What I am asking myself here in Trabzon is: would it be better to spend a few days immersing myself in one place and then travel longer distances at a time, rather than hopping around every day? Perhaps this has something to do with the abrupt cultural change – Russia became strangely familiar to me; the encounters were enriching, but as a democrat I would wear myself out there. Now, in Turkey, the world is turned upside down in several ways: alongside the authoritarian bureaucratic state, clan structures, religion(s) and gender issues dominate everyday life. I want to settle in so that I can better understand my counterparts (men for now; where are the women here, anyway?) and become more socially agile. What’s more, the distances are enormous: it’s well over 1,000 km from Georgia to Istanbul…
So I decide to drive straight to Sinop on the “northern tip” of Turkey today. 450 km in one go. Nine hours… I think I can do it. And I experience a unpleasant surprise: along the entire Turkish coast, I am confronted with strips of rubbish, branches and foliage 50 to 200 metres wide. I try to navigate between these strips as best I can, but every now and then I get caught in them and have to switch off the engines and free the propellers from the branches. No, I don’t like the sea here. In fact, the Black Sea looks like a bag (when viewed from high above): all the dirt stays inside and there is minimal exchange with the Mediterranean. That’s why everything that isn’t organic should be fished out, or better not let in at all. The Black Sea is turning into a rubbish dump. And the neighbouring countries don’t seem willing to change this.
About an hour before Sinop, the sea begins to roar and the waves lash against the ArgoFram. I cut through them head-on and feel the fatigue – the long period of concentration is taking its toll. In the new harbour of Sinop, I notice that there are no ships moored there … and realise that they have all retreated to the old, smaller harbour. The new harbour is purely for fair weather, and the old one is now crammed with private yachts, fishing boats and two-storey excursion and party boats. All the moored boats are connected in two or three rows; no one is going out today. The smaller boats are hanging behind the larger ones – I sneak my way to the front, moor alongside a party boat and ask the owner if I can stay here overnight. Naizin, a shirt-sleeved restaurant entrepreneur with a boat about 30 metres long, agrees. Electricity is included, and I can connect my cable to his on-board socket!
As soon as I’m ashore, after more than ten hours at sea, I look for the harbour master (who doesn’t want to know anything about me, though). Then I take a tour of the harbour area – I like Sinop, it’s very relaxed here and very compact, a holiday resort for Turkish compatriots, including many returnees from Germany! I quickly make contacts and have good conversations; it’s the first time I’ve spoken German in a long time and the time flies by. At some point, I climb over several boats back to the ArgoFram and fall into bed, exhausted.
The next day, I follow in the footsteps of Diogenes (who lived in the 4th century BC), a philosopher who was not only a free spirit but also a radical cynic. The cynics cultivated a lifestyle that was free of material needs and self-sufficient – but they had the highest standards for life and consciousness. (Diogenes described himself as “Socrates gone mad” and as a cosmopolitan, a citizen of the world (!) who moved from here to Athens to teach… and to stir people’s minds so much that personalities as far-reaching as Alexander paid him homage. And were promptly given a cold shower by his radicalism!) – Here in Sinop stands his monument. And it seems to me that he is appreciated, anecdotally – but no one wants to be showered with his words or reminded of his reflections. His insights and pointed remarks are too unsettling.