Three months around Europe

Tangier to Istanbul

Google says it is nearly 5000 km from Tangier to Istanbul and I travelled the first 2000 km on a big Italian registered ferry. I shared a cabin with three French educated Moroccan business graduates. In their late 20s and early 30s they were quite disillusioned by their lot. Five years getting a qualification from a prestigious French University and for three years they had been trying to get jobs.

“ We will go anywhere but we cannot even get an interview. It is the same for all our friends . No jobs, no prospects.” they told me. They all worked in the kitchens of restaurants but were still hopeful of getting on the ladder.

They were generous, thoughtful cabin mates. We shared food , they were quiet and clean and kept the cabin tidy. It was the first time I had been up close to the personal impact of the economic recession in Europe and for someone bought up with full employment it was a salutary experience to see young people's ambitions so thoroughly squashed by such an immovable force.

Docking at Genoa in the early morning, I rode through the mountains to Trento in the Italian lake district, then visited Verona and Vicinzi enjoying the 15C drop in temperature from Morocco. It is a classic ride on a twisting road threw grape vine countryside.

My route then took me to Salzburg where I met up with fellow kiwis,John and Roz on their BMW 1220 GS. John had sold me two motorbikes and they wanted to repeat a trip to Turkey they made 25 years ago and return to the jewellers where John had bought their engagement ring. A sort of motorised Lord of the Rings sequel.

We headed for Vienna , but the BMW was sick and it needed some major work done. BMW supplied a car and we were able to keep moving east. Just a note on the frugality of the Citroen diesel. It had better fuel consumption than the BMW and matched the V strom at 4litres per 100km.

After a few days in Vienna , we travelled to Budapest, then into Romania visiting Timosoara, Sibiu and Bucharest. I had my bike serviced , bought a new tank bag and a summer jacket . Total cost $350.

John and Roz then headed back to Vienna as the BMW was ready and we agreed to meet somewhere in Bulgaria in a week's time.

I travelled to Varna on the Black Sea and left just as quickly. It was a tourist destination of the the overblown kind with extreme happy hours and a shoddy facade. Fleeing south I found an apartment in a little village of Sozopol just above the border with Turkey. Set on a curving white sand beach it was a snip at $25 – only the beach, as I later found, was a nudist colony catering for the older demographic of male sun worshipers. The sight of seniot male nude beach volleyball underlined why my apartment rental was a snip.

I met up with Joh and Roz and their repaired BMW and we bumped down the Bulgarian roads heading for the Turkish border.

Entry to Turkey was a breeze, I changed from EU passport to NZ, to avoid a $60 visa charge,bought insurance for three months for $15 and was on my way – it took less than 30 minutes.

And the roads, financed by EU and petrodollars money were wonderful mostly dual carriageway with carefully crafted and cambered corners- but with no instructions on how to pay the toll. So I just jumped the barrier , an alarm went off and my GPS jammed. No worry I will sort it out later.

But that was wishful thinking. We hit Istanbul in the middle of the biggest traffic jam for years- it was the lead item on the media that night and the following day. It was like everyone in Istanbul had decided to go out for a kebab at the same time. I had lost John and Ross as on the road in. We had separated in the madcap traffic and they hurtled East while I headed West.
Crawling through traffic, in 35c heat, with no GPS, few signs , no Turkish money and only a tourist map to guide me is no joke. Eventually I reached the Bridge across the Bospherous and went to a police post to find out about toll payments and getting my GPS unblocked.

I must have looked a pathetic figure on the road side, hot, dusty, inadequate map clutched in my hand and jabbing with my forefinger at the GPS while yelling an expletive at the lack of road signs that could be understood by a pensioner who although renting an apartment at a nude beach for senior males of a certain disposition took his meals and leisure activities elsewhere.

But then a calm voice from behind me said “ Can I help you”

I turned it was a fellow bike rider , astride a Honda 600, a bemused smile on his face .

“ Well I am trying to get to Sili, but it is not on my map and my GPS is blocked , I have no toll card and I need some local money. “

“ No worries. Come with me. “

Hakim took charge, led me to an ATM. Then off to the toll office, purchase a swipe card, unblock the GPS and have a drink. He would escort me to a hotel in Sili..

“ It is on my way , anyway I would just like to join your adventure for a short time. “ I had answered his questions about my trip, avoiding the volleyball camp and told him of my Turkish itinerary.

So we were off, weaving through traffic across the bridge, leaving Europe and entering Asia.

We reached Sili just before dark and by chance had met John and Roz on the
road . Hakim found us a hotel, negotiated a price and shared a welcome beer with us.

We shared a few war stories and I asked Hakim what his job was.

“ I am a gun dealer . My firm sells guns to military forces. “

Well so far on this trip I have been rescued by drug and gun dealers.

Just a white slave trader to go.