Early Sunday morning. I was through the fog belt around Bolu and was bypassing Ankara on the north side. New settlements lay scattered on both sides, on naked hills with distance apart. With the exception of an occasional truck perfuming the road side flora with a masculine led petrol fragrance I had the three lane highway to myself. Then a single woman came in sight. She wore tight red pants, looked real naughty, and as I rolled by she blinked her eyes and made her lips into a kiss. Yeah right, as if I would stop and give her access to where I hide all my cash for Iran.Early Sunday morning. I was through the fog belt around Bolu and was bypassing Ankara on the north side. New settlements lay scattered on both sides, on naked hills with distance apart. With the exception of an occasional truck perfuming the road side flora with a masculine led petrol fragrance I had the three lane highway to myself. Then a single woman came in sight. She wore tight red pants, looked real naughty, and as I rolled by she blinked her eyes and made her lips into a kiss. Yeah right, as if I would stop and give her access to where I hide all my cash for Iran.
What the....?

The toilets in the east might seem like a challenge. The locals themselves are convinced that their patent is more hygienic than the western model since the behind does not touch anything when doing big business. That’s why the wall mounted toilets at Gardermoen Airport were regularly ripped off its bolts. In the beginning it was a mystery, but as they would discover, some well fed Arabs were standing on them to avoid skin contact with the porcelain. So how do a western approach just a hole in the floor? Well, my technique is inspired by Norwegian ski jumping. You set yourself in hockey position, with one supporting hand against the back wall, and go for the gold medal. Of course, you never really had to think about where your own exit is, so in the beginning you might miss the target. But be patient. With time you’ll grow into a master.

The slippery main street of Yozgat is a good place to fall and break the pelvis bone

In my mind I was prepared for cold weather the last 400km to the Iranian border, but I ran into snowfall before Ankara. Evidently most of the route across the country is about 1500 meters above sea level. The third day was rain, rain, rain, and in Yozgat it started to snow again, leaving me no choice but to find shelter and wait with fingers crossed for a better tomorrow. My boots were soaking wet and leathers does not dry overnight in a hotel room. The solution became a Turkish bath found in an alley where my boots spent all afternoon in a sauna with a dozen nude guys. In the mean time I sat in a kebab restaurant a block away, hoping that the nude guys did not try them on. You know, some people…

One of the many guys that kindly fired up the oven and fed me hot tea while asking how much my camera costs

In Istanbul the motorcycle couriers drove around with some odd looking leather bags on the handlebars to keep their hands warm. It was a local patent, definitely not something you would recommend to a fashion biker, but hey those leather bags looked like serving its purpose. The mechanic at Daytona Motor traveled across the city to find a pair for me. What a service! But now, as I was about to encounter the four mountain passes ahead, all of them above 2000 meters, it became time to open the bag and pull out my secret weapon against the wintry weather: Underwear from Brynje. You bet, it is the hottest thing on the market.

Balto with Turkish hand protectors: This dog might be ugly, but it will fetch the newspaper