I’ve picked up a companion! For the first time since Germany, I will be hitching the next few legs with a partner in crime. Olivia is a friend I made in Istanbul, and for some reason she wants to accompany me for a while on this crazy adventure. So for the next few entries, it’s going to be a welcome ‘we’ rather than a lonely ‘I’. And I get a skivvy to take photographs of me and hold my hitch signs.
Hitching in style.
We jump the train to Izmir airport, scoffing at travelers taking to the skies. We’ve got more class. You wouldn’t think it though, as the two of us are sweating buckets by the time we’ve walked miles up and round a highway to find a spot to head South. Having a girl with me clearly works however, as we’re picked up in no time by a large, burly Turk with hands bigger than my head. And it doesn’t take long before he’s fulfilling the stereotype of testing our “relationship”. He makes a gesture sliding his fingers together to inquire if we’re having sex. It’s actually safer to say we’re family so I’ve heard, but I nod firmly anyway and hope that it’s enough to put him off. Regardless, he drives like a bat out of hell in a possible attempt to prove his manhood. Traveling miles out of our way, it’s the first time my hand has lingered on my CS gas spray for a while. I feel lucky to be alive as he drops us off course, and I’m forced to alter my hitch sign. Olivia however was apparently thrilled.
There’s a swing chair just outside a garden store by the side of the road. I take great pleasure in sinking into it and sucking on an ice cream as I make Olivia stand with the sign. It’s 40 degrees, and I’m sharing a similar decomposition to that of my tiramasu magnum. Being from Oz, she can handle it. Needless to say the ploy works, and we’re picked up soon enough by another large Turk who looks remarkably similar to the last one. The ride to Aydin passes without incident.
Now I really do feel as if I’m cheating. Having an attractive female companion gets you picked up in seconds, and we’re dropped just outside a lovely restaurant to have a slap up meal. Usually on a hitch I wouldn’t dream of eating until I make my destination, but what with lounging on a swing seat, and relaxing in a garden bar, I’m living the life of Riley. It’s a short trek to a decent spot when we’re done, and once again sexy, tanned, female legs are working better than my own whiter shades of pale. A dumper truck pulls in within minutes.
Olivia rides shot gun, and I pass out in the truckers sleeping cabin behind the seats. It’s not long before we arrive at Denizle, from where we choose to take a mini bus to visit Panukkale; the world famous thermal pools, in an astounding geological rock formation. We decide to bed down for the night, considering the overwhelming amount of Asian tourists, in the hope that rising early we can catch the water with little human traffic.
Panukkale
One night turns to two as I’m not feeling it. The heat is getting to me, and with several poor nights sleeps in Izmir, I decide to take a breather in an air conditioned room. With me bending her ear relentlessly about my recent trials and tribulations of the heart, Olivia spends a welcome day by the pool. The site is worth a visit, if not spectacular, and be prepared for a significant amount of impeccably dressed Asians with selfie sticks, and tanned, hairy bellied, man-boobed speedo hunks posing for this years calendar. Thankfully, we’re underway bright and early the following day.
Olivia wanders
In a fake pool
Then it just gets ridiculously easy. A short walk to the edge of town and a cold meats truck takes us into the city. First vehicle, first ride. The freezer compartment proves handy as it cools the water in our packs. Barely holding our sign out, and we’ve a second ride all the way to our destination of Antalya.
And it’s a massive rig hauling 40,000 gallons of Efes! What a stroke of luck! Or rather it isn’t, as we soon realise our folly when the road snakes into the mountains, and we’re crawling along at 20KPM. With some 200KM to go, this could be a long drive.
BOOZE!
But it passes comfortably -albeit slowly – enough. Our host barely speaks, save to offer us juice and snacks from a roadside gas station. He drops us on the city limits, and with the afternoon sun still scorching hot for me, we opt for a cab to our hostel.
It’s a total dive in a town I don’t want to spend more than a minute in. It’s already feeling like Kavos MK II. They didn’t know we were coming. There’s no lockers or locks on doors. The toilet doesn’t flush. First world problems maybe, but when you experience this first hand by evacuating the rotting remnants of last nights beer and wine only to discover it remains for all to enjoy, it’s not pleasant for anyone. On top of this delightful gift, and with my health not being in tip-top shape, I throw up the dodgy burger I had moments ago. A rich bouquet with notes of barley wafts from the cludge, and I beat a hasty retreat. I only hope my Korean room mate can forgive the desolation I deposit in the jax, because it ain’t shifting anytime soon.
But let’s look at the positives. The hospitality in this country is astounding. We’ve wanted for nothing, and our waiting times for rides as been mere nanoseconds. However the next hitch is a difficult one. It’s not been done before, it’s not too close to the Syrian border but we’re edging that way, and the roads don’t really connect easily. However there’s safety in numbers, and I think I’m seriously going to like hitching with a girl.
Incidentally a beard update. It’s slowly coming in, in patchy swathes, a bright red hue. Thanks Dad. I look like a drunk ginger beaver.
Hitchhike to India legs 35/36: Izmir to Antalya
I’ve picked up a companion! For the first time since Germany, I will be hitching the next few legs with a partner in crime. Olivia is a friend I made in Istanbul, and for some reason she wants to accompany me for a while on this crazy adventure. So for the next few entries, it’s going to be a welcome ‘we’ rather than a lonely ‘I’. And I get a skivvy to take photographs of me and hold my hitch signs.
Hitching in style.
We jump the train to Izmir airport, scoffing at travelers taking to the skies. We’ve got more class. You wouldn’t think it though, as the two of us are sweating buckets by the time we’ve walked miles up and round a highway to find a spot to head South. Having a girl with me clearly works however, as we’re picked up in no time by a large, burly Turk with hands bigger than my head. And it doesn’t take long before he’s fulfilling the stereotype of testing our “relationship”. He makes a gesture sliding his fingers together to inquire if we’re having sex. It’s actually safer to say we’re family so I’ve heard, but I nod firmly anyway and hope that it’s enough to put him off. Regardless, he drives like a bat out of hell in a possible attempt to prove his manhood. Traveling miles out of our way, it’s the first time my hand has lingered on my CS gas spray for a while. I feel lucky to be alive as he drops us off course, and I’m forced to alter my hitch sign. Olivia however was apparently thrilled.
There’s a swing chair just outside a garden store by the side of the road. I take great pleasure in sinking into it and sucking on an ice cream as I make Olivia stand with the sign. It’s 40 degrees, and I’m sharing a similar decomposition to that of my tiramasu magnum. Being from Oz, she can handle it. Needless to say the ploy works, and we’re picked up soon enough by another large Turk who looks remarkably similar to the last one. The ride to Aydin passes without incident.
Now I really do feel as if I’m cheating. Having an attractive female companion gets you picked up in seconds, and we’re dropped just outside a lovely restaurant to have a slap up meal. Usually on a hitch I wouldn’t dream of eating until I make my destination, but what with lounging on a swing seat, and relaxing in a garden bar, I’m living the life of Riley. It’s a short trek to a decent spot when we’re done, and once again sexy, tanned, female legs are working better than my own whiter shades of pale. A dumper truck pulls in within minutes.
Olivia rides shot gun, and I pass out in the truckers sleeping cabin behind the seats. It’s not long before we arrive at Denizle, from where we choose to take a mini bus to visit Panukkale; the world famous thermal pools, in an astounding geological rock formation. We decide to bed down for the night, considering the overwhelming amount of Asian tourists, in the hope that rising early we can catch the water with little human traffic.
Panukkale
One night turns to two as I’m not feeling it. The heat is getting to me, and with several poor nights sleeps in Izmir, I decide to take a breather in an air conditioned room. With me bending her ear relentlessly about my recent trials and tribulations of the heart, Olivia spends a welcome day by the pool. The site is worth a visit, if not spectacular, and be prepared for a significant amount of impeccably dressed Asians with selfie sticks, and tanned, hairy bellied, man-boobed speedo hunks posing for this years calendar. Thankfully, we’re underway bright and early the following day.
Olivia wanders
In a fake pool
Then it just gets ridiculously easy. A short walk to the edge of town and a cold meats truck takes us into the city. First vehicle, first ride. The freezer compartment proves handy as it cools the water in our packs. Barely holding our sign out, and we’ve a second ride all the way to our destination of Antalya.
And it’s a massive rig hauling 40,000 gallons of Efes! What a stroke of luck! Or rather it isn’t, as we soon realise our folly when the road snakes into the mountains, and we’re crawling along at 20KPM. With some 200KM to go, this could be a long drive.
BOOZE!
But it passes comfortably -albeit slowly – enough. Our host barely speaks, save to offer us juice and snacks from a roadside gas station. He drops us on the city limits, and with the afternoon sun still scorching hot for me, we opt for a cab to our hostel.
It’s a total dive in a town I don’t want to spend more than a minute in. It’s already feeling like Kavos MK II. They didn’t know we were coming. There’s no lockers or locks on doors. The toilet doesn’t flush. First world problems maybe, but when you experience this first hand by evacuating the rotting remnants of last nights beer and wine only to discover it remains for all to enjoy, it’s not pleasant for anyone. On top of this delightful gift, and with my health not being in tip-top shape, I throw up the dodgy burger I had moments ago. A rich bouquet with notes of barley wafts from the cludge, and I beat a hasty retreat. I only hope my Korean room mate can forgive the desolation I deposit in the jax, because it ain’t shifting anytime soon.
But let’s look at the positives. The hospitality in this country is astounding. We’ve wanted for nothing, and our waiting times for rides as been mere nanoseconds. However the next hitch is a difficult one. It’s not been done before, it’s not too close to the Syrian border but we’re edging that way, and the roads don’t really connect easily. However there’s safety in numbers, and I think I’m seriously going to like hitching with a girl.
Incidentally a beard update. It’s slowly coming in, in patchy swathes, a bright red hue. Thanks Dad. I look like a drunk ginger beaver.