Day 21: Leaving Greece

We’ve admired the majesty of Mount Olympus and the ruins of Dion. We’ve been introduced to the exploits of Alexander the Great and have camped in the grounds of a hotel in Alexandropoulis. Our Sertao is packed and resplendent with new Back tyre and new Brake pads. We are at the Eastern border of Greece. “Where to now? North or East?” One look at our little map shows us that Istanbul is 380 kms away. Let’s go there.”

But first we telephone our nice insurance lady in Nice and ask if we are covered because Turkey is not part of the EU. She kindly explains that if we look on our ‘Green Paper’ that came with the little sticker on our windscreen we could see all the countries that are included in the bike cover. “Oops, we forgot that at home. Sorry”. “Never mind,” she says. “I will email you a copy. BUT ALWAYS CARRY IT WITH YOU” she commands assertively. “Oh, Yes, Definitely, Thank you” we respond sheepishly. The ‘green paper’ pops up on the screen and there it is. We can go to Turkey, insurance on the bike covered. √

We had discussed with our personal insurance broker before we left about Medical cover and that had been confirmed. √

A sunny 52 kms ride later and the Turkish border appears. We get to the first kiosk on the Greek side and are asked to present our visa. No visa? We park the bike and are directed to a square dirty building where a hajibbed lady is cleaning the windows. Inside we follow a tatty hand written sign ‘buy visa here’ . Really? The bored man behind the glass window barely looks up as he asks for 25 euros. Well, we had finished all our euros filling up with fuel in Greece. The Turkish currency is Lira and we plan to withdraw some at the nearest ATM. “No, he does not want Lira. Yes, there is an ATM behind the first kiosk on the Turkish side. He needs euros.” We wander out of the back of the building along the Turkish side into the same building behind the first kiosk, hunting for the ATM. Confused , certainly. Unfortunately, the ATM was not issuing Euros that day. We walk back to the guy, who now said he could take Dollars. Oh, lucky day. We always carry US dollars, these particular ones left over from a trip to Cambodia a few months ago. Smugly we hand over the right amount, get the stamp and the visa and skip back to the bike. All confident now we ride up to the second kiosk, where we present the Visa to a swarthy Turk. This is good. nd he needs the Insurance for the bike please. We point out the little sticker on the windscreen. nd the ‘Green Paper, please. We explain we left it at home. It’s a Digital World, so proudly show it to him on our smartphone. Not so smart. Nope. That’s not good enough. The swarthy Turkman wants the original. But you can buy Turkish insurance for 104 euros. It’s another walk back to the TM building, a path well trodden no doubt by countless other foreigners, to find a man selling insurance . Oh,dear, we really, really haven’t got the budget for that! and end up chatting to a South African guy travelling in his campervan with wife and four kids on a year’s home schooling/life adventure. What fun.

We decide that we just cannot afford the 104 euros insurance. Back to the swarthy Turkman. “ Are you sure you cannot accept this, please? “ We show the email on the phone again. Nope, still not good enough. Disappointed, but not yet defeated, we ride the 52kms back to Greece. The lovely lady at the hotel reception, where we camped in the garden, listens to our predicament. “No problem, forward the email to me, and I will print it.” How kind. A quick coffee break and 52kms later in the sunshine we are back at the Turkish border. Hello, yes, here is our visa. Yes, here is a black and white print of our ‘Green Paper’, please? Another swarthy Turk looked at it, nodded and scanned the passports and let us through. It was 3pm and we’d been to Greece/Turkey and back twice.

We search for the nearest campsite on the Turkish side and after 55 kms, pull into a rather strange place in Tekirdag. I say strange because as we arrived two guys leapt up from a table/bench, guided us in, took eight lira off us and disappeared.” Anywhere” they waved as they departed. We looked around at the higgledy-piggeldy assortment of plastic domes and discarded furniture and burst out laughing. Time for a fag and glass of wine. One curious onlooker passed by, then another and another. Soon we were offered a hammer( note to self: really got to buy one) and shown the loos/showers and where to fetch water.  

We secretly ate our Salami sandwiches (made in Greece) for supper and went off to explore this camp, sea on the right and highway on the left. A couple in a car were watching the view (Not) for a long time and our circle of new friends invited us to join them. Average age 60+, combination of German, Turkish and broken English, mostly female, they escape the city for the summer months and come to the beach. A married couple seemed to be the leaders and were getting ready for the summer rush by fixing umbrellas and chairs and doing a general tidy-up. Charming and gracious. We said goodnight in as many languages and hid ourselves and the bike under the tarpaulin/tent for the night.

Excited to get to Istanbul (180kms) we pack up early. Actually, a bit too early, because an unknown padlocked metal barrier has blocked our exit. We surmise that it must be to stop other sea-viewers in their cars at night. However, there is a neat little motorbike sized gap on the side, if you can avoid the ditch. I dismount and push B around the side gap, the panniers hook up and over he goes, not quite avoiding the ditch. Well, there is no way we can pick up this overloaded overinverted bike. The elderly leader man from the night before comes running over and the three of us complete the task of righting the bike when a cop car pulls up to help. We wave our thanks, we’re OK.  

We choose the main road and then branch off onto the Toll. I know we have a rule: No Tolls, but the main road is boring. Houses, tower blocks, houses, towerblocks, on and on. When we enter the Toll there is no booth to collect a ticket or pay or anything, just a metal post to signify the ‘start’. We are astounded by the enormity of Istanbul . The city begins at least 40 kms from the old town centre destination point. There are 6 lane highways, congestion at 100kms/hr, grid lock and reversing and even turning around and driving backwards. Trucks, containers, lowbeds, cars, and bright yellow taxis. The most astounding sights are the millions of trees, most newly planted, that line the grassy banks and the ‘vertical gardens’ growing up the concrete retaining walls. And Rose bushes. Thousands of them. It’s astonishing. We duck off the Toll road, via the metalposts, to re-fuel. While B is paying, a chap on a V-Strom cruises up to re-fuel. We get chatting. He’s a travel Agent. Where would we like to go? What would we like to see? “The best and most important”, I reply. “That’s got to be the Blue Mosque” he says and off he goes. Punch ‘BlueMosque’ into Garmin Zumo 590 and 7 kms later there we are.

IIstanbul truly is the place where West meets East and Old meets New. It appears to be a mad mix of ancientness andmodern’ess.

We treat ourselves to a delicious lunch of authentic Turkish delights ( yoghurty salads, aubergines and peppers,spices and skewers, stuffed vine leaves and water) . I wander off around the tourist places before heading upto the ‘Blue Mosque’ . It’s large, multipledomes and surrounded by camera bearing groups. A few photos later of the outside, I return to B without buying any carpets or baubles. I do try and find a sticker for the bike, but no luck. It’s time to go.  

We ride along the shoreline, and then get back onto the Tollroad direction north west to the Triangle where Greece, Turkey and Bulgaria meet at Edirne ( 234kms). That is the nearest campsite, according to Zumo 590. Camping is not on the Turkish ‘things to do’ leisure list. As we ride away from the city centre we pass thru the metal posts again, signifying we are exiting the Toll. A big question mark goes off in our heads: We haven’t paid? At about the same time as an siren goes off on the overhead LED screen and a figure of 190 Euros flashes up. Too late, B’s already upped the gears. I shout Go,Go,Go and that’s it. We can’t reverse. We find the campsite as dusk falls and so does the rain. Run by a very German lady we are shown to marble-floored ablutions and an undercoverpatio complete with kitchen counterand BBQ area. Starting the day by falling over into a ditch, and ending with a braai (BBQ,) we have had a memorable 426 kms ride.  

The night’s rest wasn’t , as we were a bit nervous about getting out of Turkey because of the Toll incident. No problem. Nothing flashed up on the border control screen. We smiled and went on our way. Oh, well perhaps there’ll be a fine/letter in the post when we get home. As I write this 5 months later, nothing yet. We’llpay if you want, honest. The weather is glorious and we pass many storks settling in for the breeding season. See you in Bulgaria.