I leave the hotel early and actually find the Honda repair shop without to much difficulty - today is going to be a great day. Carefully written in my notebook was the Google translation for what was needed to be checked on the bike. I hesitantly showed the page, knowing how much success this translation tool had been in the past. For good measure, I pointed to parts of the bike when I thought he was reading the appropriate section. However the look he gave me was almost as perplexed as the look Fethi and his wife had given me, so in the end he just grabbed the keys and took it for a drive. “Your speedo is not working” he pointed out - no shit - but he seemed to think the engine was ok so they loaded her on the rack and started playing with the speedo cable while I’m given a chair and some chai.
The Honda manager turns up in a bright new shiny Honda car, but doesn’t really say anything to me other than giving me a nod. I find that I when I’m with the bike I am sexless. I’m not a man (obviously) but I’m not really a lady either. Women don’t know what to say to me and generally don’t want to converse and men don’t really understand me and therefore feel it is not appropriate to talk. So I try to ask a question and after that I can usually bring them around to smile and discuss things further but I have to be careful they don’t get the wrong impression - friendly but not too friendly or I get bus drivers reversing and asking me home.
The manager is now with three other men just sitting next to me so I pull out my map and ask if he knows the route I’m taking to Assos. Before I know it they are asking questions, offering suggestions and we are discussing bikes - conversation starter 1 sexless thing: 0. The mechanics have fixed the speedo and take her for a test run - perfect! The manager says no cost just a photo, I promise him a post card if I make it to Iran - he just laughs and gets his wife, who is an English teacher in a local school, to tell me via the phone not to go to Eastern Turkey. The manager sums up the conversation with.. “just remember, brown hair, brown /green eyes = good, black hair, black eyes and black skin = no good”. We shake hands and I’m off to Troy with a working speedo and a knowledge of how many kilometres I’m doing - sweet!
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| Ginger on the table |
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| Honda Manager, mechanics and sales rep taking bets I can't get to Iran |
Troy - ok, my first ancient Turkish site and yes, perhaps there has been some mythology interwoven with reality but I’m at TROY peoples!!! I park the bike right near the guard's office and I’m so excited I rush through the entrance turnstile and to my first photographic opportunity only to realise I’d left my camera on the bike…back I go, get the camera...err...and the keys to the bike which I also left in the ignition….opps….and return through the turnstile and I’m smiling my way around the site. This is the Skaean gate that Hector fought Achilles…Helen would have looked out at this view across the plains…Paris would have climbed these stairs and sat in this Odeon. I love it, so much history / mythology, I love the feel of the place and of course the giant Trojan horse replica that stands as kitchy as the Big Banana to finish it off.
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| Helen at Troy - that would have to be Hector's bedroom behind me |
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| Trojan pots no doubt used to fill Helen's bath |
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| The layers they had to dig through to find the remains |
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| The Odeon that Paris would have hung out in |
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| A column here, a column there, columns everywhere |
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| Possibly not the real thing |
There are 111km’s of twisting back roads to get to Assos and the bike is purring. The speedo celebrates the bumpy road by stoping permanently at 41km’s - bummer. We lunge through agricultural plains with giant wind turbines spinning their long arms lazily in the breeze. The plains are broken by small rural villages that have horse carts pulling hay or other produce and men sitting playing games of Mah Jong. Each village has it’s own unique smell - ranging from sour milk to manure to spices. I come over a rise to see the sun glinting off a silver roofed mosque with three large wind turbines in the background and stop the bike to take a picture just as the mid day call to prayer is broadcast - vision and music intertwine with the whoosh or the turbine blades to create a masterpiece.
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| OK...very bad picture of something so special I got off the bike for it! |
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| Ginger and I having a rest in a walnut grove |
The rich farming plains give way to glimpses of the coast scattered with matchbox summer houses that range from derelict to brand new…all vacant awaiting June - the start of the three month summer holiday the country has. The road runs along the coast but black clouds are looming ahead and the water is choppy so I don’t stop…until I’m forced to brake hard for a speed bump that only saves me and bike with it’s faded white strips in the nick of time. Turkish roads have ‘bump’ signs which in Australia would indicate a speed bump, but here it means there’s a rough patch in the road. Unfortunately as the obvious speed bump signage was already taken there seems to be no sign for speed bumps and you suffer if you miss the faded white lines. The road twists around the coast line until a fork in the road. I’m not sure which way to go but two Frenchmen on bicycles come out of a shop and let me know it’s the path inland as they are heading to Assos as well. I figure they have asked enough questions because they have more to lose than I do if the direction is wrong so go with what they say.
Turning inland the road climbs through rocky bracken hills spotted with olive trees, sheep with bells and peaks that are kissed by the wispy grey rain clouds. I feel like I’m back on Thassos. After almost two hours of winding through tight corners and back roads Behramkale (Assos) sits before me trickling down a steep hill like icing on a cake. I wind my way up the road stopping to find some accommodation at a pension who offer a nice tidy room, tree studded small courtyard and cats humping (I suspect they may have been free entertainment but the language barrier prevented me from really knowing for sure).
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| A small village in the hills |
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| The courtyard and cats- after the deed |
It’s late in the afternoon but there is still four hours of sunlight so I make my way up the steep narrow streets to the top of the hill and the Temple of Athena which I have all to myself. It’s not a big temple and only four of the columns remain standing, but the setting on top of the hill as the afternoon light filters down is magical. A gentle breeze makes the old tree next too the temple talk to me in a language I can’t understand but it’s a secret conversation none the less. Maybe because this is the first temple I have ever seen my body is tingling (ok..may have something to do with the two hours riding I just did on a single cylinder engine) but looking out at the land and down to the sea the setting is perfect. It feels like my first kiss, full of wonder that races through your body and even though there are other future kisses that are much much better (and certainly less awkward), you always remember your first.
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| Temple of Athena perch high on a hill with whispering tree |
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| The view down to the water from the Temple |
I make my way half way down the slope to the basilica - again travelling in the footsteps of giants, Aristotle lived here for three years attending a school of Philosophy and St Paul and St Luke hung out occasionally on these slopes. As gurgles rumble forth from my tummy area, I decide to head back up the hill to get something to eat. I’m not alone anymore, there are three other visitors, one standing on a broken column attempting to get the perfect shot. Just as I’m five metres away from him, he propels a huge fluff in my direction, he doesn’t know I’m there and I stop - frozen to the spot not knowing if I should pass by. In the end I do, looking the other way wondering if the ancient gods would be offended with such an offering. I climb the stairs to the temple again and hear him speak to his wife…he’s Australian...that would be right! I smile to myself and go over to say hello…the sun sets on a perfect day.
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| Taps are everywhere in Turkey every village has them free water for all |
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| Lady selling herbs by the side of the road - I brought a bunch |
Kilometres travelled: 638
Times I giggled to myself while pretending to be Helen of Troy: way to many - how childish J
Speed bumps that had no signage: 6
Smelly villages I passed through: 23
Temple that gave me goosebumps: 1
Ignoring bodily functions that may have displeased ancient gods: 1
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