Cycling from Cappadocia over the (rainy) mountains to the Black Sea.
Did I just cycle to another planet? Oh wait, there are Turkish flags everywhere.
Cycling from the west coast across central Turkey was more difficult than I thought, and very mountainous!
Camping in Salda lake. Have you ever camped in a volcano before?
I arrived to Ayvalik. The boat had capacity for about 150 people but there were maybe only 10 of us on board. Alluding perhaps there aren’t many tourists in Turkey right now…
So I’ve somehow become trapped in this rather peculiar city. A city on the brink of a perpetual, never-happening revolution. It lies somewhere between lovely and horrible, hope and despair. And right now I can’t think of being anywhere else.
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Kosovo was a bit of a surprise for me: no tanks, barbed wire fences or military personnel. Just friendly people living an interesting culture.
No people, no shops, nothing. Just rocks, a shoddy road and us. Then the road ends. To get to where it begins again, you have to take a boat for 4 hours and travel 30km up the river.
Once upon a time a guy on a bicycle pedalled across Montenegro to Albania. The End.
One of the most beautiful and remote places I’ve cycled in Europe. Light traffic, nice roads and unrivalled autumn scenery.
The great thing about hostels now is that they are so empty I’m sometimes the only guest. In this case, I wasn’t: there was a Japanese guy who snored like hell and a really tall Serbian guy…
I left the hostel in Belgrade during a break in the rain to head south and entered the unofficial territory of barky-dog land: A strange part of Serbia where stray dogs look at you, yet domesticated ones chase you for miles and snap at your spinning ankles.
I’ve never seen a refugee camp before. I didn’t know what to expect really. Makeshift wooden sign at the entrance? Security? Ikea beds?
Some pics of the trip and slice of life.