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Into cycling, reading, nature, and finding out some things about life, the universe, and everything else. Read more Linz, Austria
  • TravelerTo the motherland
    Day 118

    Kigali

    January 12 in Rwanda ⋅ ☁️ 22 °C

    Culture shock. That’s how I describe Kigali after having been in poorer towns, and especially having spent so long in Tanzania. Kigali is busy, booming, business, and bars. There are so many young people working in coffee shops, startup hubs and co-working spaces, restaurants, that I just forgot I am still in Afrika. Plus sometimes really excellent (rwandan-sourced) coffee. Cars mostly behave here, it’s a lot less hectic than Dar es Salaam, but definitely more polluted with seriously disgusting trucks and busses sometimes. And very, very, very hilly. But all in all, it is the most European and modern city I have visited during this entire trip, excluding maybe Austrian cities.

    I stumbled on the prime minister’s office next to the hostel Im staying in, and it’s nothing short of a palace. Pictures not allowed. There is virtually no chance of political opposition in this country (usually tortured, imprisoned, or otherwise silenced, from what I read online), but mister Kagame did have an important role to play in stopping the genocide in 1994.

    Now I cannot possibly give a full account of the genocide and history in a travel blog, so let me give it to you in a dumbed-down version:
    - Rwanda is a former colony of first the Germans, and then the Belgians. The Germans already started in amplifying the pre-existent distinction between Hutu’s and Tutsi’s, which was formerly a distinction between economic classes (mostly; the Tutsi’s were also mostly the ones in powerful positions), but the Belgians divided everything by making it purely racial, and forcing everyone to have their “race” in the identity cards.
    - First Belgium missionaries and the administration only educated Tutsi’s, then they left after Hutu’s started an independence movement, and sided with only the Hutu’s. Suddenly.
    - Hutu’s were,due to the racial distinction imposed by the Belgians, convinced that all and only the Tutsi’s were to blame for their status, and full on attacks, and deportation of Tutsi’s, started after about 1962.
    - The Belgians and French fully backed the Hutu’s against the Tutsi’s, who were fighting against being deported or killed.

    And then in 1994 possibly the cruelest genocide in modern history began, with Tutsi’s being killed on the streets, in (claimed “safe”) churches, in stadiums, raped and worse, children killed so that the entire bloodline would be wiped out (all Hutus had tutsi blood because previously also cross-class marriages and children were very common, but hatred makes blind), etc. Churches full of bodies, streets full of bodies, which lasted about a 100 days. (Go and watch Hotel Rwanda; based on the account of a guy who turned into a opponent of the current regime and is now imprisoned…)

    I visited one of the churches, in Nyamata, and the huge memorial site in Kigali; while looking for the latter I found myself closer to a museum of Rwandan history in the Kandt house, were I also got to hang out with some deadly snakes and stand within a meter of a crocodile. Way better than a safari.

    In the church of Nyamata you still see gunshot-holes everywhere, holes from Granate explosions, and they also preserved some of the skulls for display of the traumas caused in the genocide. Really, really disturbing.

    Ok, finishing on a better note: I am heading to national parks and am going in search of some monkeys and coffee. I won’t leave Rwanda until I have a picture of me hugging a coffee tree. (Brought by the Germans by the way.)    Read more

  • TravelerTo the motherland
    1212
    Day 116

    Into rwanda

    January 10 in Rwanda ⋅ ☁️ 24 °C

    Can I talk about rwanda without beginning about the genocide and the atrocious modern history of the country? I cannot, but I will talk about the history in the next footprint; I had to mention it, as it is something that is just too overwhelming.

    From Kigali to Rwanda was a long haul, and one I was not particularly looking forward to, as it is just one long route for 300 km. I did the first day, climbing 1526 meters, and decided to experience a different important part of the culture here: bus rides. And that stands out as a highlight. The bus left at 6 and within 10 minutes we were on unpaved road of varying quality—sometimes very good, sometimes very poor. And on the poor sections you get tossed around so much that Jim Carrey’s impersonation does not do justice: you really get car sick from the speed they go over bumps. The only thing I could focus on was breathing, and to grin and bear it. Another “experience”.

    I did suffer from some diarrhoea that day but I am pretty sure that cannot be caused by bus rides; I did have to spend the next day in Nyakahura, where I got to taste the local (rather horrible) robusta coffee. And experience an amazing market where everyone gazes at me, but always in a friendly manner. I really got to like the openness of Tanzanians.

    On to Rwanda: had to wait 20 minutes for the visa because everything is so slow there and got all my bags checked; I filmed everything for my reference later. He did not want to check my undies. At first Rwandans seemed a bit distant and sometimes talking behind my back, and not openly like in Tanzania. They also speak another different language, sometimes without English, so my shouts of “mambo vipi?!” Where frequently left not understood.

    But the next day I got to experience the most attention I have gathered so far. I just went for tea somewhere, and suddenly there were 20 or 30 kids standing around me and my bike; they kept standing there when I went inside, and were just too curious that there was mzungu there. Yeah, they borrowed “mzungu” from swahili. Then when cycling, I got support by a banana crew, and sooo many young kids who wanted to run with me, wanted high fives, and yelled “good morning!” All day long. Pretty amazing support to be honest. Unfortunately I didn’t capture it on video properly, and I have trouble uploading, so you have to trust my word until later.

    And they run and cycle fast by the way, and there are a lot of cyclists here. Plus pretty good roads most of the time and many, many, many hills.

    That was Tuesday. Tuesday evening I got shown around my a local kid in Ramiro, with many homeless kids shouting “give money, give money!” which is a horrible experience: they were left on the street when their (single) parent’s could not provide for them, and now beg on the street…

    Lastly, on Wednesday something changed: not a single cry of mzungu, no kids running alongside, just one or two that greeted me. I got nearer to Kigali—maybe that’s it—or they just only do certain things on Tuesdays. But I visited a horrible memorial site for the genocide which I will talk about next time.    Read more

  • TravelerTo the motherland
    Day 110

    Central line trc

    January 4 in Tanzania ⋅ ☁️ 23 °C

    Well, I talked a bit about slave trade on zanzibar and tanzania last time, if I recall correctly. After tippu-tip’s “rule”— in reality he did not rule people, he killed them, left villages deserted, and enslaved everyone in west tanzania—germany took over mainland tanzania. The germans then built a railway from lake tanganyika to dar es salaam, for economic reasons, and the railway was finished in 1914. It’s a very narrow 100cm gauge track (what do I know…) and, despite a new one being in construction, I was warned of it being long, old, in poor condition, and an experience.

    Before that, let me briefly say what happened in the meantime: I chilled in the heat of dar es salaam, celebrated christmas, and tried to book a train ticket. And that last part was very very difficult. You see, you go to the train station (a very poor-looking collection of small buildings), and no one knows anything about when the train goes, or they think they know and give false info. I wanted to go on 28, but then that train “did not run”, after first being told twice that there was a train on the 28th. Then on 29 I had to go to the train station to book the ticket—I was told to be there at six for fuck-all, and waited for two hours—I found out the train did go, not on 28 but 29, but they didn’t themselves know about it. Some of the personell also didn’t seem to know about the train on 31st, and I was left convincing them there was a train. In the end I also found out I could book it online, but they did not seem to know themselves… ("What are you trying to convince me, that you are as useless as an asshole right here [on my elbow]?!" if you get the reference).

    One more word on the history: there was an uprising and rebellion against germans forcing locals to work on cotton plantations. Bad for the economy here, but good for germany. Well, germany responded with a genocide: famine of locals, because you cannot negotiate with these barbarians. Or, better put: “Only hunger and want can bring about a final submission. Military actions alone will remain more or less a drop in the ocean.” I shall leave that at that.

    Ok, so after a 5 hour delay, during which we asked numerous times when the train was supposed to go: the reply at 5pm was at 4.30... they have a weird concept of time here. Well, it left, at 8pm, and then the next day we were standing still for 3, four, 8, … 24 hours because the track in front of us was once again (apparently it is once again) flooded. I was contemplating at night just getting off, but then it went through in the morning; it was really really flooded.

    The train ride itself is a genuine experience: it doesn’t go faster than 60 km an hour, yet you are being tossed around constantly like you cannot imagine; there are no power sockets; the police or armed guards on the train start the day with beer (hidden under the table); and at every long wait they want to rush you to get back on the train (I don’t partake) only to wait then again for 10 minutes. Oh, I was the only mzungu (white person) on the train. At a lot of stops entire villages greeted you at their small stations to sell their local produce, food, “madji madji!” (Water that is unsafe to drink), fish and meat. You won’t starve here, rather gain weight due to all the foods you can get without moving at all. (I got off at pretty much every stop, and constantly got shouted “mzungu, mzungu!!” Like anywhere in Tanzania ❤️.

    Well, I couldn’t believe it, but I arrived after 3 full days, exhausted. (I did have a first class sleeping coach, but still got there super tired.) My bike got damaged slightly but managed to get it fixed at a local shop here, and so soon I will go cycling to Rwanda: the land of a thousand hills.    Read more

  • TravelerTo the motherland
    Day 92

    Zanzibar unguja again

    December 17, 2023 in Tanzania ⋅ ☁️ 30 °C

    What’s up, I am back in the same spot as a week or two ago? Am I bad in travelling or something, did I miss something here that I wanted to revisit? (Did I actually meet a prostitute on the island that I fell in love with? )

    Well, no, here is the thing: cycling was too hot, I went diving, and now decided I will go back to dark es salaam to take the train at some point, so just chilling it with plenty of other tourists in zanzibar for two days. And I missed the old slave market last time I was here, which I had to go and visit.

    I made a new footprint to elaborate more on zanzibar. Because it’s touristic, and it’s busy, and it’s too busy with busy tourism. It’s too busy in that, through the super small alleyways and between the zigzag of small alleys, you constantly bump into small “taxis” or motorcycles. You are also not allowed to be tired here, or you will be punished by the city immediately and mercilessly: the honking and motorcycles make it impossible. (Nice thing is that I am immediately tired due to the heat…)

    It’s too touristy in that everyone wants something of you; that you have shops called “the souvenir emporium” (cringe); and that you have ten (easily; Turkish markets dont come close) of the same shops selling (or trying to) the same thing—masaai people selling their armbands and necklaces. And that you have to be careful about not being ripped off.

    What is cool about the tourism is that you can find good specialty coffee shops and feel like at home. I had a decent espresso by my standards, which was really something new. Also, and this is because tourism and because of the diverse heritage of Zanzibar, you have lassi here at some places, which is my favourite cool drink by far in the heat. Ayran but better.

    That is the thing about Zanzibar, it has a history of belonging to Portuguez, Oman, and Britain (Germany only controlled towns inland I believe), and for a long time there was a sultan of zanzibar, and it was a prosperous place due to very successful plantations (centering on cloves) and due to the ports, making the city very very rich and prosperous. (I also read that “ ...It might be called Stinkabar rather than Zanzibar”, because it smelled so bad 150 years ago). But around the 18th century, slavery became one of the most profitable business— I learned that slavery, even amongst blacks (different tribes) was very common before the Arabs or Portuguez started it, but the Omans and Arabs made it into a business on the island. (Moslims cannot take moslims as slaves, but no issue with blacks.) All blacks on the island were slaves during the 18th century, under the Sultans rule, and Zanzibar hosted a primary slavery market for entire east africa. Plus of course the plantation slaves. This made for a lot of islamic influences, arab people, and indian people living here; it also made for a lot of slavery of blacks, and slavery was the most profitable business on this island. (All blacks living here were apparently slaves…) About a third went to work on clove and coconut plantations of Zanzibar and Pemba while the rest were exported to Persia, Arabia, the Ottoman Empire and Egypt. (Pasted from wikipedia)

    It was worth coming back here, as I managed to ask a lot of questions to the ticket clerk at the museum, who was a historian. So I learned that slavery was only made worse by degree by Portuguese and Arabs, that the British might have said to want to abolish slavery early in the nineteenth century, but it would have sucked too much economically, so they held off for a bit, and about some blacks being employed as slave porters (and in fact becoming rich sometimes doing this) for the Arabs; in fact Tippu Tip (one of the most powerful slave traders) descended from a black and someone from Oman. Slavery was just business: frequently also a business to transport ivory, say, so a means to an end.

    Lastly, Zanzibars road to independence (going through the British and back to a Sultan) was not without bloodshed, when there was a revolt and several thousand ethnic Arab (5,000-12,000 Zanzibaris of Arabic descent) and Indian civilians were murdered and thousands more detained or expelled, their property either confiscated or destroyed.

    Currently this town is just full of it’s own character, and not being anything like other towns I have seen. But also touristy. And busy.    Read more

  • TravelerTo the motherland
    1
    221
    Day 87

    Pemba island

    December 12, 2023 in Tanzania ⋅ ⛅ 28 °C

    Aquí a Pemba todo es precioso. (Todo el mundo es muy amicable, pera exige dinero también.) (I am doing this spanish course and wanted to put it in use…)

    This place is remote, mostly agricultural with tourism far away from everything — and I am not in the touristic place, but remote, at the beach, next to farmer villages. And it is beautiful here. So much green, such a blue sea. No hay aqua corriende (where I stay… but more on that later), pera no es importante.

    This blog would not be my blog if I wouldn’t complain a bit… On the ferry to Pemba —where tourists have a different rate from locals (which differs by a factor of 2 I imagine… —everything is so terribly unorganised. When the ferry arrives everyone pushes and shoves to put their bags on first, without letting people (also carrying massive bags) off first. There is no system. And no pole pole. Everyone has to be on first for whatever reason. They have no concept of impenetrability—they try to walk through one another, and walk through my bike—and my cries of “let the people off first, and chill out; pole pole” go unheard. Then afterwards you have to do the luggage check again, which means putting all bags on a conveyer belt with no one looking at it, and a bodyscan where I could not be bothered to remove metal; no one cares anyways. And you are constantly demanded tips (I do not give them ever anymore.) This time they also demanded a “drive through gate” fee, with a receipt to make it look real, which I refused to pay without consequences. Every trick to rip you off.

    Anyway, on the island I took a “dale dale” (overcrowded shabby minibus) which sped over huge bumps and potholes after waiting for an hour to leave for the last package to arrive, totally overcrowded. (And the locals don’t sit by and wait, they all start screaming things, probably “start goddammit!”…) My bike was put by some guy on the roof and it was too crowded for me to worry about how my bike was doing up there. What followed was a really beautiful ace-ventura-like drive (if you know what I mean.) with sooo much green, along with mangos, bananas, lemongrass, cinnamon, cloves, papaya, … everything grows here.

     But I haven’t talked about the best part: the diving. I laid down a fortune to take a padi course here, as this is supposed to be one of the best spots in the world to see life coral reefs: I was not disappointed. The view underwater is amazing and all the kinds of fish you see is unforgettable; I wasn’t bitten by any moray eels but we saw 20 on one spot, hung out briefly with some venomous lionfish, and spotted a big ass turtle; this for me was surely better than any safari. So nice to see that this coral reef is still perfectly intact, despite everything, and that there are still lots of tuna here, despite all the overfishing (also here) against the fish.

    Now for some brief more political and historical notes: this island is mostly agricultural, but belongs to the zanzibar archipelago and was part of zanzibar before the formation of tanzania. That makes it mostly islamic — there was a sultan of zanzibar here —but this island never developed towards tourism like zanzibar island (unguja, for the offended locals of Pemba) itself. However, you see foreign influence everywhere on the coast: seaweed farming. They learned here that they could sell the seaweed to china and korea — not making much money off it, so it’s actually a shit deal for them, given the amount of work it takes — so now most of the shoreline consists of seaweed plantations, for export. They also do not have nearly any plastic on the island, except what it’s imported and comes from china, etc.; no facilities to recycle or get rid of and so it just piles up and you can be cycling through piles of garbage when on smaller roads.

    Speaking of smaller roads. A local guy from the surf center took me to a restaurant on the north of the island, on a crappy bike (I was cycling mine obviously) and we were basically riding through flat sandy singletrack 80% of the time. On the way there I was amazed how he managed with the rather suboptimal bike; on the way back I was really astonished. It was dark, I had my perfect supernova lights, and he wanted to ride with his phone in his hand for light… I told him not to and just use the beam of my light, but then he frequently went in front (on super narrow sandy singletrack) with no light, and he just rode on. On the way from where I stayed to the village, his phone was out of battery so he just cycled in the dark (on a super small overgrown singletrack full of sand)…Absolute madness but also quite impressive.

    What was also very nice about hanging out at afro divers, the dive center, is getting their view on the locals. Because they are all friendly, but have their own way of doing things which you cannot get into and cannot change, and they are very proud. The guy I was staying at has a beautiful patch of land with an amazing garden, but he does not take good care of his apartments/ bungalows, and pretends that everything will be fixed even though he doesn’t have good pipes for running water, there is mold on the walls that he “will paint over”… but “hakuna matata my friend, I will sort it out”… it seems like a saying that makes them also not want to get things done for some, and actually get your shit together…

    Which reminds me, and this is venturing somewhat into speculation, but Europeans provided a lot of services and education to these countries as a way to get them to be self-sufficient, which was also the policy of the first president of Tanzania, Nyerere, and during his administration literacy and education rates increased a lot. But currently, they work closely with the Chinese in Tanzania, whom they are thankful for and look up to somewhat; on the other hand Chinese makes Chinese projects which creates jobs so they can work, but China is in the end the one profiting off of it. They are very dependent and tied to China now, in Tanzania.

    Ok, I will research this a bit more and maybe correct this, but I wanted to add some historical and economic points to this blog at the end, so you could also learn (or disagree) with some things.

    Next up zanzibar, dar, and west, if the trains still run.

    Oh there are incredibly cute puppies at the dive center, which actually walked over to my room in the night (300 meters away) and wanted to play with me at 5am.    Read more

    See translation
  • TravelerTo the motherland
    Day 83

    Lets go Tanga

    December 8, 2023 in Tanzania ⋅ ⛅ 31 °C

    I have already mentioned the swahili / tanzanian phrases "hamna shida" and " pole pole", and I was immediately forced to apply this to my cycling journey, before I even managed to get going. The guys from the beach apartments locked the doors of the room where my bike was stored, and it took two hours for someone to know with whom or where it could be found. Hamna shida. Pole pole.

    Well, after some chapati and chai (also the word for tea here, easy) I got going; man is it hot and humid. I thought it would be fine, but the first day wasn't fun—the busy car road didn't make it any better. Cool experience was when I took a detour through a village to get away from the cars, and immediately came upon a flooded street which I was sure was too deep; a local disagreed and picked up my bike /including luggage/ on his back, and balanced his way across the water on a skinny tube, where I had issues getting across without anything. I was seriously impressed.

    Made it to bagamoyo to a really, really nice campsite with pool and bar which made me forget the days exertions. (The next morning crows did shit all over my bags and gear but... Hamna shida.)

    On the way to sadaani national park I was treated to my first experience of really really bad tanzanian gravel roads, including the occasional flooded part; you learn to deal with these somehow. The national park was shitty though, as I wasn't allowed to enter by bicycle, and had to have an escort or taxi across, which cost me 100 euro... Waaay more than I wanted to spend, but I didn't have a choice in the end—well that's what they convinced me, I could actually have taken the local bus across, but they hunt on tourists here.

    I did see some giraffes, zebras, and other animals, but could have cared less to be honest. I don't like the car experience, if I cannot do it by bike, I will skip the safaris. Interesting about the ride was to experience how deep the ponds are that they drive through... I was not surprised that some truck and multiple motorcycles got stuck on the way, because water for sure entered into the motor at some points.

    After that ride I had to cycle in the dark to the nearest town, which was interesting given those horrible road conditions. Thank god for supernova lights. Got some food on the town (mwkaye or mkwaye... I cannot pronounce it either way) and ate with some locals in a very small poor village—they do talk about you in weird suspecting ways, but nothing happened.

    Day three was shitty, because I thought I lost my water purifier, it was even more humid, and I lost my towel somewhere on the way: some lady found it for me though, which made me really thankful— it was not my day. But yeah, hamna shida. Have I mentioned that the "roads" are horrible and that it is hot and humid? Best experiences here are just being greeted by kids enthusiastically yelling "hiiii!!! Hiiii!!!" And waving, coming towards you if you stand still, and men that are chilling somewhere yelling "mambo vipi?!". Generally Tanzanian people are very welcoming and interested. Even if they will occasionally ask cash for fuckall. (They will literally come up to you and say "give me cash!") But just say no and they will leave you =)

    I mentioned this "hamna shida, hakuna matatizo, pole pole, hakuna matate" already right? Well, I think this is more the mindset of people because it is forced upon them, rather than an active choice. Roads are horrible and unrideable after rain; blackouts during the day or evening are norm rather than exception; it is so hot you are inclined to sit around and relax. And the bikes or cars that they ride and drive are not exactly made for going fast either. I am also losing stuff because I am less focussed and the heat makes things harder.

    Which brings me to today: first rainstorm during this cycling trip. And yes, it will rain HARD. But that wasn't the issue— shelter is easy to find as there are people everywhere. The issue is these sand roads become swimming pools — our above-ground pools are just as deep— or the soil becomes so sticky that you just get stuck, and the wheels clog up. (Hamna shida... Oh fuck off) I made it to tanga, but it wasn't fun and I lost my sunglasses to the mud. Oh, I also was not responding "poa" (cool) to people shouting "mambo?!" Anymore. More like "yeah whatever"... But a nice experience nonetheless.

    I again could go on and on about details but it's getting too long again. I hope this wasn't a song of self pity; the pictures of the kids surely make up for this.

    Plan is to go diving on an island for a few days, and then probably a bus or train to an area with less heat and humidity (and hopefully no rains).    Read more

  • TravelerTo the motherland
    2
    Day 73

    Dar es salaam and zanzibar island

    November 28, 2023, Indian Ocean ⋅ ⛅ 28 °C

    Mambo! Because of airline tickets and safaris I decided to go to tanzania. Wasn't first on the to-go list, but looked alright and dar es salaam wasn't supposed to be too busy, so I just went with it.

    Which turned out to be very much the mindset of people in dar es salaam: just going with it. Hakuna matata, hakuna matatizo, hamna shida. Cycling there from the airport (which is super small) was not really too hectic despite all the honking and busy traffic: no one was driving like a turk or idiot. The roads can quickly change from being very good to having the biggest potholes and just being a huge pond, even if it has not rained for a few days. But it works in the end.

    Dar es salaam is quite big, but also very, very spread out. It does not have an easy identifiable center (unless you look for it), and it is not extra busy in any place; just busy traffic everywhere. It looks shady, but is actually really relaxed and not very unsafe. What you do find is a certain neighborhood where the poor houses and small shops are gradually swapped for huge houses or villas with lots of security and big supermarkets, also with lots of security. This is the place where embassy people and foreigners live apparently.

    I got to talk to someone from dar es salaam who showed me around, and the food here can be really really good; you do have to get used to eating with your hands though.

    Next I decided to go to zanzibar island, because it was hyped up quite a bit... And this island is something else to dar es salaam. Its beautifully situated with beautiful beaches, great fresh food (indian inspired due to the heritage) in zanzibar old town, and lots of tourism and very pushy local people. Zanzibar has some of the most amazing fresh produce (coconuts, bananas) and freshly caught seafood, so definitely a culinary hotspot. On the way down I wasn't too familiar yet with the tipping, and didn't know how firm you have to be. Was "forced" to tip many people for their "services" but learned days after that they are just fucking unsuspecting tourists. Just say no and be very firm about it.

    Speaking of "fucking", zanzibar island really is something of a " what happened ... Stays in ..." Island. In bars or on the street you are approached for sex services quite often, you see it everywhere, and a total pervert in the hostel bragged about how many women he had been with during his stay on the island; some other guys in the dorm and I had quite a few laughs over the guy over two days. But you also see local guys approach and leave with white women— this is, partly, undeniably a sex island. Its also a shame: it's their way of getting around, just living off of tourists.

    Well the tipping thing requires firmness: I tell them in advance I don't need them, and if they demand a tip anyway I just tell them kindly to fuck off. Shop owners (of a small art store, souvenir shop, etc) can be very relaxed and thankful, and also genuine: you quickly learn to distinguish the fake from the genuine smiles.

    They also say "pole pole" a lot but, as a guy from london put it, they are not "pole pole" when it comes down to it. They rush you all the time for the ferry; they can tell me to not worry all the time, but they should stop rushing everything and actually take those things "slowly, slowly". Off the ferry at the bagage belts Iwas the one yelling " take it easy" and "pole pole" but that didn't catch on: they are pushing and not keen on waiting at all.

    I will start my cycling in a few days, up north.    Read more

  • TravelerTo the motherland
    1
    Day 67–72

    Istanbul

    November 22, 2023 in Turkey ⋅ ☁️ 19 °C

    Let me try to divert my attention from the pre-flight preparations and give you an update from Istanbul!

    I really didn’t know if I would like or hate Istanbul, but I knew it would be one or the other. On the one hand, I hate touristy places with no culture, and thought I don’t like huge crowds of people generally; on the other I heard many people loved Istanbul, so there had to be something to it.

    Well on the first evening, walking from Taksim square to the busy shopping street to small alleyways, I was amazed at how different it is from Ankara. It is busy, and touristy in many places, but you can easily find authentic places in the city center and the place is very much alive. I liked it. Of course haga sofia, the blue mosque, and the highlights are beautiful to see, but the diversity of Istanbul was the most interesting to me.

    You have streets where cars are parked that cannot possibly get out. Cars dont give you any space and scooters (the small motorcycles) race through every street; luckily Im pretty good at throwing my bike in between cars and walking through red lights, but they take it to another level. Its hectic. Then you have hundreds of men (almost exclusively) fishing on the bridges —I am pretty sure there is overfishing — and fish restaurants and snack foods all next to it. And them you have hipster areas with vegan food, third wave coffee, and art stores. There is a kurdish area with there own customs (some of whom kept shouting “Yesilgöz!” When I mention the Netherlands… and sudden popup clothing markets in the evening where cheap clothing is sold on carpets. And there was a filmshoot next to my hostel for a few days, which didn’t look high tech at all, but seemed to have the entire neighbourhood involved.

    Yes, its busy, but the people that approach you can easily be shrugged off, and this cityhas much to enjoy. Oh, I didnt mention the organic market yet on Saturday, with loads, loads of fresh produce.( I bought way too much )

    Now Im going to a place where el niño is making a mess, and I hope things will work out. I will update my location in the next footprint.

    Oh, the picture? Yeah I had to go to a football match in Turkey. They go crazy over football here.    Read more

  • TravelerTo the motherland
    12
    Day 64–66

    Ankara 🏁

    November 19, 2023 in Turkey ⋅ 🌬 3 °C

    I arrived in Ankara, the final cycling destination of this trip on this continent! And fittingly I arrived in a snowstorm, with climactic and heroic conditions. And unfittingly, I don’t like this city very much.

    So, a recap: no baloons at sunrise in Cappadocia due to brilliant, beautiful, stunning fog, and serious cold in the morning (well, relative to what I experienced so far in Turkey). Glad I had all that thermo clothing with me. Of course komoot first tried to send me to a non-existing road in the beginning, but that was easily fixed by just following the busy road — this one was remarkably quiet actually and made for relaxed cycling.

    My route then quickly went into a smaller route to Kırşehir, which made for some of the quietest cycling ive had all trip. Just farmlands with villages where I encountered no-one whatsoever. Quite beautiful actually and a nice contrast from Cappadocia; it kind of seemed like all people stopped drinking tea and smoking, and this was the day they all had to work. Or they just somehow didn’t care for working in the other villages, what do I know. At some point I found myself without energy, and was quickly (15-20 km) offered food: the offer was communicated by a eating gesture, frantic waving, in the middle of farmlands, next to some tractors, and consisted of a huge, huge box of etli ekmek (literally bread with meat). Just stacks. And I ate… like 5 of those things. Turned out the guy had a brother living in vienna, so a phone-call to austria was made and I had a fun conversation with a turkish guy in Vienna. Plus, energy to continue.

    Kırşehir was a nice small little city with a busy center, with so few headscarves I thought the place wasn’t islamic. Of course it is, but it’s just different from Konya. Nice friendly, and very Turkish, place, where I had two bowls of lentil soup and icecream with helva (a really good match, I guarantee).m

    So, next days the weather turned shittier, and I wanted to make it as far as possible in reasonable conditions before it being, possibly, too cold. On the way I had another huge piece of pide (another name of etli ekmek ;) sort of) with cheese, egg, and of course, meat. That (and snacks) gave me so many calories I could push on and on for 130-140 km to Kırıkkale; and there the weather got really bad. Ended up looking for a hotel in terrible rain.

    Well, the third day the weather got really cold, but I just wanted to have this over with, and so just put on extra clothing and got myself ready for headwind, 800 meters of climbing, and busy car roads into ankara. Really. F*ck*n. Heavy wind at the top. What’s more, it was partially crosswind, which made it very dangerous with trucks which don’t give you any space. Ended up pushing the bike for 2 k, almost got run over by a truck (i have never waved so aggressively at a car or truck ever, I really cursed this guy to death, sorry), stuffed myself full of cake of which I could not tell the taste anymore, and somehow made it past the top where the wind turned into headwind, and got slightly calmer.

    Ok. In ankara it started snowing and I was super happy for this: the first snow is always nice.

    Let me just wrap up by also adding by Ankara experience: this city is busy with cars and people going everywhere, but not busy in a nice way. I did go to visit a hamam (turkish bath) to celebrate my arrival; I accidentally took two massages as I thought the massage and scrubs are two separate concepts, but nope, same thing here. That “thing” involves a really thorough wash (I needed that) where they scrub so hard that your arm almost gets dislocated, and confusingly being led to many places where you don’t know what to do in what order but which somehow works out in the end. And a hot hot sauna (like I want it) with a ice-cold swimming pool (that no-one ever uses it seems) which you can dive in (so awesome): a fitting celebration. I also visited the museum of Anatolian civilisations which taught me so much about the beginning of civilisations here, and is really, really good.

    But yeah, I don’t like this city: had to look for ages for a coffee, and the coffee they serve is really quite terrible. (In specialty places.) The tomb of Atatürk closes at 4 (…) and the metro system was too confusing for me at first due to a terribly designed metro map. (If I ask a ticket officer if he speaks english, I don’t have to be asked in return whether I speak turkish… But I just give him a shitty reply to that in English in return.)

    It does have some things going for it: a massive mosque in the city center which is too massive for any pictures with a smartphone, an ok-ish city center (which doesn’t have any cultural feeling in my opinion but isn’t bad) and a nice market. The museum of the independence war is just a recital how awesome Ataturk was, how they beat all allies in ww1 and greeks (the allies made such terrible strategy decisions — or lack of strategy, rather, like I already wrote about) and it was just felt like a “we are awesome awesome awesome” show. And come on, you were on the side of nazi Germany and committed genocides. Show some ability to put things into perspective. But its funny to see them do some march to change the guards.

    Oh my god I write too much. I could go on and on but it’s turning into a madman’s personal diary. Let me just upload some pictures for you…    Read more

  • TravelerTo the motherland
    Day 61

    Cappadocia

    November 16, 2023 in Turkey ⋅ 🌬 18 °C

    Yeah this place is beautiful. I suggest you first look at the pictures and then read on. (Whatever literary “style” is gone with this last sentence, but yeah, cappadocia is all about the natural wonders... Or is it?)

    Yesterday (wednesday) I first visited the volcano lake, where I was greeted by a few toursbuses that were just leaving. It made for good pictures. Then onward to the underground cities, and I was recommended by a turk who worked in germany to go to the one kaymakli, not the deeper one; on the way I briefly had a traildog accompanying me which was very cool—he did first just want food, but kept me company even if I didnt have anything for him.

    Arrived at derinkuyu really, _really_ tired, as if I had just done interval training: headwind. But the road to kaymakli was with mostly tailwind so that was a breeze, literally. And man, those underground cities are impressive. Some background—which I didn’t know until after I visited: these were created around the 7th centuries mostly, and were also used as hiding places against muslims, mongolians, also still under ottoman rule, and even during the 20th century. And it’s all because of the volcanic rock that they managed to make this: they are huge. You go in, and the it goes deeper, there are tunnels (which they could close off with rolling rocks as doors) which go on for 5 minutes, it has multiple levels, ventilation, and they even connected kaymakli underground with derinkuyu, which is 10 km!! I am also glad I didn’t go to the five story one in derinkuyu, because two stories, albeit very spread out, is definitely enough for me. By the way, I was the last person to enter ( and also to leave).

    After that I decided to push on, with onsetting darkness, to Cappadocia’s göreme, to spend two nights there. Now I won’t rant about tourism again, but let me just say this: my lonely planet guide says the “open air museum” was 30 lira, about 5 years back. I expected 300. They charge 450-480 lira now for entering…. So I didn’t enter, and instead went and walked around some of the valleys; see pictures. Absolutely stunning. Also met some cool indian / british guy by chance and had chai (and a beer after—dont want to become too turkish) among old people playing rummikub.

    Maybe tomorrow morning I will update this with a picture of balloons; maybe I won’t. In any case I think I will cycle to ankara in about a week, and that will really be the end of this turkey trip. But the journey of middle earth [ahem, the motherland] is about to begin.    Read more

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