GO WEST

A final morning greeting from Turkey!

The alarms rang, as agreed, at 7 AM in all rooms. The captain had requested to depart for the airport promptly at 9 AM. Since no one wanted to incur the wrath of the Lord with the most tinsel on his shoulders, the lower-ranking crew members rose to the occasion. We packed everything together and arranged everything in due time for the Militaria-Benz, like a game of Tetris. I looked once more at the extent of the splatter movie in three parts in our bedroom. It certainly is not my style to stain furniture, especially not foreign ones, with blood and lifeless remains of flying creatures. Yet, I had to make an exception here. Perhaps screens or similar might have been a worthwhile investment (would have been). Especially since my battle scars were definitely not the first ones.

Kadir set the green beast in motion. Once again, we navigated through the noisy traffic of Istanbul. Since it was Sunday, it seemed almost normal to us. However, as we could not foresee how it would turn out, we preferred to leave a bit earlier. Okay, the drive takes an hour, and the women's flight was scheduled to take off at 15:50. So there should be plenty of time available, even at an average speed of 25 km/h over a distance of 60 km.

Our first destination was a gas station, and since Kadir had this wonderful experience with the mentioned chocolate at Shell in Trabzon, we were going to fill up at that company's station again. It could just be that… As soon as Kadir returned from the Shell store, the crew sensed the dilemma. Dubai chocolate was sold out. Fortunately, the disappointment did not last very long, and we moved on with high concentration. Upon arriving at the terminal, due to the overall situation – familiar to anyone who has been to airport drop-off areas – we had only a very brief farewell with Rudy and Julia. We maneuvered our loaded colossus through hundreds of Maybach vans and millions of taxis, heading straight onto the highway westward.

Without really discussing it, we surely thought the same thing: GO WEST! Just before the border facility we knew all too well, that yellow-orange shell appeared on the horizon once again. Could that Shell station possibly… and a few minutes later, a beaming former Turk boarded the vehicle. The remaining stock of this mysterious delicacy had been bought up and immediately tasted. And indeed, it was delicious. (Note from the editor: Kadir had not always bought the same product from the same manufacturer in the past few days).

So now to the border again: almost wistfully we looked towards Hall D3. Has it really been two weeks already? We would find ourselves asking this question several more times in the hours to come. Now it was time to approach the first counter. Then the shock: according to the specialist at the counter, 271 Lira in toll fees were required. Huh??? Kadir: “There should still be 2000 Lira in a credit account...”. Yes, she could also see that, but the system says we have to pay extra. Kadir: “For what? And how does the 271 Lira come about?”. She couldn't say. Kadir: “That's nonsense if I deposited 2000.” She: “Yes, that's true. But that's the system.”
As we were about to settle our so-called toll debts with our last cash, we found out we had to go back to another counter. Old administrator. So we pulled out the card and that was that. So now we had paid an amount for tolls in Turkey that only the Turkish state, its toll minister, or the toll officer of the Turkish government knows. Not a single person in this country could explain it to us – neither in Turkish nor in English. Transparency looks different. The further control upon exit was very relaxed, and so we continued on Bulgarian roads.

We enjoyed the wonderful weather and the setting sun since the landscape next to the highway had not changed much in the last nine days. Fortunately, I accidentally bought a 2-week vignette when we entered Bulgaria last week. So that part was already taken care of. Since we entered the most beautiful group of countries, buying a vignette would have been a piece of cake regardless. We waved our former campsite “Sunset Garden” goodbye and, boom, we were already at the border to Serbia.
Now the rough ex-fairground boxer was the only one who could stop us from exiting, whom we had been observing at the border post for a while. The sportsman took his job seriously. Very seriously. We watched as he unilaterally – while the passports on the driver's side were being checked – opened the doors on the passenger side and the trunk. We knew he would do the same with our vehicle. The predictable loss of control let our imaginations run wild with the most outrageous scenarios. We particularly liked this one: “Igor tears open the sliding door and receives a frying pan in return from someone of us who waits directly behind the door. Immediately, the other hits the gas pedal. We break through the next post and at the same time, we raise the roller blind with a big middle finger on it in the rear window of the Benz.” To get straight to the point: we politely said “Good day,” and Igor was graciously allowed to look around our home. Even his one-word sentence “OPEN,” indicating that he just wanted to check out our bathroom, was of course fulfilled. Whatever. The smile of the very attractive Serbian woman a few meters away calmed us again, and we moved on.

After the first few hours in Serbia, I switched to the passenger seat, tilted its backrest a bit down, and organized my pillow. Kadir mentioned for the first time here that he was already looking forward to driving through the night. I dozed off briefly but arranged the toll for Orban's Ministry of Transportation before reaching the border to Hungary. Fortunately, I had all the details from the outbound trip, so I didn't even need the vehicle registration certificate. Interesting: although we traveled exactly the same route, the return was €0.67 cheaper. However, that doesn't change the fact that we paid a total of a whopping €147 for nearly 700 km of Hungarian highways.
Now, I really closed my eyes properly and allowed Kadir to have his night. The guy really meant it seriously. As he settled in behind the wheel, he was as happy as a little child. Well then.

When I woke up again, I stumbled through the car, still half asleep, to a driver whose face was grinning like he was on drugs. “I have taken you through several countries. I am a lonely steppe wolf and roam my paths.” Dude! What had he taken in the meantime? Is the Dubai chocolate really as harmless as we all assumed? I found out that we were just before Brno. The devil had crossed Hungary and the tip of Slovakia while I was dozing and had traveled nearly 100 kilometers in the Czech Republic. And was additionally as alert as if he had taken a whole handful of acid pills. However, I eventually managed to convince him that he should close his eyes for a bit. It was clear to both of us by now that we would push through to home.

Just before the border to Germany, I wanted to responsibly return the on-board unit of the Czech toll operator. I had paid €137 for it two weeks ago, and supposedly you get this deposit back upon return. Then came the sobering news shortly before the end of our journey. Although I had selected the distribution points, I was informed by the staff at the OMV station that I cannot return the OBU here. However, there should be the correct address for return a few kilometers further. Fine. Upon arrival, I was informed by the already annoyed employee that she would not accept the device here. Slightly irritated, I made it clear to her that I would be leaving it here. The website and the leaflet of the toll operator had informed me about this option. But far from it. The lady held a paper in front of me listing the options in at least four languages: a) Return here but then you cannot go the last eight kilometers to Germany on toll roads; b) Send back the device by post; c) Keep the device and use it again next time in the Czech Republic. I enthusiastically chose option A and received a shrugging “No return” in response. I was on the brink of exploding. I felt that such an outburst would not have a de-escalating effect. I will probably send the thing back, but only to see what happens. Maybe I'll keep it as a souvenir. However, we just couldn't bring ourselves to drive over it with the Benz.

After 2215 km in a time of 25:30 hours, we reached the starting point of the joint trip in Schöneiche at 11:30 AM CEST.

Somehow surreal and in a trance, we unpacked my belongings from the mobile home together. Kadir wanted and had to continue, so we held each other for a brief moment before the green monster left our yard heading toward the North Sea coast.

We had thoroughly reviewed the past two weeks together in the last hours, highlighting all the ups and downs. Therefore, this could now be settled very quickly.

The most important (almost) for last: not even two weeks on 6 square meters have caused the slightest doubt about our fantastic friendship. Here’s to the next 42 years!

PS: The very best really comes at the end. Therefore, there will be another blog post: From the one and only captain himself…