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Bulgaria

We will not have an imperishable memory of Bulgaria. The Cyrillic alphabet surprises us a short moment, but is not enough to draw us from our Rumanian memories. Here, more aucuns children does not run us after, the streets are deserted, heat partitioning can be people on their premises. There are well two or three domestic pigs in freedom on the road for us creus

er appetite, but not of children who are filled with wonder and who applaud at the time of our crossings of villages.
Only a burst tire comes to break the monotony of the kilometers. In spite of the ceaseless calls of headlight of the cars which doubled us, it will be necessary for us nearly 30 km to return account to us which our car ran on 3 wheels. Result, a battered rim and a tire botched to the metal screen. Hé not, these things there do not arrive that with the women... we are upset of this disconcerting discovered.
The changed tire, we quickly take again the road in the hope to arrive to Turkey before the night. We make a short halt at the station Shell de Burgas where we devour four enormous sandwiches oozing various and varied sauces. During this time, Adrienne, is quietly made dorloter by the mechanic who swears well to have already seen it naked (include/understand without stickers well on) turning in a film.
"Great Ramble! Louis de Funès!" exclaim it suddenly with high way.
We look at it estomaqués, not knowing what to answer. But good blood, how the French culture did make well to come up to now? I say myself low

As you undoubtedly noticed, we make for the first time reference to Adrienne.
Then which is Adrienne?
Adrienne, is the name which we gave to our splendid car.
Why Adrienne?
Undoubtedly because of Rocky (film which we never have vu…) who says "Adrienne returns to the maison…"
Today the plans are to leave irresistible Adrienne in Africa, more precisely in Cameroun. But our real intention is to find an adventurer to go up it in Paris.
Here are the presentations are made.

Turkey

The Turkish border throws a cold on our desire of conquest of new horizons. For the first time, we must face customs officers who do not obstruct themselves to make flight in organized bands.
Would this be before bitter taste, of the entourloupes which await us in Africa?
Fortunately, this time, we will not be the Turkish heads of their truanderies, they are Roumanians at the wheel of their Mercedes glowing. For them, the passage in customs, proceeds in two times:
1) One slips initially a first ticket (100 US dollars) into the passport, one joke with the customs officer and one laughs with him as if one were the best buddies of the world.
2) If this cinema is not sufficient, one more seriously continues the discussion while changing place. One migrates of the other with dimensions of the counter, so as to make his salad far from the inquisitive eyes. From there, one leaves his pocket a large bundle of biffetons of 100 dollars and one unrolls them like PQ, until time to obtain a shaking of the head of the customs officer as a sign of satisfaction.
In front of the scene, we have evil to keep our serious and yet one needs it our presence disturbs them. In order to continue his business without us, the customs officer aggressively claims us 2 euros. I balk with giving him to make him nicely understand that it will not have a kopek of more than our pocket. It is irritated, I am carried out because we need his plug to pass the last barrier, which definitively separates us from Europe.
Two euro, it is thus the nonnegotiable minimum to pay to pass the Turkish border post and to have papers in rule.
No Comment…on is left there well!

One hour afterwards, we make halt with Pinarhisar, not far from the customs, exténués to have rolled thirteen hours of sharpened. A small enlightened lane holds our attention for the camping. Some eccentric existential questions however oblige us to remain on our guards. How let us be accomodated we by "Buckwheats"? Are they carnivorous? Two minutes only are enough to put a term at these puerile interrogations.
Indeed, hardly we parked Adrienne, that young Turkish joins to us. They are 4 and want obviously to make knowledge with two Europeans travelling in funny of car. They do not speak English, we do not speak a word about Turkish. The communication will not be obvious, all in suggestive and the nonverbal one. Turkish employs very expressive mimicry to say yes or not. We quickly learn how to do as much of it, it is enough just to dérider a little.
They offer water to seal our thirst and pears as a welcome to us. Fifth Turkish joint very quickly with our small group, then a sixth, we then decide to leave our bottles alcohol. The evening will finish on the blows of 3H30 morning after having tasted end of the lips, wine and Turkish beer.

Monday July 21, national feastday Belgian, we make our entry in Istanbul for short a 8 days stay. From Istanbul we will not visit anything, not even Sainte Sophie, splendour of the croisés… We will have just time to make us steal 50 euro by an unpleasant shoeshiner of shoe and to cross two young French, who connects in 2 months, Bordeaux in Kabul without chart, by means of an old woman 305. Definitely, they are insane these Gallic.
We will spend our eight days to be worked like turcs… our engagements, towards our partners and our friends, oblige! Such an amount of worse we will return to Istanbul for our voyage of Noces… opinion with the amatrices!

We leave Istanbul Tuesday July 29 for Ankara and further still Cappadoce.
Four hours of road are enough to cover the distance which separates Istanbul from its political rival Ankara. The Othoman capital impresses us by his extent. Innumerable new buildings push that and there with the sandstone of the wind, accentuating in fact this idea of gigantism.
The circumvented capital, the doors of Cappadoce are drawn up finally in front of us, majestic mountains intersected with rich and fertile plains. We move towards Kayseri and Ürgüp cities to the famous chimneys of fairies.

The night falling, we decide to stop us in the first village come to spend the night.
After a first unfruitful attempt in a village, and at the exit of another, a strange type jumps us above. It is badly shaved, the émacié face, three teeth in less, but has the enormous advantage of baragouiner some words of English. It wears a crasseux tee-shirt like ours, that reassures us that with half!
"Good night C you want camp-site" requires us rather abruptly it by empoignant our two hands to greet us.
Its question and its insistent attitude surprise us somewhat, but, without knowing too much why and especially where this history was going to carry out us, we agree his offer to come to spend the night at his place. In all manners, we hardly had the choice, our friend had already half of its bust in the car and either outside of the cockpit, but of the inside in order to be caused us more convincing.
Is it necessary to be 24h on 24h being wary and suspicieux with respect to people whom we meet?
Insh' allah (with the grace of God) as have habit to say Arabic... what counts this evening, C is that we live at least once, a Turkish history, so much worse for the remainder!

It accomodates us at his place with for any comfort, a straw mattress in front of the door of its house in cob. The habit wants that the foreigner y assoie in company of its host, which we do while taking care well on withdrawing our shoes.
During this time, it launches to his wife of the words which we do not include/understand. Two minutes afterwards, we have with our feet, a cup of tea, and a meal made up of a hot soup, one taboulé cold and bread wafers (format crepe) to push the whole in the gosier.
We include/understand very quickly during the discussion which followed this feast which our host is in fact very interested.
But which is not to it pas… ? Even us, who accept the hospitality of this good man.
He wants to us refourguer payable cam in advance, of superb carpet woven by his wife. With each attempt at its share, we make mine naively nothing include/understand and outline for all answers, of broad smiles. After a few minutes of this small horse-gear, indicator which one was not very loquacious, our new friend wants absolutely to offer beers to us, which it leaves to seek in the car, led by Loïc.
It is the occasion dreamed for us, to leave our last bottle alcohol, the agricultural Rum of Martinique. We clinked glasses, in the honor of the friendship Free-Turkish, but discover with amazement that our host is a drunkard, in more of being a merchant of carpet and professor at the nursery school of the village.
In order not to have to drink with him, we always issue with the same smile, that we must take again the road early the next morning. And as it does not hold quickly upright any more. We will lie down, more embarrassed to have left the bottle rum, than content that it us drunk more with these stories of carpet.
By precaution we sleep very equipped. The night short, is intersected by the hysterical cries with his wife sermonizing it.

The next morning we leave our host without putting the small dishes in the large ones.
We make the meeting on the roads of Cappadoce with the first wandering tribes. They live in tents resembling the Yurts of the steppes of Central Asia and move in surprising motorcycle combination. We cross of them some which transbahutent to 6 people, the father, his wife and her four enfants…

We spend a second night in Cappadoce, but this time, in a small village of mountain, not far from Adana, Turkey Méridional. It is still a professor who lodges us at his place, but, nothing to have with the other, except this acute direction of the reception common to all the turcs…
We dine like kings, the family gathered rings some around us in order not to only leave us. The father of family offers a straw mattress in the living room to us to spend the night. He will sleep with us, on the ground, as a sign of friendship and respect. The Next morning, after a solid breakfast, we take again the road, direction Syria. Today is Thursday July 31, 2003.

Newspaper from the 20 to July 31, 2003 by Geoffroy

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