Decisions, Decisions

Stopping for some water: always a good decision

I hate to admit it, but making up my mind isn't something that comes natural to me. Too much of a shoegazer, too little of a go-getter. I guess it's the Libra in me, forever weighing the pros and cons of every little situation—even those that don't really have any discernible pros or cons.

Fortunately, this trip is teaching me a thing or two about improvisation and spontaneity. Be like water, I often tell myself, not sure whether I'm touching on one of the fundamentals of Buddhism or quoting something I picked up in a kungfu flick. But it's true. I've found that when you stop 'revolving it all... in your poor mind' (Beckett's phrase) and just take things as they come, a trip like this really comes into its own. Static creeps in, the undergrowth catches fire. That's when traveling gets exciting.

My plan for leaving Ankara amounted to precisely that: leaving Ankara. I knew where I wanted to go—Ihlara Valley, the gateway to Cappadocia—but not how to get there. Without giving it much thought I decided to take the dual carriageway along a big salt lake. Flat, straight, busy, tad dull. But on the morning I left, a little revolution flared up in my synapses. Did I really feel like inhaling exhaust fumes all day long? Or sleeping next to a petrol station? At the first junction out of Ankara I stopped, said no and surprised myself by turning left, heading straight into the mountains. Instead of two days it would now take me four days to get to Ihlara, perhaps five.

I loved every minute of it. The pain in my ligaments after four weeks of idleness. The desolate landscape stretching out before me in subtle shades of gold, brown, beige. The small villages en route where former migrant workers ambushed me to practise their rusty German. The sudden drop in temperature after sunset, forcing me to find new ways to keep warm. (Thermal undies, two pairs of socks and a balaclava do the trick. For now.) The tomatoes and melons brought to me by a villager who had spotted my tent in a field. The lunch I shared with a convicted murderer.

So, what's next? I have no idea. And that's something that makes me very happy.