the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

A fellow biker had suggested I take the ferry across to Bostanli (one of the ports across the bay in Karsiyaka) and then take the bike path to the zoo and back. It was a breezy but clear day. In other words, it was flawless. I pulled on my biking gear, along with some knee-length floppy shorts over my biking shorts, put a Kentkart and a few lira in my pocket, and went down to the ferry.

The Kentkart is my bus/ferry/subway ticket. You can get as many rides as you need within 90 minutes for about a buck (1.70TL). On the other side, I joyfully pedaled away.

The bike path was pretty easy to find. It quickly escapes the city and winds off into the wetlands, where I learned that Izmir has flamingoes in the wild. Yes. :)

I pedaled on to the zoo, gaining speed as I warmed up, and just thoroughly enjoying myself. The city is planting flowers everywhere, so the scenery looks and smells good. I turned around at the zoo and came back, bought two small waters on the sidewalk and walked back into the ferry terminal.

there was some time before the Konak ferry arrived, and since one of my toe clips had been squeaking lately, I thought this might be a good time to fiddle with it. So I pulled out my all-purpose bicycle tool, pulled off the shoe, and started working the bolts. I was on one of those circular benches, like you'd build around a tree. Someone had sat down near me. I glanced over, and it was a woman, perhaps about my age, gazing at me and smiling. I smiled back and went back to work. I looked up after a couple of minutes and she'd moved closer. Her facial expression suggested she was wondering what I was doing, so I showed her the clip and how it fit on the bike, and how the clip could be adjusted. She seemed satisfied. I went back to work.

After a couple of minutes, she said, "Konak pasaport?" I said evet. She pointed that the boat was just pulling up to the dock. I said teshekkuler. She stepped onto the ferry just ahead of me, more or less making room. She indicated that I'd be able to throw away my empty water bottle on board. I thanked her again.

I found a place by the rail in the sunshine, and relaxed to enjoy the ride home. After a little while, I looked over my shoulder and there she was, sitting on the bench in the breezeway behind me, watching me. I smiled at her. She smiled back.

At this time of year, the Turks don't sit outside. They're too easily chilled. They go into the cabin where they can travel out of the wind. Yet this woman braved the elements just to watch me.

It wasn't creepy. I got the distinctive impression she was in awe, somehow. I'm guessing that it's because I'm athletic and maybe also because I was on an excursion alone. Men here also seem impressed by women they call "sportif." I'm an anomaly, but a good one.

I was to take two more bike rides before I managed to mangle my rear derailleur. And I mean mangle. It rose from the dropped, rear, aligned position to a standing position and execute a left-face. I noticed this when it got hung in my spokes.

*sigh*

Off to the bike shop tomorrow. Meanwhile, I'm walking to work instead of riding. It's only 2.5 miles one way. Imma say right now: I never cease to be amazed at the number of perfectly healthy people who think this is an insane distance to walk.

That is all.

d