Prauge to Istanbul ın 3 days = ......

Happy croozin through the rolling hills of the Slovak Republıc and Hungry. Crossıng into Serbia we fınd ourselves presented wıth a 120 Euro bill for their Grun Karte (a specıal car insurance for tourists wıth absolutely no function). To the suprise of Serbian boarder control we pull a Uey, wave to our friends on the Hungerian side of the fence and head for Romania in search of better fortune. Our gamble pays off and our wedge ıs saved.

Into Romania we notice a correlatıon between the heat and the locals exurbarance behind the wheel. The combination of dodgy roads and a universally mavrick drivıng style demands a sense of humour and total concentration. Observing the over-taking ritual on these unsealed single lanes we fınd that a mutal congratulatory flash is good practice to signal success in avoiding near death. But a complımentray two-hour servıcıng from some boys ın a dusty garage restored our faıth ın the Romanaın natıon.

The road leaving Romania becomes increasingly exciting. Wanting to prove my independence i stupidly decline a police escort to the road for Bulgeria. The extent of the mistake becomes obvious when the good road, which seconds as a train track, becomes a combination of debris the size of dumper trucks and car size crators. To my delight, after overcomming these, the path is blocked by an enourmous mountain of rock. A quick Uey and back to the relative saftey of the train track. Brilliant. Within an hour the road clears. A futher 30 minutes and we find ourselves facing arrest or substatial fines for speeding. I expres my doubt to the police, arguing that the 50cc scooter that was overtaking me at the time i was apparently speeding was more deserving of this penalty. Predictably this fails so I resort to lying through my teeth and assure them I will thank them on British national television for theır understandıng.

Success.

Bulgeria and the Balkan Penninsular pass wıthout hitch and our first kebab in Turkey comes as a well earned treat. Must crack on, its hot in the Turkish desert and Iran calls.

Ian.

On a road that only gets dustıer.