When Thomas asked me what I expected from my birthday, I shrugged and said, “Cycling…?” We began our unspectacular journey the day before from Ankara, mostly along an almost highway-like road, with three more days of cycling ahead to reach Cappadocia. I’ve never really liked my birthday and usually dread it rather than look forward to it. It’s not that I mind getting older, but the expectations and pressure for it to be special unsettle me. So, in this case, having no expectations was a good thing—almost freeing.
Fortunately, my lack of expectations didn’t prevent the day from unfolding with amazing surprises. First, we came across Düden Gölü, a lake we did not originally have in our plan but we discovered it on the map while looking for potential camping spots for the night before. The lake was full of flamingos! These proud, exotic birds were a totally unexpected sight in the otherwise dry landscape. After some birdwatching, we continued for many kilometers (with some headwind) to Tuz Gölü, a salt lake. Despite having seen pictures, I was stunned by the view: white as far as the eye could see. We could walk and even cycle on it, making it a feast for the eyes and a playground for taking funny pictures. Finally, we set up our tent for the night at a small lake with turtles and frogs, and enjoyed a beautiful sunset over a good self-cooked meal. My zero expectations were easily exceeded, but this experience was beyond anything I could have imagined or wished for.
The surprises and gifts didn’t end there. I spent the rest of the week happily answering birthday messages, enjoying awesome presents, and experiencing one stunning surprise after another. After two more days of cycling through the Turkish countryside, we reached 3000 km just as we arrived in Göreme, Cappadocia. We spent two nights in a chic cave hotel with a beautiful terrace overlooking the town, its rock peaks, and caves. We had a second birthday dinner and also camped for one night nearby on a ridge with a spectacular view of two stunning, empty valleys and their rock formations, enjoying a beautiful sunset.
On our first day in Cappadocia, we explored Rose Valley and Red Valley on foot. We climbed up behind the valley and then descended into Rose Valley, leaving the other tourists behind. Along the way, we ate apricots from the trees, explored caves and cave churches, walked through tunnels, and followed small paths up and down the stone formations. Despite the heat, sun, and desert-like dryness, we found refreshing shade in the lush vegetation at the bottom of the valley. Thomas and I were both amazed by the valley’s beauty and tremendously enjoyed the childlike exploration of this wonderland full of surprises.
We were so immersed in this magical land that we were taken aback when we re-entered the main valley and were suddenly surrounded by hordes of tourists: tourists on ATVs, tourists crammed into a single cave, tourists on horseback, and tourists on sunset cruises collecting Instagram spots. Feeling slightly bewildered, I wondered if I should pity them for not sharing our magical experience or just be grateful that they were entertaining themselves elsewhere, leaving the most beautiful valley untouched and entirely to us.
Could this day be topped? I don’t think so, but our second day in Cappadocia was also filled with stunning views and unique experiences. It was the only day the weather was good enough for hot air balloons to fly. We got up before sunrise, drove up the hill, and arrived just in time to see the first hot air balloons taking off. Soon, the whole sky was full of balloons! They floated above and below us in the valley, with one even hovering just above me, the pilot calling down, “Do you need a taxi?” It was an incredible, almost unreal view, making me feel like I was in a fairytale.
This year, my birthday stretched over a whole week, and I loved it! I am immensely grateful for all the heartfelt messages, surprises, and gifts I received. Thank you, Thomas, for being here and creating such a wonderful life together!
Anecdotes:
Istanbul to Ankara: “No!” The security guy shook his head. “No bicycle on the train!” It was 10 pm, and we were standing at the train station in Istanbul, facing the security checkpoint where all passengers’ luggage was scanned before being allowed on the platform for the night train to Ankara. We knew bicycles weren’t officially allowed on the train but decided to take a chance. We had booked a sleeping cabin with two beds and thought we could disassemble our bikes and put them in our cabin if necessary.
A young Turkish guy came to our rescue, translating between the security guard, the ticket checker, and us. Thomas started disassembling his bike to show we could make it smaller, while I talked to our new friend who said, “I’ll try to convince them. I like bikes.” After several rounds of back and forth and confirming multiple times that we could disassemble the bikes and had a private cabin, we were finally allowed to pass. We scanned our bags and, with our half-disassembled bikes, made our way to the platform. The signs to our wagon were pointing the wrong direction and we had to sprint to the other side when the train arrived. At last, the conductor greeted us pleasantly and told us we could leave our bikes at the end of the train, which luckily was our wagon.
A bit drained from the stress of almost not being allowed on the train with our bicycles but happy we made it, we settled into our compartment, only to be woken in the middle of the night. The conductor, with limited English, explained that the train had a problem and we needed to transfer to a bus that would take us to another train. Fortunately, the bus’s luggage storage was big enough to fit our bicycles (even upright!). We transferred just in time for a picturesque sunrise, with all our luggage AND bicycles, to the second train for the rest of the journey.
Ankara: Ankara is the worst place for cycling so far. It’s not that the traffic is particularly bad, but the city is filled with one-way streets, many of them parallel and running in the same direction, forcing us to make huge detours in a very hilly area. Super annoying. No wonder motorcyclists ignore this traffic rule—a strategy we’ve started to adopt occasionally.
It’s not just in Ankara; Turks seem to love their one-way streets. They prefer a two-lane one-way street over a single-lane two-way street, probably because it allows space to block one lane for temporarily parking while shopping, running other errands, or just talking to someone on the street.
Turkey: “Are you Swedish?” a seemingly Turkish man approached us. “No, from Switzerland.” “I am Swedish. My English is bad, but I speak Swedish,” he said, and a moment later, I found myself between Thomas and this man, speaking Swedish (or Norwegian).
We met many Turks from other European countries as well. They were usually working-class people, which made me realize that, in other countries, I usually end up talking mostly to well-educated people because they tend to speak better English. Interestingly, Turks from different countries often clustered together. If one man was from the Netherlands in one town, all the others who approached us in that town were also from the Netherlands. In other places, they came from Austria, France, or Germany. Many were on holiday, while others had retired here and some shared how they felt foreign in their own home country.
Nevşehir: One great thing about traveling in Turkey is the abundance of picnic places—tables with benches, a roof for sun protection, and the compulsory dose of thrash spread everywhere across the country. These picnic spots can be found everywhere: in parks, at rest stops along major roads, and even in the middle of nowhere. We often used them for our lunch breaks.
In Nevşehir, we sat down at one such spot and started eating the food we got from a nearby bakery when a security guard approached us. He pointed to our food and then gestured outside the park. We were a bit confused about what he wanted to tell us. Should we leave? That didn’t seem to make sense. Eventually, we understood: he was reminding us to dispose of our trash properly. No littering! It was somewhat ironic, but yes, we assured him we would dispose of our trash, as we always do. I hope their efforts to keep picnic places clean will soon spread beyond the tourist areas—and beyond the picnic places…
Dogu Express from Kayseri to Kars: After a day of cycling, we cleaned ourselves in an authentic Hammam. I was relieved to already know procedure! We boarded the train around 1 am, with my bicycle in our private 4-bed couchette (the only option to mix genders) and Thomas’ bicycle at the end of the wagon. For some unknown reason, they didn’t want our bicycles in the official spaces allocated for them, not in the bicycle nor the luggage compartments.
In the morning, we woke up to a beautiful canyon outside our window and rain—heavy rain. I had smirked when every second birthday message wished me sun because, unlike Switzerland and Germany, which had their fair share of rain this spring, we had sun ever since we entered Croatia. More often than not, we wished for shade from the non-existent clouds. After all those well-meant but maybe slightly egocentric wishes, we finally got rain, beautifully marking the end of this chapter—and the beginning of a new one.
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