WOTblog

by M.E.Romero ‘Is this Ayvalik?’ I ask the driver as he gestures for me to leave the coach. ‘Evet, Ayvalik,’ he replies. I call Hilal. ‘Alo?’ she asks with her soft voice. ‘Hi Hilal! I’m really sorry to bother you again at work,’ I say embarrassed. ‘That’s ok, don’t worry. Everything alright?’ she asks. ‘Well, I need to get a Hotel room and I don’t want to ask the taxi driver, might end up back in Istanbul!’ I explain . ‘Could you please have a quick look in Google for me?’ ‘Sure, give me twenty minutes. I’ll call you back,’ she says. ‘Please, can you make sure that it’s located near the ferry dock? That’ll save me time tomorrow,’ I explain. ‘Sure!’ she confirms. ‘And don’t worry about the cost, it’s just for one night. I want to be in comfort so, five star is ok,’ I say. ‘Ok, I’ll call you back,’ she says. I spot a cafe by the entrance and sit outside. I get a çay . The tulip glass too hot to handle. The flies an intermittent pain. The heat is beginning to subside. The sun paints A...

BEST DAYS AND NIGHTS IN BCN By: Becky Blake When: Saturday night Where: El Raval Who: 2 Belgian friends and me What: First excursion on my new bike and Festa del Raval “I’ve got a bike you can have,” said a friend of mine after listening to me complain for the umpteenth time about the unreliability of the Bici system. “Although it might need a bit of cariño.” Hmm. I knew what that meant. I could picture my future bike, rusty and orphaned, forgotten under a leaky tarp at the back of his roof terrace. “How much cariño?” I asked. An hour later I was struggling home on the metro with a folding bike that was missing a seat, and a seat post. There was a gigantic lock with no key attached to the back. The tires were flat, possibly from a puncture. The bike was really, really dirty. I was not feeling super confident about my mechanical skills, but after an afternoon of trips to the ferretería for tools, and to Decathlon for a seat, I felt like I had bonded with “Ibiza” and we were ready to go ...