Didn't think I'd find Internet access until Turkey, so I'm taking advantage of it here in Alexandroupoli, the last largish city before I cross the border (50km east of here!).

The weather here now is mostly cloudy with some scattered rain showers (man, I sound like an announcer), making for interesting riding: put the jacket on (hood under the helmet)- go for 10 min - pull the hood out from the helmet - take the rain pants off (sweating) - stop under a bridge 'cause it started pouring - put pants and jacket back on - pull jacket off - put it back on for the descent (freezing) - pull both off for the long sweaty uphill - again and again!! But like I said, interesting. I was actually pretty glad for the change in weather. The leaves are turning here and the breezes have blown away a lot of the haze around here. Turns out that it IS all caused by local agricultural burning, now that the corn and cotton have all been harvested. At any rate, it was marvelous to stick my head out of the tent and be able to see for miles again, even if it was only rolling brown farmland and clouds.

I've been camping wild the past few nights and have now completely discarded my record of 'nondiscovery'. I had been quite proud of the fact that I've only once been discovered by a landowner while camping wild - I like to sneak in and find a spot in the early evening and then leave in the morning. It saves the hassle of 1) finding a nice spot, 2) finding the farmer, 3) (mis)communicating with my Greek-lish, and 4) possibly getting turned down and having to start over. Technically its trespassing, but it seems pretty well tolerated so long as I'm not in the middle of a flock of sheep or anything. And it gives me more privacy than a campground and the flexibility to stop whenever I'm ready (which is getting to be just about any time of the day, lately...). Both of the past 2 nights I've camped in fields, the farmers have come along in their tractors the next morning to investigate. They've been nothing but smiles every time, although the one time I camped more IN the field than on the side region, the farmer smilingly said to me "Nine, ten minooten, then whish", with a backward jerk of his thumb, indicating that if I wasn't gone by then my tent would become so much purple mulch under his plow for the next crop. But for all the possible hassles with landowners, it gives me the opportunity to camp in olive or almond groves, to escape the traffic noise (mostly), to lay back on thick meadow grass at night and count satellites and shooting stars, to do all the things that you just can't do in a formal campground near a city, let alone a closed-in hotel room. 'Course by next week I'll be passionately extolling the advantages of cheap hotel rooms, I'm sure.

Passing through Komotini (a smaller town) on my way to search for some food for the evening, I passed by a sidewalk party in progress, with live music and grills busily smoking away. A couple of the men excitedly waved me over in the Greek way (hand pointing downwards, not up) and I wobbled over to them. Ten minutes later I'm standing there with glass of wine in one hand and 3 kebabs in the other, while talking to a bunch of enthusiastic teenagers all trying out their (pretty good) English on me while I try to remember my bits of Greek. The occasion was the opening of a new butcher shop and was being put on by him for his family and friends - a great escuse for a celebration of their way of life. The wine is the best part about these situations - as it melts away the inhibitions, it also conveniently erases most of the Greek words and phrases that you've proudly acquired in an effort to show the locals that you're trying to learn more about their culture. This of course has you doing the usual babble-and-sign-language combination, leaving them believing even more firmly that tourists are still mostly comical ignoramuses and should just be humored with a smile and another splash of wine. But we all had a ball with it. The head chef wanted to know where I was from and, when told Montana, he smiled, shook his head, and said that if I'd been from Texas I'd have been his friend for life! 'Course I then promptly told him I'd spent 15 years living in Texas, which earned me an extra kebab and a smile.

Before I left one of them came over and, through an interpreter, wanted to know whether I was familiar with the negative things being said about Greeks in the Western press. I replied "No, I hadn't heard about any of these things", not wanting to tell him that as far as the American press is concerned, it seems, Greek news doesn't even cause a blip on the radar unless it involves a natural disaster. He inquired as to what I'd say if I met anyone who criticized Greece, which I found an easy question to answer. I told him I'd tell 'em that Greece was "the friendliest country I've ever been in - that any place that pulls in a complete stranger off the street to join their party is more than all right". This got me a big grin and a firm handshake, which pleased me no end. I kind of feel like a representative for America over here sometimes, especially being one of the very few tourists around this time of year, and am anxious to make a good impression.

So, on to Turkey and Istanbul. The nationalism around here is so much stronger than anything I've ever encountered before. Most Greeks around here still refer to Istanbul as Constantinople, remembering a time LONG past. At first it confused the hell out of me, but I can appreciate it a little better now. (However I've gotta admit, the billboards crying out about Cyprus, with their blood-red paint dripping down the sides, still shake me a little.) So, in the Greek spirit of things, "On to Constantinople!"

Mark