Coach Class

Turkey has a great national coach network with so many competing companies. You board in Istanbul near the Black Sea at 7pm and alight in Antakya 500 miles away on the Mediterranean at 10am the next day. And all for about 25 Euros ($40), including bike.

There are even minibus connections from various points in the City centre to get you to the main out-of-town bus terminus. And it all works. They even held back the coach for 10 minutes as they struggled to get me through the heavy traffic caused by the torrential rain.

The coaches are modern and you stop at well equipped service stations every 3 hours.

The best on is at 7am: a large wooden Alpine style building surrounded by snow covered mountains, with huge condors (OK, big birds) soaring high above on the air currents. A quick breakfast of soft pastries and some Turkish coffee, then back on the bus to head down into the southern plain.

Midnight Cowboy

As I found out today - well actually during the middle of the night - in any dispute, especially concerning a fact, there is at least a 50% chance of getting it wrong.

So it is not worth getting on your high horse as you may have to climb down again.

I came out is the loo in the Turkish motorway station. The sign at the payment booth said one Turkish Lira. So I gave him the exact note. But he complained. I was mad and I let it be known. If it cost more then replace the old sign. He returned the note and I rummaged for another. He didn't want this one either. It was in Euros. The first had been Romanian.

OK, in my defence, it was past midnight but that is still no time for having to climb down off high horses. It never is.

Torrential Downpour

It rained again today as I left Istanbul. Really poured And the water gushed along the near vertical streets in torrents, down into the Bosphorus.

For me that sums up Istanbul. If you want your senses to be bombarded then this is the place to visit. It is crammed full of history, marvelous sights, different cultures and great food. One of the world's great cities. And it doesn't rain too often.

Too Many Shots

The time to worry when you travel is when you start to recognise the background music in Starbucks or Costa. I have to admit that the place has served as a familiar sanctuary in a few cities. But it's still sad.

Through the door there is the wonderful sight of the peninsular on which Beruit is situated - just 40km from my destination. So why did I take a picture with the Costa staff?

Talking to Franciska

She's a lot like me in many ways, Suzan's mum, but that may be presumptious as we had only talked together for a couple of hours. But I liked her approach to life.. She loves to travel and often to do it solo. Not against travelling companions just appreciates her independence. To be able to decide where to go and when to stop

And she had projects and plans, really interesting one. At least to my ear - motor cycle meets in Japan, merchants ships to Africa.

Yes, I would like to do some of those things but probably it's not possible with Franciska. We are too alike and so would lose the thing we both sought. Deciding when to go and when to stay.

Something Special

I have just heard that there has been a new addition to the Tiffin family line. You can tell Ross is really chuffed. And without wanting to age him prematurely, I must say that he will make a great grandfather.

True Comitment

We hurried along Istiklal, the brightly lit main shopping street of Istanbul, in the pouring rain. It was about 8 in the evening but the downpour had not deterred the shoppers or the 'just lookers'.  Nor the football supporters. You could hear the chants from a distance, both ebullient and tribal. As an Englishman I expected trouble, maybe now an outdated view but damaged reputations take a long time to recover. The crowd swelled as the chanting came nearer but the shoppers appeared unconcerned.

And neither should they be for the fans were self-focused ,celebrating their team's victory in the Istanbul derby game: Fenerbache beat Galatarsari 1-0 in Galatasari's home ground for the first time in many years. So they jumped and sang in unison. Not threatening, just joyous. No alcohol to turn things nasty but by choice not restriction.

Yes those boys were happy. However, I was not so sure about the few bedraggled girlfriends hanging on to their bouncing partners' hands in the heavy rain. They must have wished for the repertoire to be exhausted. But still they stayed. That's comitment for you. Girl to Boy. Boy to Team