On the morning of my take off, I am making sure that I’ve packed enough stuff that would get me far from Istanbul. Where do I want to go? Just far.

I just want to ride my bicycle away and ride it alone. Away from the part of the world that I’ve lived, loved, laughed and cried.

Which parts of the world do I wish to see? Those are different than my own!

However, as much as those excitement, the thought of being not able to get far is also here. When the local bicycle club tried to give a “goodbye party” for me, I’ve felt quite unwilling. I can’t help but see that as a way to waste decorations and cake. A party would over timely amplify the spotlight to this unborn adventure.

Tess were there for the takeoff. When we met, they gave me a card, on which the wanderer’s poem was written, to accompany me during the journey. I explained them that I am too lost in my thoughts to build a sentence with any depth. I accepted the gift, red-facedly, since I was secretly sure that I will be back home once I got enough far that I am able to keep my chin up about this attempt.

Being said goodbye to Tess, I hopped on the bicycle again.

Same thoughts were broadcasting on my mind, pointing out to my “biggest” fear. Or to what I’ve had considered as my “biggest fear then:

Making myself somehow dead before my parents and my sister.

“If you were not so spoiled, so obsessed with the “living”; if you were a normal person like any of other people who doesn’t thinking about making a journey, then you would stay at home and would not risk be giving your parents the grief of a lost child.”

But this time, I was not getting consumed by those thoughts. The more I rode, weaker those babbling thoughts got. After a while, I was in the zone. And ahead of me, there were many faces to look at, many fruits to be picked up, many friends to get to know to!

I rode a little more than 70 kilometers and stopped at a cheap market in Izzettin Village. The clock was around 17:00 and I was excited for the first meal of the day. I got myself food, sat under a tree around the mosque, filled my water bottles. Then my mother called me on the phone for a small talk.

Making this small talk alarmed my ambushed fear. And the moment I hung up the phone, I started crying. How is it possible for me to be so stupid that I can cycle and wildcamp by my own? How out of my mind could I be to even think that I could do this journey? I was a far cry from the adventurers whose I read stories of.

Loneliness and self-doubt was at their peak. I am not talking about the aesthetic loneliness that an Edward Hopper’s characters floats in. It was a bare emptiness. I wanted to go back home like nothing ever. I had to. I had to go back to my mother’s home, be a well-behaving child and never attempt doing anything so inconsiderate again.

I am not sure for how long I spiraled down with those anxious whirling thoughts. But I suppose once I hit enough self-inflicted pain, I got up from where I sit. My plan was simple:

1. Find the Imam (the muslim religious leader who is in charge of the mosque)
2. Ask Imam if I can place my tent in the garden of the mosque
3. Continue self-loathing in my tent until I fall asleep

I went to the villagers’ coffeehouse to find the Imam. I quickly told the people there I am cycling and looking for a place to camp.

With a concerned and confused gaze, a man called Imam on his phone. At that moment, another man, later he introduced himself as Zafer, jumped in and offered me to place my tent on his and his family’s garden.

I thought “Remember Bilge, when life gives you a chance you should take it before calculating three steps ahead!” and said “Yes I would like to stay in your garden tonight! I’ll come with you!”

And that one “Yes!” folks, was the gate for a great, warm night with Zafer and the Otcu family.

I was determined to change my self-preservative “No.” sayings to “Hell yeass!”. This change appeared to be good and lucky from the day#1.

Zafer Abi, told me about the travelers they hosted 10 years ago:

“There were a young couple here, 10 years ago, started walking from France. That night, they were looking for a place to put their tent. We offered them our garden, they were smelled like they might enjoy a nice long shower! Then, they stayed with us for almost a week, we enjoyed each other’s company even with the language barrier. The girl was called ‘Caroline’ as far as I can remember. Upon finishing the walkabout, she wrote a book about that.”

I listened him as I snacked on my onion rings that Ayşe Abla cooked for me. Zafer Abi showed me Caroline’s profile on Facebook. But our chat was interrupted by a phone call to Zafer Abi, and he left to pick it up.

When he was back, he was smiling with joy and told me:

“You brought luck with you!” he said.

“For the last two months, we were trying to find an apartment in Istanbul for our newly-married son. The housing office just called me to tell that they have an apartment for our son! You are our ladybug!”

Upon this great news to the Otcu Family, we enjoyed our dinner while talking about how their daily life going in Izzettin Village. Even after drinking many glasses of turkish tea, I couldn’t help my eyelids to drop. We said goodnight to each other and I started setting up my tent in their garden while chatting with Emin, family’s oldest son. He asked me if I carry any tool to protect myself and astonished by my only self-protection tool: The Pepper Spray. He kindly gave me his pocket knife as a gift.

Then I slept a deep, relaxed sleep, I was so weary to think about tomorrow’s camping place, when there will be no Otçu Family to shelter this anxious cyclist. The night with Otçu family lifted up my spirits and strengthen the weak voice in my head: “What if everything works out quite well, just like it did this night?”

Next morning at 06:00, after enjoying a warm turkish coffee with Ayşe Abla, I prepared to hop onto my bicycle again.

And the first thing I realized was the ladybug resting on one of my bags. With this deeply personal sense of magic and luck, I cycled on.

End of the first day.
Kilometers cycled: 70+
Meters climbed: 1100+
Temperature in Turkey, Istanbul: 30+ degrees Celcius
Ladybugs seen: almost 1! (in the morning after).