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Friday, November 8th - Cayirhan to Beypazari - 13,791 km
This morning we decide to ride to the lake and along the shore for a few kilometres before setting off to the north-east on Hwy 140 towards the next town, Beypazari. It is a cool morning, typical of a desert environment, but warm enough to know that it will be quite warm by this afternoon. It is sunny with a cross wind. From the north-west. The view of the lake is refreshing, the first body of water we have seen
since Iznik. The birds are mostly in the swimming on the water or heading south overhead. The mountains are colourful with the sun still fairly low.
We take a route back to the highway along the east side of the town, between factories and the edge of the desert. The traffic along Hwy 140 is mainly trucks and buses but it is not too heavy. The valley is flat and the route to Beypazari is fairly straight without much variation in the scenery.
We have noticed that restaurants here close for lunch hour in places, which must make some sense to people here but I can’t figure it out. But When we pass a rural restaurant half way to Beypazari shortly before noon, we decide to stop to get a meal before it closes. We have not had much food this morning as our hotel only offered us coffee. We have had some fruit we have been carrying in our panniers but after two hours of cycling it just isn’t enough.
My stomach is rumbling as we sit waiting for our pita sandwiches to be made. The restaurant is very simple with blank, tarnished walls and picnic tables for seating. There are no pictures or other decorations, except for a plain porcelain bowl in the centre of the table with two long, green peppers hanging over either side of the bowl. Vincent must be starving too, because he grabs one of the peppers and munches it down with determination.
I assume the pepper cannot be very hot because he has no reaction to it, and Europeans are unaccustomed to spicy food for the most part. I break the remaining pepper in half, leaving the other half for Coen. It looks the same as Vincent’s pepper, but the second it touches my tongue I realize that it is very hot. I like spicy food, but this is a challenge. I decide not to act like a wuss and reaction to it, even though I feel my scalp break into a sweat.
“Is it hot?” Coen asks, staring hopefully at the second half of the pepper. “Yes,” I respond coolly, showing no reaction to my half. He picks up the second half and starts chewing it. His peaches-and-cream Dutch complexion turns red and then purple. He is almost panicking from the burning sensation. Sweat beads up on his forehead and he run outside to get his water bottle.
“Why didn’t you tell it was so hot?” he asks me when he returns, still red in the face. “I did,” I answer. “But how could I believe you? You did not react.” Vincent and I are smiling uncontrollable by now. Coen starts smiling too, not being an angry man by nature. Our sandwiches come and we are back on the road to Beypazari.
On the outskirts of the town, a driver in a pick up stops to chat with us. He introduces himself as Gokhan, and offers us free accommodation at his place. He’s a man in his early 30s, quite attractive with a mustache. The Dutch boys shrug and say ‘Sure, why not,” looking at me to get my approved. Free is good, so I agree. We load our bikes in the back of the pick up. Vincent and Coen climb into the front seat beside him and I squeeze into the narrow seat behind them.Gokhan takes us to his home on the outskirts of Beypazari, a nice home that indicates he has money. “What work do you do?” I ask him as we are unloading our bikes. He says he is has been a chemical engineer for the past ten years. He says he has a wife and a child but they are off visiting his mother-in-law this week. He suggest we order a couple of pizzas for dinner and we agree to split the cost.
He is acting strange though, like he is anxious to win our approval or something. I ask if I can take a shower. He gives me a towel. I strip down in the bathroom and climb into the tub to use the shower. I am soaping my hair with my eyes closed. When I rinse out the shampoo, I see Gokhan standing in the bathroom door groping himself through his pants while he watches me shower. He is intoxicated with lust. I am a little taken aback, but amused too. I wash my genitals and stroke myself a bit while he watches, teasing him into a lather. I would be afraid of him trying to rape me if the other guys weren’t with me, but I feel safe given the circumstances. When I turn off the shower and get out of the tub, I shoo him out of the bathroom while I dry off.
“Did you see him staring at you when you were showering?” Vincent asks me when Gokhan is out of the room getting us drinks. “Was he?? I ask, sounding innocent - I hope. “ I had my eyes closed because I had shampoo in my hair.” “He was groping Vincent’s knee in the truck on the way here,” Coen says, sounding alarmed. We agree we will still stay here for the night, but stick together.
A short while after out pizza and drinks, we feign tiredness and retire to the bedroom. There are two beds in Gokhan’s guest room, one double and a single. Coen and Vincent take the double because straight men never share a bed with gay men, and I get the single. I wish Gokhan had been more discreet. I did offer to sleep on the couch so they could each have their own bed, hoping that Gokhan and I could fool around later in the night when they are asleep, but they believe he is a pervert and think I could sleep in the same room for my safety. I think he is a pervert too, but that could be a good thing.
I fall asleep quite quickly and sleep through the night soundly without interruption.
PHOTO 1: view over the lake
PHOTO 2: hills beyond Cayirhan
PHOTO 3: rest stop; Coen's butt, Vincent blowing his nose
PHOTO 4: more landscape, half way to Beypazari
PHOTO 5: Beypazari
PHOTO 6: near Gokhan's home
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