An Excellent New Cycling Buddy Shares the Morning

     I must confess I've been holding out on you-- my "four" (?) readers!  ;-) Last weekend's ride was very beautiful... but there were some socially fun parts, too!
    On the way to the "Laughing Village" a small truck nearly ran into a herd of about 45 sheep & goats. (What I call the "Laughing Village is one of the friendliest villages in the area, where children often just come up to me and start laughing before launching into fits and starts of English and Turkish questions.) The goats had been parading slowly along, taking up  most of the lane. The truck only just managed to stop. I forgot myself and shouted:  "What are you thinking?" even though I knew the driver couldn't hear, and probably wouldn't understand if he had. The shepherds seemed completely unfazed by all of it, and just kept going. They gave me a quick "What's the problem?" look. I kept going. No problem. I hear that a lot from my students, from teachers, and now... from my new cycling friend, Kadir.
     Kadir is truly extraordinary. From what I've been able to gather, mainly from our basic English/Turkish conversation (and partially after introducing him to a Turkish speaking friend over pizza and soda) is that he is from Gaziantep, and wants to ride for the Turkish Olympic team during the next games. First he must go through a series of competitions around Turkey during this bike season.
     I can sense that there may be some disbelief out there... along the lines of:  "What? How did you-- a slow, middle-aged language teacher-- meet an elite cyclist?"
     Random good luck. After passing through the Laughing Village, I concentrated on the beautiful farmland and rolling hills around me. I forgot everything. I was in my cycling groove. Finally I reached the top of the long incline and sped slightly downhill, and then woosh! Into the Quiet Village. It took 8 months of riding through the Quiet Village before I felt everyone (me and the folks who live in the village) was ready for me to hop off my bike and buy something at the store. In May I finally went further than waves and "Merhaba." I bought some water and fruit juice at a roadside shop-- chatting with the women and small girls there in Turkish. On my way back two of those little girls ran up to me, and presented me with flowers. I was so surprised, and appreciated their welcoming gesture very much.
     So, back to Kadir. I was just wooshing into the Quiet Village and then suddenly I realized the woosh of bike tires had gotten a lot louder. It wasn't just my old hybrid's two tires anymore... I saw about 20 or so racing bike tires all around! I couldn't believe it and forgot to speak in Turkish.  I shouted in English "Wow! What is this?" Then there was a crash in front of me-- just as we approached the little girls' family's shop. One rider with this uniform-wearing serious looking cycling club had ridden over a giant stone on the side of the road and just wiped out. I saw blood on his elbow. Once again, in a semi-emergency situation, I completely forgot to use Turkish and shouted "Are you okay? Are you okay?"
     I saw that there was a trainer/coach kind of guy on a motor bike who sprang into action and started helping the injured rider. All of the other riders stopped. One rider in the pack spoke English and started chatting with me. He assured me there was "No Problem." The other rider got the help he needed. We continued on to the Tiny Village... and then parted ways as the competitive cyclists headed on for the challenge of the extremely steep Road Cut Out of the Giant Hill. When I first moved here, I was fit enough to peddle straight up and over that hill without a second thought.. now, if I take on that hill I sacrifice a half an hour of additional scenery because it is exhausting! So, I took the scenic, winding, slightly flatter route instead. We exchanged info and met later that day for coffee and chatted, in basic English and very, very basic Turkish about bicycles. It involved a lot of drawing, diagrams, and pointing at pictures of one of my training-related books. Soon afterward, Kadir told my friend that he had only just discovered the route where we had met over the weekend. I "corrected" him:  "No, no, I discovered it in October!" (Joking, of course; he got the joke. Whose route is it?!)
    That evening Kadir presented me with a Turkish team jersey, and I wore it on a "slow training" ride with him at 6 a.m. this morning. While riding with Kadir I learned a few ways to make that route just a little better. I felt so incredibly lucky to have met someone who also knows how cool it is to discover a new route. Yes, I was very outclassed as a non-athlete on my used hybrid-- but he didn't make me feel at all silly. He quite simply treated me like a friend-- a cycling buddy.  During the ride, Kadir taught me how to say "right, left, and straight (go ahead)" in Turkish. We conversed as tractors passed us, and children greeted us on the roadside.  I introduced him to the shopkeeper at the Laughing Village. 
     For the first time since I've arrived in Turkey, I feel like I've found a long lost cousin-- someone who thinks about what I think about, and lives in a way that is in some ways a little similar to me--  only he is really taking it to a whole new level. I really do feel honored and lucky, and I wish him all the best with the season's races... for Kadir-- and for all cyclists-- I wish safety, health, joy, and happiness. Ride with peace and joy, just for the pleasure of riding through it all. During our short, one-and-a-half-hour "slow"(for Kadir) training ride, we kept checking in with each other: "Are you happy?" Answer:  "Yes, I'm happy!" Response: "Good.... wonderful...Beautiful 'Antep?" Answer:  "Yes. Beautiful."