📝 days 187-246: recovery, a visiting mother, and thriving at last.

Written By seb is biking

You’re reading this on my birthday. Or maybe it has already passed. I’m 25 now. It seemed appropriate to give you a gift, which is this article. I spent 2 days making it. First selecting from hundreds of photos, then editing them, and then compiling it into this piece you’re reading now with music on the side. It covers many days (59, to be precise), and there are still many photos for you to look at. I hope you can find the time and space to look at them, and if it’s too much, leave it and return to it later! I’m now on my way to the ferry to Lebanon, and I plan to spend my birthday just… cycling. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this article. <3, seb.

I can’t believe it went this quick. It feels like I’ve just left No Name Kitchen and entered Türkiye, but I’m leaving the country already? Did someone take control of time and fast forward it? Could you slow it down? Anyhow. For continued reading, you can start off with 3:30 minutes of moody Nils Frahm 🎧.

For a travel blog, it makes sense to categorise using ‘countries’ as markers of periods or time. Countries as a way to reflect, summarise and provide chapters along a journey. I intended to move away from that, as this whole project is to ‘fight borders’ (and thus their corollary of ‘countries’). Instead, I wanted to use landscapes, moon cycles, weather, or anything that’s more ‘organic’ and ‘intuitive’ than ‘countries’ to organise my trip. Yet here I am:

summarising my time (so far), in TĂźrkiye.

leaving my NNK ‘home’ in Harmanli, Bulgaria.

Yah yah. What a strange time, the 2.5 months with No Name Kitchen. There’s a whole article for you to read about what I did with No Name Kitchen in Bulgaria, 🔗right here. That tiny house in Harmanli, where all 3 bedrooms (shared by 6-8 people) opened into the single ‘living room/kitchen’ we had. The beds, one worse than the other (one bed was a large plank with some pillows on it), the hallway where only 1 person could pass so you’d wait for each other like cars waiting for a traffic light on a narrow road. That house, in spite of the adrenaline, tensions, heaviness, became a home.

But! All things come to an end, and it was probably for the better that this ended. My stay with NNK went from 1 month (originally planned) to the 2.5+ months I stayed. A new friend who ‘oversees’ the Harmanli project for NNK was there when I arrived in November. They left soon after, but came back in January. I asked them how I looked compared to when I arrived. They said: you still have a bright light in you, but your face grew slimmer - you‘re really tired. OK, fair enough.

🛂 leaving the European Union

This border from Bulgaria to Türkiye is the edge of the ‘European Union’. It’s a border of which all my newly made friends have horrific memories of. The ways in which people without the right passport are denied movement: beatings, drones with heat-detectors, thousands of border guards, thousands of expensive cars, dogs, robberies, and 🔗sometimes even death. It’s exactly what Polly Pallister-Wilkins 🔗centers in her book: the idea of ‘unequal mobility’. That in this trip, I’m able to traverse the world legally, while others are not. I’m able to show up at the border, wave my passport, smile, and be through in less than 30 minutes. I encourage you to watch the video where I include a compilation on crossing that border.

And yes, the border is controlled ‘both ways’: Türkiye to Bulgaria, and Bulgaria to Türkiye. As far as I understand, it doesn’t matter which way you tell the border guards you’re crossing, they’re equally violent either way. We heard from multiple people in Harmanli that they tried to go back to Syria but were brutally stopped by the border guards multiple times. To sum up:

  • My border experience: friendly waves & smiles, 30 minutes, 0 euros.

  • Border experience of a Syrian: hiding in forests for days/weeks, thousands of euros for smugglers, kidnappings.

This is why we’re raising money for MiGreat (who have been doing a great job 🔗spreading information on stopping deportations in The Netherlands and Europe) and No Name Kitchen (who are consistently helping ‘people on the move‘ however they can - if you’re sponsoring NNK, read the bottom of the blog for a little update on where that money is going!*) Both of these organisations fight for a world that’s free for everyone, regardless of passport! As of writing (2nd April 2025) there are 95 sponsors, bringing our total amount to €114,88 per 100km! Thanks everyone 💖.

Alas. I was in Türkiye now, where the people were, in fact, a little different. I found them less distant, more curious and talkative. As I was making my way south, I stopped at a roadside restaurant. I was the only one, the owners Ismail and Zihinet were cuddled on the couch watching loud Turkish TV. They asked me where I slept. I said in a tent. They said isn’t it cold? I said yes, but it’s okay. They pointed to their fireplace and said that it’s warm and whether it wasn’t a better idea if I slept in their restaurant? After a lot of persistence on their part, I agreed, and slept on their cuddle-couch with the warmth of the fireplace while the wind howled outside. I woke up the next morning with 4 men in ‘my room’ re-igniting the fire that had become smouldering embers. We shared a classic ‘kahvalti’ (breakfast), and I was warmed by how obvious it all felt.

“Of course” I slept there. A weary traveller, alone. No questions about it, it was just something that you do. This self-evident truth moved me, and still does, every time it happens. What was also genuinely heartwarming to witness is to see that Ismail and Zihinet still clearly loved each other so much. I posted about the lovely couple on my Instagram story, and called for people to leave 5-star Google Maps reviews. You did! So now, they’ve got the best reviews from the whole island (if you still want to add one, 🔗go and do it!)

🚲 return to cycling life.

dreamy scene - could’ve been a still from a Studio Ghibli movie

By now it had been 3 months since I had been on the bike, having spent many nights in an actual bed during the NNK period. There was, at the same time, both a lot and nothing going on in my head during this time. I think I was quite emotionally empty from Harmanli, and I expected some great emotional release when I left that place. That all the heaviness of Harmanli would come to me, I’d do a lot of emotional processing, be sad, yada yada. Truth be told: none of that really happened. Mainly I felt the joys of independence: Alone. Moving. My own pace. My own thoughts. Nice.

I had also lost the rhythm (and stamina) of cycle travelling. My moods would be erratic - switching rapidly from ecstatic to frantic to frustrated. I was rushing south but didn’t understand the rush. I journaled little, I just.. existed, and made my way forwards.

 

(Here’s your encouragement to play this music for the next section. Over the course of 10 weeks I was feverishly following the release of the second season of the incredible TV Show ‘Severance’. Around this week, what would become my favourite episode of Season 2 would come out (Episode 7) which heavily featured this song. I cried my eyes out watching the episode, and it was very enjoyable.)

addicted to skies

i’ll never stop marvelling at the colours our sky communicates to us.

I took a 1-hour ferry, had some encounters with people along the way. The encounter with the factory worker actually wasn’t very pleasant - he was drunk and wanted me to stay with him, and leaving wasn’t so easy. But I look back warmly at it. I hope he’s well, making cheeses for the people.

I briefly got sick - really sick. I had been carelessly drinking tap water wherever I found it. Pretty dumb, eh. Got floored with a 39C fever and nightmarish diarrhoea. Spent my nights in a tent with some wolves howling around me at night. My third morning there, 8 police officers showed up and urged me to move. They were totally perplexed with what I was doing there - checking out myself and my equipment like I was a stinky little man from Jupiter (admittedly, I must’ve been pretty stinky at the time). Nothing unpleasant, though. Still sick, I cycled to a nearby roadside restaurant. Found a kind employee who invited me to sleep in the ‘mescit’ - a prayer room alongside main roads I’d come back to more often. These small prayer rooms always have water (have to wash your feet before praying to Allah!) and, if you’re lucky, electricity too. I was nourished back to health here, drunk my first coffee, and off I was.

 
 

🌱 my first true resting place: Vegan Çiftlik (the vegan farm)

There have been many moments where I feel so thankful for all the support I’m getting from you. You’re giving me tips, contacts, advice. Here too, the strength of community and the internet is just genuinely awesome and oh so helpful. Here is an example. I knew Izmir was a cool city, so I asked on Instagram if people had contacts there. I was sent a ‘vegan farm’ by Lilli, a follower living in Istanbul. The Vegan Farm was about 60km north of Izmir. Coincidentally, right around that area, my bike broke down and I couldn’t cycle anymore. I reached out to the Vegan Çiftlik, and indeed, I could come! Then, after spending time with Yusuf and Sedna, I got another contact in the center of Izmir, where I stayed with Idil (another vegan). Anyhow, what you should gather from this story: you’re awesome & thanks for helping me along this trip..

I arrived at the Vegan Farm not knowing how long I’d stay. Yusuf and Sedna, who ran the place, immediately took me out to an exquisite home-cooked vegan dinner with 15+ different dishes with their friends. Upon arriving home I was shown where I could stay: in a whole house that I had to myself (with electricity, a warm shower, a laundry machine, a double bed, and so forth). Yusuf and Sedna moved to this piece of land from Istanbul, where they were a screenwriter and lawyer respectively. With their fancy center-of-Istanbul-Kadiköy apartment, they lived the successful, modern life. But the life for them was spiritually void. Yusuf hated the TV shows he was writing, and presumably Sedna wasn’t having a great time being a lawyer too, so they said, fuck it, time to rescue some ducks and feed them.

my (temporary) house between the olive trees.

Their land had hundreds of olive trees and many animals - rescued from shelters or taken from the street. These animals were left to roam, live, play and be taken care of by Yusuf and Sedna. The couple built their own houses from materials found around them. They also lived in these houses. There was a single pre-built house on the property, which they didn’t like the energy of. They preferred their self-built homes. This became my house that I shared with some a mice family.

I think this is the place where I, for the first time since leaving Harmanli, rested. In the evenings I’d take out my journal, write, read, walk, call, stretch. During the day I’d help Yusuf with caring for the olive trees. I drove a tractor, I’d move endless olive branches into neat piles, eat dinner with them. Yusuf and Sedna were solemn people. We often sat in silence. Some evenings we would show each other songs, which is when they played ‘Ogit’ by Bajar (listen, it’s great). Between me and them there was a strong mutual liking, though we never expressed it explicitly.

This time feels melancholic and as sweet as honey. A temporary paradise. Time stood still and there was bliss. I re-read A Wizard Of Earthsea by Ursula K. LeGuin and enjoyed The Stranger by Camus. Without knowing it, I needed this. I’m deeply thankful for the two of them for giving me that space to sort myself out. After a week, feeling more settled in myself, I set off towards Izmir, where I was taken in by Idil.

 

🐣 cycling to my mom

You’ve read that right. My own mother was dedicated enough to purchase a ticket to Antalya and come visit. This meant I had a mission: get from Izmir to Antalya before she arrived. An adverse consequence was: hurry. No bother though. My surroundings got more and more fantastical, I was noticing myself grow into the cycling rhythm. I met her in the airport, she was the last one waiting for her luggage to arrive on the conveyor belt. With the car I rented we drove to our rental house. Our embrace felt deeply unexceptional, which left us both feeling underwhelmed and disappointed. It was like: “ah, yes, you again”.

Yet we felt a lot of love for one another. This became apparent after a few days when we had found our groove. Every morning there was a very pleasant morning hug. And every night, a good night hug. We held each other, gave each other space and our conversations went to surprisingly moving directions. The photos below I took when we were together. There’s a lot of them.

(empty town high up in the hills that was used to escape from summer heat)

 

slippery snowy hike

 

the high-stakes Rummikub games (they bet money!)

 

what I didn’t realise is that traveling makes you see colours that don’t appear ‘at home’ - Turkish landscapes can be so vibrant

 

🌞 thriving joyfully

Okay. You’ve seen a lot of photos by now. Are you overwhelmed? You can always stop here. Grab an apple juice, go for a pee, stare at the clouds, and return to read the rest. But the title is no bullshit. Listen to Thom Yorke and keep reading. The period with my mom and after has been one where I finally, perhaps for the first time this trip, have found “my groove”. Yeah, truly. Keep in mind: I have never done a cycling trip before. I’ve never traveled alone for longer than 2-3 weeks. I had no idea how to take care of myself (as you have read in the past blog posts with my ‘Waltzing’ metaphor), how to approach bike traveling, how to love myself along the way.

But friends, I don’t know. I’ve been feeling so, so good. I’ve been getting up early, around 7-8am and making the most of my days. I have chosen the scenic and highly challenging mountain roads, opening up so much space in my head, being away from those cars. I’ve challenged myself physically, and rewarded myself with food and stretches afterwards. I’ve been very consciously listening to a new album every day, making videos that I’m proud of (like many book reviews and weekly overviews over on Instagram!). The confidence in myself is growing, contacts are exciting. The help I’ve gotten for this next stretch (Beirut, Damascus, Amman & Baghdad) has been overwhelming. It feels odd, but for the first time in the 8 months I’ve been gone, I can truly say that yes, “I have arrived”.

The following photos were all taken after I left Antalya, where I spent a lovely 4 days with Swiss cyclist Samuel. We stayed in an AirBnB. In Antalya I attended the Turkish pro-democracy protests for 3 nights in a row (check the video on the right), and I talked to fellow cyclist Tomas for hours about cycling through Lebanon and Syria (he was the first cyclist to enter Syria in a really, really long time).

 

if i were a god i’d live up there

 

🎂 my Güneyyurt birthday

Now it’s almost my birthday and I’m in the village of Güneyyurt. The inhabitants are caring for me well. Every half hour of working on this piece I get interrupted by somebody new who introduces themselves and is very excited to meet someone from Amsterdam. Tonight we are watching an important football match (I nod along pretending to be a man). I was shown around by boys in their cars and I hear that people around me already know who I am (“biciklet, Amsterdam, Hollanda” - I guess word spreads quickly in a village without tourists). The past 2 nights were spent in a €12,- hotel room, and I’ve been working on compiling this post for you. These are the last 2 photos I will show you. They were taken after 2 boys chaotically took me around, Turkish rap blasting so loud the speakers popped constantly, and within the span of 15 minutes I was introduced to what felt like half the town.

 

☕️ the end of turkiye (for now) and the start of the middle east

This has been the end of Türkiye, for now. If all goes according to plan, I will return in June. Soon, I’m stepping on the 16-hour ferry towards Tripoli, Lebanon. When exactly, I don’t know. I’ve been told the ferry runs anywhere between a few times per week to a few times per month. The past weeks I’ve spent trying to grow a network in Beirut and Damascus - with success. There are people waiting for me in both cities, eager to show me around. The decision to enter has not been a one that was lightly taken. For weeks I have mulled this over, went over different scenarios, and prepared. I’ve consulted people around me, made back-up plans, talked to journalists in both cities, I even have direct contact with the Dutch embassy in Beirut (I will sleep in the house of one of the employees there). There are risks, absolutely. But, from what I assess now after a lot of thinking, not ones that are unmanageable. I now have help all across the region. There are people knowing that I am crossing, waiting for me in each city.

I want to go. For so many reasons. If we are talking about ‘borders’ and its corollaries of imperialism, genocide, war and discrimination, then being in the close vicinity of the state ‘Israel’ is like an apotheosis of that. Being in Beirut and Damascus, I hope to drown myself in knowledge, stories and experience of the region. Being in Iraq and Baghdad I want to explore the ‘War on Terror’, the attempted genocide by Saddam Hussein against the Kurds, the histories of western intervention. In Beirut alone I’ve been sent vegan social hubs, alternative theaters and cinema’s, political spaces, and night clubs. From the people who’ve been to Syria after Assad fell I’ve heard deeply intense and moving stories. To be clear: I currently don’t intend to go anywhere else except the main highways between Tripoli, Beirut, Damascus and out towards Amman, Jordan (check my map on ‘🔗the blog’ page.) There is so much to learn. I intend to share as much as I can with you.

Do you want to help me out? Tell me what you’d like to see. I’m in Lebanon for 3-4 weeks, in Damascus for 2, Jordan for 2 and Iraq for 3. What videos are you interested in?

💭 brief reflections on Türkiye

While I’ll be back in Türkiye later, it feels right to briefly reflect on this country already now. I feel complicated about it. The people, genuinely, have been exceptionally warm to me. Traveling here is like a free-fall exercise where you know you will be caught by the people and their culture. This is, I realise fully, also because of my blue eyes and whiteness. In encounters with police I never had any issue, especially when I mentioned I’m from The Netherlands. I’m trusted and received warmly by basically anyone. This stands in stark contrast to the stories my Harmanli friends from the Middle East and Northern Africa tell me about living in Türkiye. I’ve also heard the racism towards, for example, Syrians, firsthand from people who helped me.

The Turkish state is far from an innocent state. There is the suppression of the Kurds. During one evening of the anti-Erdogan protests, I suddenly heard the crowd chant: “Öcalan is a terrorist” - Abdullah Öcalan being a Kurdish political prisoner and advocate for the Kurds in Türkiye. Confused, I left, and searched for an explanation (which was the very effective state propaganda moulding history into a Turkish-nationalist narrative). The Armenian genocide which is still denied. The fact that Türkiye has the largest army of NATO (only behind the US) is palpable, too Army posts are everywhere, police checkpoints are ubiquitous, students organising protests arrested early in the morning during dawn raids. Türkiye slowly taking parts of Northern Syria. Türkiye using ‘refugees’ as political weapons and extracting billions of Euros from the EU during the EU-Turkey “deal”.

It leaves me feeling conflicted. Highly appreciative of the natural environment, the hospitality and many invites to tea, the food (which is also partially borrowed from cuisines more south), the curiosity, the loving people I met. But there’s a dark side to this country that I have been able to elude due to my passport and my whiteness.

These impressions are still forming, and are tentative. If you have resources that you think will be formative to develop my view on Türkiye, please do send them by e-mail or over Instagram. Since I’ll be back to cycle from Iraq to Georgia in June, there is a 2nd chance to explore this country (next time, it will be the Eastern part of the country).

In case you want a final piece of music, I’ve edited together my favourite part of the opening of Nils Frahm’s concert in Paris. You can play it and look at the photos again, or just enjoy the music (🔗here is the whole album)

*for the sponsors of NNK: the coming months, your monthly sponsorships are going towards me! In Harmanli I spent €250,- directly on NNK. We improved the working situation for the NNK team. I deeply believe there is nothing noble or sensible in ‘activist suffering’ - some basic level of comfort and care for us activists goes a long way in making the revolution sustainable. Arriving in NNK, I sensed some essential self-care things lacking. I used money to buy seriously good bluetooth speaker, which has fuelled many many daytime park parties. I also bought a cheap coffee machine and a heater for in the cold warehouse, where we spent a bunch of time packing packages of clothes to hand out. I also made purchases for people on the move, mostly backpacks for those leaving Bulgaria to Serbia and beyond. I judged that the sponsors would be OK with this. Either the money goes to the main NNK bank account, paying for everything, or directly into the Harmanli project, like we did now. If you have conflicting feelings about this, reach out! I feel I did this ethically, but maybe you feel differently. Cheers, Seb.

seb is biking
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📝 days 114-187: breathing border violence day in and day out