Since I am such scatterbrained, I managed to get up at 4:28 AM, after the clock has rung three times in a row.
After struggling for ages with mounting the luggage on my angel, after getting dressed as I was going into space, we started the journey close to 6:00 AM, being somewhat confident that we have enough time to wander the approximately 600 kilometers, by our approximations.
The first 60 kilometers were easily covered and it was quite soon when we arrived close to the Bulgaria customs at Giurgiu - Ruse, where the Danube is crossed by the bridge bearing the same name.
It was only after customs when we realized that we haven’t got a map and we haven’t printed the route – that we’d worked on two weeks before. The solution of the moment, was Ioana, a GPS I have purchased almost two years before in case of a theoretical journey to Copenhagen. Ioana responds promptly to our call and directs us to the south, with a small deviation to the east, not at all noticed in the beginning.
This precise short deviation was later proved to be a pilotage error. This is what happens if I trust a woman, especially when it comes to space orientation. Ioana really wanted to take us to our destination – Istanbul – the only problem was the fact that she chose the "shortest route". It was the shortest route indeed, but without taking into account road conditions and their type, only the number of kilometers. So we learned on experience, or better said on our horses experience, how great Bulgarian roads are. First of all, the Bulgarians are the ones who invented the patched patchy of a patch. And all that on the European roads. On the national roads, pits were all over the place, but they did not bother at all the locals who raced unopposed, without the smallest worry in the world. Not to mention other types of roads, since I would probably offend the humblest road, forest road, cart path, chamois path, or whatever you may think of.
We leave Bulgarians to take care of their own roads - they can curse them themselves, we have our own to be preoccupied by. We succeed in fixing Ioana’s pilotage mistake and we exit on the European road that should takes us to the Turkish customs, close to Edirne, where we initially had planned, and we let the horses gallop the Bulgarian highway ... partly unfinished, but at least a highway. Oh, excuse me, a thoroughfare, how our Bulgarian neighbors proudly call it.
Once at Turkish customs, formalities, passports, insurance papers, finally "Welcome" and we're on Ottoman territory.
We stop at a gas station, with restaurant and shops, to swallow something, since it’s already 8 PM and it's a bit late. Bulgarian roads have changed our plans.
At this stop, we encounter Turks, they do not accept credit card, they want cash. We have no money, we pay by plastic. Hmm ... What do we do? Aren’t we going to eat after all? "Light bulb" ... I remember the euro coins my father diligently collected, bless him, and let the negotiation begin, with full hand of coins. Dana counted over 10 Euros. Very well, I think, I can get something out of 10 EUR, and I negotiate two menus at € 9. Perfect! I have already saved 1 EUR. We sit at a table and wait confidently for our food, while counting the 9 euros we promised. I start counting and counting, but I lost the track around 7 euros point something. No, I must be wrong, let’s get back to the abacus. There are still 7.85 euros on the table. Critical, I don’t get those "over 10 euros." Well, even here I have not checked the settings, one may also be on “the shortest”.
And this moment is precisely when the feminine intuition kicks in and correct the bug, one thing that Ioana cannot do in 10,000 years. Dana manages to change 10 RON into 5 Turkish lira, which we added to the amount we had to pay for our meal, that, by the way, was delicious. Furthermore, we get rid of all the thoughts of washing the dishes, so that we pay the difference.
We give thanks for our delicious meals and teas that we received from an admirer of our horses, we get up and get ready for the gallop. Night is near, and we still have 240 km to Istanbul and no accommodation booked.
Turkish Highway is very good, we cannot complain, we ride easily. Boredom made us discover a way of traveling just like fighters: horses love to ride one front wheel near the other, and of course four eyes can see better than two.
Close to midnight, when I started shivering with cold, we get to Istanbul. Here I started exchanging the shivering, from cold shivering to trembling with fear. In Istanbul there is no traffic, there is no chaotic driving, no giddy traffic. No, it's a real fight! A fight that our horses, already tired of the entire journey, have no chance of winning in front of the four-wheel monsters with unnecessary yellow sidelights.
It was then when my attention was put to a test. An eye at Ioana that leads us where it’s supposed this time, I believe with a little bit of shame on her part. An eye in the mirror not to lose Dana and 10 eyes in all the other parts, to escape from all the Turks, Berbers and Ottomans flowing as a sea from all sides, caring too little that we – too - are on the battlefield. Or it may be because they have smelled the Vlach flavor and they’re doing it on purpose.
Driving in Turkey is called survival! Once we arrived in the desired area with hostels, we are still very careful since you may be smashed even on the sidewalk, we try our luck at the hostels. After my four failed attempts, Dana tries one hostel. Yeah, the woman! Of course, they’ve got a free room, a pretty good one, and cheap as well.
We tied the horses as the locals (soon to become friends) advised us. Of course, if we are from Romania, "ce faci? (how are you) , Hagi!, esti binie? (are you ok?)".
After we released the horses from their burdens, we settled into the room and went to a well deserved and deep sleep, after more then 700 kilometers.
Good night Istanbul!
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