Hitching Istanbul to Chalkida - Seventy-two hours.

This is where point-form commences because this is where hours start to blend into one another and sleeping four - let alone eight - consecutively becomes virtually impossible.

Lose my wallet somehow when departing Gate 13 of Gatwick Airport, Istanbul-bound. Meet a 22 year old man on the plane who is going home to see his mother and sisters for the first time in 15 years. Arrive in Sabiha Gokcen airport with absolutely no idea where we are going. An officious, loud man demands Josh pay for a visa. To this day, we have no idea how much it actually cost us in Canadian dollars. Men at the phone-card booth feed us bread sticks and joke about making me fat. A friendly man with an adorable daughter helps us make a call to Canada. Follow the legible street signs and get on the highway. The first driver to "pass" us thumbing slows down and teaches us about Turkish hospitality. Drives us around for two hours, calls his friend on the phone who speaks English to help us communicate, takes us to meet another friend who speaks English and then to his steel factory where he gets food delivered for us and tries to talk us into taking a bus to Greece. Giggle at the sight of his seven half-clad Russian workers which causes them to duck out of view. Finally, our new friend drops us off at a truck stop where we can catch a ride with a trucker.

Stop in at a gas station across the street looking for a map and make more friends. The man and girl working at the gas station have no map, but feed us cookies and drinks instead. They joke with us and we talk using freetranslation.com for at least an hour. The man offers to let us sleep in his office overnight as there are no trucks going to Greece before nightfall. Calls his friend on the phone who speaks English and Josh tries to get our points across. Drink cup after cup of "chai" with men at the stop and eat the most tender, delicious buns ever tasted. Thick haze of smoke as everyone in Turkey has a cigarette lit at all times. Night falls and we catch a ride with a man headed to Edirne, the closest town to the Greek/Turkish border on his route.

Spend all night awake in a Turkish diner making friends with the employees. Language barriers prove to be no problem, eternally grateful for the Turkish-English phrases we copied at Gatwick. Sun rises and one of their friends drives us closer to Edirne, which we then walk into. Classic Turkey, all old men sitting around smoking, drinking chai and dressed too well to explain. Horse and cart combinations on the street, visit a beautiful mosque where an ancient lady jokes with us. Meet an eighty-year-old German man who invites us to lunch only to tell me he hasn't gotten laid since his wife died five months earlier and talk ceaselessly about his "schwanz" once he has sent Josh to check the menu. Get a ride out of Edirne to the border with two old German men who take us out for tea, where one of them hops into a truck and disappears. Leave Turkey astounded by the incredible hospitality, certain to return.

Cross into Greece - the border patrol officer is the spitting image (both physically and in temperament) of the young war hero in "Inglorious Basterds." Quaint Greek border town where an old man feeds Josh and I grapes from his garden, then his friend (another German!) drives us to the next town. Eat some bread - staple of our journey thus far as it is so cheap - and hitch a few more rides - the last with a Turkish trucker - 'til we make it to just outside of Thessaloniki. Spend the night wandering the highway in search of the right direction, only to fall asleep in a dirt field looking up at Greece's eight stars. Wake up bright and early only to find hitchhiking in Greece far less easy than in Turkey. Eat some spanakopita in the sketchy dirty junkie district of Thessaloniki, meet a woman at the bank who speaks perfect English and gives us 10 euro from her own pocket to get to another bank where we can change money since she "doesn't want us walking." Realize that in urban Greece, the women love their fake blonde hair, sunglasses and pancake make-up. See some of the biggest behinds we have ever witnessed. Already, Greece = unforgettable.

Catch a ride from Thessaloniki with Terry, a very outspoken typical New Yorker, "Brooklyn-Style baby." Gives us an unofficial tour from the car. We see Mount Olympus, and many other ancient landmarks, all through the haze of his constant cigarette (and etc.) smoke. He gives me a David Sedaris book, ao appreciated. Drops us off in Volos after relaying many terrifying tales, where we eat lunch and finally cave, giving into the lure of cheap train tickets to Chalkida. Train all night with the most ludicrous snoring man, bus onto Evia early this morning. Two minutes of internet left, so that is all as we make our way to Sunshine House and the promise of a good night's sleep.

Love to everyone,
Dewi and Josh