I got up at 1am. I had too much chai during dinner with Rustem and his mom the night before, and I did not sleep at all. Rustem brought me downstairs and made sure I found my Yandex taxi.
At the airport, I met Stefano. He was 34 and had cycled all the way from Australia. His father, 64, had joined him in Thailand. The father was divorced. It seems to be a pattern among men around my age. I am very happy that I do not have to choose between seeing the world and having a happy marriage.
We talked about impressions from our tours. I was especially interested in what comes right after Aktau until the Pamir Highway. There is a lot of desert there. It made me a little nervous.
The three-hour flight with Pegasus Airlines was torture for me. The seats were tiny, the flight was packed, and it was warm and humid inside. I did not get any sleep.
We landed around 5am on the Asian side of Istanbul and said our goodbyes. They would set up their bikes now and cycle onwards to Bulgaria. I still had hours to kill before I could pick up Rosinante from the bike shop, so I sat in a few cafés and tried to nap a little.
Eventually I took a taxi into town. Turkish taxis run on cash only, unless you are willing to pay a 10% surcharge to use a card. A little ancient, given where the rest of the country stands meanwhile.
After some searching, I found the bike shop of Gürsel Akay, tucked away in a backyard. He is famous in the long-distance cycling community for his service and the quality of his work. He speaks Turkish, English, and French fluently — unusual in Turkey. Rosinante was already packed up and ready. We stood around talking about cycling. Friends and clients kept dropping by, and different conversations came up. It was genuinely entertaining.
Then I still had to get to the other airport, on the European side. Gürsel drove me to Kadıköy, where the airport buses leave. I dragged my cargo across a four-lane street in three separate hauls. Then I boarded the bus, already soaked from the 30-degree heat outside. The ride took two hours, but I had planned in plenty of buffer time.
Check-in went smoothly, and I still had time for some food and a few souvenirs. Around 6pm, I boarded my next three-hour flight, this time with Lufthansa. Much more comfortable. Meanwhile I was really looking forward to a shower and some clean clothes.
During the afternoon, a sore throat crept in and my voice started fading. I had obviously caught a bug. My body wanted some rest. Understandable.
My luggage came super fast. I was positively surprised and thanked the guy who delivered my boxes.
Carolin and our dog Buddy picked me up outside the arrival area at Frankfurt airport. We loaded Rosinante and my bags into her bus and she drove us home. I was exhausted, felt a little sick, and could barely talk.
Around 11pm, we were home. It felt so good to see the loved environment again. After something small to eat and a beer on the porch, I took a long shower and went to bed.
Learnings of the day:
Don’t believe everything you feel. When I get even a little sick, I tend to feel miserable and weak. But at the end of a tour like this, I should be feeling powerful, proud, and upbeat. Instead, I was quiet. The dominant feeling underneath it all was deep gratitude, and a need for a little rest. I had spent 12 days in Uganda, including an Ebola outbreak, then 48 hours at home, then 36 days on the road averaging 110km per day exploring new cultures and countries.
It was ok to rest a little. I was looking forward to it.