A Storm

This slow pilgrimage on two wheels exposes us to Mother Nature’s will. On top of Port Akbaital, at 4655 metres altitude, we dare to stop and take some pictures ignoring the weather forecasts that warned us of imminent snowstorms. The road is slowly getting worse as we make our way down and the weather is deteriorating. A freezing cold wind begins to blow and the snowflakes are becoming more and more copious. The situation becomes critical and we look for cover as we do not know how long the situation can go on for. The glacial temperatures immobilize our hands, face and feet while it accelerates our hearts while our minds are agitated. In the middle of strong winds and a strong snowstorm, we set up our tents and look for heat inside our sleeping sacks. Outside, the storm is still to go on for another hour. A short spell of good weather allows us to come out and contemplate the breathtaking landscape. After our ordeal, comes calm and some unexpected help. Two couples from Cataluña, expert drivers in their 4 wheel drive appear as if out on nowhere, they bring exotic Spanish goodies such as lomo, chorizo, hot coffee with a few drops of brandy and what is most important, their smiles and their most sincere friendship and understanding. Cris and Larisa, our most recent and temporary travel friends, were both surprised and pleased. We shared jokes, stories, and hopes under the freezing cold embrace of the mountain. We are offered everything they can offer so that we can spend a more comfortable night we, however, refuse their tempting proposal so as not to abuse their kindness. Machus is able to ring home for the first time in months thanks to their satellite telephone.
In the blink of an eye our metallic carriages are a mere memory of the past, we must simply await our reencounter in a less inhospitable place, perhaps over a nice fabada or some Catalan crème.
Night falls and the snow begins to draw an artistic work of art yet again. Our wet and tired bodies search for heat that is becoming increasingly more and more difficult to find. Tonight will be a cold night. Tonight, the hungry wolf howls accompanying the wind in a deadly duo because he knows that he is also a part of the landscape in the complete darkness.

We're in Khorog

After eight days of difficult cycling and close to 540 kilometres along unpaved paths, mined fields, military controls, heat, steep hills, dangerous slopes, rocks and more rocks, mechanical and stomachic clatter we have reached Khorog. It is the last village before arriving at Murgab, another essential stop in Pamir.
It’s been eight days, eight days we have had to go without showering and have slept wherever we were allowed. The views are incredible, high peaks in the distance, deep valleys with fast-flowing rivers, some blue some a sadder greyish colour. The Afghan border, in this area, is at peace and people wave hello from the other side of the river with even more incredulous faces than their Tajikistani neighbours.
Roads on the other side of the border are even worse and in some cases they simply end at a cliff. At this point, one just gets off and prays to Ala that he will be allowed to pass one more time.
As far as we are concerned, spirits are still high. Our only worries are that our bicycles break, that we may get ill and imminent glaciers. We have been told that temperatures can drop to -10 degrees at night. Do we have the appropriate equipment? Perhaps we do, or perhaps we don’t. Only time and the distances we travel will say.
For now, this is all. There are no photos but we will try again this afternoon.
If the gods above permit it, we will be in touch again in 15 days when we get to Murgab. For the moment, we’re off to have some hot soup which is practically our staple diet these days.
Love to family and friends.

We're off

After a few very hectic days in which we tried to get the spare parts, get the permits for the Pamire region and the visas for China, we’re off. Time is running and the spare parts will take some time to reach us so we have decided that they should be sent to Khorog, the last town of any importance before we actually enter the real wilderness. The Chinese visa is impossible in Tajikistan and we already have the permit for GBOA. Tomorrow, 12th September we start moving our pieces in this difficult game. Extreme weather and road conditions await us. Riders and camels are ready although not in optimum conditions but if the gods are with us and the tea dregs are correct, this is the last chance we might have to finish this part of the route.

Last days in Tajikistan

It’s been eight days since we left Samarcanda, five of which have been spent pedalling along very difficult Tajikistani roads. They are so difficult that our equipment has started to notice the tear and wear as well as ourselves. Autumn is settling in and we can appreciate its presence in the light, the contrast in the intense colours of the landscape. At last we are, once more, in charge of our steps. High mountains can be seen in the distance and our souls are widening in the immense sky above us. We have become a part of the scenery. Slowly, very slowly, we are noticing the rough, uneven skin of the old mountain. Millions of years have moulded the mountain as well as the people who inhabit it. Nomads, continuously on the move, looking for a way to survive.
Dushambe, its capital is a large village. Here the urban dweller coexists with the farmer and the nomads who might descend from his village in order to sell some of the products produced.
We reach this small capital and the tough part begins. Expensive permits, Chinese visas that just do not come true and a consul who is presently in China.
We have asked for spare parts that will take too long to reach us, but what is time? What does being in a hurry mean? Aren’t we on the trip precisely to forget the hustle and bustle of our lives? Yes, but winter is coming and we cannot spend it in high mountains. Perhaps from these small drawbacks I will learn a lesson, I’m sure I will.
For the moment, all we can do is to spend a few days taking it easy in the company of two cyclists, Ana and Charlie. They also have stories to tell. Many.
Patience, health and peace for your souls. At the moment, I’m having problems with two of tem. Which two?

A Telegram from Tashkent

We have been stuck in Uzbekistan without being able to move for 10 days. In Tashkent we have been 4 days and will probably be here until Monday, 31st.
We are having many problems with the visas for India, Pakistan, Kyrgizistan but the most difficult is the Chinese one. We already have the Indian visa but the dates are wrong. On Friday we expect to get the one for Pakistan and if a miracle occurs we may ask for the one for China. If another miracle occurs, on Monday, we may get the one for Kyrgizistan and if a third miracle happens we may get the Chinese Visa.
These days have been very trying for us, psychologically, physically as well as economically. Otherwise, we are fine … if you can call this being fine.
We looking forward to getting on our bikes and getting away from the city.
Peace, courage and may the sun shine in Asturias.

A few curious facts

Kilometres seem to accumulate together with our tiredness, the heat and the personality of the Uzkebos. All this is slowly leaving traces in our state of minds. Our legs seem to know what they have to do but when you pedal at 47º C and you can’t find all the water you need, your head is not all there. With regards to the Ukbekos, one could write volumes about them and very little would be in their favour. In summary, I will say that they are jealous, distant, selfish and like to take advantage of foreigners. Of course, I am referring to those who have a business or some kind of relationship with foreigners. There have been times when we have been asked to pay three times the normal price and they didn’t even twitch an eye. When visiting some of the monuments you need to pay as much as 10 times the price and often they do not give you a receipt so they can keep the whole amount. To get a train ticket has an extra-official price of 500 soms, approximately 20 cents. I admit that it is not much but enough to get on one’s nerves. Some actually prefer not to sell than to have to sell at the legal price.

I won’t go into too much detail about historical treaties and about our daily adventures. To satisfy some of the curious followers, here are a few technical facts:
• Flat tyres in Emilio’s trolley – 3
• Flat tyres in Machus’ trolley – 1
• Machus’ flat tyres - 1
• Mili’s flat tyres – 0 one of the wheels simply disintegrated
• Broken radius (Emilio) – 7
• Days that have camped in the open – 8
• Diarrhea (Emilio) – 2
• Diarrhea (Machus) – 2 though less severe
• Sunstroke – not sure but some days our heads are VERY sore
• I have got rid of the toilet paper and now I have bottle of water as my faithful friend in my most intimate moments. Soap is also a must. Machus is still having problems with this and continues to use the sandpaper they use as toilet paper here.
• Litres of water per day per person – 5 to 7
• Problems with Karro – 0
• Problems with CarryFreedom – only one althou it is recurrent
• Number of times we have repeated the word Ispania - not sure but over 1 million.
• Times we have had to talk about our trip – almost as many
• Times our bums have peeled – Emilio 2; Machus -0 (mine is like a little baby’s)
• My worst nightmare – to faint in a toilet. The most horrific are the Uzbeko’s. In more than one toilet we have had to use the floor surrounding as the toilet had been overfilled.
• Average kilometers per day – approximately 75
• Wear and tear of bags and clothes – good to excellent
So as not to traumatize the Uzbeka population we have adopted our niece Natalia and from now on she is our daughter at university. Here, the average number of children per family is 4.
Our next entry will be about Bujara, Khiva y Samarcanda, Some of the mythical cities along the Silk Route.

ALI, a true friend.

Today is our last day in Qazvin and our last day with our new yet unforgettable friend, Ali. We have already mentioned Ali on various occasions. Today is the day when something new becomes old. Not as an object would become old but as affection does. True friendships are those that are considered old regardless of time due to the intensity and the experiences lived and shared.

Those people who, no matter how long it’s been, you know will always be there to support you unexpectedly, a light in the dark, a friendly hand to hold on to in times of need. A friend who, no matter how tired he may be, will always listen to you until your soul is at peace. A friend who is courageous enough to tell you that you are wrong even he thinks that you will get angry because he knows what is best for you. Time doesn’t matter because one cannot measure time in aspects as vital as these. Our friendship with Ali has lasted, so far, 18 days, a trully short time to be able to call someone a friend but, what do you call a man who has given us a bed, has fed us, has opened up to us and has shown so much affection, love and sincerety? I don’t usually use the term friend easily as I have often made mistakes will probably continue to make them, that’s for sure, but this time, this sad-eyed man with a broken heart and a wise spirit has shown more friendship that many I have considered to be friends. We have spent hours together talking about an endless number of topics: love, philosophy, politics and culture. We have always conversed with the utmost respect and understanding. Without him, our trip through Iran would have been incomplete as it was an enigma for us and one does not know a country in 45 days, you know it trully when you have lived and have met people and that is what we have doen with Ali.

He might one day visit us in Asturias, we will be waiting for him and I hope I can be up to his standards and that in return, my friends can also be his friends. In current times, it is the only way we have of breaking barriers and of trying to avoid wars and suffering amongst people. It is not the people who declare war but politicians who poison the minds of the wary.

Yesterday, we met a member of Hezbola, today we had a snack with him but that is another story. I could also make a short list of good friends I am thinking of but I would rather they include themselves in my list as I hope they are all considered included in it.

This short story is dedicated to Ali and all those who have considered themselves our

FRIENDS,

and to those who have real friends.

About to become illegal aliens, we're still stuck in Qazvin

We’ve been in Qazvin for three days anxiously waiting to get our visas extended. Thanks to a friend of ours, today we have finally got an extension for 30 days. It wasn’t easy, in fact, it was extremely difficult. Great amouns of patience and a bit of a hard hand from our friend, Ali were needed to cope with the slow, thick and paranoic state burocracy. On our arrival, a good man lent us a hand and called a friend of his so that he could help us find a place to sleep. We eventually ended up invading a small flat he has inside a warehouse. Not knowing where we were going or what we would find there, we followed him for several kilometres to the warehouse where we were pleasantly surprised to find a charming flat where we could stay. At first, we had made arrangements for one night and we were to leave early the next morning but it seems that he has adopted us. With a dark complexion, a eagle-like nose and silvery hair, this middle-aged man, owner of a frozen goods warehouse is treating us like royalty. Ever since we arrived in the city which is approximately 150 kilometres from Teheran, he has not allowed us to pay for a single thing and has even accompanied us everywhere just like any perfect aristocratic chaperone would do. His friends come over to ask how we are doing. We have spent long hours amongst clouds of ghalyan talking about this and that, discussing politics, religion and life in general. Our friends has gone through a lot and he knows what he is talking about. He clearly expresses his ideas and gives convincing arguments. His incredible convincing poweres have allowed us to enter places closed to women, he has prolonged our visa and has opened doors to us which have otherwise been closed. Our regular taxi drives are probably the most exciting part of the day because as is already well known, Iranian drivers are all completely mad and the expert taxi drivers canoot be less.

The other day we travelled with a young man who a special treat, turned up the volume of the radio full blast while circulating, without seat belts, full speed ahead amongst city traffic. He asked us what we thought of Iran and we answered – Nice, it is very nice – He, however, answers –No, No!!!, Iran is no good, Spain is good! Iran is no good – he says while he uses his forefinger to make circles on top of his head drawing an invisible turban. We all laugh and he accelaerates. It is clear that the people are not happy with the regime and they only worry about justifying it to the rest of the world. Iranian society is nothink like what one imagines. It has nothing to do with the images that the media show. People are just like people from any place in the world, probably a lot more welcoming. Yesterday, we went to buy some kebabs for dinner and we ate them sitting on the grass in the midst of the fresh green night air. Families, children, young people, elderly people and couples sat in the park enjoying the night just like we were doing. Although there are many difficulties, society is resisting what we are fed by the media daily.

Today we are in Teheran, a huge, discusting city like almost any this size. We have been looking for embassies all day and they seem to have all moved. I get really angry when I find out that Spain has also moved. I have no idea what is going on and the heat is suffocating.

I will talk about VIPs another day but for now, peace, Alha and to sleep.

High Temperatures and Warm Hospitality In Iran

Days in Iran
Dogubayazit-Maku 57km
Maku - Qarah Ziya Oddin 80km
Qarah Ziya Oddin - Marand 105km
Marand - Tabriz 70km
Tabriz - Bostan Abad 65km
Bostan Abad - Miyanh 103km
Miyanh – A place in the middle of nowhere 86km
A place in the middle of nowhere - Zanjan 60km

Days and kilometres go by in this land of constant human surprises. From the moment we stepped in Iran, a country which is a complete mystery to the Western civilization, we have been surprised very frequently. Recently an Iranian friend asked me what I thought of his country and I answered that 75 million people cannot be the cause of all evil, perhaps a few hundred or even a few thousand but not the entire population of 75 million inhabitants. He, of course, thanked me for coming to visit his country, a country which is not easily travelled.
Our adventures in the country a combined with temperatures that can go as high as 49ºC and warm welcomes on behalf of complete strangers that take us into their homes.
It might be a coincidence but our first two families were headed by taxi drivers. The first one was in Marand and the second in Bostan Abad. The first taxi driver offered his house after we asked him the way to a hotel. That day we slept and had dinner at his home. We rested as only those who have a tired body and a peaceful mind can.
The second taxi driver offered his home after he had observed us for quite a while desperately look for a hotel without success in a town in the middle of nowhere. The day had been hell, like many of the ones we have lived so far, but his kind heart allowed us to meet yet another wonderful family. Logically, we talked about many things but the world is so small that it wiser not to speak. We dined, slept and felt at home. Breakfast helped us to continue on our long journey.
Tabriz has many sights to be visited but on our day off we got lost in the 35 km of medina the second most important city in Iran has, according to some of the locals. Its medina takes to back to the Medieval Times of the Silk Route but it also strangely enough allows you to perceive the Plastic Route of the 21st century. You can buy absolutely everything, from feathers to fill up your duvets, to plastic brought from China or Gallina Blanca chicken stock cubes.
We are in the Silk Route, enjoying it and suffering it while going through an endless International road that joins Europe and China. The road is chock-a-block with trucks releasing black fumes and crazy Sunday drivers. In Miyaneh we were lucky enough and had the privilege to meet Mozaffar Ajalli, an enchanting PE teacher and an ex-member of the Olympic weightlifting team who participated in Barcelona 92. We spent two incredible days with him, including a trekking route and an Iranian countryside breakfast.
Yesterday, in the middle of nowhere we had to set up camp instead of sleeping in a hut that some young farmers had allowed us to use for the night. All this due to a sudden attack of vicious mosquitoes.

Good-bye Turkey, hello Iran.

After a few days without news, here we are once more connected to this wide web of information. We are in Iran, a hot, immense country still to be explored. Tabriz is the second biggest city in the country with a population of approximately 1,900,000. It has a very hot, humid climate in the summer. Our first days in this new country of you Silk Route have been suffocating, in fact, I would say asphyxiating. We have had to suffer a temperature of 47ºC in the sun and 30ºC in the shade. On our first cycling day, we had to take cover under a squalid acacia tree during the hottest hours of the day. Under her “refreshing” shade, we spent three hours in and out of sleep and drinking water from local fountains ignoring the risk of our bowels going back to overworking. There was no alternative.
Turkey seems far away but our last days in the region of Agri were not easy. Each town we visited seemed to be full of children ready to pull us apart by stoning us to death and dogs eager to try some juicy Spanish flesh. Obviously, none got what they wanted. I don’t want to show off or anything but there is no Turkish dog or Kurd child born that can come close to us without permission.
As far as our experience of Iran goes, which has only been that of five days, we can only complain about the drivers. They are like madman. Once their on foot, however, we have found very friendly and helping people although they don’t always get it right.
Our first family to take us in lives in Marand. A friendly taxi driver invited us to his home. We had dinner, slept and had breakfast with him and his family. They were incredibly friendly and respectful.
At 8,30pm the Internet is switched off so it’s time for us to go.

From Agri to Dogubayazit

For those who do not like reading much, today we are leaving a small selection of photographs. We hope you enjoy them!!
For the time being, our memories will remain in our minds, our hearts and on paper for when I start suffering from Alzheimer.
In Iran, things will get a little more difficult so for now, this is a see ya later.
During our last part of the journey, Allah’s finger has pushed us till we reached 35 km per hour allowing us to get to Dogubayazit one hour and a half ahead of schedule. I certainly hope that he will be with us the rest of the way. Of course, one cannot be choosy so Allah or any other deity would be accepted.
The Kurds, the Hamam, our diarrhea and the palace of the one thousand and one nights are stories to be told.

Remember to sleep comfortably and to do good to anyone you can.

Erzurm and other fine spices

After an exhausting three-day trip, today is our second day in Erzurum. From room 201 in the Oteli Yeni Cinar, sitting on a chair while Machús takes a nap on the bed, I’ll try to describe some of the things have that have taken place today. The call for prayer enters through the open window that allows not only the fresh air of the afternoon to come in but also the hustle and bustle of the street below. Shouts and laughter of the children and adults playing with a kite that is flying over the tin roofs is mixed with the hammering on metal of the craftsmen who are making a wide variety of articles. We feel peace and an uneasy safety after hurrying passed frontiers, long queues and never-ending bus journeys.
Today the day began with cereals, fruit and yoghurt in the spacious hotel room with pale pink walls. The hot sun was already coming through the window. Our stomachs could not take much more due, perhaps, to the nerve-wrecking situation of having to pay and meet yet again the skinny Iranian public servant with an inquisitive and penetrating look. After having made the payment and returning to the Consulate, we were able to get a 15 day permit to cross the country. We then decided to go back to the hotel and do a little tourism. Before we reached the hotel we stopped at an old shabby building where you can find the Kirkçesme Hamami or Turkish bath. We get the prices of the baths and decide to come back after having taken a nap back at the hotel. We continue our way to the hotel and I find myself stopping in front of small shop where some men are busy making ekmek, a think type of bread that is cooked by sticking its fine dough to the walls of the tandir, a deep oven with vertical walls. The bread resembles bed sheets and it is used to make the famous kebabs. We stay for some time, just looking at how they hit the walls of this ancient oven with the dough. As may be expected, we are invited to try the delicious bread and to lemon çay which the typical drink of the area. We take pictures and promise to email them. We continue our way but are soon invited to have lunch in a restaurant close to the hotel. Our first impulse is to refuse the invitation as we had already had something to eat and weren’t really hungry. Machús notices a thin, old man who is wearing a cycling vest and we start talking. We show him our bicycles and soon a crowd of young people are surrounding us. They seem t be interested in them or her, I’m not sure. They are PE teachers and mountaineers. They insist that we have something to eat as one of them is celebrating his forthcoming wedding so we cannot refuse. Soon, we are sitting at a table of six showing our photos, eating rice with beef kebab. The rice is especially welcomed as my stomach has to do overtime to keep its contents inside. Machús bluntly turns down a soup made with bitter yoghurt and some fine herbs. She, however, eagerly accepts the delicious dessert that is extremely sugary as are all Turkish sweets.
Of all the names we remember only three and that’s only because they wrote them down for us. Erkan, Faruk and Erhan. Erkan is short with a strong Turkish built. He is 27 and is a PE teacher as well as a mountaineer as are his two brothers. Faruk is a year younger and a little thinner. He teaches Turkish. They are both surprised to find out that we are close to 40. They tell us that we look much younger with honesty reflected on their faces. People here age quicker. We finish and are invited to a nearby çay. Here çay after çay come and go and all our plans seem to dissolve. At one we were invited to lunch and it is not until 4 that we return to the hotel. We must, however, say that we had a great time while at the same time we were able to fix a metal part in my bike thanks to our hosts. The time for goodbyes come, we exchange emails and good wishes.
In the afternoon, we make our way to the hamam but first we stop to do some shopping. My incredible sense of direction takes us through short cuts and to a sure way of getting lost. In a field we come across some street boys of the kind that touch your private parts as soon as they see you while asking you for money. It is a sign of their wild upbringing. In the desolate field we can see bright green marihuana plants shining in the sun. They give an intense scent. I try to take a picture but the boys get in the way making obscene gestures of a Turkish interpretation. Seeing this attitude, we decide to undo our steps but it is not always wise to give your back to a young boy with a stone in his hand. Just as we were leaving the place Machús is hit by a pebble. Looking back we see one of the youngsters turning the corner. She sees the innocent creature and says “it was him!” In less a fraction of a second I start running after the creature. Running through wet, dark alleys in a ghetto in Erzurum. I am running after a herd of agile gazelle who start to sprint unaware of the fact that the hunter may be old but he knows all their tricks. They separate but the old dog has only one of them in sight. The herd runs across the dirty puddles, the old man surrounds them and just as he reaches the last corner, the young gazelle accepts his fate with a frentic scream. I grab his arm and with a F*** you I slap him just like in the old times. His ear slowly goes a bright Turkish red. The not so innocent youngster lets out a loud scream of terror and not from the pain as I have measured my strength to the size of his small being. I raise my hand as if I were gong to hit again, he covers his head, I raise my hand again and let him go. His punishment has followed the law of a cause-effect. Next time he throws a stone he’ll think twice about it. In any case, he’ll think about his chances of getting away.
After we had done the shopping we had planned to do, we went to the hamam. But that’s a different story.

Flying back with Iran as our focus point due to its political situation

We are back on route. Life never stops and our eyes are once more set on Nepal which is where we are heading but first we have to get over the most difficult part which is to get back to where we left out bikes. Three long uncomfortable days without sleep and time changes await us. Erzurum is our first stop. This is where our visas to enter Iran are waiting for us, or at least, we hope so. The latest news from Iran are not promising. The recently held elections have caused great upheaval throughout the country. Musavi’s followers have kept their promise and are concentrating in massive demonstrations. In the plane to Athens, Machus is nervously reading the newspaper while biting her nails. She doesn’t know what to expect. We don’t even know if we’ll be able to get the visa. She doesn’t know if she will dare to take that step forward. We are riding and are seven days form the frontier, a total of about ten days if we consider the days we’ll need to get to Erzurum. We should reach Iran before the end of June. Personally, the riots don’t really bother me that much. At this point, I am ready to go and see what the hell is happening in the country, get to know, first hand what the political and social situation is. I have only heard about the country through others.
The plane is flying at 2000 metres and at approximately 800 km per hour. Our apparent safety is taking us to dangerous places. It just goes to show how deceiving appearances can be. Below, we can only see a never-ending blue rug, a spotless Mediterranean. Up above, an infinite turquoise blue blanket, the sun is shining strongly so that we can hardly keep our eyes opened due to the light.
A minute shell, similar to an egg’s is keeping 100 souls levitating in the invisible atmosphere. Whatever will be, will be. An old saying from Asturias goes “If it can be fixed, it will be fixed, if it can’t, it’s as fixed as it will ever be.”
Greetings from Athens
Heat and patience with the delays.
For more information click in soitu (see Spanish version)

On our way back west. How far? Nobody knows.

Life goes on and we must continue on our way. Meli would have liked to have seen her sister finish the trip, the adventure. She would also have likedd to be able to share her memories, this is exactly what we are going to do. There is no time-out for those who search the horizon while their feet are firmly on the pedals. The path has no end. There is no flat-tyre that can stop this huge wheel form turning.
Thanks to Sonia, Mónica, Marián, Isabel, Fabiola, Adelina and Alain and in Meli’s name, her wreathe will reach Karuna in the form of humanitarian aid. We are all certain that this is what she would have wanted.
We are continuously meeting new friends and family showing great gestures of solidarity. Thanks to Toya and Juanin from Pola de Lena we have sold 10 more T-shirts. Now, we need to continue, some learn from their experience, others don’t. I hope that everyone who was lucky enough to know Meli will learn something from her death. I’m certainly gtoing to try.
Our Swiss friends, Gary and Bea are in Iran and they tell us that traffic there is chaotic and very dangerous. Gary has had a slight accident. Anyway, we have no idea what lies ahead. Traffic in Iran will have to wait and we should enjoy the present. Here are some of the photos taken during our stay in Turkey.

Random thoughts from the solitude of a kitchen

Today, the 23rd May, dawn breaks as usual. Life and death share a fine line. Everything is so relative and yet everything is so subtle and ephemeral.
Today, a friend’s son was born, a sister, a mother, a wife and a friend has died. Many love her for being exactly as she was. She lived intensely, she enjoyed each and every moment as much as she could. Her light went out far too soon for those who knew her.
Today, it is raining, spring seems to be sad and does not want to show us its full splendour. One of its flowers has died and the unhappy clouds will not let the sun shine. Tears flood our confused hearts, our minds overload with sad thoughts, we cling on to what is no longer there. Melancholy takes over but this is no good.
Today, we learn the hard way how to do without the things we possess and believe to be ours. Nothing belongs and nothing remains. The wise man travels light, his luggage is his compassion and clear vision of life. With wisdom he does not hold on to anything and he knows how to let go of everything that he does not own because nothings is really ours.
Today an innocent girl is playing innocently with her cousins, a mother is crying a daughter’s death and her heart is torn to pieces unable to understand why. Why? There is no reason why, nothing remains, everything must continue to flow.
Today, 24th May a grey day breaks, sadness and happiness dance together sharing the same stage. Some laugh, some cry, nobody knows how the day will end although we all make great plans. Silly us, we never learn!
Today, a saddened sister wakes up and it makes feel very down-hearted. Her determination helps her to get up, her eyes clouded with sadness guide her around the house. She gets dressed, she puts on her sports-shoes and with a sweet smile on her face she says good-bye. We hug.
Today, many sisters, mothers and friends are running for a common cause, they do not run alone. Machús knows this as she comes across Flor, Sonia, Luci, Pilar, Zara and many more. They are daughters, sisters and mothers.
Today, green sprouts of hope are beginning to flower among so much sadness. Death takes up a minute space in our lives, too small to stop it.
Today, we must say good-bye to our sister. We know that death is not a full stop. We know that looking forward is less frightening.
Today, we know that with sorrow one does not loose the essence of life and this is exactly what a sister would never want.
Today and every day the sun comes up. We only need to see beyond the clouds to realise that the sun is shining and that the immense sky is forever blue.
Today our new sprouts are flowering, tomorrow is not real. Spring is leaving, giving way to Summer.
Today, a sister is laughing and find a surprising tear of happiness running down my cheek. Our present is the only eternal moment there is.
Twin sisters are playing their tuba with contained happiness, people clap. In a corner a cry unrestrained, I don’t want to make Meli miserable, I don’t want to make her sister gloomy. I’d like to explode into thousands of pieces and feel the light that I know is there yet cannot see. I simply pray that Meli has been able to. We will soon know.
If joy is the only way to face adversity, why is it that we set our minds on feeling miserable?
Today, 26th May, we say good-bye to Meli close to the immense ocean while we drink cider like she would have wanted us to.
Carpediem
Thank you.

Message from a friend. He is also a brother.

Today the weather is dreadful, sad one might say,
But only might,
Because I am sure that with your smile
You can light up the day.
Perhaps you can give us a big smile
But you will soon and it is then
When you will make anyone lucky enough to enjoy it very happy.
A friends sends you a warm and felt hug.
Sergio.

With more strength and hope, with my heart feeling a little more at peace and my mind in calm we look towards the horizon. Those who have climbed high summits, those who have crossed vast desserts and those who have sailed the immense oceans know what I’m taliking about.
The road becomes inevitable, the Solidary Silk Route continues and nobody is left behind.

Talking about the uncertain

Sometimes I write in my blog NO RETROCEDAS and other times I write in my blog Solidarity in the Silk Route. I could simply close this blog, even if it were temporarily and write all my comments in NO RETROCEDAS but some of you have asked me to continue to write in the Route so this is exactly what I am going to do until we consider to trip to have come to a close.
Today, I have woken up in pain. My back aches like hell and I can hardly stand in an up-right position. I am getting old or a one-eyed man has given me the evil eye. I don’t hesitate. Pain depends on your attitude so I stretch, ouch, ouch and ouch. The pain remains and I haven’t got any better but at least Machús has enjoyed the scene while she looks at me half in awe and half incredulously. She frowns and starts to tell me off for not being more sensible towards the intense pain. “I’m sorry” I answer “but today I have more important things to do.”
I make my way to the “home” where four mates are waiting for me to go and see the world. We decide to start towards the Jurassic Museum in Colunga. It was a big let down as the entry fee was 6€, far too high for our very limited budget. We make do with some pictures and simply enjoying and taking in the views.
The landscape can be unimportant for some and yet overwhelming for others. Arma explains that until very recently he had not been conscious of the fact that he is living on a planet and he has difficulty taking in very open spaces. I hope this is a sign of maturity.
We decide to climb the Fitu. The weather is against us but the Asturian landscape is worth at any time. We climb happily, joking while Roca is dealing with the height. He is taking a lot of medicine and does not take well to the change. Wearing huge used-to-be rocker’s glasses he sits firmly on the seat as we laugh and encourage him. When we finally reach the viewpoint the fine Astur drizzle continues and even so it has been worth it. Asturias is a natural paradise and for many, especially those who are not from the region, it is the first time they are in direct contact with Mother Nature.
I chat with Arma. “The world must be an immense place, this is so big. From my window I could only see a small hill with eucalyptus, “ he explains. I am surprised to find that a human being does not go mad in such conditions. He is not innocent and he is aware of it. He seems to be coming to terms with the fact that this is not the way to go but it is so frightening to go back on the streets with so many difficulties. It seems a little ironic that a condemned bank robber should talk about being scared of being on the street. To find yourself alone, cast out from your family and with no clear future can be terrifying to say the least. I try to put myself in his place I can see how he may feel intimidated by the situation.
On our way back “home” we come across friend from “up there” and they are happy to see him and ask him where he is living and how he is doing. The answer is expected “ a cheap pension, charity meals, and that is about it.” Again their faces look worried “how am I going to manage? Will I be able to take what life has installed for me? Will my mother continue to turn me away?
They are definitely not angels but what should be done?
Wise men throughout history have made the same suggestion, that is, forgiveness and compassion. This may be easy to say but extremely difficult to feel. However, it is the only true solution.

ANKARA: Throw your dice, move a pawn and tighten your bum and start riding.

Not till alter we had consulted Cay’s coffee dregs did we decide to cycle to Kayseir and from there catch a bus to Ankara. We said good-bye to our new friends Bea and Gary, two Swedes who are planning to go round the World while visiting the most inhospitable places in the planet.
We have started things moving and we need to ask for our visas for Uzbekistan and Tajikistan in the capital so that we won’t have to wait for too long in Teheran. We were a little gullible, as we didn’t know what was ahead. After 74 km we got to Kayseri pretty tired. The first we did was to look for a place to leave our bicycles. We tried at the bus station, but no luck so we decided to look for a hotel that would admit the bicycles, things get worse. Hotels are expensive and some expect us to pay for two nights. Tired of looping we sit down to have dinner at a Tavub Kebab.
The cold night is beginning to cover the city and our strength is reaching its limit. We ask at a bar and two men approach us offering their help. Our guardian angels have just entered the scene and they speak English. They offer their office for us to leave our bicycles. Mehmet Sefranti, the owner of a Turkish-Dutch importing company leads us in his enormous Mercedes to his office. We leave our bicycles there for two days.
After this problem has been solved, we find ourselves being taken full Speedy to a safe area where we can wait for the bus. At twelve, we take the bus and we spend the night coming in and out of our dreams. We reach Ankara at five in the morning, but,… this is another story.
We owe these people so much that we feel the obligation to continue telling the story of a proud, friendly and polite people.

Outskirts of Göreme. At last a truce

At last Alá and Nuberu have agreed to give us a truce and we have been able to come out from inside the clouds. There is still some light rain and weak rays of sunshine although it is still quite cold. According to Machús, “Wow, is it cold!”
We are holding fort in the camp site with the company of two Swiss cyclists who aim to go round the world travelling through the most inhospitable places in the planet.
The Capadoccia is without doubt one of these as well as one of the most touristy and interesting places in Turkey. We are attracted by the landscape, as it is so different to anything we have seen so far. We encounter one valley after another with a constant change in colours that contrast forming capricious figures that compete with each other to touch the infinite heavens.
The place was created by the volcanic eruptions that took place in the Miocene period and that have survived to the present, in other words, 10,000 million years ago the whole place blew up into little pieces. The lava formed an extract made of tufa of approximately 100 to 150 metres thick with differing thickness and hardness. The present-day formations are the consequence of the erosion caused by floods and wind. Perhaps the most interesting formations are the fairy chimneys whose name probably comes from the fact that they have similar shapes to the human penis or if you prefer, Shiva’s phallus. The chimneys have conic shapes with a cap-like formation at the end which is harder and more resistant to erosion, the so-called gland.
The Capadoccia was originally inhabited by Hititas (1759-1200 BC) but since it is a long historical tale that would probably bore most of you except, perhaps my friend Rodrigo, I’ll give you a quick summary and simply say that the first to discover the great potential of the rocky area of Göreme were the Romans in the 4th century. They began a religious life within the rocky formations. I leave the rest of the story for those interested, to find out.
As far as we are concerned, I can say that the area is well worth a visit. It is a place where you can easily loose yourself, or if you prefer, find yourself.
On the fifth day the sun is finally shining and we can enjoy a whole day without having to worry about the rain.

STUCK IN GÖREME, IT’S BEEN RAINING FOR THREE DAYS

Here in Göreme, a small yet magical town, which in my opinion is too touristy, is where Ala has decided to have us stay. For two days, we have hardly been outside the camping site so we have not been able to enjoy the incredible landscape of Capadoccia. We will be here until Monday when we are hopeful there’ll be an improvement in the weather. We have taken some creative pictures that have reminded us of someone who lives in far-away Asturias.
José, if you’re interested, it’s for sale. I can take it back for you so you can say that you have a red Ferrari in your collection.

Back Online

Konya - Akbas Han 47,5km
Akbas Han - Sultanhani 62km
Sultanhani - Selime 80km
Selime - Valle Ihlara 25km
Ihlara - Derinkuyu 69km
Derinkuyu - Goreme 41km

It’s been nine days since the last time we were able to have access to an Internet connection and we were anxious to read your comments and to tell you about our adventures.

From the camping site in Capadoccia, under a willow tree, hacking the “wi-fi” connection in the midst of a terrible storm, we’ll try to tell you all about our latest adventures, that is, if you can call then that.

After a few cold and rainy days came a few clouds, which finally led to sunny yet windy weather. In Konya, during our “dry-up” day we visited the incredible Museum of Mevlana. Mevlana’s tomb (1207-1273) is, nowadays, a museum but it has also been the dwelling place of the “derviches girovagos”, a religious mystic sect of the Muslim World. Mevlana was one of the greatest mystic philosophers of all times. His poems and religious writings are among the most respected and admired in the Islamic world. The museum is well worth a visit. It has a significant number of Korans including the smallest in the World. The tomb that has been ornamented in the Selyúcida style takes us back in time and helps us get a glimpse of how important the philosopher must have been.

In this very interesting city, trying to take cover from the pouring rain, we reach a marble mason’s workshop, but it is no ordinary workshop. It has specialized in tombstones. As usual we are invited to çay and since the rain continued, we continued with the çays and talking about death, the Islam, art and their tombstones. The following day we went back to say goodbye and we were surprised with an English-Turkish dictionary and a book of the Islam.

We had foreseen that leaving Konya would be a wet experience but in fact, we were like puppets in the strong wind and jolted for 41km by the uneven roads. We found ourselves in a flat, arid landscape. The rain continued to pour down and at the end of the 41 km we started looking for a place to take cover and spend the night. We thought we would find an abandoned tent but what we came across were the offices and the canteen of the road construction workers we had just been on. For a distance, it looked like a circus. The incredulous guard, after much insisting, allowed us to spend the night on the floor inside his shed. This is where we spent the night, with the light on and the TV on so that the nice old man could spend the night on guard watching the Turkish soaps that are so popular.

The next day, we stopped at Sultanhai alter a sunny day in which the wind helped us cross the Turkish steppe. This lonely village stands out for its impressive Selyucida Karvan constructed in 1229. It is the largest in Turkey. Huge walls safeguard the insecure outdoors from the inside. These places were refuge for the travellers who crossed the Route of Silk on camels in the 13th Century. These dwellings were built within 15 to 30 km of each other, the land covered in one day. The owner of Karvan Pension invited us to a few glasses of delicious wine from the area. The next day, the owner who had fallen in love with Machús, would not stop calling out her name. “María, María”, all over the pension so that he could say good-bye.

We arrived at Selime after pedalling for six hours and having travelled for 80km. At dusk, we decided to spend the night in an old town. We looked for the cave-house we liked best and we settled for the night. We had a rice, chorizo, onion and tomato bocata with the full moon lighting our romantic dinner. In the distance, we heard the calling for prayers.

The Ihlara Valley is found deep inside a canyon and it is protected by an arid steppe. It must be highlighted due to the churches in which one can find medieval frescos with their Pantocrator included. We had a quiet day following the Ihlara River to Selime. In Selime, we visited the Monastery, carved on the stone where we saw the stables, the kitchen and many houses that had also been carved in the rock.

In Ihlara, we took refuge in a vaulted, thick-walled construction. We were accompanied by many birds that had nested their. Unfortunately, we covered the windows with plastic and more than one was seriously surprised by the new architectural barrier.

Their singing and fluttering told us that it was time to get up but the cold keeps us inside our sacks for another hour. We apologise before leaving and pay them a few bread crumbs for any inconvenience. We are on our way to Goreme, but that’s another story.

Sunday, 5th April, 2009 It’s cold and it’s raining in Anatolia. Spring is giving us a hard time.

Once our break was over and we had got over our attack of laziness, we were on our way. We were at the mercy of spring and were able to enjoy an incredible landscape. Ibrahim, the friendly owner of the Lale Pension suggested that we take a short cut to get to Beysehir. So far, so good, only problem was that the short cut was nowhere to be seen on my maps. “This is normal.” I convinced myself, these Turkish maps are not as good as the roads. However, things began to change when we got to Aksu. After approximately 10km, the road not only disappears form under our wheels but it becomes a muddy track. Some may think that this is great but when you add pouring rain to the picture, things change.

At 4.30 we are forced to call it a day, we have found an abandoned house that has become our home for the night. We quickly clean our rooms and improvise a window with some plastic to avoid drafts and the cold from coming in during the night. The ride was well worth the effort even though the rain made it difficult. We crossed fields with apple trees surrounded by incredible mountains covered by snow-white peaks. Village after village each one more remote, would greet us with incredulous faces and easy smiles on seeing two foreigners dressed in such a strange way. The smiled even more when they realised that one of the strangers was a longhaired bay (man).

The next morning the weather seemed to promise a sunny day but it broke its promise as we started to climb the mountain pass that was on our maps. In only 10km we were 1810 metres high and it not only became freezing cold but a fine penetrating rain accompanied us until we reached Yenisarbademli which is 12km on the way down. Freezing, with no food and with no energy to continue we are invited to cays some of the elders who also lit the heaters so that we could warm up. Imagine the state we were in! An hour later, the sky was blue again and we were on our way once more. The rest of the journey would take part in an earthly paradise of different shades of blues, greens, and whites. Each curve would make our face turn right and then left trying to take in a landscape to beautiful to understand all a single glimpse. The immense Beysehir Gölü Lake with its crystal clear waters and snowy peaks struggled to become the main character in this spectacular landscape that was spiced with the misty dew of the intense green of a humid spring.

Beysehir wakes up with wet streets and a grey, rainy sky. We try to make a decision as to whether to go on or not. We decide to continue. Our luck is drawn. The day is to be a difficult on as we will have to cross 90km of unknown territory in the rain. We set off wearing all our clothes including our rain pants that our friend Luisa so kindly gave us. After 20km we have to stop at a petrol station where a very nice manager quickly lights the heater and invites us to çay. We talk for a while. Outside the storm was still strong, so we waited. Half an hour later and although the man insisted that we stay, we were off. We had only done 20km so we had to do at least 20 more. After 45km we had to stop as we were drenched from top to bottom at another petro station. These have become our modern caravasares where the managers are always friendly and treat us kindly. Davut, the bored assistant, is very surprised by our entrance but he eventually reacts by starting the heater and boiling water for çay. We take our shoes off as we are drenched. Machus changes her socks but I keep my feet close to the firewood heater. Davut is kind and gets some flip-flops for Machús and his other pair of boots for me. We communicate with signals and odd words here and there but there is something that inevitably works and human beings will understand our universal language if we have the disposition to do so. This was the case.

Outside it was snowing strongly and time was against us. We were in the middle of nowhere or as one may put it, the point of no return. We had five cays in an hour and eventually the sun made a timid appearance. We quickly got ready and decided to go all or nothing. We set off with Davut’s warnings that we should expect to find sharp slopes. We did.

Our legs slowly began to obey us; the clouds disappeared as if by magic and the sun reigned in the sky. We began to gain advantage and kilometre after kilometre we soon reached our first pass at 1560km. We didn’t mind as the sun was shining and our invisible friend was blowing in our favour. The second pass came 15km after Konya at 1460 metres but this didn’t seem to matter either as we were just 15km from our finishing line and ahead was dramatic descent. During the descent I am attacked by three furious dogs. Machús stopped to have a drink. We reach Konya at dusk and thanks to two happy youngsters and to their father who lent them his motorbike, we promptly reach our hotel. Otherwise, we would have been up and down the streets of the city that has over 750,000 inhabitants.

Mili and Machús informing with a belly full with four Tavk kebabs from the spotlessly clean Ulusan Otel in Konya. Recommeded even for the most demanding.