Back at the hostel - a place that's becoming uncomfortably familiar. Now well into the quiet period before things pick up for Christmas, there are only a few hostellers to keep Stu (didgeridoo carrying cycle tourist) and I company. We meet Duane – a fellow guitarist originally from the UK, currently working in Iraq.
We spend a few nights playing guitar in a bar down the street from the hostel. The place has a good circulation of musicians along with a few guitars floating round. If they sold Real Ale I would think I'd died and gone to heaven. In said bar we meet a group from USA/Canada who sell us stories of making riches teaching English in Georgia. Had I not had my visa sorted for Iran, I'd have been mighty tempted.
I take one more trip to the Uzbekistan embassy and then Stu and I escape to Prince's Island (Buyukada) for some soul and liver cleansing.
While waiting at the docks for our ferry ride Bryan rolls up on his bike. Originally from the States Bryan now lives on the Island with his wife Gizem. The pair are cycle tourists and we immediately hit it off. They offer us the spare room in their house. So much for getting back to nature. We play lots of music and eat great food. Bryan takes a day off work, we take the kayaks out to a small cove and go diving for mussels – which we then cook for dinner. The guys are great company and we have a riot. After three nights we finally move out to find a camping spot. A sheltered rocky amphitheatre dotted with pine trees provide the perfect place. Though we continue to pester our new friends for this and that. Showers, food and company maily.
Gizem gets us to go and busk at a local organic farmers market. Before doing so she requests we take some pictures of us with our instruments so's to publicise the event some. Apparently our interpretation of "organic" was not culturally appropriate....
We have a ball and manage to make 95 Lira, along with 50 lira's worth of fresh veggies. We also get to sample some honey which costs a wopping 300 lira per kilo! Sweet aint the word!
We spend a few nights playing guitar in a bar down the street from the hostel. The place has a good circulation of musicians along with a few guitars floating round. If they sold Real Ale I would think I'd died and gone to heaven. In said bar we meet a group from USA/Canada who sell us stories of making riches teaching English in Georgia. Had I not had my visa sorted for Iran, I'd have been mighty tempted.
I take one more trip to the Uzbekistan embassy and then Stu and I escape to Prince's Island (Buyukada) for some soul and liver cleansing.
While waiting at the docks for our ferry ride Bryan rolls up on his bike. Originally from the States Bryan now lives on the Island with his wife Gizem. The pair are cycle tourists and we immediately hit it off. They offer us the spare room in their house. So much for getting back to nature. We play lots of music and eat great food. Bryan takes a day off work, we take the kayaks out to a small cove and go diving for mussels – which we then cook for dinner. The guys are great company and we have a riot. After three nights we finally move out to find a camping spot. A sheltered rocky amphitheatre dotted with pine trees provide the perfect place. Though we continue to pester our new friends for this and that. Showers, food and company maily.
Gizem gets us to go and busk at a local organic farmers market. Before doing so she requests we take some pictures of us with our instruments so's to publicise the event some. Apparently our interpretation of "organic" was not culturally appropriate....
you've been gone for an hour and i missed you already (come to think of it, if i went downtown i would find you at konak!!)
ReplyDeleteloved being the feeder and you guys are the best feedies ever! :) love you lots. be safe.
gizem