But the bus didn’t take us to
Katakoloy. The bus took us to Diyarbakir, 564 km and 11 hours away from Kalekoy (by car). When we asked the
conductor about Katakoloy he said he’d never heard of it.
Shoot! Now what?
So there we sat, three on a bench,
three on the floor at Diyarbakir’s new looking bus station on the
edge of town, praying and asking God what the heck he’s doing and
laughing, saying we’re just four days late. We were supposed to come
to Diyarbakir on Monday, but our trip got canceled.
A man pushed a cart with boxes of
convenient store food. The wheels crinkled and clunked against the
tile floor and echo in the large, open hall of the station. It
smelled of strawberries and stale cigarette smoke, but that might
have just been me.
A Turkish soldier with a large rifle
strapped to his back sauntered by and eyed us, confused.
“What are six Americans doing in
Diyarbakir?” said his face. It was a great question. God?
We prayed and decided we were staying
in Diyarbakir. We’d find a hostel and spend several days of our tour
here at least. Liz and Dez worked on the free wifi to find us a
place to stay. Grant and April went to do the same on the computers
at the super cheap internet cafe.
As for me, I curled up and took a nap
on the floor. I slept pretty well, even through the visit of a
security guard and an old man who came to tell the girls I shouldn’t
sleep on the floor because it was cold, that a bench would be more
comfortable. Whatever. This is the World Race.
Let me tell you something, coming to a
completely new city when you’re on a tight budget is a time consuming
process. By the time we left to find a taxi to get us to hotel we’d
been at the station three hours.
We stepped out the door and it was like
flies on a piece of raw meet. Taxi drivers, people with friendly
advice, jokers, and curious bystanders were on every side. We stood
there for 10 minutes in the midst of them trying not to get cheated.
There was no way we could afford them. We ended up deciding to take
a bus.
It was a good decision.
The red bus pulled up ten minutes later
empty but for three people. I showed the driver the name of the
hotel and he waved us on. He didn’t even charge us! We stacked our
packs in the open middle section and watched Diyarbakir go by,
wondering if he knew where he was going, if he’d take us to the right
spot, if we were screwed.
Long story short, we woke up this
morning in warm, cleanish beds in our nice-ish, cheap hotel. We have
a place to stay!
Next step… busking in the
middle of a busy Turkish city…
