ENTER PLAN B – OR HOW I ENDED UP IN KAZAKHSTAN

In every direction there is only the blue horizon. This morning The M/V Shahdag is in the middle of the Caspian Sea about 240 Km from Kazakhstan with a cargo of 85 rail cars, and 2 BMW motorcycles, along with the accompanied American and Belgian passengers.

 

It is Friday the 30^th of May and I was supposed to be at the Turkmen Embassy in Baku, Azerbaijan this morning to pick up a 5 day transit visa. Instead I am on a rail ferry to Kazakhstan. This may be either the best or worst decision of my trip, but I have decided to skip Turkmenistan. In a completely serendipitous turn of events I met Tom Bosman on Thursday morning as I was walking to find the ferry office. He was supposed to have been gone. He was supposed to have been on this ship to Aktua, Kazakhstan alone because his Turkmen visa was already expired. So what follows is the story.

 

I was staying at the Guest House Inn, a hostel/Hotel in downtown Baku, where I arrived on Wednesday the 28^th after my day of bribe. I received an email from Tom that he was at the port and ready to sail; and, I could find him if I followed directions. At about 8 I set out, but turned back after about 20 minutes because I could not figure out what way to go to the port at night, and I was hungry and tired.

 

 

 

When I woke up the next morning my anxiety was so intense that I was having dry heaves in the shower. The idea of having to catch a ferry and cross Turkmenistan in only 5 days by myself was terrifying.

My plan for Thursday was to find the port and ferry office, figure out what I needed so I could return on Friday with my Turkmen visa to book passage to Turkmenbashi. Then I was going to the Turkmen Embassy just to make sure I had the right address because they are only open for a 4 hour window on Mondays and Fridays.

As I was walking towards the port I saw a guy walking towards me. It was Tom. Not only had the boat not sailed, it had not loaded and was standing offshore. I still had not planned to go to Kazakhstan at this point because all my Turkmen papers were in order. But Tom’s Turkmen invitation was so messed up on days that he could never get his Turkmen visa, catch a boat, and make it across the 1500 Km in one or two days. So he had booked for Kazakhstan.

We turned back and went to the ticket office, which I would have never found by myself. The lady there spoke only Russian and was kind of abrupt. But the message was, if I had a Kazakhstan visa I could catch the boat. Well, I did not have my passport with me, or my bike papers. And I could not recall the validity dates of my KZ visa. I thought it started on June 1, which would probably kill going on the boat with Tom.

But I went back and checked my visa. It was a multiple entry valid from 20 January 2014. So I was good to go. Based on that, I made a decision to go to KZ. Tom and I went out to buy provisions for the ferry. The ticket agent had said to be back at 5 and she would sell me a ticket.

Enter Vika. Vika is the English speaking ticket agent for the ferry line. She is a twit. I had spoken with Vika on the phone at the ferry office at 11 and said I had a motorcycle. So I would need some extra paperwork. Vika is the only one you can deal with to arrange vehicle passage; so you must call her at +99 455 266 5354 to arrange the ticket. I have included this information so that you can call her early if you are a traveler needing to book passage with a vehicle. 

At 1:30 I received an email from Tom that the ship was in and loading and to call Vika again to get my ticket. So I did. She said she would be there at 4:30 to sell the ticket so I could load the bike before the 5 pm sailing. Yippee!  

I packed my stuff and checked out. The hostel guy insisted on returning my money for the 2 extra nights I had paid for. [Guest House Inn and Hostel (on HostelWorld.com) bike friendly, www.bakuhostel.com, 16/23 Azadlig Ave., secure bike parking, 25 Euros per night mixed dorm. Do not confuse it with Guest House Hotel – seems two places use the same name in Baku] I was kind of surprised at that. But more later on the great hospitality of the Azeri’s. 

I got the port and tried to check the bike out at customs. The guy said “call Vika” and I said I had and she would be at the office at 4:30 to sell the ticket. I gave him my card and we talked awhile. He was a bit surprised I was a lawyer. My Russian is terrible, but we got along. The business card with my degrees on it counts for a lot I found out later.

I was at the ticket office at 4:15. At 4:30 no one showed. It turns out Vika is a complete flake and cannot be relied on at all. She had also told Tom she would do things at particular times, and failed to do so. Anyway, the original ticket agent showed at 5 and she wrote a ticket, and gave me a price. Then I said “what about the cost for the motorcycle”. “Motorcycle, I know of no motorcycle!”  This was not good. She threw my passport at me, took back my ticket and told me to get out of her office! But she did not tell me to “get lost”. 

Then phone calls were made. The customs agent I had talked with earlier showed up, made some calls, shrugged his shoulders. And then he told Tom the ship was loading and he better get going. Then he left. It turns out he saved me. He knew Vika was to be there at 4:30 and the lazy twit had just punted.

I did nothing. Tom and I just hung around the building because we could hear the phone calls. Tom asked the ticket agent something, and she asked for the weight of my bike. Then she said “5 minutes”.

At this point a guy comes barreling down the road, pulls a U-Turn after passing the office, then proceeds to back in to a parking spot and swagger into the office. On the way out he says “captain will decide”.

At 6 a car shows up filled with people. Vika is one of them. No one is happy with Vika. In 10 minutes I have my ticket, bill of lading ($220 for passenger and bike), and Tom and I are each paying a $10 bridge fee. That is imposed on vehicles crossing the rail plank onto the ferry. Everyone is exasperated at Vika. I can just tell. My nose tells me this is not the first time she has created problems.

It turns out the swagger guy is the captain. And he decided to hold the boat for Tom and me.

I was very sad at the thought of being separated from Tom because we had been trying to get together since Istanbul. When I met Tom on the street that morning he was at his low point. He had spent the night on a bench at the port. He was truly sleeping on a bench. His Turkmen visa plans were in shreds. And he was going to Kazakhstan, which adds miles and lots of problems with fuel in Uzbekistan. 

Going with Tom to KZ just seemed like the right decision because I would have someone to ride with on the most remote part of the journey, the Tajik part of the Pamir Highway is closed for security reasons (translate regional violence), going to Aktau was always plan B.

Well the Police check was very fast. The guys already knew who I was because the customs agent had given them my card. There were 4 guys and one woman in the office. Guess who did the work. But the police wanted to know about my career and degrees. “Avocat” is a high status profession in most of the world. Lawyers are members of the educated elite in most countries and held in esteem; a nice change from the USA.

Then it was on to Immigration. There we were both scooted through the process.

Presto, climb on to the bike and on to the ship. It is a bit unnerving to ride a fully loaded GS motorcycle on a slippery rail bridge onto a ferry. But I made a safe deck landing. Then the bikes had to

be muscled over the rail tracks and secured. One of the guys wanted a tip. So I gave him 10 Manat. I figured I wanted the bike tied safely. The ferry did not have tie downs (very unusual – but what I am talking about! – this entire story is surreal).

 Tom and I went up to the deck where we were given a room. It was clean. The bathroom is clean. There is 10 Manat per day per person charge for our meals. The food is good and plentiful.

 

 

I asked a deck hand about the captain. So I was brought to the bridge. Then I met the swagger guy again. He is very nice and interesting. He is obviously in charge of this vessel and knows what he is doing. His name is Etibar Ismayil Ahmadov. I was on the bridge at the side of the captain when we cast off at 7:30. We had made the boat!  I will know in two months whether that is a good or bad thing.

Not only were Tom and I allowed on the bridge, they enjoyed our company. Having us along is different. There are some truckers too. But I only saw them at breakfast. I have no idea where they slept. 

I have some observations on the Azerbaijani’s I have met. People are generally very open and helpful. There is the occasional Vika, and the bad cops. But they are the exception. Most of the people are like the guy who helped me find my hotel, Jeyhun Shahbazov at the hotel who is impeccably honest, and the ship captain who held the boat because someone else screwed up. And most especially like Amina at the ticket office, who kicked me out of her office so she could do what she had to do in order to solve someone else’s mess and problems not of her making.

Tom and I will travel together to Uzbekistan. We will have to scrounge fuel. We know this from the reports of other travelers in the last 2 weeks. 

But for now I am on a freighter with my bike lashed to a rail winch.

RUNNING THE GAUNTLET

Today was very special.  And I want everyone to know that corrupt cops are still a fact of life in this part of the world.  As you might recall, I have a friend, Tom Bosman, who is a couple days ahead of me. On Sunday he reported being shaken down for bribes 3 times after he crossed to Azerbaijan. They got about $150 from Tom and left him with nothing. 

So for the past couple days I had been sweating the crossing into Azerbaijan. As it turns out my worries were not unfounded. 

I prepared my throw away wallet with expired credit cards and expired driver’s license. I hid my cash. I started at 4:30 am to get a head start on the bad guys. It did not work. But I also practiced my talking points and negotiating sentences. And that did work. 

Tom had reported being pulled over at 50 Km south of the Georgia - Azerbaijan border. At 51 Km there is a police station, and they also hassled Tom there.  I was early and went through the police check point. But, just like clockwork as I got to 52 Km south of the border the lights came on and I was pulled over. 

There was a guy in civilian clothes who got out on the passenger side, and a uniform traffic cop stayed in the car. I think the civilian was along because he spoke some English. The purported infraction was speeding 62 in a 40. That was pure fiction because I had been on the watch out for speed signs. Anyway I was put in the car and they asked for my documents. I gave them the bike papers, and the throwaway license. That was an error. The guy was bright enough to see the license was expired, and that did not help. He said the fine was $500 and we would go to the bank. All of this is taking place in Russian and pidgin English on his part. 

He wanted the cash there, and I said no. I said write the ticket and I will pay at the official office. At that point he tried to kick me out of the patrol car and keep my license. But I just sat there and asked for my license back. Derek Welch and I had practiced the scenario a bit at his apartment. And it called for just sitting there and doing nothing except burn time. And burn time I did. I just started telling the guy that I was prohibited from paying any fine directly to a policeman, and that I would have to report that to the Consul.  

After about what seems like a long time, but was probably not more than 3 or 4 minutes, he started writing numbers. I then told his civilian buddy that I could not pay a fine for an infraction to a policeman. But I could give a gift “friend to friend”.  By now they wanted rid of me because I would not get out of the car; and when they insisted I put my wrists out and did the old “slap the cuffs on – take me in” routine. They wanted cash, not some old guy. 

He kept pushing for $500. Finally I said “ I would make a gift of $50 friend to friend” and he bought that. I pulled the $50 I had already budgeted out of my pocket, took my license and handed over the cash. Then we all shook hands and bid each other good-bye after our successful negotiations. 

So based on Tom’s experience I knew there was at least one more bad guy out there. I did not meet Tom’s bad guy. But I met my own. There was another checkpoint / police station 130 Km south of the border right where the M5 road turns into a 4 lane divided highway near Gyanja. I could have avoided this road, but I kept following the signs to Baku because me gps was giving me fits again. 

When I got to the check point a guy pulled me over and wanted to check my blinkers, caution flashers, and paperwork. Then his buddy said follow me and they took me up to an office in the police station.  At first it was just me and two guys. They explained that I was doing 78 in a 40 km residential zone. Once again, the accusation was fiction and just an excuse to work on a bribe. But it was a lot more comfortable negotiating in the office than in a patrol car. I just stalled and stalled. Finally two more guys came in and they explained that the fine was, now wait for it, $500. How coincidental is that? 

By now I had some practice at this and was actually enjoying the game a bit. Then I pulled the old “slap the cuffs on” deal and the new guy said “No, No , No”  No cuffs, no arrest, you have to give us your number.  Once again this is in Russian and pidgeon English.

 

I started to laugh and said “now I understand, we have entered negotiations”. There was a lot of “Da,Da” . I said I cannot pay a policeman, but I could make a gift “friend to friend”. They really liked that idea, and then I said $50 (my budgeted amount). The first guy said 50 for each or a hundred. I pulled out $50 put it on the table and took my documents. No hand over, just pulled them back. Now everyone was happy. 

But it does not end. I asked for tea. They said sure. So I was brought outside and served some tea, and given a couple of tomatoes and bread to eat. We all sat around and visited as “friend to friend” and they assured me my police problems were over. 

So I left and went down the road, which is not the one I should have taken, to Baku. I pulled over and reloaded my cash and paperwork, because I had learned some new lessons and reinforced some of my skills from being a lawyer. 

I never let them see my money. They had no idea how much I had, or where. I waited for exasperation to set in.  I made them work for it. And I never said I was in a hurry. When asked I said I was here for 3 weeks, which is what my visa says, and that I would take a couple days to get to Baku. And practice your negotiation and sentences in advance. When it is happening there is too much pressure to be making it up. It worked for me.

I had no other run ins. And I really do not have a bad taste in my mouth about the country. I was treated no differently that lots of Georgians, because they had told me their Azerbaian cop war stories. So in the end it was just a toll charge with a little back and forth gamesmanship thrown in.

 

So today was pretty tough, but not overwhelming. It was a 14 hour ride to Baku. It should have been 9. But I am here and all is well. 

 

By the way – I tried to get photos of the cops “friend to friend”, but I only ended up with this $100 tomato.

TBILISI, GEORGIA

I have made it to Tbilisi, Georgia in anticipation of my next border crossing into Azerbaijan. It turns out that I have been moving a little faster than I originally planned. So my Azerbaijan visa has a first entry date of May 28; and I hope to make it on that date.

I have been staying with my friend Derek Welch in Tbilisi. I worked with Derek for 4 plus years, and he is now living here. It has been nice to be in a real apartment for a while.

I also met up with Tom Bosman from Belgium while here. Tom is traveling the same route as I am, but our visas are now about 4 days apart. We do not seem to be able to get our trips synchronized to travel together. Anyway, Tom and Derek and I had dinner together on Saturday at a Georgian food restaurant, and ate the mixed kebob over the charcoal grill at the table.

Derek on the left, Tom on the right, Kebob in the Middle

 

Today, Monday the 26^th, is Independence Day in Georgia. So Derek and I went down to Liberty Square to watch the festivities. I did the full tourist today and saw all the major sights, that is the old walls, old fort, old church, old town. I have done the “old stuff” before in just about every location. It gets a bit “old”, but I figure I have come a long way and should at least take a look.

 

Georgia is a bit different because it has a unique language and alphabet. Despite being part of the former USSR and the birthplace of Josef Stalin it has retained its very distinctive culture and flavor. When I first arrived and saw the signs it looked like something written in “Elfish”. But English is widely spoken as well as Russian. So when I got to Tbilisi with no gps I was still able to find Derek’s place with just a couple of stops to question the locals.

My plan  is to leave on Wednesday the 28^th and drive to Baku. I have received reports that the police in Azerbaijan will be shaking me down for “traffic offenses” along the way. So I have been practicing my talking points and being patient so that the fines are reduced. Or they just give up and let me go because it is taking too much time. I am not optimistic. But I will consider the shakedown just a cost of transit and bear it. Really no other choice. This may be the last post for a while because I do not know what the internet will be like in Baku, and I only have a 5 day visa for Turkmenistan. So I will be moving right along.

THE BLACK SEA COAST RIDE

 

 

 

 

 

 

People are always asking how much it costs to make a trip like this. Well, it is kind of hard to say. But I have been surprised at some prices. For example, I paid 20 Lari for a hostel bed in Batumi Georgia last night. That is about $12. And I paid $30 for a hotel room in Turkey with full breakfast. But gas in Turkey is right at $10 per gallon. So I guess the money saving thing to do is sleep more and ride less. I have not figured out the cost of gas here yet, but I think Georgia prices are also $10+ per gallon. On a per liter basis the cost is 4.95 TL.

 

Istanbul does not count on my prices because it is Istanbul, and I did the full tourist there.

Yesterday I rode my last day in Turkey. And my luck finding new friends just kept on coming. I was riding down the road minding my own business headed for Georgia when I saw a single headlight in my mirrors. At a light a guy on a BMW motorcycle with full adventure touring gear pulled up. I asked where he was going in German, and he answered “Mt. Ararat”. So I said let’s ride together and find coffee. About 20 minutes later Josef Wieser and I were having a Nescaffe and a great conversation in German.

New German Friend Josef Wieser

It turns out Josef is also traveling alone on his BMW 1150 with all the Tourtech gear through Turkey. And like me he is a retired guy in what I like to call “early 60’s”, which means under 70 to me. We swapped stories and invited each other to visit. And then we were on our way.

Later I stopped for lunch at a town about 30 Km from the border. As I was turning to leave town another guy on a motorcycle saw me and started talking. I do not speak Turkish, so I asked if he spoke Russian. And he did. I explained that I was going to Georgia and wanted to get to the border. He would have none of it and insisted that I follow him. So I did. Turns out Avni Gulser is a Turk married to a Polish woman. And he speaks Russian.

Avni Gulser at Tea Shop

I agreed to have one Turkish tea with Avni and his friends. He would have kept me there all day, and night, if I had wished. And he said “whatever you need just tell me and I will take care of it.”  I am simply amazed at Turkish hospitality. It is more than anyone could ever expect. And Avni is a perfect example.

I finally left and made the border in about 45 minutes. The crossing was pretty easy. The only glitch was my Irish registration. The customs agent saw my American passport and assumed the bike and plate were American. She finally called a supervisor who figured out  the bike was Irish, and then the computer allowed her to put the plate number in the system. All was well and I was given my Georgian visa stamp and told “Welcome to Georgia”.  

I then discovered that I no longer had any gps maps when I crossed the border. So I rode into Batumi and started asking for directions in Russian for the hostel. I only had to ask 1 civilian and a cab driver for directions before I found the Hostel Batumi Globus. It is a very good deal. Inside parking for the bike and a bed in the 16 bed mixed dorm was the $12 I stated at the beginning. 

But tonight I am in Tbilisi at the home of my friend Derek Welch. I will spend a couple of days here and recharge before setting out for Azerbaijan and the Caspian Sea crossing.

WHY I LOVE TURKEY

I need to write this down now. Those of you who are following along may have noticed that I do not plan very far in advance and people just appear in my life to help me. Today was the trifecta.

Last night I told the night clerk, Cemal Basun, about my tooth, and he took me to his dentist’s office. It was not open yet, so he left me and went home because he had been at work for 13 hours. And about 9 a.m. the receptionist showed up. But it turned out that the dentist was taking another day of vacation. So I asked for another referral. The receptionist spoke very little English and took me over to another office.

I now have a Turkish dentist.  Dr. Gokce Aydin took me right away. She replaced a filling that I think had lost a bit, but told me that if the pain did not go away I need a root canal. So she patched me up and I feel pretty good. I will see what the future brings.



Dr.  Aydin with highly numb aging foreign patient

Anyway, it was noon by the time I got out of town. So I headed east and eventually ended up 110 Km down the road in Kastamonu where I stopped to look at the map and get a bite to eat. The service station attendant came up and started speaking German. He had been born in Germany. So I asked about the route I had planned and available hotels. He told me to either stay where I was or go to Sinop on the Black Sea. There was no lodging for 5 hours on my route. This was not in my plans. I wanted to head east, not north.

By now it was 3 pm. I always start looking for a hotel about 4 p.m. A 4 p.m. search  was not possible if I went to Sinop. But I pushed on and made it to town about 5:30 through some really amazing scenery.

This is where it gets great. The Bulgarians had warned me about Turkish police, and to be wary. Well I ignore advice on a regular basis. So I was hunting for a hotel when I came upon 3 motorcycle policemen. I stopped and said I was American and was looking for a hotel. Five minutes later they had found a “boutique hotel” with safe parking. Then they gave me a police escort through the middle of town to the place, which I would have never found on my own.

Officer Aslan with happy Fritz

So I thought it was over. Nope. Officer Ertugrul Aslan and I had a coffee at the hotel. Then we visited with the owners of the Andac Otel, Ali Andas and his son. I checked in and figured I would hunt up some dinner. But then the other police guys appeared again and said “grab your helmet and get on the bike”. So off I went on the back of the police motorcycle to who knows where. I just left all my stuff and went. I figured just let the experience happen as it happens, and do not worry. That is very un-Fritz like.

Well, I end up high on the cliffs over the Black Sea at another friend of the policemen who speaks some English. And I figure he will translate for us a bit; then they will return me to my hotel. Wrong.

Escort Service to Andac Otel

Officer Aslan and friend cooking my dinner - notice the peppers! Yum

The next thing I know the English speaking friend is putting goat on the barbeque and other police are showing up. They had put together a little barbeque for me. About an hour later I am back on the police motorcycle and being returned to my hotel.

So what have I learned? I am lucky. I have terrific experiences just jump out at me. All that I have to do is be open to the possibilities and go along, even if it seems a bit scary at the time.  That is why I took the trip.

Turkey is an amazing place. The people are great. All my stereotypes and preconceived notions have been smashed. I never imagined I would have such good experiences, even if it involves a root canal.

Istanbul and Nationalism in Turkey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It has been some time since I last posted because Mary met me in Istanbul and I spent my time traveling with her, rather than sitting in cheap hostels writing blog articles.

I am in Turkey with a toothache. As I write this I am in the lobby of the Hotel UZ in beautiful downtown Safranbolu, Turkey. The desk clerk and I just finished a google translate conversation, much of which centered on what an old man like me was doing on a motorcycle to Mongolia. Tomorrow morning I will see his dentist.

Turkey is an amazing place. I liken it to Texas. Lots of industry, and a varied landscape. Today I rode from Istanbul, and the landscape was lush. But during the weekend I visited Cappadocia, and it was basically Wyoming, with a touch of South Dakota.

When I am on the motorbike I compose all these pithy things to put in the blog. Then I go brain dead. There is a lot of anxiety associated with the trip because of language issues (I don’t speak all languages). But when I am riding it all goes away. My best interaction comes when I am totally lost. Today I was looking for a hotel. Four boys about 13 or 14 came over., then a bunch of older men (my age). I asked the boys who had the best English grades. One of them spoke up. They were all really good. Mostly just “go left, then left”. Then the men joined in “go good hotel”. In the end I found this place mostly by accident.

Let me talk about Istanbul for a bit. It costs money to go there, but hostels in the Sultanameht area are plentiful, and relatively inexpensive. I would say you need $40 a day for a hostel. We did not stay in a hostel. Well, I did the first night. We stayed at the SokulluPasa Hotel. It was very nice. Unfortunately, when I put my stuff in storage they did not tag it all. So someone thought my auxiliary fuel tank was OK to use for cleaning the diesel backup generator. Then they tossed it and the dirty oil. The hotel moved mountains to replace it, but the model is no longer made. So they somehow got hold of a 2 gallon Rotopax replacement – in diesel yellow. Stuff happens. I am happy. My bike is now very colorful and trucks can see me a mile away. Actually they do not have “miles” here; more like 1.42 kilometers away. www.sokullupasahotel.com

Mary and I booked our trip through a local agent in Istanbul that I found over the internet. They are called New Deal Travel. www.privateinstanbultours.com  we received good value, not glitches, and the hotels and tours were first rate. I did get a bit tired of tour buses. But that is just grumpy old man Fritz.

We visited all of Istanbul, ANZAC beach, Troy, and Cappadocia. I am so glad I opted for air transport to Cappadocia rather than an overnight bus.

If you have ever wanted to go somewhere vibrant, exotic, urbane, visually and aurally breathtaking, then Istanbul is the place. It was way better than anything I ever expected. Your visit will destroy all your notions of what Turkey is, and will become.  They wave the flag like the USA. It flies over everything. And I think the Turks can be justifiably proud of their country.

When I am done getting my tooth repaired I will head east and north to Georgia to meet up with my friend Derek Welch in Tbilisi. I received my Turkmenistan visa approval today. So sometime in between May 28 and June 2 I will get a boat from Baku, Azerbaijan to Turkmenbashi. That is really my “holy crap – no going back now” moment. Just the anxiety kicking in again. I am going to get my tooth fixed, hop on the bike, and live in the moment. I am so happy when I am on the bike, and I thank God every day that I am healthy, tough, and resourceful enough to do this.

Now for the pictures, because I know that is what you all really like the most.



Outside My Hostel - Steep , Very Steep

Fishermen Line the Galata Bridge

Cappadocia

I think the camel makes me look younger

BULGARIA PART II

A lot has taken place since I last posted.  The rain stopped. I got new tires. And Bulgaria was beautiful. Also, I have become fearful of Gypsies, or at least some of them. I seem to attract them in urban areas and they can smell a unaccompanied American a mile away.  

Motocamp is a terrific place to just rest up because there is no fear. Usually I have to be aware all the time about where my stuff is, and who might have access to the room. Lots of bikes have been stolen and rooms robbed. This ends the trip.

Motocamp is one of those places where I never locked my door. It is run by Polly and Ivo. The contact info is in a prior post. But they were perfect hosts, and fed me real food. I mean Bulgarian lamb with Polly’s dad and the neighbors. 

So instead of writing a bunch about what Bulgaria is, let’s just do the pictures starting with the sweet dog Harley (a “she”), followed by the scenery. By the way – Bulgaria is not flat, nor is it all mountainous. It is just everything. And it is cheap – cheap – cheap. So go now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Harley

 

 

 

 

 

I also want to put in a plug for Martin and Shirley at Sakar Hills campground. I did not get photos, but go to the website. Wonderful hosts (got fed venison stew) and a perfect facility. It is the place to stay before jumping off the Turkey because it is about 30 minutes from the border, and breakfast is just down the road too. Sakar Hills is located at Biser, which is a very small village.

I thought I had Rubber Left

This Is What A New One Has!

a

Ivo Opened Up On A Holiday To Put On The Tires

Just Another Mountain Range To Cross

 

CAN I BUY A VOWEL?

 

 

 

 

 

For those of you who have not been watching BBC weather lately I wish to report that it is raining in Europe. I mean the whole continent. Even Italy. I am tired of it. The other people on the trip to Mongolia are tired of it. And I intend to lodge a formal complaint with the EU Commission when I get the chance. 

I have not reported much in the past few days since Sarajevo because there has not been much to report, and the places are not that photogenic. The road from Sarajevo in Bosnia to the City of Nis in Serbia took me all day, and the first half was through fog and mountains. I am a little tired of having “thrill a minute” rides. When sitting in Omaha in January I dreamed of the charming, twisting and exotic roads I would take. I have reconsidered.  

In both Bosnia and Serbia the roads are generally poor. The major problem for a motorcycle is that the truck traffic rolls in the same spot day after day, and the asphalt has sunk in the place where the truck tires run. Fine enough. But for the motorcycle it is like trying to jump the wake on a slalom water ski. So when I have to pass someone I have to jump the wake. As all of you water skiers know, jumping the wake takes you out of the most placid place and puts you in the rough water. Here it is worse. So when you get out of the rut for the eastbound traffic to pass, you encounter the rut for the west bound traffic, and then have to get your happy little ass back in the east bound lane pronto. It is not fun to do that when the roads are slick and wet. 

The other thing about Bosnia and Serbia I had a problem with was the smell. I do not know what they burn for diesel, but it really stinks. Bulgaria is fresh and pretty, and the trucks do not stink. 

I think the weather was also working on me mentally. I was starting to lose my nerve.  But as I rode along today I realized it is only one half day at a time.  

Borders were not much to comment on. My bike is licensed in Ireland, and has EU insurance. Neither Bosnia or Serbia are EU countries. I tried to buy insurance, but nothing was open; and the border guys were not even asking for insurance papers. Still, I was not comfortable riding bare. I am glad I am in Bulgaria with good insurance. 

But Bulgaria does have a “Vignette” system to collect road tax. When you enter the country you are supposed to buy a Vignette and stick it on your windshield to show you paid the tax. It applies to foreigners too. But apparently not to motorcycles. When I tried to buy it the guy waived me off. So I went to a gas station and got the official answer from the minimum wage guy pumping gas. He said “Nyet Vignetta” – that is “ not needed for a motorcycle”. I think he must be right because I passed a police checkpoint and no one stopped me. 

So you will recall from a prior post that my gps map needed up dating. Here is my letter to Garmin. Anyone near Overland Park, Kansas has my permission to tape it on the windshield of anyone in the Garmin parking lot: 

“Dear Garmin People,

You need to do some work! Garmin maps takes the scenic route, which is not often good. When pulling into Nis, Serbia the gps insisted that I turn left on an overpass! So your software read the place where the two roads met as a crossroads. It wasn’t. I ended up doing one of my off road things to get to a crappy road. This is not the first time I was forced to take the scenic route. The maps are supposed to be all up to date, but once again today it yelled at me “recalculating” when I was driving down the 4 lane main highway to the correct location. The map showed me crossing plowed ground. Let’s get it together people.   But it did get me to my hostel. Geez, isn’t that what it is supposed to do?

Fritz” 

I stayed at the BeMyGuest Hostel in Sofia. It was great. Very reasonable and with a terrific location. Find it on www.hostelworld.com.  The prices have fallen rapidly as I have gone further east. I do not expect that in Istanbul. But once I got out of Croatia the prices for everything are about half what they were in the EuroZone. The hostel has great parking for a motorbike. And the owner, Georgi, is a very solicitous guy. There was always someone at the hostel to look after guests. Quite the change from Zagreb last weekend. 

Anyway, Bulgaria is mostly Cyrillic alphabet and I used my time to study Russian and practice reading in Cyrillic. The languages are not the same, but close enough to be helpful. Georgi spoke Russian, as did Constantin, the night reception guy. They very patiently helped me with my reading. 

I also took the free walking tour of Sofia. It was a good deal (as most free things are) and I met some nice people with whom I had dinner. Our tour guide gave me a little bracelet thingy for knowing that we were standing at the Roman Forum in the original city. But I kind of think we might actually be engaged. It is hard to know what the local customs really mean. So far no one has approached me asking how many goats I am prepared to hand over. But I have not got out of the country yet. We’ll see.

 

 

I am now sitting at MotoCamp. http://motosapiens.org/motocamp/  It is out in the sticks. But I have new tires here. I am going to do something a bit out of character. I am putting on new rubber before the wear bars and cross plys are showing. Normally, I am a very poor judge of when I will need new tires, and it only occurs to me that I should get them when I approach a trackless waste, such as the Atacama Desert. But this time I am on it! I even have some tread left. I am surprised because the tires have 16,000 km on them, and usually they would be toast by now.

 

Next stop is Istanbul.