In the third week of August, I was back in Istanbul, slowly unrolling the film of a hyperactive fortnight spent volunteering in a youth camp, alternating nights out and round the clock sleeping, when something came up. Eliška kept in contact with Neşe from the camp and we got invited to her hometown, Ereğli. We stayed with Neşe’s sister and her family for a couple of days, being treated like princes and taking it easy on the beautiful black sea.
A half hour walk through the bush took us to a remote little spot you could have plainly called paradise (speaking of Turkish beach standards, there is always a bit of trash scattered around the pebbles, even in paradise). Home-made köfte, lukewarm water, unflinching sun, and to top it off, grilled mussels freshly torn from the rocks.
This cave should have been guarded by the three-headed dog Cerberus but I think the girls scared him off.
Chocolate lip kisser strikes double!
Although we were extremely happy in our Turkish adoptive family, all good things have an end and we dragged ourselves back to Istanbul using the good old thumbs up by the side of the road, again reaping truckloads off kind heartedness. We’d hitch-hiked on the way to Ereğli but I was too tired to document the journey, which had its stellar moments. Like travelling in a shit truck. Literally, a truck carrying shit, and the stench that goes with it.
As Beck would put it in Mellow Gold,
[Neighbor 1:] “Come on, motherf-er. Put your clothes on, come on. Asshole!”
[Neighbor 2:] “You lousy puke!”
[Neighbor 3:] “F–k you!”
[Neighbor 2:] “Why don’t you call your mommy?”
[Neighbor 3:] “You’re a f–king drunk.”
[Neighbor 2:] “Yeah, I’m a f–king drunk…”
[Neighbor 1:] “Come on, motherf-er.”
[Neighbor 2:] “…But you’re a lousy lowlife who can’t do nothing’ for himself.”
Acid casualty with a repossessed car
Vietnam vet playing’ air guitar
It’s just the s–t-kicking’, speed-taking’
Truck-driving’ neighbors downstairs