Ack-cha-ko-ja

30 April 2009

Akcakoca, Turkey

Left Istanbul this morning to drive across the Bosphorus into Asia (see image). Eating again, but as little as possible. Clothes too big! Result.  The concept of Asia makes this feel like we've really got going now—have left the familiar behind, and are off on an adventure. And exploration. And whatever else Odyssey promised in their literature. White slavery could have been in there. I didn't read the small print.

Camped right now on the Black Sea, in the above rather unpronounceable little town. Campsite yet again exceeds expectations. Imagine a series of terraces, steeply pitched down to the blue sea amidst a grove of trees just beginning to bloom. We're there, but nicer. And we made some Germans move their camper before we parked ourselves, so double score. Nice. Our men have launched the inflatable kayak and taken on the might of the (really rather calm to be honest) Black Sea. And survived. Though they all came back with wet shorts, which they have ascribed to the ravages of the sea and certainly not to any sort of cowardice.

Here two nights, and get to do absolutely nothing tomorrow, which sounds like absolute bliss. David's birthday is Saturday, looks like belly dancers for the boy. Driving down to Goreme that day, in Cappadocia, and having a slightly-touristy night out in his honour. The drive will take us through Ankara, and the middle of Anatolia.

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As noted, have spent today doing not much at all. I had imagined quite a bit more of this sort of thing, actually, but we've been awfull y busy for people with no gainful employment to speak of.  Wandered down to the town, had lunch in a garden cafe on the water, and mixed with Turks out for the sunshine on a Friday (holy day in Islam--they have a 1970s mosque here, imagine if Roger Wilco and Muhammed had met up and formed an architectural practice). 

Had lovely kofte, which makes me happy, as first proper Turkish food in Turkey! David's had me on gruel and water until now. Grilling local fish for supper, with green salad and some fresh veg.  

Istanbul / Constantinople / Istanbul / Constantinople / Istanbul

29 April 2009

Two days and three nights in one of the world's greatest cities...thankfully we've been here before, as I appear to be the first of the group to succumb to Bulgaria Belly, and spent all of yesterday in bed. Still not 100%, but much better today and got to eat. Which was nice for a change. On the plus side, I am definitely skinnier. So that part of the Plan is coming together.

Spent today wandering the Grand Bazaar and the afternoon at the Cagaloglu Hamam, which must be one of life's great pleasures. An 18^th century stone and marble dome, pierced with stars to let the steam, rise up and out as you drench yourself from brass taps and stone basins, and then a big fat Turkish lady scrubs you down and gives you three massages. Such a blissful way to spend 55 euro. Did some shopping as well, got a blanket and a hot water bottle—no more shivering in the night for me! Take that, Mother Freaking Nature. David got a cheap-ish watch, and socks and boxers, so we're stocked up for the next few months. How quickly one's standards can drop...we're all very excited that we get a real campground for the next 6 nights, and deeply grateful.

Going over the Golden Horn to Galata tonight, it looks like, to have meze and possibly Raki—not for me though.  My tummy simply won't stand for it!  Even for the beautiful piles of Turkish delight...

They Might be Giants...or They Might be at the Turkish Border Forever

27 April 2009

At the Turkey/Bulgaria Border...where we've been for 2 hours.

Bush camp last night on a blissfully beautiful and goddamned cold site, between snow-capped mountains on one side and a lake with only a few dead fish on the other. I'm told sunrise was worth getting up for, but I think that's a filthy lie. NB: don't drink lake water in Bulgaria.

Absolutely freezing last night, as frigid as it's been. Thank christ for the thermals. I would give David's left arm for another fleece right now. Chilly and grey, although it was sunny in Bulgaria.

And on the subject of Bulgaria—really very nice. Poor, but loads cleaner than Romania, rubbish tip-wise, and, I think, nicer people. Stopped at a Russian Orthodox church on a hill, the outside in vivid coloured ceramic tiles and the roof of pure gold. After the queasy-making trip through mountain passes—in the clouds and snow, at 1180 metres or so—happy to be in a nice flat valley, even with a gilded Russian church for company.

As previously mentioned, now we're waiting on the Turkish authorities to let the truck in for two weeks. You can't complete the paperwork before time, you have to fill it all in here (in no-man's land), they fax it to Ankara, and wait on a fax back. Currently waiting on the back part. They've already stamped all our passports with visas, so we can get in, it's just the truck that's an issue. 

Quite strange to be leaving Europe—or at least, Christian Europe. Have driven from London in the last two weeks, through nine countries, two alphabets, several faiths, one hotel, six campgrounds, and three bushcamps. And a lot of peeing in the woods.

One Night in Bulgaria

26 April 2009

Last two days in Bucharest—read Paul Park's A Princess of Roumania a few years ago and have been waiting to get here since. I think it's my favourite place so far; immense classical buildings, all very Belle Epoque, but crumbling and ratty and draped with thousands of electrical wires like a sad Christmas tree. In 1930 the city was considered the Paris of Eastern Europe, but 50 years of Communism and dictatorship will do it to you. The simple geographical flaw of being close to Russia was enough to turn Bucharest from ravishing to ratty. Had a lovely sunny day on Friday, wandered the boulevards and parks, and the revolutionary square where Ceaucescu made his last speech before being shot in 1989, and then the Museum of the Romanian Peasant. Fantastic museum—fantastic shop. Have bought required hippy shirt of muslin embroidered by some Romanian granny/Indian 8-year old. 

Romanian food a bit stodgy—the fallback in every restaurant is mamaliguta, a sort of polenta with sour cream. Lots of pork and lots of soups. Went to a big beer hall-type place for a group lunch yesterday, the appetizer plate included headcheese (brawn), curd cheese, olives and some sort of cured sausage. Beer is fairly cheap and good—Ursus and Silva.

On the road today, driving toward the Bulgarian border. Bushcamp tonight—one night in Bulgaria which I suspect will make the hard men humble. Or it should. A bunch of them went out last night and got back to the campsite about an hour before we left at 7:30am—they're feeling it today.

Personal pet peeve—not that I like to complain, except I do—is the way bags are multiplying exponentially. I can't see how we're going to be able to fit all our stuff in the truck in another week at this rate. Every day there's another plastic bag (or six) containing god knows what tossed in the back, all of which have to be gotten off and on twice a day. Argh.

Just had lunch at the Dryanovski Monastery—very Durmstrang. Monks in black with long dark beards, chanting, and dark old stone-and-wood buildings. Cold today, drizzly and grey, and we're up in the mountains, very atmospheric. We skipped out on the 20 cent (or whatever it is here) fare for the loo. Definitely going to Orthodox hell now.

Speaking of fares and fare dodging...got caught out in Bucharest on the bus without tickets. Fair enough, we knew we needed them, though there wasn't anyplace to buy them at the campground. You'll understand that I would have happily paid if I tell you the nearest ticket booth is in fact at Ikea...but no one else wanted to hike up there. We all got fined 50 lei, which comes to about 10 euro. Rather excitingly, prison was threatened, but only because some us (who lack a healthy sense of fear-of-authority) wanted to debate the fairness of the system (with authorities who were part of a dictatorship in recent memory). Anyhow, we survive to skip another fare another day.

Jaffa Cakes by Proxy for Brett

23 April 2009

Ploesti, Romania

Sigishoara is a little German dream of a Romanian medieval city; the Germans have nearly all been kicked out (the Communists charged West Germany $8000 each to let them leave in the 1970s and 80s), but they left behind this place. There's a romantic little cemetery too, scattered with stark stones engraved 'Pro Patria' and iron crosses, all from the First World War—strange to think of Saxons in Romania going off to fight for Germany in France.

Romanian is a crazy language—the Romans only held this land for 175 years total, and yet they claim what they speak is the closest thing to Latin in the modern world. It feels like a made-up language, actually, like I can almost read it...but not quite. They've been conquered by every army that ever had a spare 10 minutes, so the people are a right mix of mutts. 

Have been driving ages today, from Sighisoara down to Bucharest, by way of Sinaia and Bran. Bran Castle is gorgeous, perched on a hilltop overlooking a river (and many sellers of Dracula t-shirts, clown wigs—it's a Romanian thing—Dracula mugs, Dracula ashtrays, Dracula toothpick dispensers, Dracula carvings, etc.). The last English queen of Romania, Marie, redecorated it circa 1910 in the Theatrical-Medieval Style...it's the sort of castle one can see oneself moving right in to.

Meant to be bushcamping tonight again, poor Lindsay was distraught, but having failed to find a spot to match last night's picture-postcard of a location, we're going to go on to Bucharest and spend 3 nights in a campground there. Which frankly is a bit of a relief—washing machines and showers most welcome. The first bushcamp was amazing--we all felt like we were living in the Odyssey brochure. Picture perfect rural idyll, lake and fields and farmhouse and all. Practically Wisconsin.

On food crew today (again—this comes around much too quickly). But once again saved by John and Tee, who were up well before the 6:30am required of us. David fears all these early starts are going to make us Morning People, but I trust in my innate lack of appreciation for anything that happens prior to noon. It shall see me through these difficult times. Hotdog sandwiches for lunch in Bran, and promised some sort of South African chicken stew for dinner. Cheryl tells us that last year, all the girls came back fatter and the boys thinner—not going to happen to me. I AM going to be fit and tan by Thailand. I swear to god, if I come back pudgy I will be seriously crabby. Now, must get back to the pack of sour cherry jaffa cakes I just bought (happy birthday, Brett!)