Cycling through Turkey brings more than just miles — it’s history, humor, and the slow anticipation of reaching Cappadocia. From Sivas to Şarkışla.
Today’s ride (Day 16) was supposed to be simple – a few dozen kilometers, a couple of climbs, and the usual supplies of water, bread, and chocolate bars. But Turkey always finds a way to surprise you.
Sivas
I stopped in Sivas, a modern city layered with ancient history. Among its lively streets stands Şifaiye Medresesi, one of the oldest preserved hospitals in the world. A stone courtyard, delicate arabesques, a small fountain in the center – it still carries a sense of quiet healing.
Just a few streets away rises the Çifte Minareli Medrese, with its twin minarets reaching confidently toward the sky. The place feels like an open-air museum – a silent witness to the Seljuk and Ottoman eras that shaped Anatolia.
And then came a scene straight out of a travel comedy.
A lonely gas station in the middle of nowhere. I walked in – silence. Not a sound.
“Hello?” Nothing.
I went outside again and there, on the porch, sat an old woman knitting. Next to her, a man was lying down, half-asleep. I thought: poor guy, waiting for a repair.
But no. When the woman noticed me, she nudged him sharply, muttered something like “Get up, customer’s here!” – and he jumped to his feet.
The gas station owner himself! 🤣
After that, I pedaled from Sivas to Şarkışla, laughing at the absurdity of it all, until I reached the claim.
Şarkışla
When I arrived in the town of Şarkışla, I immediately felt that it was a place from another world. This small town in eastern Anatolia seems peaceful, quiet, and yet lively. The streets are lined with old houses and local mosques, reminding us that history is not just found in museums here – it breathes from every corner.
The surrounding area offers exactly what every cyclist is looking for: hills, valleys, and roads where you can truly connect with the landscape. Every turn, every climb makes you feel that you are in a place that you cannot just drive through in a car. I slowed down for a moment, looked around, and realized that this is where I feel most present – among the locals, among the mountains, among the history and silence of Anatolia.
I sleep in a workers’ hostel – 14 euros per night, a bed, a shower, and clean linen. After days in the mountains, it’s like luxury at the Hilton.
Tomorrow, I should finally get to Cappadocia. And honestly, I can’t wait.
