Day 13 : Karapınar to Emirgazi

After a night in a somewhat dubious pension with shouting women dressed in very provocative clothes, it was time to leave that village under a cloudy sky and about 15°C.

Near Karapınar, there is a volcanic crater and lake. Since a couple of years, the lake has dried up. 

In my opinion, the landscape here is monotonous and dull. A high plateau at ~ 900 meters of altitude, barely vegetation, scattered farms and villages, endless horizon ...

 

...and some house with adobe straw roofs.

After about 50 kilometer I reached Emirgazi, where I wanted to stay. Rain was predicted in the afternoon and throughout the night. Finding a wind-protected place in this landscape did not seem easy. So why not pitch up the tent in one of these picnic areas in the village?

When I approached the centre, where the teahouses are usually located, I sensed the astonished and slightly sceptical gazes of men on me. (There was not a single woman on the street). Sometimes I'm bothered by that and wished it would be normal that a female cyclist passed by on her own. But I needed their advice. So I stopped at the most popular teahouse. The waiter welcomed me, while I was getting off the bike. I had a tea in my hand before I could react and was escorted to the inside. Someone indicated to me, where I was supposed to sit. All eyes were on me. The usual questions were asked, e.g. where I was from. Which then was communicated throughout the room, followed by muttering of the pesent men. 

Via Google translate, I asked if I could pitch my tent somewhere in the village. The guy across the table changed a few words with the waiter and pointed to the picnic area next to the teahouse, which had some grass and these typical picnic shelters. Perfect I thought. 5 minutes after getting off my bike, I had a place for my tent! Awesome. 

The conversations went on. The guy across the table, who had indicated where I had to sit, was the Muhtar (head) of the village. He started making phone calls and a moment later he told me that I could sleep in the teacher's dormitory. But first I should eat something. No, first we should have a look at the dormitory. We rode in his Mercedes to the dormitory. Everything got arranged. We rode back and went to a restaurant and had lunch together, followed by tea. 

I followed him back to the teahouse for another tea. In between, I got introduced to someone who spoke a few words English. In the teahouse someone else sat down at our table. I think it was his father. I got some advice about camping (don't trust people and it's dangerous). I installed Google translate on the Muhtar's phone which made it much easier to communicate. We left the teahouse and I followed him in his Mercedes to the dormitory. He said goodbye and left. 

This room was ten times better than that last night!

Wow. After four teas and such a 'session of hospitality' I needed a break. Unbelievable, that they arrange everything, take one or two hours of their time to show me around.

At the same time, the Muhtar obviously liked to show his power and authority. The way he talked to people and ordered them to do something was demanding.

For example, in the restaurant he complained that the bread wasn't fresh, so the poor guy hurried to get a new basket with fresh bread. 

Apropos bread. This is a Turkish bread vending machine. 7 lira are 20 Eurocent.