Day 8: Istanbul - My Guts Betray Me

I was woken up in my monastic cell of a bedroom by the dispirited grumblings of my wayward guts. First at 4:30, then 6:30 and finally at 7:30 I stumbled out of bed, unlocked my bedroom door, staggered to the toilet and shared the fruits of Macedonian tap water with the Turkish sewage system. My stomach was not happy. To make matters worse, at 8:55 my train would be pulling out of Haydarpasa station fo Aleppo in Syria. I had no idea what the "facilities" might be like on the train and it was with no small amount of trepidation that I got dressed and limped limply towards a prospective 58 hours of water-less squat toilet hell.

I got my rucksack out of the locker at the station, bought myself a 5 litre jug of water and walked to the platform. The first hiccup of my voyage loomed on the horizon in the form of the train guard. He stood by the doorway to the train holding some papers in his hand. I produced my ticket which, in triplicate, clearly showed my berth. Wagon 7, berth 13. Right there in black and white, or, in the interests of purely factual reporting, blue and yellow. The guard looked at my ticket, down at his sheet, back at my ticket, back at his sheet. The sinking in my guts coupled with the already war-torn nature of the region to produce a singularly unpleasant feeling. We checked once, twice, thrice. My name was not on the manifest. On Wagon 7 in berth 13 was an erstwhile interloper named Hussain Ali Mohammed. Under the circumstances, a cheap laugh at the cliched nature of his name did not seem warranted, although I did file it away for later appreciation.

Eventually, through much gesturing and the incredibly pained expression on my face, my new friend relented gave me a berth in the sleeping car. I settled into the cosy cabin and hoped that nobody would be sharing with me. My wish was granted. I had a cabin to myself. Awesome.

The train pulled out of Haydarpasa and, as I said goodbye to Istanbul, I also felt a surge of excitement. This was it. I was on my way to Syria. In between 29 - 58 hours, I would be there. In between trips to the toilet, I napped comfortably for the first few hours and spent the remainder of the first day on the train reading and occasionally chatting to the other passengers. One highlight was meeting three Irish guys on their way through Syria, Jordan and Egypt. From Egypt, one of them was going to fly home and the other two were going to backpack down the African continent from Egypt to South Africa. It was sorely tempting to tag along, but hey, there's always time for Janjaweed and malaria another time. Sudan and Ethiopia have been on my list for some time now but that will have to be another journey altogether.

The sun set as we passed through miles and miles of farmland with occasional houses and shacks strewn across it. I made myself a tuna sandwich, called my wife and went to sleep.