Coen wakes up just when I do. We shower and then eat breakfast together, then set off towards Eminonu, much like yesterday but staying out of Gulhane Park this time so we can explore the streets. I take him through the big spice market. I met Coen four days ago now, just after leaving the here so it seems apt to bring him here. I tell him that. He is concerned that I will be bored because I have already seen it, but it looks more interesting to me this time, now that I am not trying to stay dry from the rain.
We continue westward to the ferries that leave to the district of Sirkeci on the Asian side. We consider a ride across the Bosphorus, but today is windy and grey, not the best day for it. We walk over the Galata Bridge to the edge of the neighbourhood on the other side, Karkaroy. There is a lower deck of the bridge half
the way across, where single fishermen fish and fish boats sell their catches. There are barbecues going and the smell of frying fish rises to our noses. We surrender to the smell and climb down to buy ourselves a fried fish lunch. Rats scurry along the inner edge of the lower deck looking for food. Young men walk around with platters of bagels on their heads, the bagels stacked in perfect pyramid fashion. I hesitate to buy one because it would ruin the shape of the pyramid.
I show Coen the spice market, which is near the ferry docks in Eminonu, as he hasn't seen it before.
We walk back through Eminonu and past the Suleymaniye Mosque, now silhouetted by the broken afternoon sun. We stop at a street pub a block from the post office to pass the hour before Vincent arrives. He passes us on his loading touring bike as he is heading to the post office to meet us. We wave him down and he circles back to where we are seated. Coen stands up and they give each other an A-frame hug and pats on the back.
Vincent glances at me, not sure why I am with Coen. Coen sees this and introduces us. He seems wary and a bit indifferent. “Ken is from Canada,” Coen offers. “Good,” Vincent nods briefly my way. “He has been cycling all over Europe for seven and a half month, including the Balkans,” he adds when Vincent shows no interest.” That’s nice,” Vincent nods, eager to move onto another topic. “Ken is the crazy Canadian who cycled through the war in Croatia!” Coen says more emphatically, while glancing at me to see if this upsets me.
But I am laughing, and Vincent is much more interested in me now, now that he is meeting the legend himself. We get into a conversation about his bike part that was being shipped (a hub) and how is ride from Alexandria to here was. He is glad to have arrived and not to have to deal with Istanbul traffic for a while. Coen drops the news that I might consider cycling to Asia with them and Vincent says, “Sure, why not.”
That’s it. I worried about it for four days and it’s over in a blink. We still have a few days to get to know each other before we set off. We will need visas for Pakistan, India and Iran before we leave. I learn that Vincent and Coen tried to get visas for Iran in Amsterdam before they left, but they were refused. “Won’t they also refuse you here then?” I ask, logically. “No, everyone tells us that it is easier to get them here.” I don’t understand why it would be, but travel means never having to say you understand. It is definitely worth the try. The visas for Pakistan and India are more straightforward, Vincent tells me. They just have to be bought.
“You aren’t worried about get visas for Iran,” I ask him. “No, netsimukelut,” he says. “What?” I ask. “Netsimukelut means ‘no problem, it’s a piece of cake’ in Dutch,” he says. I practice saying it over and over until my pronunciation improves. “That’s it’” he compliments me. I am enjoying his energy. Vincent is more directed and driven than Coen, which is why they probably make good traveling partners. I sense he is more competitive than Coen, but probably when he is challenged directly. If he was into arguing and combating, he probably wouldn’t be traveling with Coen.
PHOTO 1: Karkaroy, across the Galata Bridge
PHOTO 2: boy with bagels on his head
PHOTO 3: outside the spice market
PHOTO 4: inside the spice market
PHOTO 5: Eminonu, looking north towards the Galata Tower
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