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**Paula K** · #1 27 Mar 2015

Hi everyone,

My name is Paula (Kota by nickname) and I'm from Portugal, a beautiful country in the western end of europe.

Since I remember that the sound of a motorcycle shakes me. Started very young riding a bike and never stopped. For a few years I was a young reckless/unconscious, then came my daughter and life changed course. Now the adrenaline is consumed from 9 to 7h and the attitude on the road is quieter.

I love traveling, see the world, experience different cultures. I like to write. I started writing diaries of my trips to remind of all the emotions I felt. When I decided to share the experiences I realized that my "writing" was pleasant to others.

I have only 2 weeks’ vacation per year. So, my ride reports are just Short Tales. By suggestion of Mr. Grant, I will start publishing here my ride reports, places where I've been as Turkey, Morocco, Spain, Scotland, India, Himalayas or Africa.

In each of my tales is a bit of my soul …

I start with the ride report of my Turkey Holidays (2014)
I was thinking that Turkey was a complicated country roads in the style of Morocco and the Middle East problems. Things we read in the newspapers. I was wrong flat. I found a fantastic land of hospitable people, a clean and organized country, dreamy landscapes and cuisine for foodies. All this with a strong aftertaste of east and exotic.

In Page 2 starts the ride report of Morocco (2012)
A Solo trip in Morocco, between 22 April and 3 May 2012. A fantastic adventure, a land of friendly people, a journey that surprised me.

Hope you enjoy my tales

PS: Sorry for my English. I used the Google translator. Hope that the translation is enough to express my travel feelings.

.

**Paula K** · #2 27 Mar 2015

TURKEY
April / May 2014
(solo ride)

Just two weeks of vacation and a target 5,000 km away. To drive there takes six days for each side and I burn the holidays. Solution? Catch a plane and rent a bike.

Life is about choices and travel plans also. In a country eight times bigger than Portugal I must select a region. I chose the South Mediterranean coast and Central Anatolia, a path with an Ottoman aroma that I can do in two weeks.

I found that a motorbike rental price in Istanbul is pornographic. It is cheaper to take my bike there. But as always, out of the "famous" tourist circuits things are different. In Antalya I found several motorbike rental companies at a reasonable price. I choose one with no reason. Just because their Internet page was well made, had good customer reviews and because it was one of those things we call "feeling". Rented a Yamaha 660R at good price that allows me to drive any type of road.
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Landed in Antalya near midnight. It was the cheapest flight I found. Mr Guven is waiting for me. Its part of the bike rental service pack the airport transfer to the hotel. He recognized me for the helmet bag hanging on my shoulder.

The way to the hotel is by wide avenues, well lighted, roundabouts and traffic lights working. A modern cosmopolitan city. I’m feeling a bit ignorant. I thought I would find a traffic chaos in this country. Mr. Guven, in reasonable English, explains the history of the places we pass. When we arrived at the Hotel he had lost the ceremony and bombards me with questions about my plans.

Show him the route map I want to do. We talk until very late. Insists to explain me how Turks are. Tells me that in touristic places no one will bother me but further inland, where they are not used to tourists, surely I will be harass with questions, with the aggravating circumstance of being very rare to see a woman in a bike alone. Advised me to be careful, not to talk too much. But tell me I should not be afraid. Turkey is a very safe country.

PS: He just forgot to mention one word: They're boring, don’t stop asking questions. However quickly give up at the first frown.

In my travel plan is scheduled to stay one day in Antalya. To familiarize with the culture and prepare departure. Arrange to pick the bike after lunch and deal with paperwork.

I take the morning to visit the city. Antalya is a popular tourist destination. A city facing the Mediterranean, a small historic centre well preserved with strong Roman presence. Ruins spread around the city and surrounding areas. One enters the old city by Adriano door, an arch built in honour of the Roman emperor who visited the city in 130 AD. Like any Arab country, trade takes up the streets, tourist shops with rugs, colourful ceramics, trinkets, articles (identified) as fake, spices artfully arranged in pyramids lined in colours and many, many restaurants. It smells of kebabs.

The Turks are aggressive negotiators. The Morocco negotiation tactics don’t work here. The method is more psychological. They start by calling us with a smile. Then, they wrap us with compliments and flirting, do a very interested look about our country, offer tea and Turkish delights and if we are not shop vaccinated we leave the store full of trinkets and with no money.

The small marina is full of pirate’s boats that make coastal cruises. All in wood with statues of movie pirates, mermaids and sea monsters. Cruise sellers call tourists. Hundreds of tourists in slippers and with red skin invade the shops. Japanese, Germans and Russians.

When I picked the bike had another one of those "feelings". This registration can only promise good vibes. Do not know anything about numerology but this combination appeals to me. I will make a good trip.

Leaving Antalya was a nightmare. According to the indications, just go down the avenue and right over there I find the coast road. So close that it took me two hours to leave the city. Yes, it was easy, the avenue was wide, but had 20 km of blocked traffic and traffic lights. I begin to think that in here everything is big and far. Only 50 km after leaving the town I felt on vacation. Finally, a road without traffic, open countryside.

The Turks drive quite pushy. A bit chaotic for our well behaved Western habits. Yes, there are traffic rules they meet. But they only stop on the intersection limit line. Until I get used to it I caught a few scares. Honked like a crazy. Sometimes afraid, others in rage, because of the overcoming raids that made. The trucks are kings of the road. No, not old and rusty. Recent and modern, silent and fast machines, in line behind each other, filling the road. The most prudent is to go out of their way. Take it slow.

(....)

**Grant Johnson** · #3 27 Mar 2015

Welcome to HU Paula! Looks like you have some great photos and stories, I look forward to reading more!

**Paula K** · #4 27 Mar 2015

Quote:

Originally Posted by Grant Johnson

Welcome to HU Paula! Looks like you have some great photos and stories, I look forward to reading more!

Thank you Grant.
Yes, I have a some photos

I will put them here with the ride tales.

Hope someone like it

**Paula K** · #5 27 Mar 2015

TURKEY
April / May 2014
(solo ride)

The 1st travel stage is short. 200 km to Kas, by a road always along the coast, sometimes climbing hills, sometimes by the sea. I stop in a small town where St. Nicholas, Bishop of Demre lived, whose sarcophagus is in a church built in his honour. According to the legend, St. Nicholas was famous for its miracles and generosity. His remains were taken to Italy by merchants and his holiness led him to become patron saint of Greece and Russia. Devotion of the patron St. Nicholas gave rise to the Santa Claus character we know today. In the city centre there is a statue with an explanatory tombstone.

Very close to Demre are Myra Tombs, an intricate network of ancient tombs excavated in the hill dated back to IV AC century. Later the Romans built an acropolis which the theatre is still well preserved. The road access to the ruins is full of St. Nicholas religious souvenir shops and sacred stones from the ruins. It’s 10 Lira to visit. I leave the bike near an orange juice stand. The boy says he lookout, no problem. Says I must be very strong to ride with such a big bike. Widens his eyes looking at it.

Arrive in Kas in the evening. The road goes down the hill with a superb view. Small islands near the coast, a harbour full of boats. A beautiful fishing village. The esplanade by the sea is full of foreigners. I only hear English speaking. I ask for a tea and wait for the British couple who kindly invited me to spend the night at his house. David and Juliet are retired and told me that travelled the South of Portugal and Spain looking for a house to buy. The prices were so expensive that they ended here. Love living here. Life is much cheaper and people very hospitable. In the area there are thousands of Englishmen who have adopted Turkey. It was the 1st surprise of the day. In the course of the conversation they comment that the island, just ahead of us, belongs to Greece. We can reach it swimming. No wonder that the Turks have itchiness having the Greeks by the door. Ancient wars.

When I travel alone I like to start at dawn. There is no traffic, the morning light is fantastic. The road from Kas to Kalkan runs always by the sea. Wide, well signposted, delicious windy road curves. Awesome. Feel like doing it back and forth several times. The sea is blue-green, calm waters, broad horizon. It’s called the Turkish Riviera.

David ride with me to Kalkan. Has a bike just like the one I rented. He knows well the area and occasionally disappears to appear later in the top of a curve with the camera in hand. Took fantastic photos.

The greatest difficulty of anyone traveling alone is to appear in the photos. I am often asked why I take so many pictures of my bike ... well, because there is no one around to take pictures of me.

Photo by David Bird

Photo by David Bird

In Kalkan I took the road inland towards Pamukkale. It starts to rain, a flood that accompanied me through the 300 km to the famous "cotton castle". I planned to visit the complex in the afternoon. But it doesn’t stop raining. Change of plans. Spend all afternoon talking with the friendly hotel owner who offered to take me up there tomorrow.

Dawned sunny. On the back seat of an electric scooter that has seen better days, with no helmet, the Hotel owner took me to the south gate of Hierapolis, 6 km from the village. It took me over 2 hours to visit the majestic ruins and many others wandering in the terraces and pools of warm water. It is mandatory to walk barefoot through the pools. The ground is soft and white. The water runs warm.

Pamukkale, a UNESCO heritage, is a complex formed by thermal hot calcareous springs that along the centuries formed pools and terraces on the hillside. They say the water has medicinal properties and cure various diseases. At the top of the hill are the ruins of a roman city - Hierapolis - including a thermal pool known as Cleopatra's Pool, a monument built on the site where it is believed the Apostle Philip was crucified, a Roman theatre and other ruins.

(...)

**Paula K** · #6 27 Mar 2015

TURKEY
April/May 2014
(Solo ride)

When I finished was past lunch time. Quickly eat up a sandwich; put on the bike equipment still soaked from the previous day rain and hit the road. The initial plan was scheduled to arrive in Cappadocia today. It is no longer possible. Thankfully did not book any hotel. I am free to stop wherever I want.

By mid-afternoon starts to rain again. Strong downpour, hail and wind. The road is overflowed; streams of water turn into waves blew by the wind. It reminded me of the sand waves that snaked on the road when I ride through the desert in Western Sahara. Spooky. Difference is that in here they are of water and join the waves that jump of the trucks wheelsets. I feel wet, cold and miserable.

Its only 4: 30h pm. I'm exhausted and sick of rain and wind. I decide to stop in Egirdir, a town on the edge of a great lake, covered by black clouds. I'm so desperate that I stop in the 1st hotel I see. It’s a 4 stars. What the hell. I ask the price. 23 Euros. Hard to believe. I'll indulge me in a spacious and warm hotel room. Hang the equipment on the heater and go for a hot shower. I only made 200 km.

A journey into the rhythm of the rain.

When I go out for dinner the rain stopped. I walk in the village and getr the opportunity to buy gifts. Outside the tourist season is always cheaper. So cheap I don’t need to bargain. Found a restaurant full of people. With so many clients, it must be so good. Can’t read the menu. I can only point to a picture with a looking good pitta. Employees do not speak English. They try to make conversation but it's hard. The only thing they speak is "where r you frome?" Answering is useless. I shrug. An old man in the background shouted something and the employees stop nagging.

**personalMotographic** · #7 28 Mar 2015

Good to see a Portuguese "face" around here, Paula. Welcome.
I'm sure your tales will be much appreciated.

José Bragança Pinheiro
using Tapatalk

**Paula K** · #8 30 Mar 2015

Quote:

Originally Posted by personalMotographic

Good to see a Portuguese "face" around here, Paula. Welcome.
I'm sure your tales will be much appreciated.

José Bragança Pinheiro
using Tapatalk

Thanks José

**Paula K** · #9 30 Mar 2015

TURKEY
April/May 2014
(solo ride)

Starts to be a pattern. Dawns sunny. Sunrise in the lake is fantastic. Leave at dawn trying to make up the time lost in the rain yesterday. I no longer think of travel plans. Whatever it may be. And I'm enjoying a wonderful road that skirts the lake and reveals a grand landscape; the water reflects the background mountains. Some km ahead another lake - Beysehir. I'm in the lakes region, a very fertile area, cultivated fields, reed beds margins, villages and tractors, green until the horizon. Like the Swiss and French lakes with the only difference that instead of churches there are mosques and signalling is written in strange characters.

Passing through a small village I caught the scent the bread and cakes. I suddenly realized that I was hungry. Bakeries in Turkey are works of art. Various types of bread, baked delights without artificial creams. The windows are irresistible. A temptation that widens the eye, stuffs the nose, involves us in the memories of Grandma hot bread smell. Couldn’t resist. Three cakes and pastries and tea. All for 60 cents. I love these Pastanesi. I have packed lunch for the rest of the day.

I’m in the expectation of visiting Konya and the famous museum of Mevlana. At the top of the hill, near the extinct volcanoes I look out at the city that spreads on the horizon. Huge. I will spend the rest of the day lost in a city of 1 million inhabitants. Give up, I am slightly allergic to big cities. I like open spaces, with few people. Ride on.

To Cappadocia, the road is a straight line of 150 km. Call this region the Turkey barn. A lowland of wheat fields, windswept, an endless highway. Today has not rained but the blast almost lead me through the air. An hour later I'm tired of being beaten and drive in sloping mode. Looking for a service station that has a restaurant. I need a tea. But this area is almost deserted. Only petrol stations and no services.

Starving I stopped at a station that had a wooden table with long benches in front of the office. I took the cookies bag and a water bottle that I carry all the time. I sat in my picnic with the company of two chickens that walked by. The station employee came out and realized I did not want to supply. Went in and out again with a warm mug of tea. Placed it on the table without a word and left. Left me alone in my feast. When I tried to pay he refused and did a good trip gesture. Unusual.

In Turkey all is Big. The men are tall and strong, cities are huge, the distances connecting two points of interest are gigantic. Between Pamukkale and Cappadocia they are 600 km, more than going from Porto to Faro.

By the end of the day I arrive at Goreme in the heart of Cappadocia. In the tourist office a rude and disinterested lady announced that there was no accommodation available in the area. All booked. It cannot be, I thought. I only have an hour before nightfall. Went looking for a hotel that I had seen a traveller site. Also sold out but the receptionist says he knows a place that has residential rooms. And that belongs to his mother. Yes, I felt that the matter was settled. Right in the village centre, a simple house, a modest and clean room, a loving lady, includes breakfast, all for 17 euros. The fortune favours the daring.

A mime conversation with the house lady and discovered that the central restaurants are all expensive. She pointed to the left side of the street. Followed the advice and landed in a small restaurant, mother in the kitchen and son at the tables. An absolutely delicious Anatolia soup and a plate of Toutinni. After dinner took a walk around the village. The souvenir shops occupy the streets and close late. The supermarket is still open. Many Russian and Japanese tourists. Travel agencies advertising tours around the area and buses bound for Istanbul and other sights at affordable prices. A crowd of young backpackers are waiting to travel overnight.

**Paula K** · #10 1 Apr 2015

TURKEY
April/May 2014
(solo ride)

Wake up in the middle of a lunar landscape. Breakfast is on the terrace where we can admire strange pointed shapes that point to the balloons flying over the area. This region is characterized by geological formations shaped over the centuries by wind erosion and by deep valleys where rivers still run. The soft volcanic rocks allowed the excavation of houses and shelters. The result is a desert landscape, misshapen, almost apocalyptic.

Two days to explore the area. I went to all the places published in tourist itineraries. Pigeon Valey, Ihlara Valley, Selime Monastery, Rose Valey, Love Valey and many others which I don’t remember the name. I went down to the underground city of Derinkuyu. I ventured by dirt roads through rocks of capricious shapes and inhabited caves, wandered quietly on a different planet.

Pigeon Valley owes its name to the thousands of pigeon houses carved into the soft rock since ancient times. The pigeons were used by the Romans as mail messengers between regions and pigeon droppings are very popular among farmers as fertilizer. From the top of the Valley we sight a fantastic landscape of jagged rock formations known as fairy chimneys.

The underground cities served as refuges for the people in the wars of the Byzantine era, the Roman persecution of Christians, or, more recently, used by the Cappadocian Greeks to escape the incursions of the Ottomans.

Intricate mazes of tunnels and caves with several floors underground that could accommodate up to 20,000 people. The underground city of Derinkuyu has a barn area, stable, cellar, dining room, school and even a chapel on the lower floor (five floors below ground). In all tunnels we can feel airflow coming from a complex system of ventilation shafts. Many of these cities are connected to each other through long tunnels.

Selime Monastery is a monastery-church located 28 km from Aksaray. It was also the headquarters of the region. Carved in the rock, in great height, is the largest monastery in Cappadocia, with a large cathedral church where still remaining traces of old ceiling paintings. It was also used as a stopover of the great caravans of the Silk Road where merchants look for refuge overnight. We enter by a ramp and very steep stairs not advisable to dizziness. Upstairs we can enjoy a fabulous landscape.

(...)

**Paula K** · #11 1 Apr 2015

TURKEY
April/May 2014
(solo ride)

The trail was advised by the Hotel Lady, in a mime conversation (she does not speak English and I don’t speak Turkish), pointing to locations on the map. She advised me the cheapest restaurants, paths to stroll and the shops to avoid. We were a whole afternoon talking through gestures and laughs.

The day I left the bike was doing a weird little noise. I realized that wrapped around the handlebar, had a Turkish embroidery ring with a sort of eye stone (called Evil Eye - the eye symbol is regarded as a powerful amulet for protection against the forces of evil).

Each time we step on the village intersection centre the guy's motorbike rental shop shouts something to me. In the late afternoon of the 2nd day, when I went for last minute shopping I heard a 'Can I help you? ". I stop and look at him - Yes, you can!

I explain that I need to lube the bike chain but as it does not have central support I can’t do it alone. He stares at me for a few minutes in silent. Then his face opens in a smile. He calls the mechanical. They lubricate the chain, check the tire pressure and oil level. Offer me tea and fill me with questions of where I came from and what I'm doing and where I'm going. Don´t know where is Portugal but I speak about Ronaldo and his eyes shine. Haaaa .... Portuguisi (I find out that Portugal is a country called Portuguisi because Ronaldo is Portuguisi). Now I understand why when he said that I am from Portugal nobody understood me. I know nothing about football but that makes life easier for travellers, it does!

(...)

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