Stillness and Realisation

I arrived in Yerevan last Wednesday. I have been staying with some wonderful new friends who work at the French Embassy here. From the first village after crossing the border into Armenia from Georgia, Tom and I decided to cycle alone to Yerevan.

Tbilisi Beneath the Ice

When Sylvester, the Polish cyclist we met on Christmas Day in Batumi, was explaining that conditions were difficult here for local people in Georgia, coping with the cold midwinter, I remember thinking, surely it's not as difficult as cycling round the world? What a weird comparison and abstract concept. People in places with extreme weather conditions, are obviously tough, live and learn to deal with it. Cycling round the world means something different to any person who cares to think of the concept. These 4 words represent, for someone who has already cycled round the world (or travelled a long distance by bike), a body of memories, a once experienced truth of a moment, part of a process. Memories, skewed and evolved over time, the mind puts it's own spin on things, censoring some things, making it's own story which makes some kind of sense, or is maybe useful to life.

Dancing in the Dark

The other day I was cycling towards Trabzon.  We went through a number of dark, ominous looking tunnels through the hills. I'm cycling along, and then there it is, another black hole. My blood pressure rises, the hard shoulder thins and squeezes me off onto the road, to share it with the multi-tonne trucks flying past, spraying me with muddy water. I check over my shoulder, ah, a gap, hopefully I will make it through, before being chased by the next vehicle.  Each vehicle sounds exponentially louder, like a plane taking off.  I pedal like fury through the tunnel. This is repeated a number of times, then we are about to go into a particularly long 3 km tunnel and an orange van with flashing lights pulls up behind us before we take the plunge.  The guy leans out the window, I assume they want to tell us we're not allowed to cycle through the tunnels.  I feign ignorance or deafness and pedal into the tunnel at full pelt helped by a downhill.  After a couple of minutes of pedalling, I slow down and Tom catches up followed by the van shouting 'we have an escort'.  I suddening feel silly for my pre-conception and a little more important for a few seconds.  The tunnel seems to go on for ages, pedalling into the concrete world, illuminated by the glow of the safety lights, and fire exits and the flashing lights from the van, I feel my mind drifting away into some sort of trance, pedalling along following Tom's back wheel, a very strange feeling. Back into daylight and downhill to Ordu, the next town.

Rolling off the tongue

Although people are helpful and friendly, we often get looked at like we have three heads. I find it funny, and its completely harmless and utterly understandable. Two bearded English men turn up. One is wearing a fluorescent sock on his head and looks like a traffic cone, the other is wearing a ridiculous helmet with go-faster-stripes, and klingon-esque air vents. Why would someone on a bicycle want to wear a helmet anyway? They don't go fast enough, there's no engine. Both weirdos have multiple yellow luggage bags attached to their bikes, and one bike has three wheels.

Cold Nights and Notes from Sinop

I smell pretty terr?ble but I’ve got a fishing boat to go and sleep on tonight, and I just bought a new blanket which I hope will keep me warm as the nights have been uncomfortably chilly recently. Normally camping is a perfectly fine option for our sleeping arrangements, but I’ve been more dubious recently as I’ve been cold in my thin sleeping bag, no matter what combination of clothing, headwear etc that I adorn. This is important because we don’t have the guarantee of a comfortable bed to sleep in each night but it is nice to know that I will be warm. Luckily the Turkish are living up to their reputation of hospitality. Almost every day we have either had a warm place to sleep, been fed incredibly tasty food, and always offered chai.

Istanbul Movements

We arrived in Istanbul after cycling through 75km of suburban sprawl along the dangerous highway. It was a traumatic experience. We rewarded ourselves with a gourmet kebab that we couldn't afford from a small place full of old men drinking, smoking and chatting. It had become dark in the city, after watching the sunset on the cycle in, and we needed to find our place to stay for the night. It was in Besiktas over the other side of the Golden Horn, probably about 25km away. Tom and I were both tired and decided to split up to find it and we went our separate ways. I met Maria at the ferry port and followed her along past the Ottoman palace which looked amazing all lit up. The main street in Besiktas is lined by large trees with Turkish flags hanging between them. It was very atmospheric. I sunk into bed that night and slept very well after a very long day.

Looking Back, Moving Forward

I am in Kadikoy on the Anatolian side of Istanbul. We have reached Asia by bike. Today commences our third week in Istanbul. It is a multi-layered and vibrant place, enough to make one consider staying longer. The open road and adventure beckons once again.