Istanbul

From the map I had seen of Istanbul I had the impression I had to go to the Asian side of Istanbul to go to my hostel. Fortunately I took some wrong turns which saved me from cycling about 20 km for nothing. Most hostels are close to the Sultan Ahmet mosque, also known as the blue mosque, which is stil on the European side. In the small streets behind the mosqueI ran into two fellow cyclists with many more kilomters under their belts. They had been cycling for morte than two years and now were on their way home, France. This home trip would still take them another five months on the road. I decided to take the same hostel as they would take, but as theirs was full, I ended up in my origanally intended hostel, 20 meters down the road. Istanbul and his hostels was a renewed reconnaissance with fellow travelers and tourists after a while of relatively loneliness. So many people to talk to and really able to properly communicate and share thoughts and stories with. Very often big cities are to big for me and I want to leave them, but altough Istanbul possibly is the biggest city I have been, I never felt bored. There always seemed something to do or to see and when I did not want to do that I could hang out with one of the many fellow travelers in the (neıghbouring) hostel.
The next morning after breakfast (included in the price), where I really stuffed my self with getting many orders of bread and scavaging untouched parts of others breakfast I moved to the hostel of Sylvain and Fabrice, the two French cyclists as my hostel was full for the rest of the week. I had failed to book more than one night in my urge to always keep my options open. Their hostel was full as well, but the owner allowed us to sleep in the bar for reduced price. Which was actually a nicer place than dormitory, the only down side was that we could only go to sleep when all people were gone (normally early as all people preferred to sit outside) and had to get up before breakfast was served. The French intoxicated me with their cycling stories and made me more determined to go cycling for a longer stretch. So I doubled the value of my bike by buying two new tyres. They had much less drag and were better protected against punctures.
On Thursday June-8, I was pleasantly surprised by the arrival of Jake, the beginning writer I met in Tunis. He made a stopover in Istanbul on his way from India to Germany. We did some sight seeing and had dinner together with the French and two of Fabrices friends. The next day some more wandering through the city and I searched for some tools to be able to do some maintenance on my bike. At night Fabrice and I had diner, Jake did not feel like eating and Sylvain had left to France for an appearance on a surprise party for his father. Following that we watched a worlcup football match in a locals bar. Because the wheather was bad the hostels’ bar was quite full and we could not go to bed. The owner, a very friendly guy, allowed us to sleep on a dorm, after allowing Fabrice, Sylvain and me to sleep in a vacant room (for two, I slept great on a pile of blankets on the floor) the the previous night.
Saturday morning I left before seven to get the ferry to Yalova of 7:30. Unfortunately I had not said goodbyes to Fabrice and Jake. Fabrice half woke up when I packed my bag, so I could thank him for the map and all the advice he gave me. Jakes hostel was nearby and he woke up when I called his name (surprise;-) in the dorm and we were able to wish each other pleasant journeys again. After that I had just enough time to catch the ferry out of Istanbul. By taking the ferry I did not have to cycle over the highway at all as I had done on the way into Istanbul.

Via email I found out good friends had gotten a daughter. Her name is Tara.