Its winter in Turkey and Turkey is cold! Even though we were heading south, our route took us through the mountains where the weather was heavy overcast and about 0⁰C. I kept thinking that we were supposed to be in Egypt but the problems with Max had put an end to that with our four month delay. What was good was the new bike was running smoothly, our gear was managing to keep us from being very cold and we were moving south.

And then, as if by a single stroke of a wand, we crossed over the top of a mountain pass and broke through the clouds into a blue sky with a bright sun. The green of the valley ahead promised a more comfortable ride. By the time we made Antayla the temperature had risen significantly and we were able to shed heavy gloves and open our jackets. This was the riding we were looking for.

With our growing dislike for cities, we decided to push on and find a place for the night. Kemer came at just the right time and as we entered the town we couldn’t believe the number of large hotels that lined both sides of the main street. Obviously Kemer was a resort town sitting right on the Mediterranean Sea.

Figure 8  Another happy biker

During a trip as long as this one it is inevitable that we will be cheated, mislead, and taken advantage of. Our pansiyon or small hotel offering minimal services beyond a bed and breakfast was quoted at 30. We assumed that meant 30 lira or about $21.00 for the night. When we checked in I had one beer. The offer was made that a local restaurant would deliver food at a discount of 50% but since there was no place to eat at the Viva Hotel we decided to walk to the nearest eatery. We needed to stretch our legs anyway.

Figure 10  The Castle at night from our pansiyon

As we were leaving the young man who had been so helpful on our arrival asked us to pay. It seems that the room was now $30.00 and the beer $5.00. I told the man that he had misled us and that I really didn’t appreciate being taken and stormed out. After dinner, he followed us to the room and demanded that we let him in to read his rate sheet. I was starting to get angry and forced him out so I could close the door. We had a brief encounter the following morning but Janet, much calmer that I, settled down the situation and at least he and she left on more friendly terms.

I guess that being at the mercy of Chinese business people, shopkeepers and the like for so many years has taken a toll on my patience or at least on my willingness to accept even marginal overcharges.

Once on the road, all of the previous evening’s angst and the morning’s unpleasantness quickly faded as we rode the highway that winds along the cliffs that fall precipitously to the Med. and through the coastal mountains of southwestern Turkey. The road dips and climbs like the undulations of performers doing a Lion Dance. Hairpin turns and switchbacks so sharp that even at low speed the sidecar wheel would lift, even at slow speeds. What made this ride all the better is that there was virtually no traffic. We had the road to ourselves.

I wondered if the locals ever grew tired of driving this magnificent highway. So often, those things we see repeatedly disappear into the mundane and no longer hold the allure they once had. I hope not. For me, the road is too spectacular to simply become a road from one place to another.

Then it was a left turn, onto the road to Halicarnassus or what is now called Bodrum. It is an ancient city originally settled by the Dorians and eventually became the capital of Caria and the location of the tomb of Mausolus, one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

Bodrum is a wonderful resort town, dominated by the 15^th Century castle originally built by the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem or the Hospitalers. Today however, tourism is king and YTL, Euros and dollars are the coin of the realm. The coast line of the natural harbor is lined on one side by shops, restaurants and very expensive hotels and homes. Where there is no beach, there are boats. Some small fishing boats and many large and very expensive yachts available for hire.

Yet Bodrum manages to hold on to the mystique of being an ancient city with its Roman theater sitting next to the main road that feeds local and tourist traffic to the harbor. The town still has small winding roads that twist and turn with no apparent order or direction. Strange street names don’t help my navigation. Fortunately my short term memory is good and I can recognize a corner or a sign once seen.

Parking the bike is always a concern but the owner of the Dinç Pansiyon made space or found a safe place for us to park, JJ the ’Johnnie on the Spot’ that befriended us was always there to help with even our smallest needs (not the least of which was carrying all our luggage up stairs). What we hadn’t expected was a beach front room that was spacious and very clean. I have stayed in Five Star hotels that weren’t as nice.

The Glass Bead Man

His name is Halit Usta. His art seems simple. His tools are steel rods and short flat metal bars, his materials chunks of colored glass and he sits in front of a small furnace whose inside temperature is 2,000 degrees. Inside is an earthenware pot filled with multicolored, molten glass only while at this temperature all color seems to disappear.

From this cauldron, Halit seems to know where each color is, where glass with striated colors lay hidden and it is from here that he makes his famous evil-eye beads that are worn to ward off demons and bad luck.

The art of glass working is more than 10,000 years old and had its origin in Mesopotamia. Then it expanded to Europe via Greece and Italy and finally in Anatalia. Passed from father to son over generations, the once believed forgotten art is alive and well with Halit and his son who will, after years of learning to tend the furnace will begin to learn how to make the complex designs his father seems to make so quickly and easily.

The furnace, when cold, shows the colored glass that will become molten and workable when at temperature.

Glass, in its most raw form is very brittle but after being melted and then allowed to cool slowly the product of Halit’s artistry becomes very hard. All of this glass is imported with the exception of the clear glass that he makes.

As the furnace heats you can see the color of the glass disappear in the back of the pool. In time all the colors seem to blend into one amorphous mass.   At work   Janet and I spent nearly two hours watching and filming this master at work.  Picking up bits and pieces of molten glass, he examined it in a fraction of a second, deciding if it was to be a simple bead or something more.  We watched as he magically wiped white spirals around various shaped beads.  We sat and watched an amorphous blob of red hot glass become a dazzling fish or multicolored medallion

One more time we were lucky enough to find a craftsman, no artist whose craft was special and yet he was willing to share it with us. The video should be wonderful.

 I also have to mention the Hong Kong Restaurant. It is here that we had our first welcome to Bodrum with free tea (a Turkish tradition) and directions to the Dinç Pansiyon. The owner and staff treated us really well even though we bought nothing (on our first visit), were really interested in our travels and shared stories of his family and home in northeastern Turkey. I became ‘Uncle’ (which is much better than the ‘Grandfather’ I was to the kids and parents at Perfect English) when we returned. The food, prepared by a chief from Beijing was real Chinese food, quite unlike that which is served in ‘Western’ Chinese restaurants.

Our plans are to leave Bodrum for Kos, an island just off the coast where we can get a ferry to Athens. After lunch the people at the Hong Kong restaurant took us to a travel agent where we could reserve our spots on the ferry and get the tickets. So we will leave Bodrum on Wednesday, December 27 and then make arrangements for the fourteen hour trip to Greece.

Or so we thought. We arrived at the ferry terminal, got our boarding passes for the ferry and then entered passport control. "Vehicle papers please." I handed the Customs Agent the envelope containing all the documents. "Your passport please." I handed it over. "There is a problem; your motor bicycle has over stayed it’s time. This is a big problem." A note in my passport that I had failed to see when I entered Turkey gave a date on which the bike had to leave Turkey.

This is serious and there will be a big penalty. "Here it comes," I thought. Now they will want money to let the bike pass. "How much is the penalty?" The agents weren’t sure but a quick calculation had the estimate between 2,000 and 3,000 USD. OK, at least I had a starting point for the negotiation. And then I got the bad news, "You cannot pay the fine here, you will have to go to the Customs Administration Office at the airport." This was to be official, no bribes here.

After a mad dash to the hotel to see if we could still stay there, I dropped Janet off and headed to the bank. I had the $2,000 in emergency money but that wasn’t going to be enough so I went to the bank and got another $500 just in case I needed it and then headed off to the airport 40 km away.

The Customs Administration Office was like most governmental offices with some people milling around, others in offices bent over desks, stamping papers or working on computers, etc. I asked for the manager and then one man asked for the vehicle papers—he knew I was coming. Finally I wound up is an office with a pleasant lady who asked "How much did you pay for your bicycle. I said 14,000 but failed to mention the currency because I figured the fine was based on value and there is a big difference between 14,000 YTL (Turkish Lira) and 14,000 Euro (1 Euro = 1.83 YTL). Then she announced that the penalty would be 2 times the value of the bike and if I couldn’t produce the paperwork with the price I paid, they would assign a value on their own.

I swore and stomped out of her office. I returned and apologized for my bad behavior. My voice quivered when I said that Janet would be heartbroken that we couldn’t finish a trip that we had saved all our lives for because I just couldn’t pay the fine and would have to give them the bike. I played the ‘old card’ saying that I didn’t see or had forgotten about the date in the passport. I told them that I didn’t know I had to register the bike with customs if I was going to stay longer. I told them my return to China was an emergency. I did it all and waited patiently to see if any of it worked.

Then she discovered something in the passport to do with the Visa. It seems that the visa was good for six months and that provided some leverage to legally extend the time that the bike was allowed to stay. The fine was now reduced to 179.00 YTL or about $125.00. However, there was one man who had a hair across his ass about me and the bike. Maybe it was because I am American or maybe because he is Muslim or because he got up on the wrong side of the bed but when the papers were drawn up for the penalty it had jumped to $722.40. Quite honestly it was a fine I was happy to pay because if Customs had wanted to be nasty and live by the letter of the law, my fine could have been $36,400!

What impressed me was that there was never a single indication that all of this could go away with some small amount paid directly to the manager or some other person. It was all strictly legal. The other thing that impressed me is that virtually all of the people in the Customs Administration Office seemed to want to help me out of this difficult situation.

I did have to drive the bike to the Customs area at the ferry dock under escort and leave it there until Friday morning when we were due to leave. I also had to put on the German license plate, which I am grateful I didn’t throw away after it expired, because I had to leave Turkey with the same plate I entered with.