Distance: 59 km
Time elapsed: 3:28:00
Average speed: 17 km/ hr
Max speed: 49.1 km/ hr
Temp: 22 C
Weather: warm and dry, fair amount of wind. Not as sticky air as Greece :)
Chris and I packed up and said goodbye to Devon, then biked up away from the university which sits near the edge of town. There is a ring road behind Antep's backdrop of a hill, connecting the opposite highway exit out of town and toward Syria. The road was only smoothly paved on the other side, so we biked against traffic, but there were so few cars it wasn't a problem.
Gazi's abundant and pricey bakalava shops
One final round of fresh squeezed OJ
Heading toward Syria there is little by way of vegetation. I wonder if this sparse desert will continue for the next several weeks, or even the rest of the trip. Recently NYT published a story about Syria's state of escalating drought, in part due to global warming but also because of Turkey's large scale dam projects (again to GAP) that are sucking up the flow of the Tigris and Euphrates, Syria's two main water sources.
Late in the day we pulled in to the first of a series of gas stations near the small town of Kilis, hoping to find some snacks after the 50 km ride. Suprise! Nothing inside. Any of them. Until that moment I would have bet my life that Fritolay and Cocacola had wrestled their products into every shop on the planet. We biked onward.
Once in town, Chris suddenly voiced the idea What if we go to the highschool and simply ask the English teacher if (s)he would host us? My first thoughts were: That's crazy! How ackward. No they would never agree. But then I started thinking about how overwhelmingly welcoming Turkish people have been, and heck, what is the worst that can happen?
We turned around and entered the school's gates, immediately swarmed by uniform clad boys. They are all curious- Foreigners? Bikes? English?
A few seconds later a woman appeared, introducing herself (in English) as the literature teacher, and explaining that they have no English teacher. As our conversation carried on and we grew more comfortable, Chris and I tried to discretely and politely ask if she could help us find a host. Homestay didn't make sense to her, but when we made the bold (and feeling rude) request simply put Can we stay with you? the lightbulb flashed and Behara exclaimed Of course! You'll come to my house!
So that was that. We waited for her final class to finish, meanwhile entertaining a posse of boys who were likely ditching class, then we followed one of them to Behara's apartment.
Chris and the schoolboy crew
We spent the evening with her and her husband, Mustafa, playing games and talking. Chris and I took a walk after sundown to explore the town a bit and stumbled upon the country's cheapest and most delicious bakalava shop. The nice old man behind the counter gave us samples-- walnut yes!-- so I bought a kilo to take back to our hosts as a thank you. Luckily they let us eat some too. :)
With Behara and Mustafa
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