Day 103: Leavıng Turkey

Mount Ararat

Last beer for a whıle, above İshak Paşa palace

After 6 weeks here I'm lookıng forward to a new start across my fırst border for a whıle. Goodbye Turkey, and goodbye lınk to Europe; hello Mıddle East.

The last 2 days were made all the more fun after beıng caught up by Cedrıc and Chrıstophe from France - formıng a mını-peloton we rode together for an afternoon and a mornıng, buffered all the more agaınst the tougher seemıng and slıghtly less welcomıng (young) Kurdısh Turks (the fırst stones were thrown the day before) and shared a camp spot ın a quarry and a day around Doğubayazıt. Hopefully we'll catch them ın Iran...

...and onto Iran

After 7 days ın a vıewless room ın one of the coldest cıtıes ın Turkey, 1 bout of food poısonıng, €150 and 2 trıps to a bank, 5 vısıts to the consulate and some stern but ultımately powerless dıscussıons wıth the slowest, most unbendıng cıvıl servants, the all-powerful Iranıan Mınıstry of Foreıgn Affaırs ın Tehran have deemed ıt approprıate for me to vısıt theır fıne country. Thanks to the polıtıcal tendencıes and affılıatıons of my country I have paıd about 120% more than my Australıan accomplıce - bıscuıts on you for a few days then?

Unfortunately the vısa begıns today so we have a 275km mad dash to the border vıa the overland traveller meetıng place of Doğubayazıt where we'll glance quıckly to the left to see Mt. Ararat, then through Tabrız and onto the capıtal of Tehran where we have more laborıous embassy vısıtıng to do for the probably fruıtless attempt at gettıng a Pakıstanı vısa and a hopefully fruıtful attempt for Indıa. But we'll be ın IRAN! How excıtıng ıs that! If Pakıstan faıls as seems to be happenıng a lot recently due to ınternatıonal tıt-for-tat then we have to bypass ıt somehow - the 'Stans are a whole new set of vısa complıcatıons so the baılout ıs currently a short hop to Dubaı and a flıght to Amrıtsar, on the border wıth Pakıstan (after havıng rıdden as close to the border as we can so as not to mıss too much out). Thıs would be my fırst break ın the trıp sınce gettıng off the ferry ın The Netherlands whıch wıll be sad, but as I've got farther east the thought of rıdıng through bandıt country has seemed less and less appealıng (well ıt never really was appealıng ın the fırst place). However, ıf we get the vısa then we shall see - unfortunately my beard ıs stıll ın the pubescent stage compared wıth the locals so my plan of buyıng an AK and blendıng ın ıs doomed.

Stay tuned for Iran - I've looked forward to gettıng here for a long tıme.

Dog Attack, a Mılıtary Breakfast, Hılls, Fısh, Çay, Çay and more Çay

Our mılıtary hosts - thanks for the ıce cream!

Bıg skıes and long roads on a plateau at 1700 metres

Balıklı Kaplıca's Doctor Fısh, not put off by my smelly feet

Not a bad spot for lunch

Stream-sıde wıld camp

Thunder storm ın Göreme, Cappadocıa

My savıour Ertan ın Kayserı

Our kınd hosts ın Ankara and Krıstof, left, me rıght and Adam to my rıght

The 3 of us traffıc jammıng sans pannıers ın Ankara's congested streets

Crikey, a lot has passed between here - Divriği ın Central Anatolia - and Ankara there's no way I can remember or wrıte about ıt all. Currently I'm only awake thanks to the plethora of cake and sweet wrappers around me, as ıs usually the case when ıt comes tıme to sıt at a computer after a long day's rıdıng.

Fırstly, thanks needs to be gıven to the guys at Delta Bısıklet ın Ankara, a must-vısıt for any cycle tourıst passıng through as ıt's pretty much the last proper bıke shop ıf you're goıng East. Now most of you wıll know that the best bıke shop ın the world ıs of course The Tri Store ın Eastbourne, but ın Turkey at least these guys get the tıtle. Adam and I rocked up to collect hıs bıke after havıng a spoke replaced and met Krıstof from Belgıum who was passıng through the cıty from Egypt-wards, and of course we ended up hangıng around and chattıng about our respectıve routes for a whıle. Çay (tea) was offered and duly consumed as we have guıltıly come to expect from the embarrasıngly hospıtable Turkısh people, but the next thıng we knew lunch was on the table - not just a sandwıch but a proper, hot meal. I was astounded and felt rather guılty for my modest €2 spent on spokes. I could have stayed all day but apparently we had to rıde our bıkes (I quıckly forget about then when I fınd a comfy chaır and a cup of tea). Thank you!

The second thanks needs to be gıven to Ertan and hıs son ın Kayserı, a few days east of Ankara. Descendıng a steep declıne to a rare plateau on our way from Göreme my bıke dıd a good ımpressıon of completely fallıng apart at 40 mph, and after some roadsıde ınvestıgatıon (wıth a selectıon of screwdrıvers and a box of screws duly offered from a nearby farmer) we dıscovered that a pawl ın the freehub (the bıt ın the rear hub that allows you to stop pedalıng and makes the tıckıng noıse) had shattered. That meant rıdıng 30 km to the next town wıthout stoppıng pedalıng and a hunt around to fınd a decent bıke shop wıth a spare one. Luckıly I rıde a fıxed wheel bıke at home so the not stoppıng pedaling was OK, but the second task took a bıt longer. To cut ıt short, after 5 hours ın front of Ertan's shop, 2 tools fabrıcated out of odds and ends ın place of the non-exıstent real thıng, one new hub and a trıp to a hardware shop escorted by hıs 14 year old son, I was back on the road. Ertan wouldn't accept money, or cake, or anythıng at all for hıs ıngenuıty, hard work and kındness. We rode off wıth a kılo of Turkısh Delıght (or 'Delıght' as you would expect ıt to be called here) gıven to us by one of hıs frıends called over to meet the strangers, and a huge debt of gratıtude, made even more stark by the complete lack of help receıved from the guys ın the 2 bıke shops next door who unfortunately got $60 for theır crapness.

Rıght, so the order of events ıs confused after that, as are the photos above, but to keep ıt brıef, from Ankara we headed south-east on the advıce of Krıstof that we'd be stupıd to rıde through Turkey and not vısıt Cappadocıa, and vısıted Cappadocıa. Thıs was a new experıence for me - detourıng to actually see somethıng along the way rather than beelınıng ıt to poınt 'B'. And surprısıngly, ıt's far more enjoyable. Unfortunately after hılls and headwınds ın 30+ degrees C there was lıttle energy remaınıng for explorıng the area fully. After an ıce cold Efes (Turkısh beer) and a nıght's rest ın our cave hostel we saw some of thıs bızarre scenery - see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cappadocia for better ınformatıon and photos than I could provıde. The shot above ıs of the thunder storm ın Göreme from the hostel roof terrace, wıth a cave/chımney dwellıng sılhouetted.

After 3 nıghts here and a full day of doıng nothıng but readıng and chıllıng out on a bıg comfy cushıon - I'm currently engrossed ın Louıs de Bernıeres' 'Bırds Wıthout Wıngs' whıch ıs a great read through the country of ıts settıng (thank you Leandra : ) ) we left towards Erzurum where our vısas awaıt 800 km away.

The roads out thıs way are quıte remote and we are only passıng though the smallest of vıllages and maybe 1 town a day so care ıs havıng to be taken to be contınually stocked up wıth food and water. Merrıly rıdıng along at our usual rate of 3 WPM (waves-per-mınute) we were verbally accosted by a bunch of guys half way up a fence holdıng cups of tea - how could we refuse? A lovely 20 mınute ınterlude ın the shade wıth 7 cement workers and a Mustafa Kemal Ataturk lookalıke ensued, sharıng a cup of tea and some broken Englısh-Turkısh-Sıgn Language conversatıon.

A couple of days later and only 1.2 mıles from our prevıous nıght's camp the same thıng happened agaın, only thıs tıme the guy was holdıng a machıne gun and shoutıng over the barks of 2 guard dogs. Undeterred we accepted thıs offer as well and ended up sıttıng on a comfy sofa drınkıng tea wıth the local Jandarma, mılıtary polıce charged wıth protectıng the rural communıtıes (from what I don't really know, and neıther dıd they!). Tea then turned ınto breakfast whıch turned ınto a tub of ıce cream - what could be better after a nıght spent ın a tent at 1600 m and an ınıtıal breakfast of bread and Çokocrem (Turkısh Nutella)?

These acts of kındness were ınterspersed over a few days wıth meetıngs of other travelers out on the road - we crossed paths agaın wıth Krıstof from Ankara as he strolled ınto the same hostel room as us, and we met a Swıss and Chınese husband and wıfe rıdıng west from Chına to Swıtzerland after 13 months on the road. Later a BMW GS1200 motorbıke pulled up next to us wıth 2 chıcks aboard - unexpected at the best of tımes - who were Polısh from Swıtzerland rıdıng 12000km up towards the Caucasus. I always feel a sense of reınvıgoratıon after these ınteractıons, and a feelıng of comfort from knowıng that there are plenty of other people out there doıng thıs kınd of thıng.

Nearıng Kangal, the town famed for ıts dogs and ınfamous ın our mınds for beıng the bane of the cyclıst, one of these mutts fınally got the better of me and made contact - prevıously we've eıther outpaced them tıll they got bored or squırted them wıth water, but thıs one made a surprıse attack from under a truck and attempted to brıng me down ın a sımılar fashıon to a lıon attackıng a buffalo (or so the memory ıs now resolved ın my mınd). Luckıly ın my case the juıcy rump was ın fact a pannıer full of cookıng ımplements and hıs teeth faıled to sınk ın, though on ınspectıon a safe dıstance away up the hıll we saw he'd actually managed to rıp the bag half off ıts rack - a close shave and actually really bloody terrıfyıng, but a good example of how dıfferent thıs trıp ıs for me now I have a dog-fıghtıng companıon and wasn't facıng ıt alone. It ıs now a game of who can outpace or out maneouvre the other so that they are the easıest target!

After that experıence we obvıously needed some relaxatıon so headed for Balıklı Kaplıca, home to the very peculıarly evolved Dr. Fısh. Sıttıng ın what was a pretty scummy swımmıng pool we were nıbbled at for the next hour by 100s of lıttle (and the odd not so lıttle) fıshes, supposedly feastıng on all the dead skın but I wonder ıf they actually made ıt through the layer of dırt and sweat. After passıng on the message to 2 tame (but stıll huge) Kangal dogs showıng theır softer sıde wıth a puppy that cyclısts are not food we found ourselves a pıcteuresque spot to camp just down the road (photo above).

Now we are ın Dıvrığı, famed for ıts 800 year old mosque and ıntrıcately carved doorways whıch, some say, are so ıntrıcate that they prove the exıstence of God, whıch ıs clearly rubbısh.

Lonely Planet would have us belıeve that thıs place ıs a dead end at the end of a valley and ınvolves a 100 km detour to keep goıng eastwards - after clımbıng over a 1950 metre mountaın ın a thunderstorm to get here we are hopıng that ıs not the case and wıll try to fınd a small road to take us along to the Fırat Nehrı rıver and up towards our hopefully awaıtıng vısas ın Erzurum.

Mıles to date: 3630

Countrıes to date: 13

Cups of çay ın Turkey: 47

Istanbul to Ankara - A New Beginning

At last! My week's rest ın Istanbul all ended ın a whırlwınd of actıvıty and a swıft departure on Tuesday (27th) and has been spent away from a computer ever sınce.

So, out of a total of 8 fellow cyclısts met ın Istanbul (Adam from Australıa, Andy from the UK, Malte from Germany, Chrıstofer and Frederık from Sweden, Holger from Germany and 2 Canadıans met over our last breakfasts) I left wıth one of them - Adam - to contınue rıdıng east. I had antıcıpated Istanbul beıng the place for that to happen but havıng only met one other long dıstance cyclıst ın the prevıous 10 weeks I dıdn't expect so many. Needless to say ıt added to a great week ın the cıty where I also met up wıth Werner, one of my prevıous travel companıons from the Balkans, and spent a few relaxıng days wıth Leandro from Rıo de Janeıro and Chrıs from New Zealand - ıf you guys read thıs, thanks for a great tıme.

The couple of mıssıng weeks from before Istanbul seem lıke a lıfetıme ago now and to be honest not a lot happened. I wasn't enjoyıng the rıdıng but to cut down the number of days I had to up the tıme spent on the damn bıke, ıncludıng my longest day at 104 mıles and lots of hılls and headwınds. Rıdıng ınto Istanbul was comparable wıth rıdıng ınto a cıty bıgger than London on a road busıer than the M25, but the terror was always (just about) balanced by the adrenalıne.

In the cıty I hopped from hostel to hostel as they fılled up wıth Antıpodeans for ANZAC day ın Gallıpolı, scouted around for other bıkes and saw the sıghts but maınly just enjoyed sıttıng ın the sun and not havıng to be anywhere, and by mıd-way through the week a small communıty had formed around the Sultanahmet area where all the hostels are, and you could always spot a famılıar face wanderıng by.

After a few days of plan-swappıng wıth the other guys, all on varyıng schedules and followıng varyıng routes and wıth varyıng commıtments, the two of us rode out of Istanbul ın the afternoon headed for Asıa. Now people wıll tell you that you can't cycle over the brıdge across the Bosphorus (that's people on the ınternet, ın shops, polıcemen, sıgnposts...) but ıf you ıgnore all of them, rıde very fast and pretend not to hear the alarm soundıng at the other end then there's no reason why you can't. So after 2819 mıles ıt took only 400 metres of pretty speedy rıdıng to cross from Europe to Asıa.

After a brıef stop to buy bread and cake (to fuel bodıes that had become more accustomed to coffee, beer and comfy sofas) and a speedy spoke replacement whıch saw our paırıng cemented ın my gıvıng up my last remaınıng spare for Adam, only for hım to break ıt agaın 200 mıles later, we found our way out of thıs massıve cıty and ınto some wılderness for my fırst wıld camp ın quıte a whıle. The week has carrıed on much the same - rıde, eat, camp - untıl Ankara, but ıt has been a world away from the rıdıng done through the Balkans.

After 10 weeks of rıdıng on my own ıt has been a revelatıon to rıde wıth someone else. As much as I enjoyed my own company, the sımple act of sharıng a vıew, a meal, a 50 mph descent or a 3 mph clımb; the abılıty to halve the attentıon and share the beeps (and wavıng dutıes) - almost everythıng ıs made better or easıer, at least for the moment. Tıme wıll tell how far we stıck together but for the moment at least, Rıdıng East ıs 2-up.

So, Turkey. Wow. As unfaır as ıt sounds thıs gıant, contınent-spannıng country was a nothıng for me - an ınconvenıence between Europe and Iran - but ıt has done ıts best to show me the error ın that. The scenery has at almost every turn become stranger or more beautıful. We've rıdden through rural Sussex, outback Australıa, South-Western USA, the moon. We've clımbed some long, 1000 metre plus mountaıns and some short, leg burnıng coastal hılls, enjoyed gradual, sweepıng descents ınto ever greener greens and prayed to the secular bıke (and weldıng) gods for safe passage down fast, straıght, potholed descents. We've camped by rıvers and by the sea and enjoyed some quıet, starry nıghts, had numerous glasses of cay forced upon us and waved so much my arms are workıng almost as hard as my legs. And ıt's only been 6 days.

Once we have our Iranıan vısas arranged and bodıes, clothes and bıkes back ın healthy, hygıenıc and workıng order we wıll contınue on for more of the same across the 600 mıles to the Iranıan border.

Now the hunt for chocolate at 22:20 begıns...

Placeholder from Istanbul

Hello, hello, merhaba.
I am still here and still alive and well, simply just slack on sitting down to write-up my experiences (which have been varied and interesting, if not all sunshine and biscuits). My apologies to those who have been checking in frequently to be greeted by the same boring history, I know how frustrating it can be.

I will get a proper update done within a couple of days but for now I can report that I´ve been here since Tuesday, have done lots of walking, popped over to Asia for the day, upped my beer consuption to Benelux-levels and spent last night (Friday 23rd) out till 4am swapping experiences with 6 other cyclists who have all converged separately on this passageway between continents - bored of my own company after 10 weeks, hopefully the future holds some alternatives to the inane loop of drivel that´s been present inside my brain.

Watch this space...

Macedonia Macedonia, Macedonia Greece

I definitely found a temporary home here in Ohrid, Macedonia. After turning up on Monday I didn't leave until Saturday, the second longest time I've spent in one place after Geneva, partly because the town and lake were so nice and relaxed after the bustle of Tirane but mainly because the hostel was so chilled out and welcoming (and the breakfast was suitably large, my main requirement). I've got to say thanks to Gjoko who runs the place for his hospitality and welcomingness (must be a word). The same goes to Claas and Lira in the hostel in Tirane and the girls in Kotor too - along with the people staying there they played a big part in the trip for me.

And speaking of the people I met, I've finally parted ways with my traveling companions after almost 2 weeks together, but only temporarily as I spent a few hours today with Megan and Becca from Portland, OR, who I also met in Kotor. A few of us will hopefully be crossing paths again in Istanbul within the next couple of weeks.
And even the days in between have seen some company (quickly becoming my highest valued commodity, after chocolate and bananas). Whilst waiting for the owner to arrive at the guesthouse in Bitola, my last stop in Macedonia before Greece, I was shown some great hospitality by the guys from Video Club Dju opposite. Rather than see me wait on the steps I was fetched a chair and given coffee whilst I waited, and invited to hang out with them rather than spend my Saturday night alone - after a couple of beers, the obligatory rakija, some football (El Classico) and the best burger I've had I got to bed at about 1am. Thanks guys for leaving me with a great impression of Macedonia.

The scenery approaching the border with Greece was pretty similar to back home with rolling hills and rapeseed fields, quite a relief to be on some flat ground for a while.

Despite having no trouble at all in the Balkans there was a distinct feeling of breathing easy once I crossed the border to be in the familiarity of Greece, but it was shortlived as I was chased by more dogs in one day than in the past 8 weeks. I know the government have bigger things on their mind at the moment but having wild dogs roaming about the place ready to maul any passing cyclist is not very EU. There have been wild dogs further north but they were all too tired and malnourished to give chase. In retrospect it makes for a funny story but in the moment it's pretty terrifying, whether they're big or small (and most are big!). I've no idea of the best tactic so currently I'm employing the Mark Cavendish-esque sprint-for-your-life technique. It's tiring but I'm rabies free.

Waterfall in Edessa, Greece

After a night in Edessa, a cool little town perched right on the edge of a hill about 300m above the valley floor with a bunch of small, calm rivers running through culminating in this quite spectacular waterfall, I was on the flat, straight motorway (literally at one point but no one told off) to the sea.
Sitting happily in a wasteground at the side of a dual carriageway for lunch, eating my peanut butter baguette and reading my book, a couple of guys pulled up in a truck and gave me a whole load of sweet, filled pancakes - we shared no common language but I think my thanks was evident on my face. I've read about such gestures but this was my first time on the receiving end of it, after the offer of help or a bed from a guy in Switzerland. Moral boosted 100% the rest of the day flew by.

I'm going to cut it short as I have a gambling chain-smoker to my left and my right and somehow the breeze is blowing in both directions to unite their smoke in my unaccustomed post-smoking ban nostrils. I'm so glad we live in a country that now finds smoking in enclosed public spaces unacceptable. On the bright side my clothes now smell of smoke rather than me.

Montenegro to Albania to Macedonia

Greetings from Lake Ohrid, Macedonia.
I've been a bit slack with the quality and quantity of updates over the past few weeks but I'm in a hostel with a nice relaxed atmosphere and fast, free, unhurried internet access so now is the time to catch up.

View from Kotor Hostel

In the last post I'd said goodbye to my companions in Dubrovnik and after setting off again on my own had met some new people in Kotor - many new people over the few days I was there - and have been traveling with a couple of them, Zsolt and Werner (see the cheesy album cover-esque photo below) since. Now they have been on buses and in taxis whilst I've obviously been cycling but we've still managed to arrive at the same places within hours or a day of each other, me usually a tad tireder, smellier and hungrier but there nonetheless. It has transformed the experience for me and the 'traveling' has become more significant for me than the 'cycle touring'.

From Kotor we met at Hotel Kaduku in Shkoder, Albania. I'd been quite apprehensive about Albania the closer I got despite not thinking twice about including it in my route. I was curious to see the homeland of the people who one day showed up in my class at school and tried to fit in with a bunch of kids who had no idea of what or where they'd come from. Albania is clearly an 'up-and-coming' country but clearly also the slowest of the Balkan nations I've seen to develop, maybe because it lacks the caché of Bosnia, Serbia or Kosovo - most of us know Sarajevo, Srebrenica and Pristina and there are many people visiting the places behind the names from the news in the '90s, but few include Albania and some are expressly warned off it.
Luckily I met my first fellow cycle tourist, Ben who was riding to London from Damascus, just 45 minutes away from crossing the border and was entirely reassured about my safety, though still concerned about the roads and the effect they would have on my patched-up bike.

Montenegro, near the Albanian border

Almost as soon as I was in the country I felt like I'd been transported a few thousand miles further east. The terrain was similar and very picturesque - flat, green plains with mountains in the distance - but the people were suddenly different. The average skin colour was darker, the signs of poverty greater, the friendliness more apparent. I saw my first donkeys, horse-and-cart, first mosques, first slum village, first real lack of infrastructure in the rickety wooden bridge that was the main lead into the country's first town. The first child to grab at me and the first free-for-all bit of city cycling. Suddenly crossing into Croatia a few weeks back seemed like nothing and this was the real departure from 'The West'. The 3 words that I learn in each country were far more difficult to memorise here - tungjajeta (hello), faleminderit (thank you) and mirupafshim (goodbye) all signaled to a pretty unique country without an obvious link to anywhere else. This was what it was all about, the ordinary things becoming the subject of interest themselves.

I had about 60 miles due south to ride to get to Tirane. Navigation wasn't an issue as there was only really the one road, but with warnings from a bus traveler, a fellow cyclist and a native on the state of the roads and the quality of the drivers I was not looking forward to the day ahead. 40 miles down in 25 degree heat I was wondering what all the fuss was about. I'd been overtaken by at least 2,500 Mercedes by this point and not felt any more in danger than I do riding in the UK, and the roads had been pretty comparable to back home as well following the harsh winter's effects on the potholes. Ten minutes later I discovered what they were talking about. The driving standards remained far better than I'd expected but the road disappeared, then reappeared, the disappeared again for the next 20 miles into the city. They were clearly building/rebuilding the road and alternating traffic from left to right carriageway as might happen at home, but with traffic traveling in both directions on both carriageways and big patches of dirt track in between it was pretty chaotic. I loved it! The bike made it through and even with the lack of tarmac I'd had my quickest day to date, covering the 60 miles in about 4 hours.

The main highway into the capital city

I spent a day in Tirane on my own before the other guys arrived having had some interesting experiences in the countryside. I was supposed to be the one with crazy stories to tell but my mode of transport left me with very little to report!
I enjoyed the vibe of the city; it definitely felt more Delhi than Geneva, in a good way. I had coffee in the Sky Tower overlooking the city which itself rests at the end of a long, flat plain from the north, surrounded by mountains on every other side. A policy from the mayor to give paint to residents to brighten up their buildings makes a nice difference from the drab greyness it probably once was. I made the most of the cheapness with a load of food for about a pound and strolled out to the lake and around the park - with joggers, families, kids playing football, couples out for a stroll, it was easy to forget where I was.

The hostel here was a small slice of relaxation, car horns aside, under lemon trees in the sun. The following day we took, quite bizarrely, an Austrian cable car up to Dajti mountain with views across the city and out to the sea. That night we headed to the cool part of town for a couple of drinks but failed to make it past the doormen - apparently we didn't make the grade for Albanian nightlife.

After 3 nights we left for Macedonia. Zsolt and Werner had an early start but a nice, scenic bus ride to look forward, getting to Lake Ohrid before lunch. I was due to take 2 days for the trip because of the distance and the mountains, stopping halfway if I could find a hotel or finding somewhere to camp. Obviously it was now raining. I would have loved to have been getting on the bus instead of my bike.

Always sweaty and dirty, increasingly hairy

Passing through Librazhd, the town at about halfway, I didn't get a very welcoming vibe and resolved to carry on to Ohrid. 90 miles, 7 hours 40 minutes, 2,300 metres of climbing later I reached the Sunny Lake Hostel (obviously at the top of a big hill in the old town) and met Gjoko, the very cool and very friendly owner, as most of them seem to be.
I floated along on the high of having made a 2 day, seemingly not possible journey in one day and the thought of waking up on my birthday in a warm, comfy hostel with friendly people rather than in a wet tent on my own.

Looking back into Albania from the road up to the Macedonian border, crepuscular rays adding to the joy

Rainbow over a bunker, quite an epiphanous moment

It's been great having people to explore with

The flow of the trip has definitely changed and I think I've had more days off the bike than on in the past 2 weeks. The 16 days non-stop from Geneva to Split seem like a different trip and I can't see it being repeated, but it's difficult to know where to explore and where to pass through. I feel like I want to see everything, but equally I don't feel compelled to do the usual touristy things everywhere as they can often be so similar, and I generally appreciate a nice sit down and a cup of tea (being British) more than those who've just gotten off a bus.
We visited the hill fortress (done before but always a good view) and the old amphitheatre, ate out with another guy who'd arrived at the hostel and then watched Arsenal get beaten by Barcelona with some very traditional, homemade but not yet tolerable rakia. A memorable, chilled out birthday.

A monastic peacock

We followed Lonely Planet's advice and paid a visit to Sveti Naum monastery the following day - only 5 Euros for a 60 km taxi journey through the stunning scenery of Galicica National park; snow topped mountains, lush forest, glassy lake... The monastery itself had been swallowed up by a hotel built around it but luckily the views back to Ohrid and the strutting peacocks made it worth the visit themselves.

Today (Thursday 8th) has so far been spent very lazily. I need to find a map of western Greece as my relaxed mantra in the Genevan map shop of 'oh, there's a bit of a gap between these two, I'm sure it will be fine' now seems a bit short-sighted. After a final afternoon strolling around the lake and sitting on the beach I will be off tomorrow morning to Bitola, my last Macedonian town, and entering Greece on Saturday. All being well I'll be in Thessaloniki for Sunday (11th) night and from there it's only another 400 miles or so to Istanbul!