Istanbul - bored in between east and west.

From here on I'll try (again) to write my blogs increasingly in English, in order to also reach some of the good people we met on our way to here.
Fun thing is - due to Turkish censorship on some websites, among which is blogspot.com - I am only able to write on my blog - not to see it. Thus: any comments will not be received, so in that case I invite you to send me an email instead :)

Stuck in Istanbul.
Let me start off by saying that any other time, in other circumstances than the current ones Yuri and I are in, Istanbul would have probably been a magical place to hang around - even for two weeks. There is no reason to bore yourself in this immense city. If not for all the historical sights, there's just about anything to do you could find in any worldly metropole. Waking up in a hostel full of interesting and interested people from all over the world, grab a coffee in a 'game' bar filled with old men gambling, grab a lunch for 2 euros in one of many eating houses, take a walk through any of the main (Western) shopping centers - or even better, the small Oriental streets surrounding these big roads - and hopping on any of the public transport systems for a ride.

Still: I'm bored.
Cycling is a fulltime activity. If you're serious about getting to places there's no other option than to step on both of the gaspedals on a daily basis. This gives me structure, it creates a pleasant distraction and in fact I have regarded it as a 'normal' job. There's not much to it - just keep cycling and enjoy the minutes of rest you get in between. Both employer and employee are one and the same person: me. Cycling to me has the preferable aspect of occupying enough of my thoughts to keep me from boring myself, but at the same time leaving enough room for some subconscious problemsolving. Rather: without the emptiness which comes with the cycling - there would be too much room for thought. The chaos which ordinarily occupies my mind clears when I can physically keep busy, just like chewing gum seems to work for some to concentrate.
Istanbul does not leave room for cyclists. Cycling this city is suicide. Walking the same district starts to get really boring by now and certainly doesn't bring the satisfaction with it a good 90 km's a day of cycling does.
To me this explains why I'm able to bore myself in a city which is marveled at by so many. The big journey to me has been all about clearing my head and letting the things that really matter to me trickle through my skull. By being stuck in a city which tires me with so much worldly things (most annoyingly: big Western brands, stores and other multinationals) asking for my attention makes me want to sleep until the bad dream of waiting is over. I'd love to return to Istanbul someday - on another set of terms, but right now I really want to leave.