Turkey - we are travelling again: Gaziantep, Mersin, Mediterranean Sea

Time jump: Yesterday in Batman, today on the road again. Yes, that's how it is when you write with a time lag like we do.

And it feels great to be on the road again. In the east of Turkey, actually almost in the centre-east of Turkey, around Gaziantep, we drive past kilometres of pistachio groves. The trees are planted in rows similar to the olive plantations in Spain or Greece, and the pistachios are probably a pure monoculture here too. But that doesn't matter to us now, because we are travelling to Gaziantep. One of our favourite cities in Turkey. Whether it's because we are allowed to spend the night in the middle of the city, right next to the castle (the car park attendant even apologised that "our" spot was occupied) or whether it's the anticipation of feasting in the UNESCO award-winning gourmet city is?

We stroll through the alleyways, have a good time, I also enjoy my husband's hour-long French IT conversations ("Just a quick call, okay?") and knit row after row in front of me. I call it knitting meditation.

In the evening, we have our new (actually discarded and gifted) Turkish double boiler mended and treat ourselves to an evening of good food. Hach, in Antep, as we connoisseurs naturally say, you can indulge in exceptionally imaginative food creations.

Will we stay another day or two? Or will we move on? Over breakfast tea from the car park attendant (well, cool car park attendants give us tea!) we decide: we're moving on. Towards the sea. My goal is to finally go swimming in a bikini (and not covered up). I can tell you in advance that the Mediterranean is really fresh in April, but I'll see.

So we drive past Adana and Mersin. Yes, we know these are beautiful cities. But what if we'd rather go to the sea? Somewhere behind Mersin I find a great spot, right by the sea, with a view of ruins and: all alone. Gerd pulls over and I go exploring. The approach is really tough (but I don't tell him); now I know why the spot is empty. But: I would love to spend the night there. I can already imagine my husband manoeuvring our Felix over hill and dale, through undergrowth and down the sandy slope, brewing Artvin tea in our new pot, eating the katmer we bought in Antep and looking out to sea. I can do romantic.

At some point, Felix is where I want him to be. Gerd is delighted. And we both push away the thought that we have to get out of here somehow tomorrow morning. "Well, if we can't get out of here, there are worse places to spend the spring," we think.

We enjoy the spring evening with fruit, biscuits, tea and the odd knitting stitch. By the way Triptastic and tells us something about the castle ruins right under our noses, so that we get a bit of a laugh while we eat. I'll spare us the story here because I think it's made up and a lie. Something about a locked-up daughter, a snake bite and a basket of fruit.

And as is always the case with thoughts about the future regarding our way out of the thicket: you (woman?) naturally think far too much about nothing. The next morning, while I'm out filming our dilemma, Gerd and our Felix drive out of the thicket without a care in the world. As if nothing had happened. Yes, well, the odd stone has flown, the bikes have spun in the sand a few times and maybe one or two scratches have joined the many others. At some point it doesn't matter, at some point the scratches count as evidence of the experience. Like wrinkles on lived faces.

(I'm just realising how I'm becoming more and more professional at making our world look good. So be it!)

Unfortunately, our internet is running low, so we stop somewhere on the main road, top up our gigabytes in the Turkish telecoms shop and want to move on. But the man whose café we parked in front of is standing there with two glasses of tea in his hand! We don't need to be shown that twice! We quickly sit down with him and order something sweet to go with it. Baklava with antep nuts. Yes, antep nuts are pistachios. That's obvious, isn't it?

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Merci for "travelling with us

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