Helping Hands

As the bus pulled over at the side of the freeway, it occurred to me that I had never walked to a big city airport before. I thank the driver and  confirm that the airport is thataway, about a mile and a half down the road. I tell myself that the money I'm saving now will help pay for the next trip, but I'm overdressed and my luggage is heavy and it is a beautiful warm day.

I make my way to the Izmir airport terminal, pass through security and plunk myself down to gather myself. I'm hot, I'm cranky and I'm hungry. Fortunately, the Izmir airport offers cuisine on a par with landing strips worldwide. After overpaying for my Whopper and fries, I check in my bag.

One thing I have learned about regional flights is that weight restrictions on checked baggage are smaller and stricter. So travel tip #4107 is to stuff the carry on with your  heavy gear when taking cheap regional flights. However, keep in mind that there are weight restrictions on carry on, but they are rarely enforced..

I step out for a smoke, knowing that stepping back in means another trip through security. I consider the fact that I am flying by the seat of my pants here. I have no room booked for my next destination, Adana. This is because The City of Adana has a rule about advertised hotel rates. As a result, the rates posted on the internet are limited and outrageous and the consequence of that is that I will be arriving in a strange city at night with no firm plan.

Sometimes when you travel you just have to have faith when plans go awry.

As I stamp out my smoke, and prepare for airport hell wait, I take one last walk in the outdoors when I notice a restaurant complex located in a little park that looks considerably more enticing than the airport. Perfect. I make my way down, order a coffee and open up my guidebook as I attempt to formulate a plan for the next stop.

Make no mistake, like most of us, I prefer to know in advance where I will be sleeping on any given night, especially in an unfamiliar city in a foreign country. As I read the book the restaurant manager approaches me and we start chatting. I explain that I am looking for a hotel in my guidebook.

He asks me which hotel, takes my guide and books me a room at far less than the internet rate and even less than my lonely planet guide. "Don't worry, you are booked, and don't pay more than ten lira for the cab."

I am deeply grateful to this gentlemen, but I have to say that he is only one among many who have gone out of their way to help me

I leave a huge tip and get on the plane to Adana feeling a whole lot better about everything.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Gifted

Image by Rol1000 via Flickr

This feeling is familiar, and reveals that the traveling mentality must contain a shred of ruthlessness, and it reminds me of being four years old and forced back into the car as we drive away from the grandparents place.

Selcuk in the low season is a lovely place. I have seen incredible things here, and I have extended my stay as long as I can. I feel as if I am in some Turkish version of The Trueman Show. Nonetheless, the clock is ticking and I have little choice but to move on from this most beautiful, charming, and welcoming locale.

The level of hospitality I have received here is utterly beyond reproach. At 15 euro a night with balcony and breakfast included and nestled in the mountains near some of the worlds greatest historic sites, Selcuk in January is a great travel bargain if the weather holds. And by the way, feel free to make your own coffee anytime, and help yourself to the oranges growing plentifully from the tree in the courtyard.

The day before departure, I book a flight online from Izmir to Adana, total cost $50 cdn. I'm not sure how I'm going to get to the Izmir airport from Selcuk at the time of booking, but I'm sure I'll figure it out.

On the morning of my checkout the awesome dude at the hotel advises me to go to the Saturday market, and that I can catch a bus that will drop me off near the Izmir airport.

Foolishly, I forget that it is Christmas Day, in spite of the fact that I am surrounded by gifts, and as I climb on the bus I can't help but feel that I am leaving a debt behind as I drag myself away from this perfect place.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Waiting For The Sun

As I lug my depleted carcass and burdensome luggage around the depths of the pre dawn emptiness that is the Izmir bus station. I curse my budget minded Scottish DNA . Part of the reason that I booked this trip is the result of a promise I made to myself that I would save money by periodically traveling at night, thus avoiding a hotel bill. I figure the money I don't spend on this trip is a downpayment on the next journey, and this is why I find myself at the cavernous and empty Izmir bus station in the wee smalls.

As far as bus stations go, this one is pretty nice. Multiple internet cafes, restaurants and smoke shops, almost all of which are closed. This is not a tourist area and finding an English speaker is a shattered and delusional straw. I find a place that is open, buy a juice and plunk myself down.

Its 4:45 am. A cabbie or two offer me a ride, but a ninety minute taxi ride will wipe out all my savings from the lack of hotel. There is nothing for it but to tough it out and hope that someone who speaks English will happen along and explain where I need to go to find a minibus to Selcuk.

As I sip my juice a Zen state washes over me. This is not a moment to make something happen, it is time to let something happen. And of course it does.

As I quaff my beverage, a young lad employed by the cafe engages me. I'm happy to talk. He regales me with stories of a debauched trip to Montreal. He warns me about the dangers of such activity in Turkey. I assure him that when I travel to any country I respect the laws and customs.

Like many young people that I have met in my travels, he wants to practice his english. I always engage these people. They humble me and my unilingual skills. They apologize for their bad English, I apologize for my bad Turkish,Cambodian,French,Arabic or Vietnamese depending on the locale..

Of course, I do have a little bit of self interest, like "how in the name of Zeus do I get to Selcuk from this place that is the size of a small airport?" Fortunately the kid sends me in the right direction and I eventually figure it out.

By 8am I am on a minibus to Selcuk. I'm dead tired and as we pull out I quickly fall asleep. When I wake up to the early morning sun,  I am instantly aware that while I may still be in Turkey, I am a world away from Istanbul.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Buspitality?

Honestly, it never occurred to me that hospitality could be experienced on a bus. In Canada the idea of an attendant on a bus is inconceivable. But I'm not in Canada, I'm in Turkey and I am starting to get the vibe of hospitality that permeates this part of the world as beverages and snacks are periodically offered throughout the long journey.

I even have a TV embedded in the seat in front of me, though all the programming is Turkish. Very soon the freeway of Istanbul gives way to a different landscape. I watch a movie in Turkish that I can follow. When the child behind me hits me on the head for the third time, I turn and glare at the mother.

Despite all the hospitality, this is a long bus ride.

At one point we get on a ferry. I love a good boatride, so I get off the bus for the duration of the ferry trip. As I enjoy a smoke while I stare at the sparkling lights in the distant darkness an military vehicle pulls on to the ferry. Two dudes climb out, one with an AK47. I look at the vehicle and see three sets of eyes peering out through a barred window.

.Curiously, the guys driving the truck are very casual and the guys in the back of  the truck are almost as casual as the guards. Then I remember that Turkey requires mandatory military service and I'll bet dollars to doughnuts that the "prisoners" were kids who were a tad late in reporting for their compulsory military service.

We disembark the ferry and the bus drones on into the Turkish night. At some point a fare dispute erupts. We are pulled over somewhere and a well dressed man is summoned to issue a verdict. I step off the bus and use the moment of conflict as an ad hoc smoke break.

With the dispute resolved, I step back on the bus. I doze off as we roll on into the Turkish night. I am awoken by a gentle tap on the shoulder from the attendant. It is 4:15 am and I am in the Izmir bus station. The attendant asks me if I know where I am going. I reply confidently, Selcuk.

And yes, I may know where I'm going, but how I'm going to get there is an entirely different matter.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Little Big Move

As I head to the terrace for my last breakfast in Istanbul I feel confident. Istanbul may be my arrival and departure point, but my plan involves more exotic locales and this is my first "big move" in the larger picture. A bus to Izmir, a minibus  to Selcuk and on to the magnificence of Efes (Ephesus).

I know it sounds daunting, but being the brilliant traveler that I am, I shrewdly booked the trip the previous day. It was here that I learned an important caveat about travel: many times it is the little move that can mess you up .

I had wisely booked a ticket to Izmir and a ticket to get me to the place where I would make a bus connection to Izmir, the Istanbul Autogar.  I knew that the Autogar (bus station) was a good distance from my quarters in Sultanmet. As I buy the ticket I am  informed with gravity that I must be here at 3pm, so that I may catch  the minibus that will take me to the 4:30 pm bus to Izmir.


Perfect. Being the cautious person I am, I show up at the cafe next door at 2:30 pm. By 2:50 I am parked luggage and all in front of the travel agent. At 3:05  I poke my head into the Travel Agents office. I am immediately  told "don't, worry he will be here". They are having lunch, and not only do I feel bad for interrupting, I note a pang of hunger as I inhale some of their delicious gnosh.

The delicious scent of their lunch sets off my peckish alarm. I remind myself that I need to grab a donair/shawarma/gyros before getting on the bus to Izmir. After all, I still have time to spare and the street food here is cheap, fresh,  ubiquitous, and delicious.

Around 3:30  I make another inquiry. Still nothing. The information I have is  that the next bus to Izmir is 12 hours later, not an appealing option. Tic toc.At 3:45 I have convinced myself that there is a serious possibility that I might not make this bus. I open up my guide book and begin considering options. Tic toc , 3:50 pm. By now I'm angry and hungry and I'm pretty sure that the odds of making this bus are pretty small.

Finally a minivan rolls up at 3:55.. By now, I've given up all hope and I'm pissed off, I hurl my luggage into the minivan. I spend the rest of my ride wondering if my stupid bravado has destroyed my beloved laptop, which is unfortunate because the ride is awesome, a weird combination of a French Connection car chase in a minivan and a wonderful tour through the real heart of Istanbul..

I begin to feel bad because I can see that the driver is doing everything he can to get me across Istanbul. I end up feeling worse because I know that I didn't buy travel insurance and I am now on a deathride to the autogar.

Astonishingly, we make it in one piece to the autogar.  It is 4:38pm. Even more astonishingly my bus to Izmir awaits.

I throw my luggage in the hold (more gently this time) and off we go with seconds to spare.

While I'm grateful that I made this bus, I lament the fact that my donair plan has gone astray.

Nonetheless, I tell my growling stomach to shut up and enjoy as we make our way out of Istanbul.

A few moments later I notice a refreshment cart being wheeled down the aisle, like an oasis on a bus. Complimentary snacks on a bus??? I tuck into some biscuits and coke for dinner as I brace for the road ahead.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

 I once read a great post at http://travelswithtavel.com/   that compared traveling with falling in love.

But I would say that travel is more like dating, sometimes you want to get it over early, sometimes a one night stand is enough and sometimes you wish you could be together forever, and when you realize that you can't the goodbye becomes tearful.

Of course when traveling, there is always another "date" around the corner.

Thusly it was that when I left Istanbul it felt like a tearful breakup. The people and the city have a certain elegance, at once humble and dignified, towering and welcoming. The overwhelming sense of hospitality I have found here is both familiar and flawless.

"My Mom would like this place",  I think to myself as I mutter my goodbyes.

Tomorrow I jump on a bus for the long ride to Izmir, where I will transfer to a bus to Selcuk. From there I will go to Efes (Ephesus). Mostly I blame The Siren for this arduous sojourn. She gave me a book for my birthday that chronicled The Best Places To Travel On Earth.

So off I go in search of The Ruins Of Ephesus and Merrymana . (The Virgin Mary's House)

Apparently, my next "date" is going to be hot, and if she isn't it is all Brewers fault.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com