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Published: August 10th 2010
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The road here was superb a six lane highway with very little traffic. Already hot at 9am with temperatures sitting around 33C expected today and for days to come. The land is flat with the usual sunflowers and grain agriculture in places. All went well until I approached Istanbul and the traffic began to build. Then the nightmare began. There were some rain showers just to mix things up, but I seemed to dry almost immediately.
It turns out the GPS completely screwed me up for reasons I have yet to establish. I literally gave up trying to find my sisters place. At one point I got stuck in a very narrow street with a van unloading stuff and with no one in sight; having a Turkish coffee somewhere no doubt. Clearly a very vibrant place, but I simply dare not take my eyes off the road. Traffic would seem to huddle two lanes making last minutes decisions into which would be the faster lane. Traffic would cut in front and behind me with a “precision” I cant every recall experiencing anywhere else.
After an hour of giving finding my sisters apartment my best shot, believing I was just
around the corner I called for help. They had no idea where I was but it did not sound familiar. No luck after another ½ hour of trying. I then got the idea of having a taxi driver lead me to my destination. I put him on the phone to my sister’s husband to be and we were off. Thus began the most terrifying motorcycle ride of my life. The taxi driver made zero concessions to my more modest driving and the roads were wet to boot. We drove for ages and I realized either he was giving me the run around or I was way off - New York suspicions again. Turns out I had gone way to far into the city center.
Now the taxi driver was lost. Another call and we were on our way again. Then, finally, I recognized a view of the docks my sister had taken from her apartment - maybe we were getting close! We were on the waterfront now. Another phone call and off again. The taxi driver even stopped for passengers. I assume the taxi driver was telling then as soon as he got this crazy foreign monkey off his back they would get to their destination. Then finally there they were, the happy couple standing in the street waving. Two thousand five hundred kilometers later and I had arrived. It was one of life’s great moments of relief. We found a safe haven for the bike through the usual cell phone call. Everything seems to revolve around who you know here. There is a huge underground industry for everything. I was happy to park the bike in presumed safety and consider public transport for the days I would be here. My one further ride on Istanbul’s roads would be out of here, preferably at first light - the least traffic and following the US consulates directions never to drive in Istanbul at night.
More in a few days on the way back to Frankfurt by another, yet I am sure adventurous route.
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