Getting around the Greek Islands wasn’t always as straight forward as it may have seemed. Certain islands have ferry connections only to certain other islands, and then the boats don’t necessarily run every day. Some islands have airports, but that doesn’t mean you can just catch a plane to another island with an airport. Often, to get where you want to go to, you will need to hop from one or two or even more other islands along the way. It’s annoying, a little more expensive than it possibly should be, and certainly inconvenient and boring when you’re now catching your 5th ferry in as many days. But that’s just the way it is, and the Greek islands are worth it. No wonder that everyone you ask, and everything you read on the Internet, states that the best way to plan your holiday to the Greek Islands is to use the services of a Greek travel agency. They are right – in Greece, travel agents still reign supreme. But if you thought getting around the Greek Islands was somewhat more annoying that you thought it should be, try getting across to Turkey. And where’s my welcome mat?
I had to cut my stay on Mykonos a day short in order to spend a night on Samos, where one of the very few ferry connections between Greece and Turkey exists. Due to the massive winds that have bombarded the coast over the past few days, the boat was delayed by a couple of hours and I didn’t get into the port of Vathi until around midnight. I opted not to bother finding accommodation, but did manage to book a ferry ticket for 8:30am the next morning, and then found a nice little sheltered space on a hill, to camp for a few hours. The ferry to Turkey was much smaller than any of the normal Greek island ferries, and my first impression was that’s a bit unusual for an international ferry. And with the wind not letting up, the one and a half hour trip was like a violent amusement park ride, with people on the verge of vomiting everywhere from the choppy swells that rocked the boat all over the place.
Still, we got there in one piece, and it was annoyingly amusing that I’d had to fork out 40€ for the ferry ticket, to cover a distance that one could probably swim if they really had to. On arrival, it was time to get the wallet out, because apparently our tickets hadn’t included ‘port tax’, an interesting little fee the Turks slug anybody who disembarks any boat that arrives from the island of Samos (and only Samos it would appear!). There goes another 10€. And then after lining up at the passport desk, I was told that I wasn’t allowed into the country because I had no visa. Just as my heart starts to skip a beat (how did I miss that little vital bit of information!?) I was pointed to another desk a few metres away. A lady would happily relieve me of another 15€ to purchased said visa. Funnily enough, the company that sold everybody our overpriced ferry tickets had failed to mention any of these additional charges, and it was just dumb luck that nearly everybody on board had actually brought enough euro currency with them. I had actually aimed to spend all my euros before leaving Greece, in order to just withdraw Turkish Lira from an ATM. Luckily I saved some. Anyhow, it was the last ferry I would have to take if I played my cards right. Back on the mainland, I could in theory cycle all the way to Egypt now, or at least I wouldn’t have to necessarily cross another major body of water. I was out of the European Union, and I’d have to get used to the little fees and games that various nations play, now that I’m out of the Schengen border-free area. A pity that I’d just been forced to spend the equivalent of two days budget just to get out of bloody, windy Greece!
Anyway, I finally emerged from customs into the bustling port of Kusadasi, to find a Burger King staring me in the face. Moving right along, I was then accosted by a man who wailed his desire to sell me an ice-cream, with all the passion like it was some kind of fundraising appeal for sick kids and that I’d have to buy it or I’d feel like a miserable shit. Sorry mate, just gave all my euros to the bloke inside. I wandered a bit into the city to find the centre of town, in search of a currency exchange, where I found that I still had enough various currencies left to exchange for around two days living in Turkey, no thanks to the port authorities. Kusadasi’s central bazaar is an extraordinarily colourful and bustling market area where everyone wants you to purchase a carpet rug or to have a drink with you, no doubt at a place owned by their uncle or such. It was all in good humour, and you could make friendly conversation with the shop owners without feeling too obliged to purchase anything, though I can imagine for those people not so strong willed, that walking through here would be a nightmare of intimidation. I reckoned I was above that, and besides, I was bringing attention to myself by rolling a fully loaded bicycle through the thin market lanes. It’s not a sight that these people see every day, and with a big AUS sticker on the front and back, it’s a dead giveaway that I’m either coming from or going to Australia. You have to humour people’s inquisitiveness to a certain extent. And when you’re sick of it, that’s what sunglasses are for, along with the forced scowl of somebody that’s on a bit of a mission and doesn’t want to be bothered.
Still, I was enjoying Turkey, and though I didn’t stay too long in Kusadasi, I was very much looking forward to checking out similar and no doubt bigger bazaars in Istanbul. Kusadasi was very touristy, and I was right in my assumptions that as cheap as things were, they would be cheaper if I cycled out of town and headed away from the international port. Plus, in Istanbul, I’d be able to leave my bike in a secure hotel and wander the streets with no baggage, and that would be a much better opportunity to explore the sights and sounds of a Turkish bazaar.
I was a day ahead of schedule, and figured I’d still try to make it towards Izmir. I’d cycled about 25km when I went past a place called Ephesus, a famous Turkish amphitheatre ruin. I wasn’t particularly interested in seeing it, as I was ‘ruined’ out after all the ancient sights of Italy and Greece. But then I fell for the same trap that I’d previously noted, and dumbly stopped at the side of the road next to the Ephesus entrance when waved over by an excited looking local guy. It took me about five seconds to realise that he wanted nothing more than to have me as his guest at his guest house just a few km’s down the road in the next town. It took me another two seconds to make a mental note never to let myself be stopped unless I was actually looking for something, such as a room or a tour guide or a restaurant. These people are very good at their game and they know how to suck you in. I mean, it’s easy enough for me to say no to a carpet. Unless it flies I have no use for it. What am I gonna do, sling it over the back of my bike? But this fellah gave me a deal that would have been pretty tempting had I not just blown the daily budget at the port, yet even still, before I knew it I was cycling behind his car into town. What the hell, I was going to stop there for water and lunch anyway, and being a day ahead of schedule, I might as well check out his ‘palace’ and see if it’s any good.
Falco’s ‘Palace’ guest house wasn’t exactly a palace, and I was the only guest. We chatted about the fact that the season was now over for another year, and that was precursor to him offering another room to the one he first showed me, half the price, and with no brekkie included, but for the price (about 10€) I figured it might actually do me some good to sleep in a bed for a change. This was especially true since I’d roughed it on a patch of dirt the previous night in Samos – probably not good preparation for cycling 100km. He also had free wifi Internet, which I hadn’t seen for over a week, so that was the clincher, and I figured there was no harm in bunking down for the night. The guest house is actually located right at the bottom of some massive castle on top of a hill overlooking the town of Selçuk. And this was not a touristy town at all. Seeing the real Turkey was much more enticing to me today than battling through a bazaar with Bessie in tow, and I spent a couple of hours wandering around, familiarising myself with Turkish people, the ‘vibe’ of the country, how far my currency would go and just soaking up the atmosphere. Turns out my currency will go far. I identified the shops that would sell my staple diet for the next couple of weeks. Turkish Burek (this is where the lovely pastry delight was invented), Pide (Turkish pizza) and of course, Turkish kebabs. The kebabs were high on the list of priority to sample, but due to my recent yeeros overload in Greece (I had five of them just yesterday!) I thought I might try the pide. And for the equivalent of 2.50€ I was well and truly satisfied for lunch, with a free salad thrown in. Looking at prices for kebabs, they are half the price of Greece, setting me back two Turkish Lira, which equals about 1€. That’s gold.
Back at Chez Falco, I was offered a small cup of tea, which I’d seen plenty of the locals drinking as they sat at their tables in every street, playing some kind of domino-like game, or chess, or such. Turns out that tea is basically the Turkish national drink, to be had without milk and with a cube of sugar held underneath your tongue. I’m not a regular tea drinker and I had the whole cube with my tea, but apparently some Turks will be able to drink up to 25 cups with the same sugar cube! The apple flavoured tea was quite delicious, and I’ll be sampling plenty more of them along the way I’m sure, especially given that it’s an engrained local custom and every time you sit down, basically you are likely to be offered a small, clear glass of the hot brew.
After a quick afternoon siesta, I awoke to find bits of rubble covering me from the ceiling of my bedroom. I checked to see if there had been an earthquake or something, and was pleased that there hadn’t been, because the whole room would probably have caved in and buried me under the rubble. Then I had to figure out the Turkish reasoning for having a shower tap and hose on the wall next to the toilet, but no actual ‘shower’. So I ended up just turning it on and saturating the entire small bathroom in the process of cleaning myself. Then I figured it would be a good time to wash a couple of clothes and then jump on the Internet.
First things first – I had been a bit slack on learning the lingo of the countries I’d been visiting, however given that I would be in Turkey for at least two weeks, I figured I should learn a few Turkish phrases. I managed to order one of the local Efes beers from the lady of the house, who didn’t speak English, then sat down to load up a website with a few Turkish phrases and words to learn. The first glaring obstacle I would have to overcome was immediately obvious when I looked up how to count from one to ten. The Turkish pronounciation for numeral one (1) is ‘beer’. You’ve got to be kidding, I thought. At least that explained the conversation I’d just had, when I asked for a ‘beer, pivo’. I thought I was just reiterating the word for beer, but actually I had successfully asked the lady for ‘one beer’ in Turkish. If I say in English, “can I have one beer” it’s just as likely somebody could think I was asking in broken English/Turkish for “one one”. One what? But that doesn’t get any better, because the Turkish translation for two is pronounced ‘Icky’. Now this could either be very easy, or very confusing, especially when I would need to be in a situation when I had to order more than one beer. Such as when Hannah arrives in Istanbul and I need to then tell the waiter “icky beer”. What, you don’t like your beer? I guess I’ll just have to stick to ordering a minimum of three at a time to save possibly confusion.
Anyway, now that I’ve settled down at Falco’s presidential palace for the night, thigs are going a bit better. A few more guests have rocked up. After he sorted me out, Falco went back to the same place outside the Ephesus gate and picked up a gourp of 7 motorcycle tourists from the Czech Republic. They seem to be enjoying themselves and over dinner have downed several beers and also purchased themselves a water pipe to smoke some Turkish tobacco. I’m sitting here with Falco, his brother, his brother’s mate Hassain and some Japanese fellow called Akira. There’s a bottle of Raki going around, and Falco’s telling us some interesting stories about the history of Greek homosexuality. Go figure? Also turns out the blokes a millionaire from his leather business, so it took me a while to figure out why he enjoyed spending all day sitting by the side of a dusty road haggling with tourists, especially when he didn’t need the money. But it was what he enjoyed doing, he lives the good, easy life and loves to kick back at the guesthouse at night smoking and drinking his raki. Well, I suppose there are worse ways to live, and he does seem like a pretty nice fellow after all.
None-the-less, after my little unscheduled segway on the outskirts of Ephesus, I’ll definitely be hitting the road like a demon tomorrow and heading further north as I make my way towards Gallipoli and Istanbul over the next week! I’ll just have to make sure I keep my wallet close to my hip pocket!
