As we approached the border, I could see the snow-capped summit of Mount Ararat floating in the blue sky, the mountain itself not visible in the blue heat haze, only the snow-capped summit appearing like a mirage. After a long and protracted crossing, we emerged into Turkey to be greeted by a local man selling stuffed peppers. I couldn’t quite believe my eyes, I was hungry, tired and the stuffed peppers looked so good all lined up on a metal tray. I sat and ate them by the roadside and they tasted so delicious. This was my very first impression of Turkey and it was good. 

There were the three of us, a German doctor, a French student and me. A bit like the old music hall joke: an Englishman, a Frenchman and a German. From the border we planned to travel west towards Ankara and luckily an Austrian truck driver stopped and gave us all a lift in his huge rig. There was plenty of room for the three of us and our rucksacks in the back of the spacious cab. But as we climbed the mountains approaching Erzurum, the truck began to backfire and eventually came to a halt with carburation problems. We were high up in the mountains and as night fell, the temperature dropped to freezing. To keep warm I wore my sleeping bag over my clothing as I had very little in the way of winter clothes. Ice had formed on the spring water that had collected in a stone trough by the roadside and I had to break the ice in order to wash or obtain drinking water. I would hop from the truck to the spring water and back again in my sleeping bag which must have been a very strange sight for the local village people. I would have looked like a giant caterpillar moving across the landscape. 

Then something quite extraordinary happened while we were marooned on this mountain side, the village people began giving us food. We were given lentil soup, bread, and tea. This was hospitality in its purest form, and I have never forgotten it. It said something very profound about the hospitable nature of Turkish people.

In the morning, a French truck stopped to offer help to the Austrian driver but on discovering that there was nothing he could do, offered to take the three of us on to Ankara. He was a very eccentric driver and would careen back and forth across the road while singing French songs and stopping only to buy red onions from the village people on the roadside. We sat in the back of the cab, swaying around, surrounded by onions but happy to be on the move once again. 

We arrived in Ankara, and I set off to change some Turkish lira at the bank. I had bought some Turkish lira from a money changer in Afghanistan, but the notes were in old money and no longer usable. The bank refused to change my old obsolete lira into usable currency but as I was leaving the bank a young bank teller gestured to me to come over and she changed my old obsolete lira notes into usable lira. I was surprised and delighted as I was then able to eat. These were all small but significant acts of kindness but they left a lasting impression on me especially when you’re hungry and a long way from home.

We continued our journey with the same French driver until we finally reached Istanbul. He parked his truck in a large truck stop on the outskirts of the city where we said our goodbyes and made our way to the city centre. I remember the Theodosian walls but that’s about all. On a very limited budget we had no time to explore the city. We booked tickets for Salzburg and started our journey that evening. Traveling through Bulgaria where border guards were fairly heavy handed when controlled us. They checked our arms for needle marks. Again, not much to eat or drink. I remember the trams of Sophia and was struck by how Viennese the city looked architecturally. We crossed into what was then Yugoslavia and through Amsterdam I returned to the UK during the spring of 1978.