Hoş Geldiniz!

Hoş bulduk!  Indeed, welcome to Turkey, and I am happy to be here.  Turks are great.  Snežana and I arrived in Çeşme and were welcomed by a friendly immigration officer.  From there we rolled over to Çeşme’s castle and were treated to a private tour by one of the friendly guards who was oh-so-willing to help me learn some words of Turkish.

Çeşme itself is a bit of conundrum.  The old stone castle sits across from the fancy yacht marina.  I saw a young woman in a mini skirt holding hands with her boyfriend as we listened to the call to prayer from the nearby mosque.  Trendy boutiques and boutique hotels surround the small waterfront while southern California-style sprawl extends many kilometers east.

DSCN8292 by bryandkeith on flickr
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The end of the Balkan Odyssey — Chios!

I use the term Balkan Odyssey very much tongue-in-cheek.  Back in Neum, Snežana and I met a couple Dutch guys who had such a tight itinerary for their ride from Utrecht to Istanbul that they knew they’d be spending exactly 19 days in the Balkans, a portion of their trip that they had dubbed A Balkan Odyssey.  After five months in the Balkans, well, what I know is that I want to come back.  Both Macedonia and Bulgaria sound like they offer great bicycle touring, and when it’s not winter I’d love to spend more time cycling in the mountains of Serbia, Bosnia, Montenegro, Albania, and Greece.

berlin_cesme by bryandkeith on flickr
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Recharging the batteries in Athens

Even though the riding pace for the last couple months has been quite slow, I kept thinking it would be nice to take a real rest somewhere.  The short days and cold were taking a bit of a toll, but I also needed to get my mental energy and excitement back.  Because of the high prices in Greece,  I was leaning toward Turkey for such a rest.  Athens turned out to be the spot.  It started with Uglješa who offered to host us for a few days via a Serbian cycling forum.

DSCN8016 by bryandkeith on flickr
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Ancient Greece, modern problems

It’s hard to spend much time talking with a Greek without hearing the words “economic crisis”.  Prices here are stunningly high, and I doubt there are high wages to match.  Indeed Greeks take off for the US, Canada, and Australia to improve their job prospects.  But there are some jobs here, and apparently Greeks won’t do them.  In the agricultural area north of Nafplio and east of Argos, Snežana and I met separate groups of Afghanis and Pakistanis coming to improve their job prospects by picking oranges.  The situation in Greece may be bad, but I’m sure it’s worse in Afghanistan.

Pakistanis in Greece to pick oranges by bryandkeith on flickr
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A cycling companion?

I entered Greece on a cold and rainy day.  I hadn’t even had a sip of my hot tea in a warm, dry café when Tasos said, “tea’s not enough for this cold, you need tsipurou!”  And so I was introduced to the local distilled beverage.  He also invited me to spend the night at the monastery in his village (Ragio?) which I gladly accepted.  In the end that didn’t work out, but I spent the rest of the day (and that night) with Tasos’ brother and sister, Chris (Χρίστος?) and Vasiliki, and enjoyed the warm fire, the warm food, and the warm hospitality.  Communication was easy since Chris and Vasiliki had spent many years living in Toronto.

A couple days later camped on the beach near Paleros, I had ice on my tent for the first time on the coast.  As I was packing up, a man with bushy gray hair, a gray beard, and a Harley Davidson leather jacket rolled up on his motorcycle.  He would fit right in at the Mill Site Inn in Ward.  We exchanged a few words about traveling on two wheels.

From the beach campsite I headed to the bakery in town where a customer who spoke some English helped me communicate with the baker — nothing crucial but I had to make sure the bread was fresh that day.  Ok, maybe a little crucial.  After enjoying my tiropita (cheese pastry — kind of like burek), I walked my bike to the center of town in search of some fruit.  Sitting together outside at the local café were the man from the beach and the man from the bakery, father and son-in-law.  They invited me to join them for coffee.  On hearing that I was headed to Turkey to ride with my buddy, Kurt, in February, the son-in-law said something about snow and cold and offered me his business card.  He runs the local funeral home.

DSCN7671 by bryandkeith on flickr
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