Turkey

Turkey makes it clear at the border what is important here. Flags of every size. Apparently, among other things, the largest flag in the world. In addition, shots are continuously fired. We cannot determine whether there is a military training ground directly next to the border, or if it is being played on loop to make people feel more comfortable at the border. Aside from that, the border is quickly crossed and friendly.

Hundreds of flags and two mosques, no matter where you look. As it turns out, August 30 is Victory Day (against Greece, 1922), which adds to the flood of flags.

Unfortunately, the Sea of Marmara does not offer the hoped-for beach life, so we keep rolling. As night falls, we reach Istanbul. And who would have thought that our old bus would make it this far! Our sleeping spot is right by the Golden Horn. Bad music at club volume comes from the Galata Bridge, and it smells of fish, fried Balik Ekmek, and old fish from market waste and the water, but it is nice.

A walk down Istiklal, burnt corn, Simit, Baklava from Hafiz Mustafa, the Blue Mosque, “traditional” ice cream with a show, for 6 euros per scoop, and then again the golden horn, gleaming golden, showing where the name must come from.

And then we're out of the city. We leave the European continent, unfortunately not over the bridge but through the tunnel under the Bosphorus, which makes your ears pop.

The rest of our time in Turkey consists of long drives, first through the country, then along the Black Sea. The entire coast is built up with apartment blocks. The beach is full of trash. The area seems to be famous for a bread that looks like a butt. And Esther is unfortunately sick now, which is not much fun on a bus without a toilet.

The mountains behind the coast are certainly beautiful but will have to wait for another time.