Georgia vs Azerbaijan

These two countries  gave me very different experiences.
1) Corrupt police
In Georgia I saw hardly any police. This added to the anarchic feel on the roads and in the towns. Whereas  in Azerbaijan  police and surveillance cameras seemed to be everywhere.
I was quickly waved through Azeri customs and was 100 km down the road when a young officer and an older, plain clothes colleague stopped me. After the usual pleasantries they said I had to pay a fine in dollars for not wearing a helmet. I protested, they held my bike and said I couldn't continue unless I paid up. After 20 minutes they realised I wasn't going to pay and let me go. Later I checked on Google, Azerbaijan  does not have a helmet law, it does have corrupt traffic police.
2) Stray dogs
Georgia has more dogs that snap and snarl and chase you up the road. But if you shout "No" or "stay" in a teacher's voice they normally stop. I was amazed that they can understand English.
3) Hotels / hospitality
In Georgia I accidentally stayed in a brothel. Not recommended if you want a good night's sleep. Outside of the capital cities (Tbilisi  and Baku) there are very few hotels. Late in the day I got to the outskirts of a big town in Azerbaijan and asked at a petrol station where the nearest hotel was and was told there wasn't one but I could stay there in a back room. The 24 hour station was run by four young lads who bickered and bantered like the Inbetweeners; funny, but I didn't get much sleep.

Today in Baku I was trying to find the ticket office for the ferries across the Caspian Sea. A pretty Azeri cyclist stopped and told me someone at her cycling  club could help so we went to the café where they were meeting. There were loads of friendly, interesting English speakers so I spent the morning with them.
This is typical of Azerbaijan, as I cycle kids hand me bunches of grapes, lots of people wave and offer cups of tea or food. The Azeri people have made this leg of my trip a fantastic experience I won't forget.

The  old town in Tbilisi was my favourite part of Georgiia

Azerbaijan is not the strictest islamic country

After having his photo taken, this boy demanded money. He is destined to be a traffic policeman

Bacu - still smart from its European Games makeover.

I promised the lads from the petrol station i would feature them.

Tough Turkey

The last two weeks have been physically very hard. I caught the ferry to avoid Istanbul's vast urban sprawl and was soon in peaceful, rural hills. A lot of road signs were missing, as was the road surface in places. Locals gave me directions and many cups of sweet tea. Powered by sugar and caffiiene the climbs seemed easy. Next day I reached the proper mountains, in the heat of the afternoon, with melting tarmac and little shade they were draining. As I crawled up at snail's pace the driver of every other passing car, lorry, motorbike or tractor would wave, hoot their horn or shout "hallo"; by the time I had waved back for the two hundredth time I just wanted them to leave me alone.
Next day I drank water from a great loking water fountain, within hours I was regretting it. I kept going for three more days although I had lost my appetite and was running on empty.
One rest day in the beautiful old city of Amasya turned into three rest days as my stomach bug returned. Several locals had told me not go to far into central or eastern Turkey due to terrorism and the mountainous terrain. Of the the two I was more scared of mountains and so planned a flattish route to the Black Sea. The road turned out to be a tiny, twisting farm track deep into the mountains, I had to back-track and stayed overnight at a teacher hostel. It took two more days of hard riding to reach the coast.
It was a relief to look out over the flat sea rather than wave after wave of mountians. I met another turkish cyclist who had spent one day riding in the mountains before deciding head for the easier coastal road. We rode together to the border town of Hopa. Tomorrow I will go to Georgia.

Great views of Istanbul from the ferry.

The most opulent hotel I have stayed in, so far.

Some of the caves and old houses in Amaya

Locals helping me with directions and coke.

 The Black Sea - a welcome sight.

Istanbul

My photographic skills don't do justice to the beaauty of Istanbul

After 5 weeks and 3954 km I have reached Istanbul. If this was my final destination it would be a fitting end, it is a most spectacular place. 14 million people live here and most seem to be fishing off the bridges. I am spending four nights in a good apartment before going on to explore eastern Turkey, then Georgia.

Reaching the Bosporus, Istanbul

The Gelato Bridge, connecting the old and new parts of the city.

Serbian Surprise

In the small Serbian city of Zrejanin the guesthouse owner took me to an excellent traditional restaurant. The food was rich, the portions huge and the wine tasty. Next day I was suffering when I bumped into a hippy who asked me back to his commune to look at the work of some international wood artists. Over a late lunch they invited me to stay, but I was feeling queasy and just wanted a quiet hotel room. I got a suitable place near the border.
Romania is a land of contrast, half the population drive flash German cars and the other drive horse and carts. As I rode through central Romania there were lorry loads of old german cars being transported south, somehow these are recycled into top of the range BMWs, Audis and Mercedes. It felt sinister. Southern Romania is Roma territory, where shepherds tend meagre flocks, some farmers harvest with a scythe, some seem to live in straw hovels. 
No campsites or hotels around and so began a tough 24 hours. I waited until darkness fell and pitched the tent in a hollow by an unused track. I had just accidently cleaned my teeth with savlon when a 4x4 came racing past, less then 6 feet from where I sat motionless like a scared rabbit. I had a fitful four hours sleep and was up early determined to sleep in hotel the next night. That meant a long 180km ride. But I still had plenty of cash to get rid of before I left Romania so I went to a good restaurant. When I went to pay with a 100 dinar note they refused it, dinar is Serbian currency. As I carry fake debit cards in my wallet it was a faf to sort out. Next day as I left to catch the 9 o'clock ferry I noted the hotel clock read 9 o'clock. Romania is on eastern European time, one hour ahead. Then it rained.
Normally their is little difference in the natural geography when you cross a border. Not so from Romania to Bulgaria. As soon as you cross the Danube you move away from the flat farmland to a hillier, varied verdant landscape that reminded me of rural Dorset. On my first night in Bulgaria I bumped into a family from Yorkshire; it was my first proper conversation for 3 days. So a big thank you to them, I had been going slightly mad.

Lunch at the commune

Sculpture park near remote Serbian village

Landslides closed the road, so it was a quiet Ride through northern

View from my first campsite in Romania.

Austria to Serbia

I found the Hungarian equivalent of Blackpool. About 100 miles south of Budapest I saw signs for a campsite (rare in Hungary). Following these led me to a semi derelict campsite, the gates were open but the recption was closed. Pitching my tent I could hear the music of a beach party happening on the banks of the Danube. I tried to guess the tunes just from the bass, but they all sounded like La Macarena. A big family camping nearby were playing loud folk punk. The shower block was derelict (see picture) but there was an old, unused, empty motel on the site. The rooms were locked but the showers weren't. It was a bit spooky.

Shower block in  the run down campsite

My route to Hungary had taken me down the Danube through Austria. This was very beautiful and the people were friendly too.

A typical picnic place by the Danube

Slovakia was a culture shock. Or rather, a lack of culture shock. I will gloss over the place.
By contrast Hungary was great (except that dodgy campsite). Budapest was magnificent. A huge music festival was about to start so there was no accomadation left in the centre. My hotel was in the suburbs, next to the old communist low rise blocks of flats, where colourful old trams rattled and hissed along the broad dusty boulevards. Very atmospheric.

Riding into Budapest

Yesterday I crossed into Sebia and stepped back in time 40 years. There are lots of old, soviet era cars on the street, very few supermarkets, and you can't drink the tap water -its green. Today is a rest day for me, I am staying in a big air conditioned room in the centre of the small city of Zrenjanin. Actually riding in the heat (there is a heatwave in central europe at the moment) is okay as long as the road is flat - so you are moving quickly with not too much effort. I will try and avoid hills and mountains. I am off to Romania tomorrow where I will try and follow the Danube because it should be flat and scenic.

Sadistic Germans

Riding through Black Forest was epic. The climbs were up to 19 per cent steep, and the descents on smooth, swooping empty roads were up to 13 km long. Brilliant. But then I got deeper into germany where a lot of the roads are too narrow to safely ride on so you have to use a maze of cycle paths.
I found the Danube Cycle Way okay, and met a french medical student going at about the same pace so we rode together for a couple of days. He is obsessed with churches, minsters and cathedrals which is okay for a couple of days but I didn't want to see every religous building between here and  Budapest (his destination) so today I rode solo again.
Onto Austria tomorrow, then Slovakia and Hungary. Hopefully I will get a good night's sleep, although a horde of Belgian hippies have just turned up on the campsite.

The ferry from France to Germnay

A traffic jam on the Danube Cycle Way.

A taste of France

The first three and a quarter days were great. Helpful tailwinds pushed me along empty, smooth roads with farmers and wildlife for me to watch. I stayed at campsites until yesterday when the tourist information man said "no campsites here, and the only hostel is 48 euros a night", i decided to wildcamp.
When i was sitting at the roadside picnic benches scoffing baggettes, brie and ham, I ignored the darkening sky until the rain made me shelter under a tree. A massive storm came through like a tornado - blowing branches off trees and a deluge of rain. Afterwards i headed back into town to find any hotel, but there weren't any. So wild camping it was; at least the storms and rain meant no sane person would be around to find me.
Later the next morning a local rider - Didier -asked if I wanted anything to eat, so I went to his house where Pascalle - his wife made a lovely 3 lunch finished off with plum liquor on vanilla ice cream.
Must end here, in a campsite at Raon l'Etape next to the Vosage mountains, just heard thunder.
Hope you like the photos.

Wild camping in wild weather

Cycle touring -its a hard life