Bursa: From Gallipoli to Settle In 080527-3

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  Bursa, Bursa, Turkey
Tuesday, May 27, 2008

080526(really) Gelibolu to Bursa

When I went to take the ferry from Galibolu to Lapseki, across the Marmara Sea, I didn't find what I had expected. There was a different ferry at a different--but adjacent--dock from what I had seen the night before. Furthermore, I had thought I would be able to board a bus waiting to go on to the ferry. There weren't any buses.

There was a young fellow in uniform at the entrance to the ferry. He jabbered some unintelligible Turkish to me, and had a very surly look to his face, mean, really. Very uncharacteristic of the people I meet. So I didn't want to spend time with him. In my adventurous mind (and maleness of not asking directions), I just got on the ferry, thinking, well, I'll see where it goes.

Adnan, My Hitchhiking Driver

It crossed the Marmara to Lapseki. As we approached the dock at Lapseki I had my eye on a transport truck front center on the ferry. When the driver entered his cab I more or less asked him (I say "more or less" as I'm not always certain with my Turkish); I asked him if he was going to Bursa. Well, he answered me No, actually. But at the same time he kept jabbing his left hand to the east . . . . in the direction I wanted to go, nevertheless. So I pantomimed would he take me with him. He pantomimed "Yes."

Since the passenger door was too close to the ferry, the driver opened his door and took my backpack and threw it into his cab sleeping compartment behind the seats. I had the quick thought: I hope he doesn't just drive off the ferry and away. But no, he drove off the ferry and ahead just far enough as to not block those behind, and for me to get in. In these trucks the seats are very high off the road. The floor of the cab is about at the top of one's head when standing on the pavement.

Off we went, to the east.

The usual questions followed. With this fellow, however, I could get farther, both in what I could tell him about myself, and learning some things about him

Adnan 2

. He was actually a Syrian Arab, if I understood correctly, and lived in Turkey, in Hatay, or Antakya, in the extreme south, and which I had visited about three weeks before. He had three children. And, most surprising to me, he had been on the road for six days, I think it was, bringing food, fruit (and maybe vegetables) from Russia, of all places! At a rest stop he pointed out the refrigeration unit on the front of the cargo box. I was surprised because I had read that Turkey was a net exporter of food; a kind of unique position in this world. But, I guess things change, and with the globalization of the market economy, these things take place.

The road east from Lapseki is marked on the map with a green line, meaning "scenic." And, indeed it is. It is largely rural, and in come cases along the coast line, and/or high above it. It was at a high point that we stopped at a rest stop where the driver, Adnan, needed some maintenance to some of his tires. While that took place we went into the restaurant, where Adnan treated me to tea and a bowl of bean soup. I photographed him with his truck and promised to send him prints. (That's still on my "to do" list).

I learned that Adnan's destination was Manisa, near Izmir. That meant that he would be turning south at Bandirma

Good Air

. I thought from there I'd easily be able to take a bus the rest of the way to Bursa.

Well, as we turned right to head south, I saw a sign pointing to the left for the otogar--the bus station. And, not knowing how far it was to the otogar, and not wanting to walk an unknown distance in the heat, I elected to stay with Adnan another 12km to a fork in the road. There I would try to shag a bus, or hitchhike. [On subsequent passes past that turn I discovered the otogar to be just on the other side of the highway.]

The first bus when by like a bat out of hell. So, hitchhike.

Very shortly a truck stopped. About a hundred meters past me. Was it for me, or not? Somebody looked out the passenger side of this dated truck loaded with shipping pallets, and it started backing up. I jogged forward.

The first thing that caught my eye was the kitchen knife on the dashboard. And, the appearance of the two guys. In Turkey it's hard to judge. A lot of people are poor. Even guys in suits will go unshaven for two or three days

Adnan, Roses, and His Truck

. The first thing I did was to slowly open the window more, and put my left hand on my knee. If there was a move to the knife I would try to arrest it while grabbing the knife and pitching it out the window. So I imagined.

A while later I took some comfort when the guy sitting next to me took a cigarette pack out of his shirt pocket rather than reaching for the unopened pack that was at the knife's handle.

It wasn't too long before we came to the small town of Karacabey. And there we did pass an otogar, and I said I'd get out there. No problem.

Except that that apparently was not THE otogar. But, a bus company fellow gave me the sign of "Take it easy, sit by, and we'll see to things."

Shortly two large buses pulled in almost simultaneously. One from the fellow's company, and one from the company I had ridden on my trip to and from Thessaloniki. That one had a sign in the window for Bursa. So while the above-mentioned fellow busied himself with the new arrivals, I hustled to the other bus, said I wanted to go to Bursa, and was put aboard.

The bus was almost empty, and I had my choice of seats. I have almost always had, or been able to switch to, a seat that is the rear partner to a huge window from which to view the scenery. And, after the busboy (this guy an older one--in his 30's I'd say) came for the fare, and the usual questions, he gave me tea and a sweet cake. These are normal treats on the mainline bus routes. He even offered me a second cake.

I knew the routine in Bursa, so went right to the bus from the otogar into the city. At the stand some incoherent, disoriented fellow asked me a question. I said I didn't understand. A young woman gave him his answer, then spoke to me in English. She was a college student. We sat together (by her indication) most of the way into the city. Lovely, engaged. . . .

I took the expensive (well, mid-range) hotel for the first two nights. I just wanted to get clean and sleep. Do nothing. Not only was this the end of a month on the road, but the goal (Bursa to live) of a few years of design and effort. (Reflecting on it, it has been a design of about 37 years, actually). I just wanted to stop everything and rest before attending to the next phase, finding a place to live.

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