Asia, Baby!
Farewell to Greece
We are nearing the end of our Greek odyssey, making our way hastely towards the border with Turkey. Not just the border between two countries, but two continents. They might as well be two different worlds to us and my mind marvels at this. Our thoughts on Greece? Stunningly beautiful but seriously marred by litter. Fantastic history, obviously, but what is great is just how easily accessible it is for everyone – no one is priced out of learning about the past here. Camping is great, varied and easy. And the bread test? the bread was okay. I hope we’ll be back, there is so much still to see and we didn’t make it to the south.
We cross paths with the Danes in their big green expedition truck once more when we stop for lunch at a monastery. It’s a pretty place, situated on an island in a lake and it’s touristy. The lake is home to flamingos, which is really what we’ve come here to look at. The car park is tight and I squeeze the van into a dusty corner spot. There’s no room for the Danes in their truck and they leave and go elsewhere.
Our final Greek camp is by a church on a hill a few kilometres before the border as we plan to cross first thing, or as close to first thing that we can manage anyway. There’s snow on the ground and an icy wind buffeting the van.
We half expect the Danes to arrive, but they don’t and we spend a quiet night alone.
Bordering on the Ridiculous
Crossing a border with our own vehicle is a new experience for us. Yes, technically we’ve done it when getting the ferry to France and in the past, Ireland, but that’s such a simple process that it doesn’t count. Our friends crossed this same border a week ago and have provided some useful information, we are hoping it will be a smooth process…
At the Greek border we need to ensure we are stamped out of the EU’s schengen zone. There’s a queue of cars, with a 2.5m height limit, which is 0.15cm too too low for us even though there appears to be no actual reason for the limit. I see a sign for coaches, motorhomes and lorries to the right and we follow that. There are two lanes to choose from. The coach lane has a big red X over it. The lorry lane is open. I note with a sigh that the motorhome signs have disappeared. We take the lorry lane which has only one lorry in it and avoid making eye contact with anyone in the long queue of cars as we drive past.
There’s no one in the booth so we go in search of someone. There’s life in the booth ahead of a long queue of cars, but their window is closed. Rosana plays the lost old woman (despite not being all that lost or all that old) and before you know it we are stamped out of the EU and driving into no mans land. The envious queue of cars look on and a lorry driver appears to be angry that we are using his lane.
Our entry into Turkey is easy enough and we are stamped in for 90 days,. Before we can temporarily import the van we need to get insurance. Matt had told me where the insurance office was hidden which was useful because it isn’t at all obvious. Some form filling later we have three months of insurance and she didn’t even ask about my no claims history. We get some Turkish Lira from the ATM and we check at one of the kiosks about getting a Turkish SIM card. They want an astronomical sum of money and we leave without a SIM.
Importing the van is a simple enough process and a friendly official asks a few general questions about our route before welcoming us to Turkey.
Welcome To Türkiye
It takes a few moments to sink in, but we and importantly, the little van have made it. We’ve driven across Europe and into Asia. Asia, baby! The little van has got us here. We’re well and truly out of our comfort zones now. Filled with excitement we drive in a new country and a new continent.
First things first, we need to do some new country admin. It’s 2024 and nothing happens without internet. The closest big town is Keşan and we have the address of somewhere we can get a SIM. What we don’t find though is anywhere to park. The town is hectic and the traffic is not sympathetic to a new arrival. We pop out the other side of town without achieving anything. Using my well oiled plan of carrying on to the next town, we find ourselves in the middle of a street market in Malkara. I manage to reverse back far enough to find an accessible side street and abandon the van. I have no idea yet if this is how parking works here, or if I’ll come back to a ticket. What I do know is that the road is steep and there is snow on the ground.
We have a weird experience in a Turkcell shop, where the guy won’t sell us a tourist SIM because he thinks they are too expensive. He does give us tea though, so I am thankful because I really needed that. Across the road is a Vodafone store which is more than happy to take our cash and the tea is better, delivered by a man balancing a large number of glasses of tea (or çay as they call it here) on a tray. The transaction is finished by taking a selfie with the sales lady.
At the post office we manage to buy a tag for the toll roads. We’re not planning to use the tolls but we often end up on them by accident. It’s another odd experience, with a comedy bad teller/good teller pair working together to thwart/help us buy the tag.
It’s been an adrenaline filled day full of new experiences. The rush can only last so long and we are tiring now so go in search of a place to call home for the night. We pick a location that looks nice although the route will take us back through Keşan. As we approach the outskirts a familiar big green expedition truck appears on a roundabout. We give them a toot and a wave as we overtake. I’m not sure who is stalking who.
We settle into our overnight stop, a little fishing harbour in a sleepy village. It’s quiet, just us, a German guy in an old Hymer motorhome and three or four overly friendly stray dogs. The German tells us we’ve got the wrong toll road sticker. We can hear the call to prayer from the local mosque, reminding us where we are and giving the place a feel of the exotic.
We’ve made it Asia. A whole new world awaits us. But first we have to escape the locals.
Flickr Album: Border Crossing
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