The other night we were riding across rolling empty plains until dusk - empty, except every square inch suitable for a tent was ploughed. Eventually we got to a petrol station with a lokanta (cafe). A jocular young waiter with a cheeky grin came out and called us in for tea. We had found a camp site at the side of the servo and asked, 'Is it OK if we cook dinner there on our stove?' (that's an OPEN FLAME!) He asked, ' Is it a small one?' 'Yep.' 'OK, should be no problem...'
Overnight we thought the trucks coming and going might keep us awake - but no, instead it was a little plastic disposable tea cup which blew over to us and somehow got stuck in an eddy, rolling backwards and forwards for hours on the concrete just near the tent - 'rrr...rrr...rrr...rrr' But at just above zero who wants to get up for that?
The next morning at sunrise I was cooking borghul porridge when the first car rolled up. As it drove off I heard a huge snap/crack - and looked up to see the car driving off with the LPG nozzle and hose attached! White LPG was pouring out of the bowser - 25 metres from my stove... As I stood up and applauded the boys in the car got out and laughed. I think it was the servo attendant's fault - he's the one with the cute uniform that smokes all day, next to the pumps, too.
Just near Emirdağ now. Meeting more and more Turks with famıly in Germany/France/Belgium - more later.
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