Even though my week along the Black Sea coast was nothing short of amazing, it was time to shake things up. However, getting off the coast prooved to be a bit more complicated than expected.
As I had taken a right, onto a road leading me inland and up the mountains I was stopped by car after car, with people telling me I was going the wrong way. Their intentions were all good of course, and this was just a continuation of the overwhelming Turkish hospitality and willingness to help out.
However, this hospitality can sometimes become very close to unbearable. Even in the weirdest situations assistance will come, whether you want it or not – and turning down these helping hands isn’t always all that easy.
When for the 5th time I found myself arguing with a car full of strangers wether or not I should turn around, I caught myself thinking ‘WHY can’t just people be like in Sweden? Stay to themselves and simply not give a damn about others?’
Very soon though, I would take this silent wish back, a thousand times over.
The road up the mountains soon became small, graveled and very, very empty. Apart from the occational truck driver passing by, leaving a big cloud of dust for me to pedal through, I was alone. With the dogs. By now I’ve gotten pretty used to aggressive and angry dogs, and on this particular road they were many. However, staying on the lookout and fending them off kept me busy and entertained enough to not think so much about the steep climb I was on. I was happy.
Then – suddenly and from nowhere – a big mob (or perhaps army is a better word) of something like 10 huge and absolutely insane dogs appeared. Coming up from both sides of the road they quickly had me surrounded and scared shitless. I was totally caught off guard and as they quickly closed the distance between us, you could tell. They knew they had me.
It took a couple of seconds for me to get my mind to grip the situation. Shouting like a mad woman, I was kicking gravel towards this one dog going for my left back pannier. All while trying to pick up some stones without letting any of the others go for my hand and arm.
They were everywhere, and I felt like I had been thrown right into the middle of the old Disney movie The Lion King. You know when Simba and Nala are just about to be ripped to shreds by hyenas?
Still shouting, kicking and waving I tried to keep the distance as best I could. But I just had a really bad gut feeling about the whole situation. I was not in control.
‘I did get that Rabies vaccine, right?’
Then, in the middle of the loud, dirty chaos that I still clearly didn’t have control over – it came to save me. The Turkish helping hand. Or Mufasa. Depending on if you want to continue the Lion King reference or not.
Just as the dogs had appeared from nowhere – so did Ahmet. With one hand on the horn, Turkish music bursting through the speakers and the roaring engine of his tractor he made quite an appearance, leaving both me and the dogs startled.
Before I think neither of us had really understood what this Turkish carneval on four wheels was about, Ahmed had gotten out to show exactly why he was there. With the authority of Cesar Milan himself, he gave the mob of dogs the yelling of a lifetime, and in no time they all left, looking ashamed they had even come in the first place.
This is where I quickly and silently appologized to the whole Turkish population for ever thinking they were being too much. Before my heartbeat had even gotten down to its normal pace, I was sitting in Ahmet’s home – having dinner with him and his wife Hatice. It’s funny how things work sometimes.
The dog rescue had turned into dinner. And dinner soon turned into a full night of laughs and friends – and in time also a comfy bed. None of them spoke a word of English, but we still managed to have the best of times together.
The next morning the rain was pouring down. In that stubborn way that immediately let’s you know that it has absolutely no plan to stop. I think the whole house was kind of happy about this though – Ahmet & Hatice was enjoying having a foreign guest, and I desperately needed rest. I don’t even think we ever talked about it, that I would be staying an extra day was a given.
I really enjoyed this homestay. Everywhere I go have pretty much been welcomed like one of the family. In this house though, it was for real. And being one of the family ment helping out with the work.
This was a family living without any extras. They had a few very skinny cows for milk, and some land where they grew most of their food. And to make ends meet they had opened a Lokanta (like a small roadside restaurant) in their house, feeding the passing truck drivers. And I got to help out with all of it.
Cleaning, and milking the cows. Cooking for and serving the truck drivers. Helping Ahmet patch up the leaking roof. I wasn’t just a guest they wanted to feel like home. I was home – and it was amazing.
After a long day, when darkness fell and the last Lokanta guests had left. We all sat down to relax for the first time since waking up. These experiences are still the best thing I know with this weird way of travelling. So utterly rewarding and humbling.
People are working so damn hard compared to anyone back home. And still they have so little. Stuff that is. When it comes to joy and fulfillment – I am probably ready to state that the roles are reversed. You don’t need money to laugh, love and dance. That becomes very clear by spending time with people like this.
To support me in my struggle with the Turkish language, Hatice decided it was only right for her to also learn Swedish
The second morning the rain had finally given in. And after a big breakfast I was ready to leave. Ahmet thought it was too soon. In one month he would have me fluent in Turkish – and then I could continue. Haha :)
This was another one of those goodbyes. Still not used to them. After a bunch of hugs and kisses I jumped onto the saddle, and continued my slow climb up the mountain.
A little sad. Very, very happy.
And – on the lookout for dogs.
Fredrika