Those who have visited Turkey will probably recognize the Mustafa Kemal Ataturk statue - maybe not this particular statue in Tasucu, but the general concept of the Ataturk statue. For a man who secularized the Turkish state, his likeness has taken on iconic properties, if the cumulative tonnage of metal used in the legions of inanimate Ataturk monuments is any measure. Such a statue, or bust, or other variations thereof, can be found in every city and village, often in multiple locations, and his portraits hang in shops, while his image is stamped on every currency note and coin. A pretty comprehensive, but well-deserved, tribute considering the scale of the cultural, political, religious (and even fashion) restructuring he was able to foist upon the newly established independent Turkish nation - including the history-changing outlawing of the fez. (3/14/05)

I left Tasucu and a pension room full of my waning illness for the plains that led to the port city of Mersin. After months of exertions on Turkish mountain roads that twisted like serpents in contortions, it was a strange sensation to cycle on a coastal stretch of asphalt as flat as an iron. Mersin is not the kind of city you would put on a one-week itinerary, unless you have a particular interest in industrial ports. But I'm not really on a one-week itinerary, and it was time to pack it in for the day, so I bedded in Mersin. I will remember it only for the briney smell of the low-lit evening fish market and the prowling gangs of city-hardened cats that descended at market close to pounce upon the scraps of fish litter strewn about in the chaos of commerce conducted by the retiring fish mongers. (3/15/05)

On the highway from Mersin to Osmaniye I felt that I was getting closer to Syria, cycling on flat roads shooting out straight as an arrow across irrigated plains. Along the way I passed through Tarus, the birthplace of pre-conversion Saul, post-conversion Paul, the epistle writer of New Testament fame. This city is now a collection of concrete boxes, but with the advantage of views of the blue and white Tarsus Mountains towering on the horizon. The white part is what troubles me, particularly considering these mountains are in the far south of the country. As a result of my inability to obtain an Iranian visa, my route will now take me through the even colder moutainous northeastern portion of Turkey on the way to Georgia, and I am concerned that in spite of my lengthy detour through Syria and Lebanon, snow and ice will still be awaiting my arrival at higher altitudes. (3/16/05)

On that same day I cleared Adana, the fourth largest of Turkey's cities, which together with previous stops in Istanbul and Bursa leaves me with three of the top four of the country's metropolises covered. It had a wide promenade along the Seyhan River that was pleasant, but still not as scenic as the Katy trail along the banks and bluffs of the Missouri River. Still thinking of the heartland and apple pies . . . (3/16/05) *

Evening was coming on when I neared the twilight purple mountains ringing Osmaniye, and I was a little hungry and thirsty from the day's ride. Turkey is in the middle of a citrus harvest right now, and these lemon and orange vendors called me over and started loading the empty space in my panniers with oranges, refusing any offer of payment by explaining, "Turkey." A fresh and juicy orange tastes so good when you are hungry - and then there is also the abundance of nutrients, vitamins, and minerals one has to also consider when eating such a fruit.

The next day, after having been spoiled on flat roads for two days, I had some mountains to clear in order to reach Hatay. That involved a couple of hours in the granny gear. Along the way I saw a Turkish cycle team pass me in a bike-loaded car. They drove to the top where I later saw them unloading their bikes for the downhill run to Hatay; later one of them caught me and told me that they were training. I don't know much about it, but riding downhill seems a strange way to train. But one of the really great things about winding downhill runs is that I get to fly past my arch road enemy(ies), the truckers, who are all stuck in low gear, causing them to suffer the terrible anguish of having been passed by a lowly cyclist.

The next morning in Hatay the sun rose at an insanely early hour - sometime before five - which meant the Fajr (the first of the five prayer calls of the day) started echoing around the valley before 4:30. The arabic sing song call of the muezzin amplified from the minarets shattered a vivid dream discourse in which I had been engaged with the Squirrel of Life. I looked at my watch and started to wonder if I was in another solar system, one where the anchoring star's light begins to fall to my planet of residence in the middle of what I would normally understand to be night. My circadians were totally jacked.

Hatay had a curiously familiar fast food restaurant called "Meydonose" with the signature yellow and red trim and the golden arches. It was certainly not a McDonalds, and moreover was clearly violating the world's most recognized registered trademark, so I thought to myself, "What in mischief's name is going on here?" I thought it was important, perhaps even my American duty, to try the food, so I ordered some sort of potato concoction that was impossible to choke down even with the aid of a carbonated lemon chaser to cleanse the palate after every tortured swallow. (3/16/05) *

Seeing the first of anything is always a worthwhile experience; the first airplane, the first car, the first rock, etc. In Hatay, at the cave church of St. Peter, I got to see the first church in the entire universe! It was also the first place that the term "Christian" was used, and the place where St. Peter preached to those first Christians. (Acts 11, verse 26). Some of the features were notable. For example, the baptism font was simply a cave pool that collected natural cave drippings. There was also an intestine-like cave passage obscured in the rear where the early Christians would run to escape if the service were infiltrated by unfriendly or hostile heathens. (3/18/05)