles Interior of Blue Mosque

Elephant columns of the Blue Mosque

Morning on the Terrace of the Hanedan Hotel overlooking the Sea of Marmara

Chad making a drawing of the Aya Sophia

Interior domes of one of the many buildings of the Topkapi Palace

We love Ottoman Tiles! Those Sultans had some serious sense of style

Jowita with Tiled Backdrop

Jowita with Sea of Marmara backdrop

Large vessel heading towards the Bosphorous River towards the Black Sea

Night on the side streets of the Taksim neighborhood

Vessels large and small at Sunrise over the Sea of Marmara

Aya Sophia and the collision of faiths

Interior Aya Sophia

Ancient Mosaic of Christ in Aya Sophia

Jowita at the Old Book Bazaar

The Grand Bazaar

It is hard to think what Bursa would have meant to us if we hadn’t met Ahmet, and Anne. The treat of staying at the Hotel Gunes is the chance occurrence (very strong chance at that) with Ahmet in the hotel lobby. By using the word Hotel, we hope you are not conjuring images of the holiday inn. Hotel Gunes is a very small place set inside a renovated Ottoman House in a bustling little market area. The lobby is often dimly lit with the older couple that owns the joint sitting on the couch staring at the ironic television. They do not speak much English beyond the most basic of phrases, but after being highlighted as Lonely Planets top pick for budget hotel in Bursa, receive probably the highest number of independent travelers and backpackers, of all hotels in Bursa. Ahmet, being a man of curiosity with an aptitude for conversation in all things related to “living” (as in living life to it fullest, blah blah) with his deep seeded love for his city Bursa, has taken full advantage of Hotel Gunes’s, Lonely Planet stature. He is quick to claim Bursa as simply “the best city anywhere,” and with Ahmet as a guide and an Irish Anne to keep the attraction of his eye; he is pretty close to being accurate.

Upon our first encounter with Ahmet, we immediately had a two-day itinerary hand written into our notebook. We had only planned for one whole day there, but we were open to change, as always, and, of course, that change quickly came with mention of “Hamam” (also known as Turkish Bath).

We got to work on the Itinerary on our own with plans to meet with Ahmet later that evening t a tea house to listen to traditional music. We shopped in the wonderful bazaar, visited a shadow puppet master’s shop, visited some wonderful Ottoman sites, including the Green Mosque Tomb, full of amazing tile work. We then returned to the hotel to drop of a few things before heading out for a bite to eat.

Then came Anne. Oh Anne. The 66, going on 26, year old German-Irish wonder. Anne. What a treat. Jowita will surely never forget her first visit to a Hamam if it weren’t for Anne.

Ahmet was a wonderful guide and conversationalist. Our experience of Bursa, with the aid of his expertise, and the chance meeting with Anne, is way up at the top of the list, (not that we keep one). We give many thanks to Ahmet, and hope to see him again in round 2.

Shadow Puppet master of Bursa ın hıs Karagoz shop

Tomb at Green Mosque

Whırlıng Dervishes ın Bursa

Guıtars ın process durıng a vısıt to the workshop of Bursa guıtar master

Vısıt to a mountaın vıllage known for ıts Ottoman homes

Chad and our Fırends Ahmet from Bursa and Anne from Ireland

Anne and Jowıta ınsıde restored Ottoman Hamam

Turkish Tea House where we sat and listened to muscians come together after work to play music

We felt very comfortable in next to the beach cafe in Pamulcak with our new friend Idel, but we were running very low on clean clothes (had none) and clean bodies (didn’t exist). A while back we had been thinking it would be nice to find a farmstay sort of place where you can work and stay in an agricultural environment for relatively cheap. Tobias had told us about a farm on the Dilek Penninsula in Turkey he was thinking about working at for some time. We like the idea and the location and thought we take a look. Of course, some simple research on the internet turned up that you have to endure a whole bunch of procedural BS we didn’t have time for. Instead, we decided we will just drop in and see what happens. Besides, it was surely going to be a small family run farm that could always use a couple extra pairs of hands right? Oh how wrong we were!! This was no small family farm, oh no! It was a serious, big business and our request to speak to Julide, the chief, was recieved with a look of shock! “You want to speak to the Chief??” Oh yes, this was akward.

We were excited to find they had no accomodation available, and we quickly hit high tail to the road. We went for plan B, the Ecer Pension near the national park in Güzelcamli. The moment we walked through the gate, the garden greated us with warmth. THe owner, Necip (Knee-jip), walked with us to the fishmers coop to pick out fish for the night. We bought a barracuda and fed like kings. The next night Necip made us lamb, we were hooked. Suddenly we found ourselves here for five nights and just when we were about to leave, Necip made us an offer we couldn’t refuse — work in the garden every other day, pay half price. We walked to the soccer game, came home, and accepted his offer. At this point we were hooked on drawing at the harbor and the food the three of us had been preparing every night. We had always planned on taking some time somewhere, and this is what we were looking for.

It took us a while to realize it, but we are now on vacation, hence the total lack of email checking, status updates, and until now, blog updates. The downside of being away from the internet is however, our missed opportunity to see Tobias again. He passed within 15km of us, and because we hadn#t checked all of our email accounts in a week and a half, we missed his message. THis bums us out, but such is life. Sorry Tobias, we screwed up. We miss you.

On Tuesday morning we will resume riding, now in the direction of Istanbul and the end of our journey. This is not going to be easy especially after two weeks of “vacation”. It is not the riding that is going to be difficult, of course, but knowing that we are headed to the close of this journey. We are excited to see our families, no doubt, but we feel as though we are just breaking the surface here and how easy it would be to just continue eastward. Oh how we want to go east, to taste and smell, to see and meet, to hear and be heard, to live and learn. but we head towards Istanbul, and it will be good.

It is easy to believe that we would sleep in after riding our bicycles into the Tirana Chaos, but we didn’t, or at least we didn’t to lazy rest day standards, maybe. The morning was very peaceful, waking behind a secure wall of paid hospitality; a kitchen already prepared, no need to set up the stove, no rationing of water, internet access at the drop of a coin, real chairs, sunshine, like-minded, sleepy eyed, early rising travel bums, talkative, gesturful, non-english speaking cleaning woman, coffee and no need to pack the bicycles. These comforts made us feel right at home in Tirana. The Tirana Backpacker Hostel is a great, unexpected, slice of comfort, 7 weeks into our journey.

Once we finally walked out of the gate of the Hostel with Tobias, we headed for the gypsy market near the train station to gather up our supplies for the evenings fish dinner we had been looking forward to. Call it blasphemous, perhaps, but for two weeks along the Adriatic coast we had not eaten a single fish or seafood dinner.

[Digression #1 “Food”] This is not say we have not been eating well or eating local for that matter, no, we have been eating like champions most nights and mornings; eating produce from local markets and fruits straight from the trees. Our lunch can often run a little on the boring, yet much appreciated, side; bread and butter with some cheese and hopefully, some tomato followed by bread and butter with honey. Our most common starting point for our dinner creations is potatoes, lots of garlic, onions, and mediteranean Vegeta, spice mix. From there we add tomoatoes, lentils, cheese, carrots, maybe some sausage. We have made Barszcz with fresh beets on several occasions, We have made some pretty amazing soups, including one soup that used butter and garlic as base, chopped onions, cheese, and chunkcs of an Albanian style corn bread. It reminded us the Czech style Garlic soup crossed with a French onion soup. (We will surely be making this once we return home.) We make some pretty great pasta dishes, and desserts are always a welcome treat.

[Digression #2: “Sweet Food”] Yes we have divulged into sweet eaten freaks. For some reason, actually one very specific reason, and a couple less specific, we have made cookies a very consistent and necessary food group in our diet. We eat cookies like the C-Monster himself. Our favorite are from the Italian company, Barilla. Most people know them for there pasta noodles but their cookies, rock! They have one type GranCereale and another Pan Di Stelle. GranCereale are more nutriscious granola like cookies with a few different varieties, and the Pan Di Stelle are hard brownie like goodness! We started in, probably, Austria or Slovenia, by just buying only one package of cookies at the store per visit and at somepoint in Albania, where the roadside markets outside of Tirana, literally, only stock cookies, chips, booze, and soda, we would buy two packages of a brand we weren’t familiar with, then bike up the road to the next market to see if they had our favorite brand and then buy two packages of those. Without a good stock of cookies, we feel poor and on the verge of starvation. We have always been very fond of honey and jam. Now it finds its way into almost every meal. It took Chad a very long time, back in Chicago, to grow comfortable with the idea of eating warm pudding, as Jowita has always been obsessed with. This trip has made Chad a firm fan of the warm Pudding. Add some dates, Add some rice, Add nothing, It is our special treat that finds its way into our bellies once every two weeks or so. In Tirana, in the outdoor kitchen at the Hostel, we made everyone’s eyebrows perk when we sat at the table with our steaming cups of pudding. When we made too much rice for our fish dinner, we dumped it into warm chocolate pudding with chunks of apples for breakfast. Oh we make ourselves crave it just writing about it…..Back to subject.

Once we had arrived into the Balkans, we had arrived into the land of the Bazzar and this should continue all the way to Istanbul. The Gypsy market was really fun, but eventually some fruit sellers tried to rip us off on some lemons, and we didn’t go for it, not making them any too happy. We did eventually find an honest man for our lemons.

Tirana Chaos

The gypsy Market Tirana

Getting ready to barter at the Gypsy Market

Our lemon man at the Gypsy Market in Tirana

Dogs everywhere! Even on the Roof!!

One full day of rest in a city is not enough, especially when you are trying to maintain a blog. We had been planning to part ways with Tobias either at Tirana or shortly thereafter. Tobias wanted to leave after only two nights in Tirana but we had convinced him to spend one more night so that we could ride out of the city the next day together and part ways at a fork in the road rather than at a Hostel. He agreed and we celebrated by going out to a concert with a group of travel bums from the Hostel.

Chad tried to get his wheel trued in Dubrovnik. He carried the dirty wheel around the city in search of the tourist information and then in search of a phantom motrcycle repair shop. Apparently, no one rides a bike here and those who do never break down.

It rained a bit more but was much warmer. We explored the old city a bit, but were a little overwhelmed by the number of tourists pouring off the Carnival Cruise ship sitting like a floating city in the bay.

Steps of Dubrovnik

Old Town Dubrovnik

There are many great things about Couchsurfing, besides meeting some really great people, you get to have an experience with knowledge you can’t find in a travel book. Yeah, we visited the castle in Predjama along with the bus of American and then German tourists, but we also walked into a giant cave led by a local geologist who was taking samples of the water from the three rivers that ran through it. Our bicycles could not have taken us there, a bus could not have taken us there, only a Sara and Gandalf could take you there.

Chad, Tobias, sara, and Gandalf at Predjama Castle

Aqueduct runninfg out of the cave

Mist hovering above the river at cave mouth

Natural Bridge

The low river left furry rocks

Mouth of another cave

New friends, old cave