Back on the bikes

May 28, 2013

Biking Distance: 30 miles Climbing: 1958.7 feet

With fairly expensive ferry tickets in hand, we were motivated to finally escape the gravitational draw to hang out a few more days in Istanbul. It wasn’t a particularly cheap place to while away time, at least by our standards, but it was a calm, beautiful city with lots of nice people and interesting things to do. We were sad to leave, but excited to see more of the country.

At 5 am, we hopped on our loaded bikes for the first time since we took off from Weishan to Dali what seemed like an eternity ago. It felt good to be back to riding, and we cruised quietly along the coastal contour of the European side of the Bosporus to the ferry terminal.

The day before we spied a McDonalds at the ferry complex so we were both dreaming of greasy hash browns and egg sandwich things on our ride over. We are both big time breakfast people and the prospect of a cheap greasy carboload to fuel our riding later in the day was tantalizing. When we drew up to the entrance and saw chairs stacked on the tables and the lights out, I went into a quiet and irrational tirade about the poor work ethic of Turkish McDonald’s workers, and slunk into a low mental place. The only other option was Café Nero, which looked a bit swank for our grubby selves. It was pricey, a small Americano was 3 euros, and small meant that the barista dumped the second half of the shot down the sink and filled the cup to the brim with water. Stunned, and with even lower morale I feebly coughed up what in Asia was half of our entire daily food budget for two coffee flavored waters and a small round pretzel looking thing that was not a pretzel. I thus declared this the “worst coffee of the entire trip”, Nescafe made with fishy tasting water included.

Boarding the ferry

We were loaded up on the ferry without much trouble, taped the brake levers down so the bikes wouldn’t roll and fall over during the ride then headed up to the passenger deck. It was the nicest ferry either of us had ever been on, with assigned padded seats at small communal tables, a really nice and expensive cafeteria, flat screen TVs playing things we couldn’t understand. We snoozed for most of the 2 hours to Bandirma. We expected that the terminal on the other side would be in a city and we could grab breakfast, but we were actually just in a very small town north of the main city center. We popped into a grocer for some water, pasta, tomatoes and to the bakery next store for a loaf of bread. As we were loading our food up, the young man working at the bakery beckoned for me to come back over and he handed me two pastries which were like scones with raisins in them. Breakfast problem solved!

We started riding through the back roads of the town, but they eventually devolved into gravel which was a pain to ride on, so we steered onto the main highway. The traffic was surprising light, but there was a ton of honking. This time it wasn’t annoying though, it was all the truckers in the other lane trying to get our attention so we could return their waves. We were in good spirits and banged out a few miles but it was really hot and we were not used to cycling in the heat, so we decided to take a break. We set up our hammock on two shrubs overhanging the drainage ditch on the side of the road and took turns in it while reading in the slight shade of the two shrubberies.

Practically empty road

Hammock time

After our siesta we rode along for a little while longer until Jenny’s bike started making a really awful clicking noise. Upon closer inspection we realized that at the end of each of our chains we had lost the disc-shaped roller pieces that sit inside the chain links and allow the chain to roll smoothly over the cogs on our gears. They probably accidentally fell out when we were cleaning them in China. What should have been a simple fix ended up taking a while as it was really hot and we were out in the open and our chain tool isn’t the best. Then a guy on a motorbike stopped by to help (he was a farmer and the way he handled the chain indicated he actually knew what he was doing), but we kept dropping the tiny pieces in the dirt on the shoulder and we were foolishly trying to do this without unloading the bike. Finally, we got it back together. We repeated the process, although somewhat abbreviated the second time around, on my bike then headed off with slightly too short chains, oh well.

Helping hand

We started scoping out a place to camp and ended up in a small village on the coast. It had a nice beach that would have worked, but it was out in the open and a small group of kids were following us around on their bikes. Upon further inspection, we saw a bloated beached dolphin on the shore of our maybe campsite and decided it was an omen that we should keep searching. We put our faith in the GPS and meandered through a tangle of irrigation roads along what appeared to be wet rice fields which we thought was odd.

Rice fields

As we were about to pop back on the highway I saw a small overgrown side road and followed it down to the river bank. There was a small flat clearing where an old pumphouse had once stood. It was also overgrown with stinging nettles and these white cottony tufts which induced sneezing. It was not ideal, but it was out of sight, flattish and well those are the two best adjectives I can think of. After a maniacal revenge attack on the stinging nettles we had a nice spot to cook and sleep. We whipped up some pasta with tomatoes and cheese and passed out as it got dark.

Istanbul

Jun13

May 22 – 27, 2013

Our plane landed in Istanbul around midnight. We found our way to the visa stall purchased a stamp without even a glance at our passports and headed into the labyrinth of people waiting to get stamped through customs. Next, we headed to the baggage carousel to wait for our giant boxes. As the crowd slowly trickled away, we got a little worried when nothing arrived for us. Chandler went off and talked to the baggage people and found out that our boxes were still in Paris. The baggage contractor would deliver them to our hostel when they got in the next night.

This was actually a small blessing, instead of searching for a taxi big enough to handle our bike boxes (the taxis were all tiny) we jumped on the cheap shuttle bus with one of our panniers each as our hand baggage.

The bus dropped us off around 1 am at the bustling Taksim Square, (sound familiar?) and from there walked a few blocks to our hostel. Luckily, they were cool with us arriving so late at night. We were shown to a room with 4 bunk beds, given beds and immediately went to sleep. Chandler woke me up the next morning with just enough time to scramble up to the terrace for the free breakfast. Breakfast included a slice of cheese, a few tomatoes and cucumbers, an assortment of olives, a hard-boiled egg and baguette slices. This was served every morning and we didn’t get the slightest bit tired of it.

We actually discovered we were in another food heaven. Now that we are in Europe, our budget doesn’t cover dining out, so we are cooking for ourselves. Our meals have consisted of mainly pastas with tomatoes, garlic, olives and soft Turkish cheese, called peynir. We are going to have no problem eating well while in the Mediterranean.

Our first day was spent wandering around with Jimmy, an Australian 737 pilot we met at the hostel. We walked to the Grand Bazaar and then tried to find the Cistern before running into another cyclist. K-Pete cycled from Germany and was doing a pass through Turkey before heading to Greece and back up to Germany in the next few days. Our larger group went to lunch, so the boys could get some kebap sandwiches and I had a potato cheese bread thing. Next we headed to the Blue Mosque. This was the first mosque we had entered and the entire building was incredible. Stained glass, patterned tiles and big vaulted ceilings, this was definitely a place to inspire worship.

Lovely lanterns

Blue Mosque

Stained glass

Tiled ceilings

The next day we spent waiting around the hostel for our bike boxes to be delivered. We found out through a series of confusing messages from our hostel owner that they had been held up in customs for some reason, so we had to go get them. In the morning, Chandler took the metro to the airport, and had to change lines twice so it ended up being almost the same price as the direct shuttle bus. He was let back into the secure side and then dealt with the paperwork required to release the bikes. Next, they sent him to customs to sort out the problem, they motioned for him to put the boxes through the X-ray which he did and they waved him on. The baggage guy pointed to the exit, but Chan was a little ticked off that he had to come all the way back out to the airport for apparently no reason and now they wanted him to take the bags himself, which would involve hiring a large taxi. After a few back and fourths, and a supervisor later, they finally agreed to deliver the bags to the hostel as they had said they would the night before.

We got the bikes to the hostel and spent the remainder of the day reassembling them, going on a test ride through town and getting replacement parts. On our ride home we saw a large group of protestors in Taksim Square, but we couldn’t understand what their signs said and wandered back to the hostel.

Once business was taken care of, we were able to focus on possible routes and more sightseeing. We decided on spending one more day in town then jumping on the morning ferry to Bandirma, across the Marmara Sea. While we were working there was some shouting on the streets and then a bang. Our eyes started to water a little bit and there was a chemically smell in the air. The hostel manager came in and closed all the windows. I looked out the window and saw a man walk out of his shop and quickly put his hands to his eyes. Apparently, the police were dispersing some protestors with teargas in our area. I asked the manager what they were protesting and he replied “who knows this time!”

We didn’t really think much of it and took the afternoon to explore the Basilica Cistern, trying to mail a package home, getting free samples of tasty cheese and walking narrow streets as we looked for the ferry. Chandler had read that the cistern was a civil engineer’s dream, and although it was a pretty cool example of some very old civil works, most of the emphasis was on the beauty of the lit columns above the shallow water and some carved Medusa heads, with basically nothing describing how the cistern was used from a functional standpoint. It wasn’t really disappointing, but it wasn’t my engineer’s dream.

Galata Tower

Inside the cistern

Medusa doing a headstand

We spent our last night socializing at the hostel and packing up the last of our things. We had a 5am alarm set to ensure we had enough time to get breakfast and to ride to the ferry on time.

Country hopping

Jun9

May 20 – 21, 2013

Our bus ride to Delhi was not as pleasant as either of us had hoped. We were in a semi-sleeper, which means the seat recline a little more than a normal airline seat, but not enough to really sleep. The shocks on the bus were also completely shot and we felt every bump and dip along that road. Chandler snored softly next to me as I spent the first few hours fighting off wave after wave of nausea while the bus made its way down a very winding road. Eventually, I was able to fall asleep and happy to wake up in Delhi.

Although neither of us were well rested and it was 5am, we found our way to the metro from the bus station. Chandler handled everything and just steered me to the right train and again when to get off at the right stop. We made it to Hari’s before he had even got up for the morning. We went into a wonderfully air conditioned room and chatted about what we had done in India and what we needed to accomplish before flying out the next day. Somewhere during the conversation, I feel back asleep, Hari left for work and Chandler found a bike shop which claimed to have the parts we needed.

We spent most of the next two days hiding in Hari’s apartment with the air conditioning blasting as it was 46°C or 114°F outside. We would shut all the doors and all sleep in the one room, so not to waste energy trying to cool the entire apartment. We even ate dinner in the bedroom when Hari got home, because the heat was just unbearable. We did manage to get our errands done with no problems or melting into puddles.

Hari and his friend from work also took us to a bar with live music one night. The band would play requested songs and sounded really great. They played anything from Guns ‘n’ Roses to Gangum Style to Lady Gaga. It was a nice note to leave Delhi on.

Finally, the time had come to go to the airport for our flight to Istanbul. While we were sad to be leaving India, Hari and all the amazing food, we were excited to be getting out of the heat. We were both looking forward to getting back on the bicycles. It was nice taking a break in India, but traveling by bus and train had really made us miss and appreciate transporting ourselves.

Hari arranged for a driver to pick us up at midnight. The driver tied down three of the boxes onto his roof rack with a very thin cord after jamming one in the back with me. I was sure I would hear our bikes crashing to the ground at some point during the ride. Luckily, everything made it in one piece.

We had a little trouble checking in because our award ticket had us going through Moscow and France en route to Istanbul, Turkey. Apparently, this raised some sort of red flag and it took a supervisor an hour to get us checked in. Luckily, in the midst of the confusion, they accepted our request to check our bags all the way to Istanbul, even though we were going through so many countries and changing air carriers along the way. Once again we dodged some potentially high excess baggage fees. With everything figured out we were issued tickets. After a few hours of waiting around, we boarded our plane and I immediately fall asleep. Chan apparently tried to wake me up at one point when he notice the in flight map showed we were directly over Kabul, Afghanistan, but we were way up above the clouds and he couldn’t see anything on the ground so he let me dream away. I woke up an hour outside of Moscow.

We had our passports checked and our carry-ons re-scanned before actually being permitted into the Moscow airport. We were immediately in a cloud of smoke as the smoking area was a square of tape on the floor with a vacuum system attempting to suck the smoke out of the air. We found a café to wait out the few hours until our flight to Paris. We hadn’t done any research about exchange rates so even though there were prices on the menu we had no idea what a Ruble was worth. Later, we found out that we ended up spending over $30 on coffee and sandwiches, and chalked that one up to experience (Chandler proclaimed it the best coffee he’d had in 6 months, so maybe it was worth it). The plane took off and landed uneventfully in Paris and we started the whole process over again. Finally, at 7pm, we boarded our last flight of the day to Istanbul.

Russian smoking area

The home of the Dalai Lama

Jun8

May 12 – 19, 2013

We caught a train early the next morning to Pathankot. We ended up sitting on the train for an hour before it actually started moving. Chandler was getting really antsy but I just read my book and held a woman’s baby until we finally got going. Once in Pathankot, we walked to the bus station and got on a bus that someone motioned at said something that sounded sort of like Dharamsala. We had a moment of panic when Chandler turned on the GPS to make sure we were going the right way and found we were heading south. We decided to stay on the bus for a few anxious minutes before the bus turned back east, apparently making a roundabout circuit of Pathankot before heading to Daramasala. Once in Daramasala, we shared a taxi with two friendly guys from Wales about to head out on a 10 day trek in the mountains. They had been searching for decent hiking boots in town, but had come up empty and settled on heading out with canvas tennis shoes wrapped in tape. At the top of the hill we reached our destination, McLeod Ganj.

McLeod Ganj

McLeod Ganj is the home of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan government in exile. There were very few Indians around and most of the population was made up of Tibetan refugees. The town was set on a steep hillside with a few narrow busy lanes. The backdrop of a few 3000+ meter peaks made the place quite picturesque. There were so many shops full of jewelry, fake Tibetan wool blankets and prayer flags. The temperature was finally cool enough to need to carry a jacket during the day and actually wear one after the sun had set.

On our first day, we got invited by an employee of L.I.T. (Learning and Ideas for Tibetans) to volunteer for an English conversation hour with local people. We were both a little nervous to join the group, but felt welcomed the moment we walked in the room. We ended up returning every day that we were available. As English speakers, we were separated and non-English speakers would then form groups around us. The person leading the class then put three questions to be discussed up on a white board. After an hour of talking about the questions the students would then stand up and share an answer with the group. There was no pressure to talk and it was very fun for everyone. The questions were all really hard and thought provoking. The first day’s questions were about the best day of your life. We thought they couldn’t get harder after that, only to find the next day asking about the meaning of life.

There was broad spectrum of English ability and age in the groups, which made it fun to get to know each person in our group over the course of the hour. It was really interesting talking to the Tibetan refugees. Most of them had not seen their families since they escaped Tibet. When talking on the phone with relative in Tibet, they had to be careful about what they spoke of because the Chinese monitor their conversations. They all had so much hope for a free Tibet, but there was also a feeling of despair as their objective does not seem possible in the near future. All refugees also have the privilege of a meeting with His Holiness, the Dalai Lama when they first arrive to the area, and many shared this as the best day of their lived.

We went to a fundraiser for L.I.T. another night which included dinner and a talk from a Tibetan political prisoner. The man was arrested near his monastery in Tibet for distributing fliers which advocated allowing the Dalai Lama to return to Lhasa. He and his two friends were arrested and tortured. One of his friends was eventually murdered by the guards in prison. He spent a total of 5 years in jail before his release. He immediately escaped Tibet and made his way to Nepal and eventually to India. It was a sad situation he spoke of. The topics discussed were deeply personal and somewhat politically sensitive so we decided not to ask to take pictures of the talk or people we interacted with during the English conversation, so sorry to not have any compelling visuals.

One morning we spent circumambulating the main Tibetian temple. The road was lined with prayer flags and prayer wheels, and we made sure to put each one into rotation as we walked pass. We were joined by several elderly Buddhists also on their way to the temple. The temple is located right next to the Dalai Lama’s home, who just happened to the in the United States while we were there. Our walk ended at the temple, were a monks and locals were concentrated in prayer.

A monkey

Prayer flags

The largest of the prayer wheels

We spent another morning in a Buddhist philosophy class. A monk read scripture while a woman interrupted it into English. We learned about living life with patience and that the opposite of patience in anger. Even though we are not Buddhists, the teaching made a lot of sense for everyday life. We left feeling inspired to be more patient with each other. Who knows how long that will last!

I think the highlight of our time in McLeod Ganj came during our hike to Triund. The path started in town and began as a cobblestone path. There were frequent tea houses along the trail so hikers could stop and rest. The trail was well defined but really steep in several spots. We were passed by a pack of loaded donkeys at one point which I found surprising they were able to maintain balance on the rocks in some of the boulder fields. When we finally reached the top, we were offered a wonderful view of the town and some snow clad mountains. Chandler and I almost felt like we were at home.

Pack donkeys

There was a lodge at the top, but no vacancies, so we rented a tent and sleeping mats. Two young men struggled to set everything up for us as we relaxed and watched. It felt a little strange to have somebody else do the work that we could probably do in half the time. We enjoyed a dinner of rice, dal and chapatti at one of the tea houses and a bonfire with a dozen other people. Our group ended up exhausting the supply of firewood before being forced to bed. It was a great evening of socializing, surprisingly with a group almost entirely of other Americans.

The mountains at the top

Looks like a good spot to camp

The next morning we hiked down in half the time it took us to hike up. We had difficulty finding a hotel room for a decent price because there was a big Indian Primer League cricket tournament in Daramasala in a few days and the prices of accommodation had skyrocketed. We finally found something reasonable and decided that night to head back to Delhi a little ahead of schedule since we were getting kind of pinched out.

Amazing Amritsar

Jun8

May 8 – 11, 2013

Chandler and I love overnight train rides for a number of reasons: the bunks are generally cleaner than the hotels we can afford, we get good food and we have a lot of time to read. On the two day train ride to Amritsar, Chandler and I were both able to get through two books, one of which was the same so we had a little book club chat over it.

We arrived in Amritsar in the evening and got a bicycle rickshaw to our hotel. I felt guilty asking the man to peddle Chandler, myself and our backpacks with a single speed bike the 4 miles to our hotel for less than one dollar. We hopped off once to walk up a big hill, but when we finally got there we gave the man a huge tip. We couldn’t help but be very impressed with his leg muscles.

Once at the hotel, we discovered that the screen to our computer had gotten smashed on the train somehow. After searching for the power cord so recently, Chandler was almost ready to throw the computer out the window. However, we found an internet café and looked up a computer repair shop nearby and researched a reasonable price for replacement screens. We went to bed, knowing what most of our day was going to be spent dealing with the computer.

The computer situation went really smoothly actually. We went to Sam’s Computer Shop where Sam the computer guy made a few calls and gave a quote within the price range we were willing to pay. He also promised he would have it done in two hours and would check to make sure nothing else went wrong. We told him we were going to the border closing ceremony and promised to stay open until we got back. Sam also gave us a number of suggestions for good restaurants in the area. While in the area, we visited the Maharaja Ranjit Singh Museum. This was just a museum devoted to the local Maharajah which had a number of panoramas depicting various battles he was in and showing how he was a great guy.

Delicious meal

The Maharajah

After visiting Sam’s suggested restaurants, we caught a shared taxi to the Pakistan-Indian border. Somehow the driver managed to fit 12 people into a regular sized SUV. Good thing there wasn’t much traffic on the road. The driver dropped us off a kilometer away from the border and we all went through the usual security measures of metal detector and a pat down. As tourists, we were allowed to sit in a special section while everyone else was divided into a men’s and women’s section.

Once most people were seated, a party erupted. Popular Bollywood music was played over a loudspeaker and the women moved into the road and began dancing and shouting out “Hindustan”. Eventually, an official looking man came out with the India flag which he passed off to a child. The child than ran the length of the road to the Pakistan-Indian border gates and waved the flag at the other side before returning to pass the flag off to the next person. This occurred a number of times before two more flags were brought out some more people could have a turn.

Flag parade

At this point, we noticed that the Pakistani side was starting to fill up and they had begun to play music. People on that side of the border were also waving flags as someone banged on a drum. Finally, everyone was ushered back into their seats for the closing of the border. A trumpet was blown on each side and guards with big headdresses began goose stepping towards the gates. The gates were flung open as the guards on either side of the border met and made elaborate high kicks at each other. The gates were then slammed close, only to be opened again as the next guard approached. This process continued until most of the guards had had a turn, when men were positioned between the gates to take down the flags. The guards on either side of the border mirrored each other’s movements until the flags were lowered and the gates were slammed closed for the last time.

Pakistani and Indian guards

It was hard not to get caught up in the excitement of the moment. Everyone was constantly clapping and shouting out for their country. Pakistan and India do not have the best relationship, but it nice to see them work together on obviously choreographed motions and good natured competition.

We returned to town in good spirits even though we were very crammed in our taxi. We got dropped off early to pick up our computer from Sam. He had it waiting for us good as new. We ended up chatting for several more minutes about Amritsar and our trip. We found out Sam is a host on couchsurfers, too bad we hadn’t looked into before we came to town.

The next day, we devoted to sleeping in and sightseeing. Amritsar is home to the Jallianwala Bagh Massacre and the Sikh’s Golden Temple. After perusing the shops and not finding anything worth buying, we went to Jallianwala Bagh. In 1919, British soldier opened fire on 5000 Indians during a peaceful protest of the Rowlatt Act. The courtyard is walled on all sides, so there was nowhere to run or hide. Many people jumped into well, thinking they could hide there, only to be crushed by all the others also seeking refuge. A large monument has been erected in the center of the courtyard to the martyrs and there were several bullet holes visible in the walls. We try to research the significance of the areas that we are in, including reading books by famous authors and watching movies. I would highly suggest that everyone interested in a quick way to brush up on Indian history watch the film “Gandhi”. Watching the movie gave us a seed of knowledge about the life of Gandhi and the history of India during the independence movement.

Monument to the martyrs

Bullet holes

Next, we went to the Golden temple, which was a much happier place. The Golden temple is the most holy place for people of the Sikh religion. The obvious difference between Hindus and Sikhs is that Sikhs wear turbans, usually have a beard and carry a knife (we saw a few guys with huge swords), while Hindus do not. The men and women do not cut their hair and the men do not shave their beards.

We started our tour of the temple with depositing our shoes in a locker and washing our feet. We then both adorned our heads with bandanas. Next, we headed over the Guru-Ka-Langar, the community dining area. We sat cross-legged on the floor in tight rows, knee to knee and were served rice, chapatti, dal and a vermicelli pudding with chai tea all on for free, served by volunteers. Hari told us that you will never see a Sikh begging, because they can always get food at a temple.

As it began to rain, we made our way to the central temple. We stopped to perform some seva or labor in exchange for our meal, which for us was drying metal dishes used for drinking water in a large trough of black sand. People seemed to get a kick out of two white people sitting amongst a bunch of Indian ladies rubbing metal bowls with sand and we got our photo taken a number of times.

Preforming a little seva

Finally, we got in line to go into the Golden temple, located in the middle of a man made pond, or water tank as it was called. We were immediately befriended by two young men and an older gentleman. This worked to our advantage, as they took us up to the top floors and onto the roof of the temple, something we never would have had the nerve to do on our own. They were also able to translate some of the writing adorning the walls. After the main temple, we were led to a smaller building as priests were showing off the weapons of the former gurus.

Weapon of a former Guru

Golden Temple

Chandler and one of our guides for the evening

We had a little trouble shaking the younger men off when we were finally ready to go back to the hotel. They wanted to know our Facebook pages, Skype usernames and any other information we were willing to give to them. They also wanted to take one thousand photos in multiple locations. It got a little weird in the end when we were finally saying goodbye. The kids knew that we are married by asked me to kiss him anyways. I laughed him off before Chandler and I ran off to the safety of our hotel.

A Few Days Off

the things that we do