13 April to 19 April 2024, walking a couple of sections in Lycian way with T. Humans as tiny acne on the earth—these tiny, humble creatures.

Hitchhiking

As soon as we got off the bus (it had been the last of three buses we rode today) in the middle of nowhere, a Russian couple picked us up and offered us a ride to town. Using Google Translate, she made sure we knew we couldn't camp on the beach (because of tortoises) and giggled when she said she liked the sound of our chat in English. They said they moved to Cirali a year ago. I wondered if that was because of a dislike for Putin. They made an effort to drop us off near a restaurant that offers big portions—they must have thought we were hungry hikers. Time and time again, I remind myself that I will pick up hitchhikers when I get a car and am able to help.

Spinach feta flatbread

I rediscovered Gozleme, and the best ever so far has to be the one from Rosemary Garden Pension. It was spinach and onion mixed, sweet and savory.

3rd day of camping

This is probably the longest I have ever camped in a row: three days. The campsite was a very large field with cattle roaming. At dusk, a Turkish farming lady came to us and asked a bunch of questions in Turkish. We tried to use Google Translate, but it was hard to communicate. One thing for sure, she offered us chai in the morning. Although we didn’t get to have chai with her, her welcoming invite left an impression of the Turkish countryside. She had a really cool variety of pitches for the cattle too, which was quite interesting to hear.

The last descent

The last day was tough. My nose was running profusely, and I had a headache. I don’t know if it was because of hay fever or a cold, but I had trouble sleeping because I couldn’t breathe through my nose. And then in the morning, the tent collapsed because of heavy rain. We walked all day long in pouring rain with lightning (I did think about the possibility of death at this point), a thunderstorm in the morning, and scorching hot sun in the afternoon. I couldn’t believe how quickly the weather changed as if nothing had happened. How we ‘feel’ the current pain or inconvenience is unbearable, as if it were permanent. The urge to return to a balanced state is strong. And perhaps even further, one cannot bear to be in the same state too long, even if it is pleasant.

Is it easier to know in advance?

I was close to saying, "No, I won’t do it," but once I looked at what was ahead and below, somehow it seemed like it was going to be fine. And it was indeed fine. But until that point, I experienced a basic, instinctual kind of fear. On the other hand, when hiking to the top of the mountain, if I had been shown the exact length and effort required to reach the top and knew that the restaurant would be closed, I might have said, "No." Would I have been willing to make the journey anyway? I still might have been because quite often, I do things that I don’t necessarily enjoy doing to enjoy the memory of having done them.

'Have a good life!'

There was this old American man with a mustache and a slight Southern accent. He was very chatty and friendly with big smiles. He asked what we’d been up to on our trip and said this at the very end: “Have a good life!” There was something poignant about this sentence, and I instantly felt so aware of things, or life to be precise, that I’ve been taking for granted. That was a very memorable goodbye from a stranger.

Things I still remember

• Tears from Turkish lady when we departed. That's more than 10 years ago and yet the image is vivid in my memory.

Things I learned

• Methane gas naturally coming out of ground was interesting.
• I might be allergic to pollen.
• Simit Sarayi is Turkish! I should definitely revisit them in London.