Istanbul, part XI - More Sea of Marmara, and back to Bulgaria

This is probably my favourite photo from this leg of the trip, and my favourite part of Istanbul: the heavenly ice creams

I managed to make it in time for my bus, although I did get slightly lost when transferring from the tram to the metro. Istanbul transport is pretty overwhelming, and can be something of an assault on the senses, even for a seasoned traveller such as myself.

I was pleased to be leaving Istanbul, it just wasn't really my cup of tea and I was tired of people following me around, trying to draw me into conversation, not taking no for an answer, and the masses of people everywhere.

The night bus from Istanbul back to Sofia was supposed to take about 8 hours. I'd originally planned to take the morning bus back, but after being well and truly put off by the hostel in Sofia that I'd stayed in, and being unable to find any other accommodation at such short notice, I'd decided to cancel my original booking and simply catch the night bus instead. You know a hostel is bad when a night bus is the preferable option. I met a Kurdish-Turkish girl (who was a German citizen) on the bus there, who was very nice, and she told me about her family, her Kurdish roots, her Turkish family whom she'd been visiting in Istanbul, and a little bit about what it had been like for her growing up in Germany. In light of the recent Mesut Özil incident, it's even more interesting to reflect upon what she said.

Anyway, the ride was pretty uneventful. Once again we were held up at the border point, and the German girl told me stories about how she had witnessed entire families having to unpack all of their belongings, that sort of thing. We stopped at a highway station, where I used up the last of my liras. Then it was back to the bus and on to Bulgaria, where I spent most of my time sleeping. Most of the passengers got off at various stops in Bulgaria, and by the time we had let off another load of people at Plovdiv and were on our way to Sofia, there were only about 4 people left on the bus, including me and the other girl.

Turkish trams

One last ice cream

And one last dinner in Istanbul

It was about 5am when we reached Sofia and it was still dark, but with a glimmer of the rising sun in the skies. I was exhausted, and dragged myself to the bus station to wait for the metro station to open and for full daylight - the bus station, at least, was fairly light and safe, and there was free WiFi access. My flight from Sofia back to Budapest was at 1300, and the prospect of having to wait around for so long was annoying - it was only about an hour from the city centre to the airport, but there was nothing I could do about it. At about 6 o'clock I left the bus station in relief, and went off to take the metro. The ride to the airport was uneventful. I used up the rest of my remaining lev getting some small snacks at the airport, then sat around waiting for my plane, heartily sick of easternmost Europe and utterly relieved to be going back to Budapest, despite the still-recent memories I had left there; but I've said it before and I'll say it again, it was my Budapest and still is, and nothing can ever change that.

View from Sofia Airport

My favourite Haribos, haha

Finally on the flight back to Budapest and back to sanity

And here we are finally in my Budapest

Can you tell how relieved I am that I'm finally back in this part of the world?

Italy, part I - Bari (i)

Nothing can ever compare to that initial moment when I first saw the peninsula of Italy stretch out below me; I leaned into the window and sighed with happiness as I gazed over the green isle of Italia, and the pristine blue sea that was the Adriatic. For the first time in my life, I would be able to properly visit the heart of the Roman Empire. I did have a couple of layovers at the Leonardo da Vinci airport when I was little, but spending a few hours in a capital city's airport does not a visit make. For all intents and purposes, I was here in Italy on my own terms for the very first time.

I disembarked from the plane and was extremely relieved to get off - my seat had been amidst a crowd of rowdy, ill-mannered Italian children, and you can only imagine what a joy that was. However, I was determined not to let them ruin my trip. The minute I got off the plane, the first thing I noticed was how much warmer it was here in Italy. I immediately took off my sweater, and stuck it in my bag, then went off to buy my bus ticket. It's slightly cheaper to get bus tickets beforehand, rather than directly from the bus driver. The bus station was easy to find, and the bus arrived immediately. I handed my ticket to the bus driver, and sauntered aboard and sat down, feeling very pleased with myself. These small victories on the road really do mean something - they're probably insignificant in the grander scheme of things, but there's something immensely satisfying about finding the ticket booth, buying the right ticket, easily locating the bus stop and then getting on the right bus to the right destination without a single hitch. Whilst I was busy mentally patting myself on the back, I watched another backpacker, a Canadian woman either in her very late twenties or early thirties (she had that beaten-leather look about her) board the bus with a backpack the size of Brazil, and attempt to pay the driver with an unbroken hundred note, which was cringe-inducing. I was also genuinely puzzled - the woman looked like a seasoned traveller, how could she not know that one of the first things about travelling is that you do not pay bus drivers in big bills? The airport was 10 seconds walk away - she could have broken her 100 there. Anyway, the bus driver displayed a remarkable amount of patience and self-restraint with her whilst she fussed and sighed and whinged and patted down her harem trousers to see if she had any spare change. She did eventually manage to come up with some coins, which were slightly short of what she owed the bus driver, but he took what she had with a sigh of resignation and waved her on. (And no, she was not particularly attractive.)

Bari airport

A train shuttle to the city centre was also provided, which was faster and more convenient but also more expensive

My bus to Bari city centre!

The bus ride to Bari city centre, or to be more precise Bari train station, was about 50 minutes give or take. Apart from the Canadian woman, the only passengers were three Italians, who looked slightly younger than me, two women and a man. All of them were petite and brunette, and rather well dressed, and wore horn-rimmed glasses. The women were not particularly beautiful, but had an air of open pleasantness about them that was quite nice. All three of them had iphones, which was one of the first things I noticed - in Romania I did not see a single iphone - most of the people there used Samsung.

I arrived at the train station, and checked my GPS, and followed it to the seaside, which was where the Old Town was located. All in all, I didn't care much for Bari - it was the only Italian city which I felt a strong aversion to. It felt like a ghost town, and reminded me far too strongly of Cittàgazze in His Dark Materials, the deserted, soulless city in which spectres would feed upon the souls of adults:

Cittàgazze is a seaside town, reminiscent of those near the Mediterranean. Hills surround the city which has wide, cobbled roads and is filled with ancient architecture. It is full of hotels and smaller somewhat shabby cafes, one of which was on a promenade full of palm trees. (source)

An accurate description of Bari if ever there was one. I spent most of my time in seaside towns in the Adriatics, and many of them fitted this description, but none of them felt as chillingly desolate as Bari. I do not plan on returning there ever again, unless I must.

Getting lost within the catacombs of Bari old town

The Adriatic sea