Four days from Alessandropolis to Istanbul. 390 km. Four days of rice fields, sunflower fields, wheat fields, some old houses, beautiful forest cemeteries, empty children’s playgrounds, old men drinking chai, heavy wind, and even more fields. Over time, the rice fields became fewer, wheat predominated, and the sunflowers did not yet smile towards the sun but remained closed, waiting to bloom after we had passed.
Cycling through this never-ending scenery against the wind felt surreal at times. If it wasn’t for the wind persistently coming from the direction we were heading, for all I knew, we could have been cycling in circles. The wind and the cicadas were so loud that I couldn’t hear anything else—not Thomas, not our bicycles or the cars, not even my own breath. It was as if nothing else existed except for this solitary world around us and the deafening „silence“. There was a melancholy in the air that I could not pinpoint whether it came from the story of my audiobook and was reflected in my surroundings, or the other way around, but whatever it was, it complemented or amplified each other well.
The monotony was from time to time broken by short stops to restock our supplies or by invitations for chai. We had chai in the garden of a company making machinery for rice production, in front of a bicycle shop with a man that used to live in Germany for several years, in a tea place owned by a man whose brother lives in Konstanz and with whom we had to have a video call, and while eating cookies we were gifted in a random small village shop. And even more chais we had to decline to get anywhere at all.
The heavy headwind made cycling towards Istanbul extremely exhausting. After our positive experience before Thessaloniki and wanting to stay an extra day on Samothraki, we had only planned four days to reach Istanbul. However, the headwind was strong, our cycling speed dropped, and every kilometer felt like a struggle. Knowing that we “should” be faster, combined with my menstrual cramps and Thomas’ worn-out saddle that needs replacement, did not help make the ride any more pleasant, and our nerves were on edge. But we were in this together and, as advised many times before we left, took care of each other as best we could.
More than once, I was close to my limit and decided it couldn’t go on like this. Since I couldn’t change the distance we had to travel, the strength of the wind, or the force in my legs, I could only change my mindset. So, I tried to find pleasure in the struggle, put on some music, and pretended I was dancing instead of cycling and singing instead of panting—and soon the pain was forgotten, at least temporarily.
We tried hard, but finally, on the third night, we accepted our defeat. Instead of pushing further to camp along the way, we stopped in a bigger town to replenish ourselves at a somewhat luxurious Hilton hotel. Non-smoking room, top floor with a view of the fields out the back? Wish granted—a welcome compensation. Although we knew we wouldn’t reach Istanbul the next day (135 km) unless a miracle happened, like the wind changing direction to make us much faster, at least we could rest well for the night.
Well, no miracle happened. The wind was still very strong but slightly less intense (max. 45 km/h instead of around 50 km/h the day before), and sometimes there were trees to reduce its force. The wind direction remained north-east, but our route turned slightly more southward compared to the previous day. We were still exhausted but slightly less so after a good night’s sleep and a huge breakfast (with fresh waffles). Small differences that added up…
After only about two hours of riding at 18.5 km/h instead of 14.5 km/h despite some hills and gravel, Thomas turned around smiling, “If we continue like this, we’ll be in Istanbul by evening.” I nodded and smiled back blissfully. And so, without any discussion, our plans changed—no more words needed. Not now, not after our pace dropped again to an average of 16.5 km/h, not after some steep hills we had to climb in the heat, and not after we passed our previously considered “camping place” and took a break in the closest town at around 5 pm with 55 km still to go to reach our hostel in Istanbul. Neither of us raised the question; we continued.
Cycling into Istanbul:
17:00 – Leaving the town where we had a break, cycling along a lake on a gravel road with huge potholes and a lot of trash left by people after barbecuing. 55 km to go.
18:30 – Crossing a big road, then riding on a gravel road along a little river, immersing ourselves in a herd of cows. We tried to keep our distance, but there wasn’t much space, so we carefully watched the cows’ (and shepherds’) reactions. Those horns—I don’t want to see them angry. 40 km to go.
18:55 – We’ve reached the beginning of the city: big streets, tall houses, cars. Traffic was pretty okay so far, except for the two times we had to turn left. Riding on a five-lane street and having to cross three lanes to reach the two that actually turn left is kind of stressful. Luckily, the street was so packed that even cars drove at our speed, allowing us to roll along, take advantage of openings between cars, and gently push in—one lane at a time. 30 km to go.
19:05 – People are barbecuing on the street while their families sit behind the fence in the park. 27 km to go.
19:10 – Huge streets. 24 km to go.
19:15 – A sandy beach. 23 km to go.
19:30 – Riding on a huge street with a metro station on our left. Should we take the train? No. Still 20 km to go.
19:50 – There are cycling paths indicated on our map and also on the streets, but they really do not make sense. 17 km to go.
20:15 – A nice cycling path between a huge street and a promenade. 8 km to go.
20:40 – We arrived at the hostel. We made it!
Anecdotes:
Day 2: The second night, we planned to stay in Lüleburgaz at a free city-run bicycle lending place Thomas found on Warm Showers. Apparently, they have two rooms where cyclists could stay. However, they did not respond to our inquiry, it was already late, and the place looked like a big fenced-off bike park in the middle of the city. I totally did not believe it would work out. Cycling up to the place where they hand out bikes to try our luck, we were welcomed warmly in German by an employee. Before we even asked, he showed us around the property, where to leave the bikes, sleep, shower, and where to sign the wall. All for free. How is it possible that this place exists? Anyway, I was incredibly grateful for this cyclist oasis.
This was also our first night eating çiğ köfte, and we really liked it. On our first night in Turkey, we cooked at a picnic area by a lake and camped in the forest behind it. But all three following nights, we ate çiğ köfte. It’s vegan, delicious, available everywhere, and after a tiring day, easy and eventually familiar food was very welcome.
Wind: As mentioned one or two times before, the wind was strong and came from the front left. It was impressive to see how much we were pushing against it: The moment a truck shielded us from the wind, our bikes jumped to the left—towards the truck! And the moment it passed, the bikes jumped again in the other direction—off the road. Luckily, the trucks always passed with enough distance. Nevertheless, I don’t know what was scarier: suddenly being pulled towards a huge truck or seeing Thomas in front of me suddenly being drawn towards it.
Old and new Istanbul Memories: In Istanbul, we also met Atakhan, a guy Thomas and Tim stayed with through Couchsurfing almost 15 years ago during their Balkan trip. They had an amazing week together, and Thomas has many fond memories from that time. When we were planning our journey, Thomas reached out to Atakhan again via Couchsurfing. Atakhan received the message but couldn’t log into the Couchsurfing website anymore, so he googled Thomas and found his work email. After spending the last eight years in Ankara, Atakhan was back in Istanbul for a DJ job this year, just in time for us—what a chance!
We spent several evenings together and one night, we went to the bar where Atakhan was DJing, enjoyed his music, and taking in the great views of the city along with a “Zurich-priced” cocktail. Fantastic!
Hammam: After the ride to Istanbul, I felt a bit drained. Although Istanbul is a fascinating city with its mix of East and West, European and Asian influences, it is also a huge and extremely touristy city, and not a place where I could easily recharge. One exception was our visit to the beautiful Ottoman-style Hammam, Cağaloğlu Hamamı, which offers modern Turkish bath treatments.
In this bath, the genders are separated. I was grouped with five other women and guided into a separate courtyard-like hall with a fountain in the middle, surrounded by small tables with seats and private changing rooms lining the walls. After changing into the provided panty and towel, I was escorted to another hall with a huge stone table in the middle and a sauna-like room on one side.
After sweating, a woman greeted me with a bag of soap, shampoo, and other toiletries labeled with my name. She introduced herself and, taking me by her hand, guided me through the process: first, she showered me by pouring water over me with a basin at one of the many sinks along the wall. Then, she rubbed me with a kese (a peeling glove) while I lay on the stone table in a circle with all the other women each with their own therapist. The terapists used almost no words but seemed very experienced with us foreigners, providing clear and direct instructions. After another shower, she gave me a foam massage (bubble bath), followed by a hair wash. Finally, she wrapped me in a towel and brought me back to the hall with the fountain where she served Turkish tea and sweets.
This woman was wonderful, and I could completely relax in her care and gentle hands. After another chai with Thomas in the main hall with the men‘s changing rooms, we were ready to continue our journey eastwards.
Leave a Reply