Cold Turkey (English)
Door: Mike
Blijf op de hoogte en volg Mike&Lisanne
15 April 2009 | Turkije, Esendere
Hello folks and foxies,
Turkey is winding by for us. We entered this mountaineous country from the South Eastern border - the least popular one. The usual suspect for crossing Turkey/Iran is the Northern pass. The odd choice is the Southern, probably because this leads you into Turk-Kurdsh territory.
That little fact is 'no-problem' for the Dutch Kawasaki and BMW motorcyclist who just had a taste of local hazards n Pakistan. And besides: the weather was supposed to be better in the South of Turkey and sceneries were praised to heavenly accord by the Lonely Planet; thus making it a no-brainer for us.
At the border-crossing we grasped our last 'Hellos', 'Hello Misters', 'Were are you froms' and 'What job you do's'. Persians were able to make portrait pictures of themselves wth the bikes for the last time before they took of to Ataturk-empire Turkey.
After closing the formalities in Iran a great meeting and surprise awaited us in Turkey. When we drove our bikes onto Turkish ground a customs authority approached us. First he was very helpful explaining us where to park the bikes, then he helped us clearing through all Turkish border formalities within no-time. Doctor Albert, as he called himself, appeared to be a BMW R100GS PD rider too! And prior to the Gummikuh he was driving a Kawasaki.. ..well, this was enough common ground for great friendship at the border - and further in Turkey if we needed.
Formalities were cleared and Doctor Albert invited us for lunch at his home. A nice lunch with warm company is all you can desire in a cold and wet border-crossing so we joined Doctor Albert to his house. And that's were the cross-cultural fun started: he introduced his wife to us. She was waitng by herself in their little appartment and had ample time to fulfills the traditional "wife's duties". We were left behind with her and the knowledge that she had no profiency of the Englsh lingo; just a very friendly face and dito attitude. Doctor Albert only said: wait 15, maybe 20 minutes and I will return.. ..so we waited.. ..waited.. ..gazed at the Turkish videoclips on the telly and waited.. ..smiled to the misses.. ..and waited..
That's when the Dutch impatient nature knock on your mental door: you ask yourself "where is this friendly man who left us here?", followed by "when will he return?", then: "WILL he return?". It becomes clear that travelling for months in a different context does not necessarily change all your norms (and infact should not change all your norms); the impatient Dutch nature returns like a Damocles boomerang and then it hits you. Fnally I could not stomach any more minutes of waiting and started to put on my boots, ready to leave the appartment to search for our lost host. And that was precsely the moment when the Doctor entered the corridor to the appartment with big plastc bags full of fresh foods and an enormous empathic smle from ear-to-ear: our patience (though little and fragile) was rewarded with a fantastic lunch with the customs official and his wife; he exchanged phonenumbers of family all across Turkey ensuring us to call any time when in trouble.
That's when we realized that we are in Turkey agan; the country from which the rescue-angel-truckers came from (remember 'mosquitos and elephants..) and where hospitality is rendered wth contend and effort. Needless to say we said goodbye to Doctor Albert (his real name was Mehmet btw) and followed our tracks in Turkey wth full stomachs, a good feeling and cold wet raindrops falling on our helmets.
Turkey is winding by for us. We entered this mountaineous country from the South Eastern border - the least popular one. The usual suspect for crossing Turkey/Iran is the Northern pass. The odd choice is the Southern, probably because this leads you into Turk-Kurdsh territory.
That little fact is 'no-problem' for the Dutch Kawasaki and BMW motorcyclist who just had a taste of local hazards n Pakistan. And besides: the weather was supposed to be better in the South of Turkey and sceneries were praised to heavenly accord by the Lonely Planet; thus making it a no-brainer for us.
At the border-crossing we grasped our last 'Hellos', 'Hello Misters', 'Were are you froms' and 'What job you do's'. Persians were able to make portrait pictures of themselves wth the bikes for the last time before they took of to Ataturk-empire Turkey.
After closing the formalities in Iran a great meeting and surprise awaited us in Turkey. When we drove our bikes onto Turkish ground a customs authority approached us. First he was very helpful explaining us where to park the bikes, then he helped us clearing through all Turkish border formalities within no-time. Doctor Albert, as he called himself, appeared to be a BMW R100GS PD rider too! And prior to the Gummikuh he was driving a Kawasaki.. ..well, this was enough common ground for great friendship at the border - and further in Turkey if we needed.
Formalities were cleared and Doctor Albert invited us for lunch at his home. A nice lunch with warm company is all you can desire in a cold and wet border-crossing so we joined Doctor Albert to his house. And that's were the cross-cultural fun started: he introduced his wife to us. She was waitng by herself in their little appartment and had ample time to fulfills the traditional "wife's duties". We were left behind with her and the knowledge that she had no profiency of the Englsh lingo; just a very friendly face and dito attitude. Doctor Albert only said: wait 15, maybe 20 minutes and I will return.. ..so we waited.. ..waited.. ..gazed at the Turkish videoclips on the telly and waited.. ..smiled to the misses.. ..and waited..
That's when the Dutch impatient nature knock on your mental door: you ask yourself "where is this friendly man who left us here?", followed by "when will he return?", then: "WILL he return?". It becomes clear that travelling for months in a different context does not necessarily change all your norms (and infact should not change all your norms); the impatient Dutch nature returns like a Damocles boomerang and then it hits you. Fnally I could not stomach any more minutes of waiting and started to put on my boots, ready to leave the appartment to search for our lost host. And that was precsely the moment when the Doctor entered the corridor to the appartment with big plastc bags full of fresh foods and an enormous empathic smle from ear-to-ear: our patience (though little and fragile) was rewarded with a fantastic lunch with the customs official and his wife; he exchanged phonenumbers of family all across Turkey ensuring us to call any time when in trouble.
That's when we realized that we are in Turkey agan; the country from which the rescue-angel-truckers came from (remember 'mosquitos and elephants..) and where hospitality is rendered wth contend and effort. Needless to say we said goodbye to Doctor Albert (his real name was Mehmet btw) and followed our tracks in Turkey wth full stomachs, a good feeling and cold wet raindrops falling on our helmets.
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Je kunt nu ook Smileys gebruiken. Via de toolbar, toetsenbord of door eerst : te typen en dan een woord bijvoorbeeld :smiley
