Pot of Joy (PART II)



*Read PART I first for context

PART II

27th April, Izmir to Kars

Izmir, morning Went for a run, wafts of bread and orange blossom on air. Saw piles of cut lemons in bowls and wondered what they were for. Bought a bottle of tahini. Walked along the pier and did a few voice notes. What on earth was last night?! Saw Pirate and had a nice chat. Drank coffee with some men in a kahvehane (coffee house). They smoked inside and constantly fuelled their çay cups with sugar cubes from coloured plastic pots. There were carpets on the tables, a portrait of Mustafa Kemal, and a light sellotaped to the ceiling's fan. They didn't let me pay for the coffee. 

Late morning Checked out and met the Frenchies again for çay before bus to Ankara. Three cups in plastic red saucers, two sugar cubes each. Victor measures the price of goods in cups of tea. Cook from last night walked past, shook our hands, and again scraped his middle finger down my palm. Asked Frenchies what they thought it meant. Victor said that at school it was a secret signal to say you are gay, I also remember a similar handshake at school, but don't remember the meaning. All agreed that in this context it meant: unsavoury. Crazy Woman then passed our table, she explained why she left the bar so abruptly (although we didn't understand Turkish), begged for some money, shouted at the men behind us, and a few minutes later chased and threw a knife at a fast-retreating man down the street. Decided she wasn't a badass bitch, but a deranged hag.
        Learnt that both boys are 24 and was shocked as they seemed much older. Yes, solo travel makes one world-wise, but they also surmised it was due to their beards. I briefly thought I'd like one too and just as quickly realised I couldn't grow one, taken aback that I'd even conceived such a thought - some things in life you just can't have... Left the boys, was sad because we got on so well and had danced together like best friends. Walking away was easy though and I felt a wonderful freedom - to be able to walk away is to be entire unto yourself, self-reliant, free.




Bus to Ankara; bus to Kars, 25.5 hours
Particular characters:
  • Ice-blue-eyed man, starkly contrasted with black hair and brown skin, a nose that steeply sloped down to his lips that curled outwards, a fascinating face
  • Two older ladies behind me who kept offering me crumbly sweet cakes that I forced down, each time they offered my heart both burst at their kindness and sank with the prospect of force-feeding myself with these chokingly dry cakes 
  • Man with hat saying LOL
  • Bus driver, spoke a tiny bit of Russian, pushed a TEA TROLLEY (yes a tea trolley) down the aisle
  • Silent Protector, when I bought olives at a service station was there to help with translating, always left the bus right after me, and kept turning to check if I'd got back on the bus, always by my side at every stop, silently adoring
Particular notations:
    • x2 missed fb video calls from Kyrgyz lady's husband
    • Why are Gendarmes always so fit? One came on the bus who looked like a boy I once fancied and made me laugh
    • First time I'd ever been on a bus or travelling when I either didn't understand a word of the language or no one spoke English. Got quite tired of being so confused. When bundled into another random minibus inexplicably, one lady said 'don't worry I speak Russian, I'll help you' and this was a huge relief and that familiar Russian was like a salve on my sleep-deprived brain
    • Every stop meant a çay stop. This made the slog bearable. At each service station men would cry 'çay çay çay, çay çay çay' and a young man with a circular tray bejewelled with the deep red tea would swing round tables and drop cups and plastic saucers at your place if you gave him the nod. Another man would then come with a wad of notes and collect payment. The sound of clinking spoons would then fill the air. This is different to the clink you would hear in Italy, where they scrape the crema from an espresso. This is the clink that comes from the swirl of spoons dissolving thick sediments of sugar at the bottom glasses
    • ERIC CLAPTON going round and round and round in my head
    • Bought Ayran, a yoghurt drink (drank this in Armenia, they call it Tan) and 500g of olives. The stall holder made me try x10 different types in quick succession, so quick that I half choked on the amount of stones in my mouth. Ate my purchase too quickly, regretted it, have been put off olives for a while
    • As you travel across a country both the shapes of landscape and bread change
    • Number of Turkish flags diminish as you go east
    • Huge scary dog came and rested head on my thigh at one service station, he gazed up at me with big eyes as if rimmed with eyeliner, beaut moment
    • Breakfast of olives, honey, cheeses, and lentil soup. Sprinkled dried mint and chilli and squeezed fresh lemon on top (hence the lemon slices in Ankara!)
    ***



    28th April, Kars
    Kars, evening This city loves cheese. On a hill beside a ruined Armenian church, gulping in air after the massive bus journey. Streaks of rain in the distance, god am worried about journey to Tbilisi tomorrow. If there is so much rain, not ideal weather for hitchhiking. Feel peace on this hill, grateful to have got this far east. Grateful for the richness of these past few days. Miss the Frenchies, their openness, eccentricity, vivaciousness. Those types who travel by bike are beautifully feral, truly alive. 
        It started to rain. Dragged my heavy suitcase to a restaurant that I thought (in vain) would have WiFi and ordered a pide. There were bowls of cloves on the tables. Pide, salad and tea cost 25 TL (£1!) Met Couchsurfing host, Sidi Mohammed in a cool coffee place. From Mauritania and studies Political Sciences in Kars. Loves history and told me that there's a Georgian/Armenian church that was turned into a mosque and then into an Orthodox church and then back to a mosque (the dates escape me). He was very kind and attentive. Met his friend Abdul who is from Chad but grew up in Saudi, studies Mechanical Engineering. He said that when he first arrived in Kars people would stop him and ask 'why are you so black?', 'are you unwell?', 'what happened to your skin?' Two other friends came, one Turkish, one Moroccan. I liked hearing them speak Arabic to each other and hear about their respective dialects. I love being alone, but love it more when you meet locals, become friends and then promptly feel at home in a new place. Couchsurfing is very cool. 



    29th April, Kars to Tbilisi
    Kars, morning Bad sleep, Sidi was quite active during the night and ate an apple at 5am (who does that?), wanted to leave asap. Breakfast was a lovely affair, 'half-Mauritanian, half-Turkish' Sidi had said. Dates and olives in a little bowl, baklava in another mini dish (reminded me of breakfast with my gran who used to put out tiny amounts in tiny bowls, always fascinated me how she'd put out half a small bag of Walkers crisps and put the bag back in the cupboard), omelette, fresh cucumber and tomato, glass of milk. When Sidi arrived in Kars he didn't know how to cook but got a job as a KP and then became a sous-chef. He learnt Turkish and cooking quickly that way. I admire that a lot. Said goodbye and left to the bus station, worried since it was raining hard.

    Bus to Erdahan; Erdahan to Posof; Posof to Turkish border; border to Akhaltsikhe; Akhaltsikhe to Tbilisi
    Particular characters:
    • Squashed next to an Azeri guy who came with me all the way to Turkish border
    • Good looking version of Daniel Radcliffe
    • Guy uncannily like William Elliot from Persuasion (2007)
    • Kindly elderly couple, woman tapped her ring to assure me that the man with her was her husband (scar on bald head and green rosary beads), I assured her in turn that he seemed a great guy

    Particular notations:
    • Babies, mum and dad asleep, light falling on curves of babies' fat cheeks, fat lips, and dummies, so sweet I couldn't stop looking
    • Ominous clouds, melting snow, up, up, up to 2250km, thought we would go through desolate plain-scapes, but in fact it was staggeringly beautiful and mountainous
    • Worrying smell of burning rubber...
    • Tiles of dried dung piled up in prisms outside most houses
    • Posof just about the most isolated town I'd been to in a while, steep cliffs, meadows, fruit blossom
    • Squelch of frogs like wet Crocs immediately transported me to Kyiv in May where you couldn't stir for these gorgeous sounds, squelching their little hearts out in hope for a shag
    • Heard my first cuckoo of the season, different sound from those in England
    • 'Customs' was hilarious. A randomly stationed old man told me to open my bag and asked if I had any weapons or alcohol. No, I said. 'How much money do you have?' Errrrm. He laughed and waved me on
    • Pomegranate, quince, cherry, apple blossom
    • Hot bread and tahini
    30th April, Tbilisi

    Live next to a real-life crazy cat lady. No way are those cats getting their paws on my sardines. Went for a run to a pond I know near Tbilisi's Holy Trinity Cathedral. Through the fence were ducks and chickens and hissing geese. I sat, one hand stroking a stray dog, the other stroking a goat. The dog rolled over and the goat stared ahead in blank bliss. Monks were singing in polyphonic from the gold-roofed cathedral above me. It was good to be home.



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