Hope this email finds everyone happy and eagerly anticipating getting stuffed (with the holiday goodies!). I arrived in England to spend the hols with family here, flying in on an Azerbaijan Airlines jet. Now maybe I haven't been keeping up with current affairs (or any affairs!), but I've barely heard of the COUNTRY let alone an airline from there. So when I got issued a ticket for them by an Istanbul travel agency, I was half wondering if I'd show up at the Istanbul airport only to be informed I'd purchased a counterfeit ticket. ( I could almost see them snickering amongst themselves: "Hey guys, next time we'll try Mickey Mouse airlines and see if they buy it!") But, no, no, this was only tourist paranoia. The plane was a new Boeing (boingg!) 757, the flight was great, we had good airline food for a change, and not once did any of the goats or chickens escape from their cages and have to be recaptured by machete-wielding stewards in turbans. But you DID have to check in your ammunition at the entrance to the plane. And landing in London was the best bit: many planes now have these CRT's in the cabins that show current location on a map, airspeed, altitude, all the crap that's fascinating for a gearhead like me and comatose-inducing for everyone else. (That's probably why they have 'em...) I found myself mentally calculating "ok, if we're traveling at 425 mph and we've got 724 miles left to go, then that gives us an arrival time of, ooh, 3:41, I think!" Of course, you could always just look at the display that indicated "arrival time: 3:41" to get THAT particular bit of info, but there's no fun in that! Anyway. Coming down into heavy clouds I was looking at the altitude and thinking "Wow, these clouds are pretty low - shouldn't we be able to see the ground by now? Maybe the display's wrong or something." Peering out the window, I finally glimpsed the first patch of ground below, only to realize that this particular patch of ground was only 50 feet below us! I have never before been scared while flying, but my heart was in my mouth then. Talk about flying blind! And everyone else must have been feeling the same way, 'cause they all burst into spontaneous applause about 5 seconds after touchdown. I'd like to be able to report that we later found out we'd been the only plane to attempt a landing for 45 minutes or something equally ballsy (or macho), but it was probably a fairly routine landing for these guys. Still...

In Turkey I ended up doing about 700 km along the Aegean and Med coastlines, stopping to camp or hotel it in little places along the way, and have thoroughly enjoying the whole scene. I've eaten tons of lamb and yoghurt and kebap meatballs(or "meatflats" as my cousins call 'em - I admit they're not very ballish-looking), and washed it all down with literally gallons of Turkish tea. They keep this stuff brewing all day long and then water it down to lessen the bitterness when they finally serve it. But you still end up having to doctor it with about an inch of sugar to counteract that bitterness. And it's served in little tulip-shaped glasses, about as big as large thimbles. So you end up drinking little glass after little glass easily enough, only to realize that by the time 5 have gone down, you've also ingested enough sugar to have mothers clamoring for the ritalin and the average diabetic in a coma. Perfect for me, of course. The only problem comes when the combined fluid and caffeine intake wreaks havoc on your bladder, necessitating unplanned stops every 5 minutes or so. Since many of these stops can occur in populated areas, and since the words "public" and "bathroom" have never before been used in the same sentence in Turkey, I've perfected different methods of hiding the motion, including "lubing the chain" and "checking the tire pressure" while using the bike as a shield. Now every time I move my bike I leave a little puddle behind. It's a wonder no-one's yet come running after me to warn me my bike is leaking.

The scenery has been incredible: winding coastal roads over white slopes of rock that plunge down into a crystal-clear sapphire sea. Great weather (until England, of course!), great camping, great etc. I free-camped in one spot on an old unused road about 20 meters above the shore and below the main road, managed to watch BOTH the sunset and sunrise over the unobstructed horizon, and in the morning dove off the rocks for a lovely refreshing dip (after first spending 10 minutes making sure that I could get back out again up the nearly vertical rock face! It was a long swim to the nearest beach...). I stopped in Kas and spent a couple of days there lounging around in a cool cheap hotel and enjoying a really quaint touristy village with absolutely no tourists around at all. I think I must have caught all the carpet and jewelry-selling shills off guard: there was only one half-hearted attempt to sell me anything. Hanging out at their little Roman theater watching the sun set, I was joined by an elderly guy in an old suit who spoke no English but pulled out a sheet of cardboard from behind some rocks and motioned for me to join him on it. We sat for a while trading a few stock Turkish phrases, but mostly just enjoyed the peaceful silence and counted the jet contrails backlit by the setting sun. After a bit he motioned that he was off to get ready for his evening Ramazan dinner, so we said our goodbyes and I settled in for the sunset. But about 5 minutes before the cannon boom signaling the end of the day's fast, he hurried back up to me and handed me a "Turkish taco" wrapped up in newspaper so that I could symbolically break the fast also! What a great guy.

Back in Istanbul to do a bit of Christmas shopping (you think it's bad at home!) and to catch the flight to London, I also stopped by a couple of shops recommended to me by a friend as being more trustworthy carpet dealers. After comparing them with other places and enduring some piss-poor sales techniques by serious a-holes ["you don't like this one (or anything I have)? You shouldn't worry about liking it now - it'll grow on you in time."], I got a good deal on a really nice piece from a really nice guy. Don't ask me how much I spent - I'm not telling. But I'll be happy to display it when I get back! ('Course it'll be 6 months before I let anyone set foot on it...). After completing the sale, I accompanied the dealer to break fast at the evening meal in a restaurant. The place was packed, everyone sitting there with a bowl of soup and bread in front of them, just waiting for the call of the muzzein to signal 'chow-time'. I fully expected the announcement to induce a blur of silverware and teeth, but it was actually quite dignified - a lot more so than I'd have been after not drinking or eating for almost 12 hours.

One thing I'd been feeling was a growing frustration with having to either haggle for many simple things (like food and housing), or face getting screwed on the prices. I was getting used to it, but wasn't fully acclimated by now like I was expecting myself to be. I did overcome this frustration eventually, but ironically enough, it took returning to Istanbul, returning to the very worst of it, to fully get over the feeling. I found myself quite at home there and started dealing with it in an everyday fashion without a second thought. Of course by then I also realized that much of the fear of getting gyped was in my head. I started watching the locals hard, trying to see how much they were paying for the same things I was buying, and found that for the most part they paid comparable prices on things, even when I originally thought I'd been charged too high a price. At one place a guy actually came running after me with my change, telling me I'd overpaid accidentally. Only in a few particular places (mostly heavily touristy ones) was it necessary for me to be careful. So I really started to relax and enjoy the interractions with the sellers much more, having fun with them and getting into great conversations about all sorts of things, from relious differences to ufos! Even many of the real bs'ers ended up being quite a good time.

So now it's Christmas in merrie olde England, the weather is foggy and wet and cold (as usual) and I'm looking forward to a few good Guinness (Guinnii?) and a nice relaxing break before heading back to Istanbul and then Bombay Jan 5th. All the best to everyone!

Mark