The following events in and around Istanbul in December 2019 were unforeseen, uninvited and they changed my view of travel in the 21st century forever. An equally big surprise, however, was an encounter with someone I had been avoiding for far too long: myself.
- by Ward Hulselmans
- Saturday 30 November & Sunday 1 December 2019
We had been on the road for 11 days, stopping only in Portugal, when the first minor setback occurred on entering the Greek port of Piraeus.
Our berth turned out to be occupied by a Chinese cargo that had been delayed and was still loading containers. It was late, pitch dark and the port authority pointed us to a spot in the bay where we anchored. After a week of non-stop roaring, the ship's engines fell silent. Our ship lay dead still off the Greek coast, sunk in a well-earned rest.
It was a warm night.
Through my porthole Piraeus seemed very close and yet the city was unreachably far away. Thousands of lights from whitewashed apartment buildings danced on the water, but not a single sound of the city penetrated. Against the mountain range in the background shone another light - fainter and vaster - that was even more unreachable: the light of Athens. I fell asleep.The first rays of the morning sun woke me up with the roar of the tugboats pushing the ship towards the quay, just below me.
The next setback occurred during the unloading of the planned 200 containers. While we waited for permission to disembark, I leaned over the railing of Deck D with the Romanian cadet Gleb; together we watched the activity on the quay. It was nine o'clock in the morning and late November, but it was already starting to get warm. Against the slopes behind the harbour, the white houses of the suburbs flickered in the morning light.
At eleven o'clock the Greek ship's agent called the captain. Without any explanation other than that it was Saturday and he didn't feel like it, the Greek cancelled his visit. The consequence was that none of the crew was allowed to leave the ship; as the only passenger, I didn't stand a chance.
The last time I had set foot in Portugal, I was really starting to get fed up.
The Greek mainland was twenty metres below me and yet I had to spend the next few hours here, behind the railing, beset by the noise of cranes and container trucks with their never-ending siren wails.
Perhaps these setbacks were too insignificant to call them omens, but the sea is full of superstitions and somehow I got the feeling that this journey would not end as it had begun. It was just a matter of waiting. And so this day became like any other at sea: nothing happened. I could not even call home. My old €38 Nokia did not connect and I did not feel like borrowing a smartphone again; I divided the hours between my bed and a deck chair in the shade.
In the late afternoon, the mooring lines were unloaded again and under the hot sun, we sailed out to sea. Piraeus slid past on port side. The city lay baking white and vast, haughty and indifferent as an expensive whore.For the rest of the day and evening, our ship navigated further and further eastwards between the Cyclades and the islands of the Aegean, from one Instagram picture to another, until it quickly became dark.It was almost midnight when I climbed up to the bridge for my regular evening chat with Second Officer Lawrence. As usual, I took the outer steps, but on the second platform a strange sensation stopped me. Something had changed. The wind was suddenly chilly and tight and a chill crept under my thin jacket.
Deep below, the waves were crashing against the ship's side and for the first time the sea seemed threatening in its invisibility. I looked up and there was not a single star in the sky. The change closed around my heart like a cold hand.It took a while before I realised what had happened. We had imperceptibly crossed the border of the friendly Mediterranean Europe. We were now approaching the gateway to another continent that promised to be rougher and more inhospitable: Istanbul, the final destination of my journey. Sailing through the dark, past the Dardanelles and Gallipoli was suddenly not an attractive prospect. I turned around and went inside for my last night on board.
The next day, all the colours had disappeared.
Only the grey of the mountain range on the starboard side and the anthracite grey of the water remained. The sky itself was colourless.Our ship was heading east through the inland sea of Marmara and we were now 5,900 kilometres behind us. The entrance to the Bosphorus felt nasty and unreliable; there were no more wide waves. Viciously foaming and in short bursts, the water assaulted our ship's side. It began to rain.
The proximity of Istanbul announced itself with hundreds of ships anchored in the funnel to the Bosphorus, waiting for orders, for a place in the harbour or continuation of their voyage to the Black Sea. Hard drops beat against the portholes of deck E and every ship on the water seemed a shadow of itself. We left these gloomy waits behind us and sailed on stubbornly.At my feet stood my packed travelling bag and I had already said goodbye to the few sailors and officers who had become friends along the way. In my mind I was no longer here. Istanbul was vaguely visible.
On the horizon, apartment buildings and residential areas slid by for dozens of kilometres. It was not an inviting sight, but still: somewhere in this anthill of 14 million inhabitants, a warm bed in a hotel behind the Aya Sofia awaited me and tomorrow morning I would be on the first flight to Brussels.
"All right. I want to believe that you are not a crew member, but what are you?""Passenger.""Passenger.""Yes."But this is a freighter.""I am indeed a passenger on a freighter.""Give me your passport."Please.
The Turkish officer took my passport and looked at it carefully. We sat opposite each other in the captain's cabin. He put the passport back down and let his gaze rest on me. After a few seconds, the silence began to weigh. To my left, the captain twisted uncomfortably in his chair; to my right, Security Officer Lawrence lowered his eyes.On the table lay the cartons of Marlboro cigarettes the Turk had extorted from the captain in exchange for the official stamps on the waybills. The officer thought, drummed his fingers on the red and white packaging, grabbed my passport again and put it in his pocket.At once I realised that the setbacks in Piraeus and the sudden cooling of the climate had indeed been omens. They had started a chapter whose ending I did not know and which was now beginning.
"How long do you plan to stay in Turkey?"
"One night, until tomorrow morning. I sleep in a hotel in the old city, this is the voucher. Tomorrow I'll fly to Brussels on Turkish Airlines, this is a copy of my ticket."He didn't even look at the papers I pushed forward."Why didn't you come by plane?""I don't like flying.""So you have been on the road for almost two weeks to our beautiful city. And now that you are here, you are not visiting. You want to leave again immediately.""Yes.""Do you find that normal?""I find it pleasant to travel on a cargo ship.""Is that so?""The travelling itself interests me. The sea. The life on board."
I hoped he understood this, but his dark eyes told me something else: on the one hand, he was considering the possibility of taking advantage of my precarious position; on the other, Turkey was a dictatorship in the making and the bureaucracy weighed heavily on his shoulders. He did not want to make any mistakes. Who was I, anyway?He made a decision.
"This needs to be discussed higher up."The Captain nodded in relief, "Take your time. Would you like a drink while you make a phone call?""Captain, I'm not on the phone at all. It is Sunday. I don't disturb the authority that deals with this on Sundays. Perhaps tomorrow, from 10 o'clock.""Tonight my ship leaves for the next port.""That's not my problem."I tried to take over, "Sir, if you put your stamp on it, I will be out of the country by tomorrow morning. My plane reservation is fixed anyway.""I repeat. That is not my problem.""Please try to call, this really puts me in a difficult situation."
It sounded more begging than intended, but it had a favourable side effect: when he looked at me again, I saw an incipient greed battle it out with his sense of duty as an officer.I knew this special look and put my wallet on my knees. Lawrence left and the captain pretended to look at some documents; I slid a twenty dollar note across the table. It disappeared under the Turk's hand. He sighed, tapped his phone, waited for five rings and then closed it:
"Not home.""Please try again.""No way. Tomorrow.""Tomorrow the ship won't be here."That's too bad for you.""I'll miss my flight home.""Yes."Can I have my passport back?"No."Why not?""Your passport is safe with me.""When will I get it again?""Tonight at 11pm, when my shift ends. You may count on me. In the meantime, you will remain on board.""So if the ship leaves tonight, I must go with it.""Yes. You have finally understood.""What happens at the next port?""No idea. I am only responsible for Istanbul."
The Turk stood up, shook hands with the captain and straightened his jacket. The twenty dollars disappeared into his pocket. While he put away his stamp, I now placed two twenty-dollar notes on the table. It was a gamble. He looked at them, but did not pick them up.
"I understand you," I said. "You are only doing your duty. But you must also understand me.""What do you want then?""To see Istanbul."
He started laughing loudly.
The captain leaned back and smiled along. When the Turk had finished laughing, I said:"Sir, I have been at sea for twelve days straight." (This was partly a lie - I had disembarked in Sines, Portugal, and in a sort of canteen in the fishing port I had eaten freshly caught squid and a one-kilo sole, my best fish meal in years).I continued: "And now I am at my final destination and I cannot even visit your city. Moreover, I miss my night in my hotel, my plane leaves without me and I don't even know in which port this ship will dock tomorrow."
"Gemlik" said the captain dryly.
Behind him hung a map of Europe and he pointed vaguely to a place along the Turkish coast. I looked at the officer again:"I accept your point of view, maa""You also have no choice.""Give me an hour in Istanbul" I said, "It took me twelve days to get here, give me that hour, or two hours, or more if you can. I want to get to know your city, even if only for a moment, otherwise I won't even have a souvenir, just a bad memory. It is really worth something to me."The emphasis was on the last sentence, but not enough, for he did not give a shout.
"I don't need a taxi", I said, "maybe you have someone in the family who doesn't live far away. And take me there and back"."What do you want to see?"The bazaar, the bridge over the Bosphorus.
He thought for a long time. Finally, he nodded:"Possibly I know someone yes. It could be, if he feels like it. It's Sunday.""Thank you.""But your passport stays with me.""Of course.""Your smartphone stays here on board.""I only have an old mobile phone."I put my 38 € Nokia on the table. Somehow it reassured him that I was still totally retarded communicatively."Where is your luggage?""It's with the watchman.""Your luggage is also staying here.""Agreed."He sighed for a moment and said:"I have a cousin who might be able to drive. One hundred dollars.""That's too much.""It's Sunday.""Still, it's a lot.""And it's an hour's drive. And another hour back."It sounded plausible and I said:"Agreed.""You pay half first.""Agreed.""You have cash, right?""Of course."I took out my wallet and put ten dollars on the two twenty notes."Fifty together" I said.He smiled sourly, but there was something in it of appreciation, he was beginning to see me as an equal opponent."Another ten. For my patience with you" he said."I really appreciate your understanding."
I put another ten-dollar note on top.
His honour was saved. It was a mad rush on my part, but I suddenly didn't give a damn about the money. I had to see my final destination, how would anyone ever believe that I had travelled twelve days for nothing?I only hoped that the ATMs in Istanbul worked, because I only had three five-dollar notes left.
"That's settled then" he said."I prefer to leave with my passport.""No. Ask if the captain will make a photocopy, that will do. Your passport stays with me."
Half an hour later, the Turk guided me past the heavily armed soldiers at the checkpoint of the container quay. He pointed to a dark grey Toyota that was waiting in the rain with the engine running.Leaning through the window, he talked to the driver and then straightened up again. He beckoned me over and, without saying goodbye, walked to his own car that was a bit further on. I pulled open the door of the Toyota and got in. The car shot forward and I felt as excited as a little boy on a school trip.
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