Sedita 2

and we come to the last part of the Turkish silk road and my way out of Turkey.
From our crossing the Van Lake, the road has transported us more and more back in time, with its impressive christian monasteries, regional castles and caravan rest stops along the silk road... with the Ararat mountain overlooking every step, we say our goodbyes......







Akdamar monastery. A last post of resistance from the christians (armenians) before Islam came to these lands....

up and down the road winds, on the ups, we feel as if looking straight into Ararat; when coming down it's only the tip we get to see as we hang on to our hat not to drop it: 80kph winds help a bit too much on the descend.....

great people I get to meet, and even play photographer for some of their outings :)

Mardin

and it's true stones have become poems here...
encaramada en la cima de una montaña y con sus paredes de barro, inconspicuas casi, uno ni diría algo así puede tan siquiera existir, pero acércate, y veras los portales, pórticos, arcos, façadas, barandas, cúpulas.. tal vez lo más bello es que se puede volver uno con la montaña....

una sinfonía de arte, y una sinfonía mezclada. Una ciudad donde las torres minarets de las mezquitas y las torres campanarias de las iglesias se alzan por igual al cielo, cada una con su estilo, cada una con su fervor. Muchas mil civilizaciones pasaron por aquí, y lo hermoso fue que cada una dejó su huella
y lo más bello fue que la siguiente civilización no destruyó lo anterior. Grande el cocinero que se da cuenta que cada ingrediente le añade sabor a la sopa, ¿no? :)
me recuerda todo un poco a Noto, aquella poesía en Sicilia , o será que Noto me recuerdaba a Mardin?

Adyaman

to all the ones I got to meet here:
Tessekur ederim!!!

Nemrut

and like all these adventures, this one too starts totally umprepared: a late wake up, an oviparous breakfast (eggs and sucuk, thank you Kurdish hospitality), morning spent lolligaging around the area... and in this perusing ever winding road, a fork comes up, and with it, a man with a piece of advise: "this way is 40km to Nemrut, this other 20, but it's a little uphill..."
I chose the short ride.
(unknowingly)I chose the difficult ride.
I chose the beautiful ride.

2 hours later I was but half way up. Hunger and heat play an  important role on every ride, but on this one more than ever before... the entrance to Nemrut moutain lies on the edge of the Adyaman district, at least from the road I came in. I had spent 6 days already in Adyaman seeing beautiful sights but more than that, meeting great people. People that from the very beginning showered me with smiles and stories...

...so maybe I am wrong in saying I wasnt prepared for the ride, my mind was full of nice memories, my heart was full of joy and my bags exploding of parting gifts: tomatoes, onions, peppers, almonds, pistachios, bread, grape bread, nar, cookies...
This time was a great chance to put it all to good use. A small picnic, an even smaller nap and up we go. Up the other half of the mountain... Great views going up with the peak getting closer everytime, closer and closer but not quite.

What was to come was totally unexpected end: a road that went round the mountain to take us to the beginning of the next one, and from there, just there, Nemrut.
Knees and legs were weak, heavy as lead even. I'm sure it was the memories and the joy of the people met from Adyaman that carried me the rest of the way....
up up up


And from the top, the rewards dont make themselves be waited for: the view and more freat people that care enough to share their stories:
An older couple buys me a coke. He was a biker. She was a hitchiker. He gave her a lift 50 years ago, now they travel together in a caravan.
A villager coming for the 5th time to Nemrut. why? to show it to his new born grandchild.
Colombians on honeymoon and Japanese on holidays....

The view is magnificent. With the whole of Adyaman region below you is no wonder everyone comes here for the sunset/sunrise... camping there, I even got to enjoyed the night....

7hr going up, 1 hour going down. Then 2 more to reach the city limits, then a ferry across the Euphrates.
Joy....

capitulo dos

Chapter Two.
Because it does feel that way...
Behind are the rides next to the sea, behind are rides crossing valleys, and those endless up and down the mountains. It feels like i went up a mountain a few days ago and have stayed there since. The embrace of this mountain - embrace, warmth and kindness - have taken me to the highlands, a huge plateau broken at times by rivers and gorges.....
Another way of looking at this is to say I've gone from Tantuni, Adana Kebap, Kunefe and Bici Bici to Baklava, Katmer, Urfa Kebap and Cig Kofte ... different ways of saying the same thing ;)

The "choice of one road" while riding, the one road choice going West to East has broken into many choices, many of little roads, much like a vein going across the body: from a big one, a smaller one to another smaller one to then 10thousand of mini ones.
And that way, from small to smaller, I ride from village to village.
Waving at each smile, marvelled at the sight of fruit and the sound of birds.

I can ride no more than an hour before someone stops me to invite me for tea :)  and then puts a bag of pistachos in my pockets :D

and the roads goes along crops as it turns and whirls....
reds and whites and greens and yellows... all together for a symphony of food...

and I ride high into a mountain... and stay there when the lights go out....

to then come down and find a beautiful jewel of a city






and riding into a city is now almost a historical experience. The doors of Mesopotamia in front of me, crossing the Euphrates by boat and then plunging in it as they did 5000 years ago....
Just like 5000 years ago, I'm also looking for something to trade. Even if a smile or a story.
Or a pair of shoes :)






In the cities, the streets are narrow. Small hills make getting lost an exciting experience. Lime colours reflecting the sunlight, small drains that carry rain water that hasnt come in months...


while other cities are sand everywhere, sand dunes covering the first university in the world....


 Mosques semisubmergeed in water, cities almost forgotten by time, sunrises with not one around to see them, and even wildlife trying to cross the roads...

The (new) experience continues....

comida 1

which peruvian, proud to be called so, can disassociate names of cities with the names of their traditional dishes?
How could one hear Arequipa without inmediately thinking of a nice rocoto relleno or a cuy chactao? or if passing by Tumbes, not yearn for a taste of conchas negras? o la rica selva con su tacacho y su cecina mmmmm
desde ya, se me hace agua la boca
....
.....
Turkey, this beautiful land I have the pleasure to be travelling through at the moment, is no different.
Different areas mean different exquisite dishes.
And being the good Turk I pride myself in being, I've made it my mission to try and sample them all :)
I find myself in Mersin today and Mersin is known for its Tantuni, but fate, being the jokester she is, will have me spending my afternoons around a different type of dish. A tad sweeter.




Fate dropped me off in an ice cream shop one afternoon and then, she turned around and left.
Mustafa picked me up from there...
He sat me down, gave me a piece of baclava, then some icream and then the conversation started. A person that loves his job is so difficult to find but, when found, it is so refreshing to talk to.
It was a pleasure almost as big as the pleasure of eating his ice cream... To tour his shop, to hear him talk about ingredients, and fruits, and freshness, and and and and ... just to watch him talk drew a smile on my face...

and made me go back later.
and then the following day :)

I wouldn't have guessed this area was so sweet ..... bici bici? Karsanbac? anyone?

matricidio dos

After a long ride, the plan is to find a good place to sleep and start again early the following morning...
but if you want to make Bhagawan laugh, tell him your plans....

 19:30 and the sun start setting. A beach a few kilometers off the road seems like the ideal place to set camp: a long sandy beach, a grassy area right next to the sand with some benches and even gazebos around it. Truly ideal.... ideal for a wedding as well...

Sound precedes sight: tires screeching and loud horn noises let us know the couple is coming...
then sight: a long procession of cars with headlights flashing come towards us, and then, from the front vehicle, a big as ever white dress steps out...
and sound again: claps, cheers and screams complete the scene: the couple has arrived! and with everybody here we can all run (or not) to our places:
me, an observer and not a guest tonight, sit right accross from them. To my left, a sea that starts getting darker, to my right an (almost) full moon that has started peaking in. Them too, sea and moon, enjoy the view as observers...
Bride and groom move to the centre of a circle made by chairs, close family and friends walking around them, throwing petals and papers, photographers encircling every time closer with flash after flash. In a bigger circle, outside that one made by the chairs, children run...


Change of music, change of scene.
The couple sits down and young men step in to dance to their choreographic moves. Someone brings fruit to the couple, children break into two, the ones running around the ones crowding the ice cream lady....

New song, new scene. It's the ladies turn now to move into the dance floor. All of them at once, old and young, with the old ones barely moving and the little ones bouncing in place. The young men congratulate the couple. All the children crowd now the ice cream lady.
Some older men, seeing their chance, inconspicously move to a place out of the circle, and almost in darkness ,they chat.
The couple dances now and will keep on doing it till they can no more...
2 am now. Journalist duties completed, I make way for my tent.
Bhagawan keeps on laughing

I dont pedal today

hoy descanso....

y hoy camino....