One Foot in Asia

Bulgaria was cold. We were tired of being cold, so our decision-making process went something like this: ‘I know! Let’s head south to the Greek coast and baste in the sunny glory of Apollo’s golden beaches’. One freezing, teeth-chattering night in an abandoned Greek campsite later and we were packed up at first light, bolting it to Turkey. We’re coming back for you Greece (when you’re warmer).

We were stung at the Ipsala border; the only insurance office there wanted to charge us an extortionate amount for a Green-card (a must-have for entering Turkey, but half the price at other borders). Time was ticking, the cold was chasing us from Greece and darkness was falling. So, we bit our tongues, paid and marched on. We saw Tekirdag on the map and found a cheap apartment on AirBnB. The owner asked us to add him on Instagram instead of paying through the site as he said he didn’t want us to pay for the night. Confused, we obliged and headed straight for him.

Typically, the XT couldn’t manage the last hour and a half ride without throwing a tantrum and blew the baffle clean out of the exhaust on the motorway. Our bike once again sounded like a tractor with a megaphone up its bum. We could see the cold weather stuck at the Turkish border, arguing with the insurance office, it was only a matter of time before it paid and caught up with us. We decided to forget about looking for the baffle and carry on – much to the XT’s delight.

We stormed into Tekirdag, our host for the night could hear us coming and raced to meet us, ushering us into his house quickly as confused neighbours came out to find the source of the racket. What was supposed to be one night turned into three. Onur took us to his favourite restaurants, for coffee with his friends and on a tour of his city. He quickly turned into a good friend and was a brilliant introduction to Turkish hospitality. But we couldn’t stay any longer as we were due in Darica to meet an old friend, Levent. We made our goodbyes, started the bike and watched Onur wince as the bike set off four car alarms and made a little girl cry.

I first met Levent six years ago while camping next to a restaurant by Lake Iznik, Turkey. He rode past on his motorcycle, saw mine and stopped to inspect it. A chat, ten teas later and we were great friends, touring the countryside, hanging out with the Iznik motorcycle club and drinking copious amounts of tea. No visit to Turkey would be complete without seeing him again. We rode to his family home in Darica where his parents treated us like their own.