A Tourist in the City

Told you it was cool

A unique blend of Roman history and Hollywood cosmopolitan Varna is a city discovering its self. Looking past the gorgeous tanned bodies of Varna beach to the relatively salt free waters of the black sea people here are both hip and sexy. Sex sells and if they have it they are definitely flaunting it, and sometimes if they don't necessarily have it they are flaunting it anyway. Incidently, I managed to find a road in the middle of nowhere and asked a lovely lady on the side of the road if she needed help and then if she could give me directions. Turns out I had stumbled upon the Manchester street of Varna and I was bad for business so I was quickly shooed away.

Varna Beach

As eclectic as it may be here I am drawn back to the differences between Bulgaria and Turkey.  The roads are shit the farmers stare and the women drive fast look sexy and are empowered. Both countries have their fair share of farmers still toting around on a horse and cart. Far fetched from the smooth riding of Northern Turkey where the women mostly adhere to cultural boundries far within their need to be noticed.

In a fantastic revelation it turns out I have replaced my diet of fresh fruit and veges with an exceptional amount of ice cream. Both affordable and lovely it suppresses the need or desire to eat anything worthwhile, but then why would you when sustenance is wrapped in chocolate.Follow this with a bottle of the pride of Prague (Paropramen) with my feet in the golden sand and I am wondering why I will leave tomorrow??

Yeah Right!!

Speaking of food, in a rookie move I managed to burn my pasta to the bottom of my pot yesterday evening while I was preoccupied with the swatting of mozzies. Because it was kiddie pasta it was made up of numbers and letters not unlike the spaghetti we would have as children so now when I eat I can spell things as I go. Unfortunately the pasta was made from the Cyrillic alphabet so it is like playing scrabble in Russian, or playing monopoly in Turkish.

Poppy's and Dasies

Strangly enough I trusted Lonely Planet's guide to Eastern Europe for the first time yesterday and it let me down horribly. Riding through rain that would make Fiordland proud I amassed 150kms. I thought in lieu of such a day I would have the next off and went looking for a backpackers, then a hostel......then another hostel and in the end after 195km on the road most of which was in the rain and into a gentle breeze I camped in a field anyway. Turns out they were all shut down because they were operating illegally. At least the other night I managed a rinse in a chilly river but I was not to be so fortunate this time.

Misty morning on the waterfront. Varna

The sweeping fields of Bulgaria are only broken by the steepness of its hills and I can only imagine what it will be like when I hit the Rila Mountains south of Sofia. I hear the rock monastery's are incredible and they can only be matched by the grandeur of the surrounding mountain peaks. The churches are exquisite and the ice cream delightful. I have only the one genuine experience of the famed Bulgarian charm when a young lad of five or six shouted from the back of a caravan of horse and carts "welcome to Bulgaria my friend"

Turtles and Snakes

It seems a strange concept to almost run over a snake but I have almost run over 'lots' of snakes, add to that a couple of turtles and we have ourselves a trip through the meandering fields of  Northern Turkey. Beautiful fields of wheat are giving way to the mountains I can see in the far off distance, I am very excited to enter Bulgaria, and that will happen some time this afternoon. The last 4-500km have gone by quite quickly as I have been making early starts and biking until late in the evening when the temperature drops back below 30 degrees.



Gallipoly Pensular. very sth west point



A quick jaunt around the Gallipoli Pensular without my luggage took me to many places I have never been before. I saw many of the turkish monuments that are glossed over when you do a tour. Its not that I could understand the writing but simply by being there I felt I was getting a sense of the place. Again wandering through the now shallow trenches near lone pine I felt the unimaginable closeness the allied forces muct have felt when they were nearing the trenches of the Turks.



NZ monument Gallipoli



I slept the night before last in a farmers field and was given a handful of green beans out of the garden and a fist full of strawberries to have after dinner. In the morning a security guard from the enclosed compound next door came over with a steaming hot tea and some sweet bread for breaky. What a solid start to a long day pressing into a persistant wind.

Doris broke a spoke a couple of days ago but seems to be running fine after a quick change so I think it was just a one off, not like last time she threw a hissy and broke four in a day. She did fall on me which has caused me to be stern with her. As we came to a stop at a lovely lunch spot under a big shady tree I lost my balance, was half a second too late getting my foot out of the clips and that was that, I was on the ground and Doris was on top of me, laughing I bet.



Sunset from a farmers field



In another small milestone I will cover 2000km later this afternoon, not long after crossing the boarder into Bulgaria. Leaving the big thanks giving bird behind I will keep close to the Black Sea and then set about crossing some of the big passes that are the back bone of what is considered a very beautiful country. At least thats what I am told. I bet people who said that were not sweating their hair out struggling with 30kg of bike and gear up a dirty great hill into the wind. Its fun believe me.



A green bug



Speaking of hills. I was at the end of a long day where I had set a small town as my target. With 20km left to go I was waved down by a fellow tour rider and we had a brief chat. He was a hotel guy so was not carrying a lot of gear but I thought I would try and not get passed by this chap if I could help it. Panting up this particularly long incline I looked over my sholder to see a rider at the bottom. Bugger, how did he catch me so quickly. This is where the first realisation in my life came that I may have a competetive streak in me. Without looking back any more I put my head down and ass up and gunned it for another 20 minutes to the top of the hill, just in time to pull over and have a professional riding bunch of 12 guys glide past me. It was not the chubby German guy at all. The cheeky bastards waved me onto the back of the bunch so there I was exhaused from climbing as hard as I could sitting at the back of a bunch of pro riders all in uniform and shiny bikes and me with all my bags, a filthy shirt and a smile as big as can be in my face. For the next 10km I just sat on the back and sped along keeping pace. I looked behind to get a wave from the support car. Unfortunately I thought he was waving me off so I back away, thankful I had not looked back earlier, as it happens though he was waving me over to the car for some riding snacks. Then to get me back to the bunch he told me to hold the car and he dragged me back to the buch where I hung on all the way into town.

 

ME!!

I have enjoyed Turkey and loved the baklava. I had four bits the other day of this very tasty sweet treat. One for me, one for my brother and two pieces for Pip...mmmmmmm yummy

Spring into Action.

A sunset over Saray

On a day where I woke knowing I had to bike the unstoppable feeling of lonely away I had an incredible experience on the road. Spring is in the air and dozens of poppy's rise above the other seasonal flowers along the road side. Honey bees buzz from flower to flower and the day time temperatures are not a burden to riding but for the hottest parts of the day. I have decided to head south to the Gollipoli penisular to where I have once been. I am in search of conversation and maybe a wash. No...for sure a wash. I happened upon both in the unlikelest of places.

Dusty roads and the constant winds have dealt a harsh blow to my eyes, drying them out and causing sleepless nights. Stopping into a pharmacy I charaded my way through what I hoped was an eye cleaning kit or at least some drops. Turning away I was told to wait as she spoke on the phone. Not so long there after a chap turned up and asked what the problem was. I was so taken back I kept up the charade. Again his english startled me as we fell into easy conversation. We spoke over Arabian coffee of his post as a captain in the Turkish army as he was positioned with two kiwi soldiers on the boarder of Iraq and Iran during their extended conflict not so many years ago. Not only did I have my english fix, I felt silly for needing it. despite the feeling he was well appreciated when he asked my leave to go for daily prayers.

The Petrol station guy

Riding on for my first consecutive 100km days I pulled into a petrol station just ot of a small farm village. The unlikely gentleman, upon my request for a place to put my tent walked me to an adjacent building where the chapped walls of stucko white entertained two small beds. Smiling he patted me on the back, one of many times he would show such affection. Unlike a previous experience hitchiking in Canada he does not seem the flirting type. After a dinner of curried potatoes and garlic salted yoghurt he drew me a bath. That is to say he boiled an urn of water and topped off a bucket to give me a bucket of warm washing water. Never before has a bucket bath been so refreshing. It felt like a kid when mum would tip water on my head with it tilted back so not to get shampoo in my delicate eyes.

When I first arrived at the station we sat down for a beer and a smoke. Of course after peddling a 100 kilometers I turned down the first offer of a ciggy just to be polite, what I was really saying was; Please insist again so I can choke my way through the first cigarette I have had since I was 12.

Girls putting up my tent...ish

Yesterday I had a bunch of swooning 16 year old girls who insisted that they help put up my tent. They did ok but for the fly on upside down. One of then went on in broken english to say I was a handsome boy and they all liked handsome boys. Wife? Girlfriend? No No. giggle giggle giggle giggle.

I have just clicked over 1500 km for the trip and me and Doris are just dandy. She needs a good clean but otherwise she is doing ok. As am I, despite amazingly fatigued quads each morning and the some bum, there it happened, I am good to go and push on for another few more days yet.

In another interesting moment today, I was having lunch when I noticed a beat up old bike leaning against a stall selling fruit and such. Assuming the person was not coming out any time in the next few miutes I took the front wheel off and repaired the tire and gave the bike a bit of a once over. The lady at the flower stall came over with a tea and the guy who owned the bike came out with a bag full of goodies. Chocolate, coke, wafers all the good stuff, including some ice water.



Doris outside my tent this sunny morning

 We are shaped by the people we met.

The Road To Nowhere

Wouldn't want that to happen

 Yesterday I was having a çay (apple tea) when I got into a very animated conversation with an excitable gentleman. I think my favourite part of the conversation is when the realisation sinks in that there is no understanding and the conversationst says the same things much much slower. The result is still no understanding but I have a good grasp on how to pronounce whatever it is that he was saying. Looking at the drawing he made he either had a wife with big boobs or he had a wife for me also with big boobs. It may well have been that he used the brests in the picture to distinguish between the other figures I am not sure which. It was kind of like playing charades and never really knowing if your guesses were correct. Heading North to follow the Black Sea I ended up on a very remote and painfully inadequate road. I have come to expect the roads even in rural Turkey to be very well maintained this was raising a few lemons, so many so that I back tracked almost 20km to where I made a turn to head f the pictionary man. Now again on the straight and narrowI am sitting in a stuffy internet cafe with 20 adolesent boys all interchanging between facebook and world of war craft. I guess some things are universal.

Ayasofya - Istanbul

Getting out of Istanbul took all of my emotional stamina and 60km of hard yakka to relieve myself of the constant stream of traffic. At one stage I was in one of about 12 lanes stretching across the tarmac. I thought to myself.... hmmmmmm this looks like a fairly major road....turns out I was on one of the only bicycle banned roads in the country and one called the 'otoban' oto being turk for car or vehicle. So using all of my mental aptitude in one fowl swoop I jumped over the guard rail on the bridge I was on. I was now between the guard rail and the rail of the bridge. I wasnt so much on a footpath as a quickly narrowing gap between the rails. When my bags got caught between the opposing rails and I could go no further my only real choice was to back up and lift my bike over the rail onto the otoban and jump on seemlessly. Steading myself I jumped the rail, bike in tow jumped on ready to race away only to be thwarted by my chain having come off and jamming between the chain ring and the crank. BALLS BALLS BALLS, back on the other side of the rail I did what I could as quickly as I could and away I went rolling with traffic on a road I never should have been on. Does not matter now, I am out in the country and loving the breezy meadows with all the spring flowers.

A few of the locals. They loved the bike. Hadımköy

I have decided to spend a few more daysin Turkey than I was origionally intending too,all these new fandangled words I want to use before I get to Bulgaria and need new ones.

The invasive Turkish Man

It would seem although Turks in both modern and ancient times had their vices, there was only pleasure through pain. Take for example the cut throat shave I had after stepping off the plane yesterday morning. We went through the usual story of lathering my face in soap and using a fresh razor blade to make my face as good as new. Then however he moved on to "the pwablem the pwablem" which of course was my ears. Not paying particular attention to ones ears I wasn't to know they were particularly hairy, not only that but apparently this does not sit well with the Turkish barbers. Alas he set about destroying my ear hair population. First came the burning wad of cotton to singe the hairs followed by indiscriminate twezering. Hugh respect ladies for twezering anything. OUCH. Back to the burning then to cap off the whole ordeal he patted my face with a towel soaked in freshly boiled water just because he had not seen me squirm enough by that stage. Boy was I beautiful. That was a day ago so you cant tell I was there anymore but for the burnt ears.
Today my quest for bodily destruction took me to the baths, an experience any person must undertake at least once in their lives. I had the pleasure of sweating in a sauna before being man handled by a very firm Turkish man. Bald and in his late 50s he knew his stuff, pouring warm water over my dirty body before exfoliating the crap out of me with a salmon luffa. Now all soapy and slippery it was time for a massage. Holy shit!! I felt like I had just emerged from the bottom of a ruck where I didn't let the ball go. Again, the concept of pleasure through pain. Back to the sauna, another rinse and a good ol toweling dry that even sooty the dog would be happy with and I was on my way, clean as a whistle.

Ayasofia, the blue mosque and of course the Grand Bazzar were all incredible and it would seem a few words that came back to me after a previous visit to Turkey come in very handy. No, Yes, Too Expensive, Thank you, New Zealand were all valuable. In the moment the salesman pounces on the tourist you throw out a Turkish word or phrase. In the ensuing second it takes him to realise what just happend you are scuttling away feeling very pleased with yourself. This was all good and fine until Omar caught me off guard. Pleading with me to stop and chat he promised he just wanted to have a chat. There was something about the way he said it that made me stop. Omar, in the Grand Bazzar of Istanbul, wanted to bargin with me over the selling price of my earing. For those of you who haven't seen it, its a wooden hoop. Amazing, we chatted for a while, and after a glass of apple tea I went on my way with my earing still firmly attached to my ear although he was offering a reasonable price.

Tommorow morning I will take my leave from this bustling city and head North then East towards the coast of the Black sea. I have as yet not found any white gas or meths for my stove so it looks like it will be petrol or diesel for the burner, fortunately I had no issues with the burner or gas bottle or the bike for that matter through the airports.

I feel clean and smooth and ready to take on the hundreds of cars on my way out of here. We will see how it goes. Doris looks good to go, she has a Tiki under her Garter so what else could she possibly need to take on Eastern Europe.

2 Wheels, 4 Bags and a Sore Bum

A Racing Sardine with a Hairy face

  So, this is the big city, a bit different from the backcountry towns I have been riding through for the past week or so. After Taupo I headed without event through to Papamoa spending a night at Lake Rotoiti on the way. The road wound its way to the coast and the beach at Whangamata before tracing the firth of Thames into the sights and sounds and most certainly the traffic in Auckland.  While there was also a lot of traffic to deal with in Wellington there were lanes and routes put in place to try and keep the bikes and the cars apart but this was not the case in Auckland. So I took a number of different approaches and I found arrogance and knowing I am right was by far the best tactic.  I basically pretended I was a car when I needed to. I question weather or not this will work in a city of 16 million people where road rules are about as popular as Don Brash at Hone’s house.

Rotorua bubbling mud

   In a complete change of fortune I have been riding through beautiful east coast native bush with some amazing climbs and brilliant free wheeling downhills all the while being bathed in lovely north island sunshine. Its true, it happens.  It seems that there are three different reactions that people give me when they discover I am heading to Europe, or for that matter when they find out I have biked from Nelson.  The first and most common is the “you’re crazy, what’s wrong with you, you need to be shot” followed closely by the “wow, that will be a great trip” while hopelessly trying to disguise their complete lack of motivation to do the trip themselves. The third response I tend to get is a really negative “you know Europe is not like NZ”. I don’t know if these people have a distinct lack of adventurous spirit or they cant fathom cycling through a flurry of trucks, cars and busses on the busy streets of crowded cities. Either way it makes me keen to get out there and have a good trip. I was also referred to as a racing Sardine with a hairy face by the lovely clerk at the Kawakawa Bay store.

Whangamata Beach

I have recently been browsing over adventure books written about bike trips to all corners of the world. A couple of note is ‘Cycling home from Sibera’ and ‘The man who cycled around the world’. Both are contrasting in many ways, notably the reason for the trips in the first instance however both stand out in one way as very different from the trip I am embarking on.  That is to say both of the adventurers from the above books were very well organised and knew exactly what they were doing and where they were going before they set out. I feel I am lacking in any real direction once I get to Turkey three days from now. How do I make this better? I have no idea. Thus nothing will change and I will figure it out as I go. Oh shit…Im in trouble.

Rainy morning at Lake Rotoiti

 Doris is running at about 80% but I have every intention of sorting her out before we leave. I gave her the old spa treatment, cleaning and oiling her up, making sure she was all happy after running though all the crap wet weather tends to bring. I have decided to replace the front tire as it is starting to show some wear cracks and I don’t want a repeat of the blow out in Napier. Something tells me I will have trouble finding what I need in a Turkish Bazaar. 

A good piece of advice.

Best of luck with the next part of the ride and may your spokes stay strong and your wheels spin true!  Seb Jones

Rotoiti Rain

The rain falls on my tent this chilly morn

So once again a coat will need to be worn.

I'm snuggled now in my bag so tight

My future outside is not looking bright.

It rains it poures it comes down wet

A real foe in this weather I have met.

I'll get up soon, i'll make a break

For a shealter over there, I have breakfast to make.

But it seems so right to lie here and sleep

While the sky up above continues to weep.

The continuous rain is making me frown

A kick in the balls, its got me quite down.

That's not the spirit, that's not the way

With a smile on my face i'll make it today.

I'll bike outter here, I tell you I will

Up the hill in the rain, my what a thrill.

I'll get up soon, I'll do what I can

Hit the road after breaky, least that's the plan.

Bike out of here and into the sun

Just me, 2 wheels my bags and my bum.

Dorris and the Garter

Running Repairs to Dorris

Im almost sure it was something to do with the wedding weekend but I have been feeling about as athletic as a dry weektbix for the last few days. My guts hurt, I am tired and of course until today there has been no let up in the wind and the rain. Yesterday saw a rear puncture not long out of Napier and as I was leaning against the number 8 wire fence pumping up the new tube I heard a hiss, a pop and a god almighty explosion as the wall of my tire blew out and scared the shit out of me. I managed to repair the wall of the tire with a toothpaste tube and limped back into Napier to get a new one. Having caught the garter at budgies wedding I decided it was time to bite the bullet with my fairly recent lady, and in a quiet ceremony I was married to Dorris (Dorris is the Bike). Now i'm stuck with her so she would do well to stop breaking down. Today was much more successful as I rode the last few hills into Taupo and finally a day where nothing needed fixing on the bike. This might have been due to the incessent NW wind keeping my travelling speed below 15kmph most of the day.

A Night On A Farm In The Rain

I was approached by a sketchy yet chalming fellow as I was head down bum up climbing a hill. He seemed nice enough offering me a reprive from my current situation and a ride all the way to Taupo, even throwing in the offer of sleeping in the car upon getting there. He seemed to think there was a storm heading down the valley. Turns out he may well have been talking about the tornado that tore up Auckland, what a throughtful chap.

Me and Dorris Eating Wedding Cake

I woke to a beautiful misty morning and rode on to a lovely spot nestled in the heart of a big ravine where I asked the cafe owner if I could camp on his land. "No Boody Worries" so away camping in the native bush I went. Some time later he wandered over and suggested I follow the path to the hot springs closer to the river. As darkness fell over the valley I was immersed in the inky blackness of a natural hot spring looking skyward at the intimadating ridgeline and listening to the river many meters below. I could not help but think this is an amazing country and wander why I continue to leave. This was certainly a nicer place to lay my head than the pile of fencing logs under the walnut tree as I was a couple of days ago.

Dorris with the Big Boys