Having a map on our camera for directions to our hostel in Istanbul (rather than constantly buy maps, we take a photo of a map with our camera, sometimes of the cities and sometimes of the entire country, and can zoom in. Maybe not the best way, but it works), we started riding from the ferry just as the sun was setting. We had about 45 minutes to find our way through a new city, which in the past has shown to be a bit difficult. Maybe it's the lack of maps? To our surprise, and possibly the first time ever, we found the hostel relatively easily, only getting lost once, and using the help from two friendly locals. The hostel was quaint and was chosen mainly because trip advisor gave it great reviews; friendly staff, cheap and clean. We knew our room was going to be exceptionally small, but man oh man, this room was tiny. The girl working the desk suggested we keep our bikes on the roof, but we (Ryan) had to clean and break them down to checked baggage size for our flight to Australia. This room was small onto itself, but adding our bikes and luggage left us literally no room to walk besides the one step it took from our door to the bed.
Getting through customs in Australia is not an easy task. The last time we were there a few years ago, they made us take off our shoes to disinfect the bottoms. Knowing this, we wanted to make sure our bikes were squeaky clean. Not an easy task for Ryan because he had to build a box that would fit the exact dimensions of the max checked luggage and clean our bikes in a standing room only shower. Of course he did succeed, but it required spending 3 straight days in the pint sized room. Impressive.
Getting the supplies: In Istanbul, there are not places like Target or Walmart or Home Depot where one can go to purchase many random items at one time. No, there are stores for everything. And I mean everything. One store for tape. One store for boxes. One store for packing materials. The list goes on. First trying bikes shops for boxes (most difficult of packing up the bikes is finding the box) and not having any luck, we headed to the Grand Bazaar. The day before, when shopping for Christmas gifts, I heard a small shop blasting Pink Floyd. I looked in and the guy sitting at his computer gave a small nod with a smile and said, "Hello." Nothing more. Now, for those of you who have been to the Bazaars, you know that is not a common thing. The shop owners rather try everything in their power to drag you in, from grabbing your elbow and guiding you, to simply saying hello and asking where you are from, or saying hello pretty lady (obviously learned that compliments get a positive reaction). Often, when asked, "Where are you from?" Ryan would say something completely absurd, "Nigeria." They would give us a quizzical look and either have a small laugh or carry-on to the next passer-bys. I found this extremely annoying after just a few hours and stopped being polite, just completely ignored any comments or gestures directed to me. Because of this mans easy-going and non intrusive ways, I stopped in his jewelry shop to look around because this is exactly who I want to be supporting with my purchases. We chatted about music and our loves to travel. A wonderful man who had inherited this place from his father. Well, the next day when Ryan and I were looking for our supplies, he remembered and somehow gave us complicated directions to all three of the necessary stores. Again, so thankful for the kindness of strangers! A few miles away, we found the tape store, then a few more blocks the bubble wrap, and a few more blocks the boxes. Phew....who knew it could be so complicated?
While Ryan cleaned and packed our bikes, I spent hours, walking miles from bazaar to bazaar looking for Christmas presents. Wow, that was tougher than I thought! I was glad I had the opportunity to see what these bazaar's are all about, but the constant grabbing and attempts to get people to purchase purchase purchase was not for me. I really enjoyed the outskirts of the city, the small stores that sold to the locals. Nobody was pushing for a sale, just willing to help if I had questions. It was a nice breather to find these small pockets of more traditional Istanbul living. I even managed to get a package sent back to the states the morning of our flight. Again, always more complicated than I think it will be, but somehow it gets done.
The airport: Packing our boxes, we knew we would be over the allowed weight limit of our checked bags. Looking up on the airline website, it stated they charged 3.50 euro per kilo over. We thought we would owe 100 euro extra at most, no biggie. Good thing we arrived at the airport 3 1/2 hours early. Being the first ones in line for our flights helped, giving us time to cover our boxes with fragile stickers and when the guy behind the counter asked what was in our enormous boxes, we said, "camera equipment." Thanks to our friend Tate who travels with bicycles often, told us to never say they are bikes because then the airline will charge you anywhere from $150-$300 each way per flight, the reason for sawing our bikes in half to fit with the baggage dimension. Weighing our checked bags, we were technically 10 kilos over as they gave us extra weight because we were flying to Australia. Ok, 35 euros, no biggie. The manager suggested we take out some items to decrease our weight, but we didn't want to open our boxes and show we actually fit bikes in there. On the conveyor belt they went.
A man walks up to give us our bill for the overweight chargers. He punches in 112 into the calculator. Ryan's initial reaction, "No, that's not right." Since this guy didn't speak English, he had no idea what we were saying. I got the manager and he said that was correct, we had to pay 112 euros PER KILO! That is 1100 euros for 10 kilos. WHAT?! No way. He went down to 5, but that was not going to work in my book. I said, "We cannot afford to pay that." His response, "Ok, 2." Back at him with tears in my eyes, "1." We more or less had a Russian stand-off, knowing the first one to speak was going to give in. "1," he said and turned and walked away. Phew! Got by that one! Thank you floor manager who was in a hurry to catch his own flight. We lucked out again!
We paid our bill and easily made our way through security before finding our seats for the next 10 hours. A layover in Kuala Lumpur where they actually have a rainforest in the middle of the airport, super cool, we made our way onto another 8 hour flight to beautiful Perth. Thank you Europe for a fantastic and amazing 7 months! Hello Australia!
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