What a day.
We had made it to South Eastern Turkey and even got a chance to relax a bit before heading out for the ferry to Northern Cyprus. We knew it would be a long 36 hours, but first thing in the morning we had no idea how stressful it was to become later!

Although we were up about 8am, our boat wasn’t until midnight so we had a few hours to kill at the port.
We were treated to a cracking sunset…..

….. and then an even more beautiful ‘moon-rise’…..

At first it looked like the sun had risen again at 8pm – the moon was like a sunflower head over the sea.
Only 30 minutes later it had turned from a sunflower head to a silver dollar. Beautiful.

We made our way round to the port gates around 9pm for the boat and presented our car documents and papers. No problem there, except we were told that Helene couldn’t enter through the cargo point with the car and I would have to drop her at the personnel gate, 2 miles away at the other end of the port. Neither of us were particularly happy about being split up, but it would only be for a short time. After we found the right gate (typically – no signs, no instructions) I found my way back to the cargo entrance to get the car through. I was a little apprehensive as we’d not had much luck with ports so far and every time we’d encountered difficulties it had been Helene’s winning smile that had finally charmed the staff into getting us through. I didn’t fancy my chances much on my own.
However, it was a breeze – 40 minutes later I was in the port and found my way to the main terminal to look for Helene.
Unfortunately, Turkish port regulations in Tasucu meant that cargo traffic (me) wasn’t able to mix with any of the people traffic (Helene). The best we could do was chat through the security gate from 10pm (after we found each other and worked out the regulations) until the boat was due to sail at midnight. Not very welcoming.

The sailing time of midnight came and went and we were still separated, as all the containers were still being put on board. Finally, around 1 in the morning Helene was told go to passport control and to board. We agreed that whoever got on first would find chairs for the two of us for the 9-hour crossing (no cabins, restaurants, bar, showers etc on this tub!).
By about 1.30am all the trucks had been loaded and I was brought a note from Helene by the ship’s Chief Electrical Engineer to say that he’d found us some seats and that he’d given her a tour of the ship and made her a cup of tea.
All going well, my concerns were obviously unfounded.
I was told to load the car on the end of the deck amongst the trucks and we’d sail immediately. As I got to the top of the ramp an officer checked my papers one last time (another pointless formality I thought), then blew his whistle like a trumpet and told me to get the car off the boat as my papers were not in order and lacked a particular Police stamp. I tried to explain that my wife was on board but their English was even less useful than my Turkish.
Helene’s pal (the Chief Engineer) was called and said I’d have to remove the car, get the stamps and sail on tomorrow’s boat. I wrote a note for Helene which he said he’d deliver and bring her down to me at the Police office.
Bugger!
By the time we both met up again, the Turkish Authorities had worked out which stamp I was missing and things seemed to calm down again. Helene was told she must re-board the boat as her documents were already stamped and I was told to drive over to the Customs hall for a check.
Neither of us were particularly happy, but she was ushered onto the boat by the Engineer. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said ‘I’ll be with you once they’ve checked the car‘.

The Engineer came with me as I raced the car up to the Customs Hall, jumped out, left the engine running & the door open and ran in to get my papers stamped. The Customs officer spent 10 minutes looking surly, scrutinising my papers and then said I couldn’t travel and would need to sail tomorrow. I explained that my wife had been put back on the boat and that all my papers had been checked and stamped previously.
The Engineer argued with him in Turkish for about 5 minutes. The Customs man stared at me like I’d got a condom full of cocaine stuck up my arse then said aggressively ‘You come‘.
I went through his office and met with what, I hoped, was a plain-clothed Police man: T-shirt and jeans, gun on his hip. I was led through a side door but, instead of finding another office, he and his pal put me into a Police car and told me we had to go to the police!
We drove about 8 miles into the town and to the main Police Station (deserted at 2am), where we went through a maze of grey corridors and finally stood in front of the local Chief of Police. From what I could gather, my ‘kidnapper’ explained to him that this idiot Englishman did not have the right papers and, after about 10 minutes of the Chief studying me, he finally took a rubber stamp of his desk and thumped it into my passport.

Did you ever see the film ‘Midnight Express’?………
I wasn’t sure if that was a ‘Guilty – 10 years hard-labour‘ stamp or a ‘Bloody Idiot – get him back to the port‘ stamp.

Fortunately it was the latter. Back to the port (blue lights blazing on the Police car) and the Land Rover was exactly where I’d left it – still running, door open, lights on.
By this time, I was really worried but resigned to Helene having sailed off without money, a phone or any idea where I was while she was stuck in Turkish Cyprus until I found a way to get over there, hopefully 24 hours later.
Somehow, over two hours after it was ready to sail (3 hours late) the boat was still there. I quickly pulled the car up onto the ramp, wedged it on the end between the trucks, went up the ladders through the cargo holds (not even staircases on this boat – let alone a cafe) and was shown by the Chief Engineer to where he’d found chairs for Helene.
The chairs looked like they’d come from a 1940’s Aeroflot plane that must have crashed somewhere and been sold for scrap but, after the nonsense of the last 5 hours they were a welcome sight.
I only slept for about 90 minutes of the crossing as I still seemed to be full of adrenaline and when we arrived mid morning only got the briefest moment to chat with Peytre (our saviour, the ship’s Chief Engineer) who it seems had managed to convince the Customs Office to take me to the Police Chief for the passport stamp, then delayed the ship till I got back.
What a great guy. So typical of the mix we’ve found in Turkey – ridiculous, aggressive, confusing, uninformative bureaucratic ‘Officials’: and yet friendly, helpful and welcoming people everywhere else.
Peytre, 2nd from the left below (only able to grab a quick snap as we disembarked since we were perched on the end of the ship, holding up the unloading).

The rest of the day was a breeze (by comparison). 2 more hours of Customs clearance and buying insurance in Girne (Turkish Cyprus). A bargain at only $200 combined – even though we were only going to be there 1 day. Then we drove to Nicosia where there is a crossing point through the United Nations controlled ‘no-man’s-land’ between Turkish and Greek Cyprus.
This was established after the 1974 fighting and seizure / occupation of the north of the island by Turkey and is still taken seriously (although relationships between the 2 countries are much better these days).

Took us 2 hours to find the crossing point and 2 more hours of numerous document checks, rubber stamps and queues to get through – very swift by Turkish standards.
When we got through the Turkish Cypriot border, we were waved down by the Greek Cypriot Customs. Here we go again we thought, 39 hours of this crap and we’re still not done.
‘Come into my office‘ said the Cypriot Customs official, ‘Would you like a seat and some water. I just need to check your documents and will only keep you 5 minutes – we don’t go in for any of that Turkish nonsense here‘. And he was right. Couldn’t have been more different. Marvellous.