I've been lazy the last couple of days concerning my dear, dear journal, so I will try to reconstruct what happened the last four days.
So when I left Kirkarelli, I caught up with a cyclist. So I said hello, he said hello and soon we figured out, that we are from the same country. Claude is from Geneva so we switched to French and chatted along until we reached the next small city and went for tea. On the way there we had a short stop during which I discovered, that my rear whell-rim was severly fissured. Claude suggested to look for some two componant glue to repair it until I reach Istanbul. So in the city we had tea, but did not find any glue, even after asking in almost all of the shops the looked somewhat like handyman or that had something to do with machines with wheels.
We later decided to go the way to Istanbul together. Claude is comming from the north cap, from where he decended along the european frontier to end his trip in Istanbul.
Finding a camping spot was a bit trickey, since there was not much of a forest in sight and the sun reached the horizont already. We settled for an area a bit away from the main street close to a gravel pit. A bit later the tents were set up and a fire was burning, there was a boooom! and the earth under our buts was trembling. We looked at each other, starteled, stated the obvious, that they apparently use dinamite and hoped that they would not go on working all night.
The night was humid and cold, around 0, but the fire pulled it out for me...
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