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How to hitchhike out of Istanbul and have an awesome adventure doing it

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Hitchhiking out of Istanbul at first seemed like it would be the most challenging chapter of my travels so far. I’d be alone and unsupported in a country I’ve never previously visited, with a way of life completely removed from my own. I also have no grasp of the language and Istanbul is an utterly massive place. I have myself, my backpack, and the ability to stick out my thumb. My eventual destination (at least for a while): Yerevan, Armenia – 2,000 long kilometres away.

Over the past couple of days staying in Istanbul I’ve spent a little time researching how to hitch eastward past the 20 miles of urban sprawl and into the countryside. I’ve looked online, asked the advice of my friends here and written down a list of useful Turkish phrases. That’s about it. One Turkish girl I met laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea. “Honey,” she started in a well-knowing/condescending tone (you decide which – I’ve not been brutally and mercilessly mutilated yet). “You’re going to die. This is Turkey.” Whether or not she’d ever attempted to hitch out of her home city I have no idea. I suspect not – plus she called me honey the moment I mentioned hitching and from that point on I wasn’t really interested in all the overblown horror stories she might have to tell me.

Hitching in Mexico was easy. So why not this? To be fair though, in Mexico I had at least some knowledge of Spanish and I was with a friend. This time I was alone and in the ‘scary’ Middle East.

After my research, written by some nameless random on the Internet I had a plan: take a ferry across the Bosphorus from Beşiktaş to Kadiköy on the Asian side of Istanbul, from there I’ll catch a dolmush bus to the far eastern reaches of the city. According to my information there’s a rest stop on the main highway to Ankara a short walk away, from which hitching is possible. The aim for day one is to make it to the tiny village of Ilişi on the Black Sea coast, where Selen is staying at her family’s summer house. Selen is a close friend of Elif, my host in Istanbul. We met the other day and she invited me to visit. Why not? I’ve done tiny villages in Mexico so the Turkish version should be just as fun.

Should I make it to Ilişi in one piece I’ll spend a few days there. After that I’ll continue east, passing through the coastal cities of Samsun, Trabzon and into Georgia. From there, Armenia awaits. The journey should theoretically take 30-40 hours on-the-road time.

During my time in Istanbul I’ve also had time to take in the city life. My time here has been nothing short of spectacular – the experience made all the better by my Couchsurfing host Elif and her huge group of fun and varied friends. Over the past few days I’ve barely had time to gather any thoughts – we’ve been having too much fun. Spending all night out until the sun comes up – the 5am Ezan (Muslim call to prayer) signifying the time for us to think about heading home and sleeping until noon. I can see why people get sucked into this place. I’ve already extended my stay, ended up at a huge inner city music festival, partied in a cramped swing bar with an old rickety elevator leading up to the top floor tatty-newspaper-walled dancefloor and ended up at a bizarre open-air silent disco listening to 1990s mashups.

I’m writing this article on my phone (handy things these smartphones) so will be updating the article of my hitchhike as the journey develops in real-time before publishing it. The result will be a play-by-play of my attempt to get out of this enormous city and into rural Turkey to a village that isn’t even featured on the map. Here we go…

Sunday.

5:24am, Papilion Cafe Bar, Taksim, Istanbul.
Things haven’t gone well for my Sunday departure date. I went out for a few drinks with Elif and her friends tonight. Well, the sun just came up and I’m perched on a window ledge overlooking this part of Istanbul, having not got even close to making it home. The DJ still pumps out the tunes in this place as my friends relax on old chesterfield couches in the half-full bar. Below me in the street people sit on the sidewalk, mulling the events of the previous night. Food carts dodge the taxis weaving their way through the narrow streets. A man lies prostrate on the ground – must have been a fun night for him. It’s amazing how busy it is. I’m not one for the bar scene but the nightlife here makes anywhere else I’ve ever gone out in look utterly terrible. I’m tired. I should probably go and seek out some sleep at some point. I look to the adjacent building into one of the windows. It’s a bathroom. Then the light goes on. There’s a guy in there, obviously having just got up, washing and drying his face and cleaning his teeth before his day begins. Yeah, should definitely sleep. The cat I’m sharing the window-sill with probably agrees.

6:49am. Elif’s house, Beşiktaş, Istanbul.
Got home, finally. Went for some fresh baked goods on the walk back through Beşiktaş. Delicious. Too tired to really care though. The hills in the Beşiktaş streets are steep. Not enough energy. Pass out when we get in.

11:24am. Elif’s house, Beşiktaş, Istanbul.
Wake up. Want to go back to sleep. Tired. Should probably stay awake though. Going to screw up bodyclock otherwise.

1:27pm. Elif’s house, Beşiktaş, Istanbul.
Finally awake and out of bed. Have coffee. Will not travel. Got up ten minutes ago. Tired. Elif just rolled out of bed too. Don’t think anything too strenuous is happening today. Making the (French Press) coffee was a huge effort.

4:28pm. Elif’s house, Beşiktaş, Istanbul.
Just finished breakfast. Yup, breakfast at 4pm. Brice and Ellen, a couple of French Erasmus students, came along to join Elif, her roommate Mustaf and I. Too hot to go out. We’re all tired from being out all night. We were also out with Brice and Ellen last night. Also – Turkish Coffee. Definitely necessary.

7:02pm. Elif’s house, Beşiktaş, Istanbul.
Yeah. This day is lazy. Nothing’s going to happen. Screening Tom’s film, Janapar, to Elif and her cousin, Tolga.

9:08pm. Local park, Beşiktaş, Istanbul.
Decided to take a stroll through Beşiktaş. It’s nice out. Found myself in a park watching some kids playing football. Sorted.

9:35pm. The Bosphorus, Beşiktaş, Istanbul.
Found out where I need to get the ferry to Kadiköy from tomorrow. Ten minutes walk from Elif’s, not bad at all. Celebratory kebab is necessary. Tomorrow I WILL leave.

12:24am. Elif’s house, Beşiktaş, Istanbul.
Time to sleep. Wandered around the bustling Beşiktaş streets a bit more. I love this city. Got back to the house and hung out with Elif on the balcony, exchanged film/music/book recommendations, talked about life – quality time really. Again, leaving in the morning is going to be sad. The worst part of travel. But the road awaits…

Monday.

7:13am. Elif’s house, Beşiktaş, Istanbul.
Guh. Fnar. It’s morning – better pack up. Elif goes to work, as does Mustaf. I’ll miss these guys. They are two of a long list of reasons to come back to Istanbul. Aim to leave by 9ish. Ferry is only a short walk from here. After that I’ll be in Asia. Seems strange – a couple of weeks ago I was on the Pacific coast of North America. Now I’m in the Middle East. Excellent.

9:03am. Ferry Terminal, Beşiktaş, Istanbul.
The journey begins, finally. Packed up, left Elif and Mustaf a letter of thanks, and got on the road. Made it down to the ferry with plenty of time to spare. Crossing to Kadiköy on the 9:15 sailing. It’s hot (as always) and sunny. Wahey.

9:17am. The Bosphorus.
The ferry pulls slowly away from the dock and into the sundrenched waters of the Bosphorus. Goodbye Europe, hello Asia. There’s a waiter on board serving chay for the ferry passengers. That’s awesome. Take gratuitously arrogant voyeuristic self-portrait ferry photo (see below).


9:50am. The 19Y Bus, Kadiköy, Istanbul.
Hello Asia. You’re a lot like the European side of Istanbul. Busy, chaotic traffic, historic buildings, and with the same smattering of attractive and exotic looking females. It’s a tough life. Found the bus I needed and after some ridiculous hand-gesturing and terrible attempts at speaking Turkish the driver ushers me on to the bus for free. Nice of him! I think you need a card or something to pay, I have cash. Doh. Tessekurler, Mr. Bus Driver sir. Also, I have the whole bus to myself so my backpack gets it’s own seat.

10:01am. Somewhere in Istanbul.
Hey it’s the Fenerbahçe football stadium. I’ve seen the Beşiktaş one, now this. Just missing Galatasaray for the set. Don’t think I’ll get it though. On a side note: sweatiness. That is all.

10:53am. Some Random Area, Istanbul.
Got dropped off at the end of the bus route in some random industrial estate. Wandering through a dusty suburb to get to the highway. I can see the cars and trucks speeding by way off in the distance. Did I mention sweatiness? No? Good.

11:49am. By the side of the road, Istanbul.
Been at the side of the road now for about 30 minutes. No luck yet. Couple of people stopped but not heading in the right direction. Going to get out of the sun for a while.

12:25pm. A truck, the highway.
I have my first ride. With Sait, a trucker going to Ankara. Great success! I have no Turkish and him no English. Wahey.

12:58pm. Sait’s truck, the highway
Sait tells me (with a lot of wild gesticulations due to lack of a common language) that he drives Istanbul-Ankara every day, and sometimes mixes it up by going to Van in eastern Turkey. I’m not sure what he carries in the truck but the thing is huge. He also has a wife, three kids and supports Galatasaray – one of Istanbul’s three big football clubs. He’s a nice guy from first impressions and is friendly. For the record I told him that I am definitely not married, have no kids, and that Manchester United are where it’s at. Ankara is 340km away, with my route splitting off from Sait shortly after the city of Bolu. I’ll ask to jump out at a rest stop on the highway after we reach there.

1:24pm. Sait’s truck, the highway.
A handily placed Hyundai sign at the sign of the road tells me that it’s 37 celcius right now – that’s 98 for the Americans amongst you (and judging by my site stats page that’s most people – you guys are awesome!).

It’s increasingly hazy outside now, we’re passing the turnoff for Bursa and Sait is embroiled in an animated conversation on his telephone. A word must be said about Turkish driving also. It’s pretty crazy, way more crazy than in Mexico, probably on a similar plain to the insane maneuvers and complete lack of any kind of safety that I came across in Ghana a few years back. That’s fine though – everyone is a maniac so it works. Means we’ll get there faster (or come to an untimely end in a monstrous pile-up).

1:32. Sait’s truck, the highway.
Just seen my first pair of Iranian trucks, woop woop. Man irani doost daram. Khelee khoob. Yes yes. Sait is finished with his phonecall. Smoke time for him. Every Turkish person I’ve met so far has had a huge smoking habit. Guess that’s where the “smoking like a Turk” saying comes from then.

2:58pm. Sait’s truck, a truckstop, the highway.
Stopping for a break from the unrelenting highway. Sait went off somewhere, I stretched my legs. Lunch consisted of melted cheese and a melted chocolate wafer. Not the best lunch I’ve ever eaten but it’ll do. Should have got some jam to go with the bread I have. Darnit!

Sait returns. And he returns with biscuits! Nice work Sait.

As much as I hate my smartphone it is useful. I show him where we are on the map. Soon after Bolu, Sait turns south toward Ankara whilst I need to go northwest. I manage to explain that I should jump out around the area where the highway splits. I think he understands. If not I’ll end up in Ankara. Oh well, I suppose it’s Turkeys capital so is probably worth seeing.

4:30pm. Sait’s truck, the highway.
We’re gradually making miles. Trucks and hills don’t mix and this part of Turkey is mountainous. Only about 30km away from where the road splits now. After that I’ll be looking for another ride. I think getting to Selen’s place on the coast tonight is pretty touch and go. I may be busting out the camping gear.

6:10pm. Ömer’s car, the highway.
Another 30 miles down. Sait kindly dropped me at the services on the highway junction. I bought some supplies and walked to the on-ramp. After about twenty minutes I’m picked up by Ömer, who takes me a little further down the road. He speaks a little English, isn’t going toward Kastamonu and Selen’s house, but can take me past the junction to outside of Gerede, to avoid the Ankara traffic before he heads to Sansum. Very helpful of him. Ömer tells me he’s a policeman. He drives at 140kph whilst nonchalently chain-smoking cigarettes and drinking energy drinks. Pretty Turkish really.

7:11pm. Imam Faruk’s car, the highway
First experience of full-on Middle Eastern hospitality this trip (and first chance I’ve had to write about it). I love Middle Eastern people. No sooner had I been dropped off on the highway shoulder by Ömer I’m picked up by Faruk and his wife. It took approximately 30 seconds to get a ride. My saviours this time are my age, with a young daughter, and as it happens are driving to within 20km of where Selen lives. Faruk is happy to drive me the rest of the way there! They offer to call Selen (my Canadian number no longer works) and arrange to meet her in the next town to Selen’s house, Abana. Sorted.

9:40pm. Imam Faruk’s car, Kastamonu.
We arrived in the old town of Kastamonu a while ago. Situated in the Küre mountains, the town is dominated by the old 12th Century castle that overlooks the whole valley. As I take a photo Faruk offers a better view. Sure, why not. Twenty minutes and one huge U-Turn later we’re at the top of the castle ramparts watching the last of the sunlight fade with a view of the whole town. It’s beautiful. And then it’s dinner time. Monster kebab promptly demolished I’m then waved away as I protest at Faruk paying for the dinner. The rascal. Faruk is an Imam by the way and Deniz, his wife, tells me I should find myself a Turkish girl while I’m here. Unfortunately my lack of Turkish could prove a problem with that. We drive on into the night – a delicious dinner, good company, and a sightseeing tour of historic Kastamonu later. What generocity.

1:35am. Selen’s house, Ilişi, The Black Sea Coast.
And I’ve made it. The camping gear remains packed. Well, actually I arrived a couple of hours ago. Almost 600km in 14 hours overland, and aside from a ferry over the Bosphorus and some grapes I bought earlier I haven’t spent a thing. Rocking. I was greeted by Selen, her dad, and her sister as we got to Abana. Thanks and goodbyes were said to Imam Faruk and Deniz and that was that – we went home. It’s great to see Selen. One mountain of watermelon and some ice tea later it’s time to sleep. Another day of successful hitching – my first in the Middle East and a wonderful and very easy experience. Time to spend a few days exploring Ilişi. Good night!



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