Wintry songs weren’t the only reason it felt like Christmas. Kurt arrived at the İzmir airport laden with gifts. Schwalbe tires from my parents, an ipod and chocolate from my sister, a Kindle from Cher, panniers from Krista, a helmet-mounted mirror from Father Christmas himself, a stove, fuel bottles, books. The list went on and on.
Kurt built his bicycle at the airport, and I put on my new tires and new kickstands for both Snežana and me. It was dark and pouring rain by the time we left the airport. We camped that night just a couple hundred meters from the arrivals terminal where it was surprisingly quiet and dry. Welcome to Turkey, Kurt!




