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4500km (almost 2800 miles), cycling through England, France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany, Austria, Italy, Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia, Montenegro, Albania, Macedonia, Greece and Turkey, I have finally made it across the finish line - Istanbul.
Cycling into Istanbul was far from the romantic entrance I had been dreaming of since I left England. If ever there was a time I was most in danger it was battling my way into one of the most densely populated cities in the world, along its primary road at rush hour, on a bike. I thought back to my second day in England when I had to cycle down the A20 for six miles to Dover in order to catch the ferry in time. That experience had always remained in my mind as the most hair-raising, but in comparison to Istanbul it was like a leisurely cycle ride in the park; that for me really highlighted how much I have grown as a cyclist. But despite fearing for my life, inside I was crying with joy. I had finally achieved what I had set out to do seven weeks ago, I had covered Europe by bicycle and that was something no-one can ever take away from me. I had made it.
I went straight to the airport to ask about changing my flight as I had arrived earlier than anticipated. I was given the choice - remain in Istanbul until my original flight on the 9th, without anywhere to stay, or fly home early the following morning. I chose the latter, meaning I cycled for seven weeks to Istanbul and never got to see the centre! I didn't mind too much though, as I had achieved what I had set out to do, and the thought of a nice bed (I hadn't slept in a bed since I left England) and some home cooked food was far too appealing.
There is so much I will miss from the way of life I have been lucky enough to experience over the last two months. I'll miss the incredible hospitality and generosity I have witnessed from people all over Europe, from the Macedonian family I mentioned in a previous blog to the man in Turkey selling melons by the side of the road who sat me down in the shade and treated me to as much melon as I could eat. I'll miss the hundreds and hundreds of waves, cheers, smiles, honking horns, pats on the back, stretched-out arms asking for high fives and the occasional child who has challenged me to a bike race. I'll miss being surrounded by nature and inspired by its beauty, and being outside all day every day. I'll miss being in the middle of nowhere, the only person travelling down a deserted road at sunset, knowing that nobody in the entire world knows exactly where I am. I'll miss the sense of adventure that accompanies every morning, and the quiet reflection I enjoyed in the evenings. I'll miss cycling downhill with my headphones on, jiggling my backside in the air, or taking my hands off the handlebars for a couple of minutes and feeling as though I am flying. I'll miss my bicycle.
I have slept everywhere from vineyards and sunflower fields to mountainsides and forests to park benches, behind restaurants and in front of shops; I've cycled over mountains, through forests, battled against headwind and appreciated tailwind, been chased by a litter of puppies across a Greek field, featured in an Albanian wedding video and felt the relief after falling off and realising nothing is broken (cuts and bruises perhaps but no broken bones and no broken bike). I've felt at times like the only person in the world, and at other times understood that a kind person is never too far away. I feel more comfortable on my own now than I ever have done before.
I think most of all I'll miss the three questions I am always asked without fail whenever I explain my plans to people - "On your own?" followed by, "Are you not scared?" and finally, "Are you crazy?" I've thought long and hard about why I have never felt scared, and come to little conclusion. It might be that I knew all I had to do was turn my mobile on (for the few weeks it was working) and I would have many messages of encouragement from my wonderful mother. Or perhaps, as many people have suggested, it's my age. Maybe I will wake up in twenty years time and think, "s***, did I really do that?" But I think it is far more likely that I will wake up and think, "I have to do that again."
How would I sum it up? The most challenging and rewarding experience of my life so far, and I did it all in flip-flops.
Would I do it again? In a heartbeat.
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