Day 7: Silivri

“We in Istanbul do not really understand the politics against Armenia”
—Alaattin Balta

The next day I walked out of my hotel and walked to Alaattin’s Honda Service. We were both on the Asian side, and it was no more than a 15 minute walk. On my way I met a real motorcycle-only washing service, and 2 policemen on a Varadero who wanted to wash their bike.

See the couch and the armchairs on the background? That is a general sight here even for outdoor places of least significance (like a motorcycle wash service down in Kadiköy)! The guy resting on the armchair is the owner of the place.

In Honda, Alaattin was already waiting for me. “Your tires have arrived 5 minutes before you!”

While usta was changing my tires and balancing the wheels, me and Alaattin were talking about things. Apparently his grand grandparents had moved to Turkey from Adigey Republic long ago.

“We in Istanbul do not really understand the politics against Armenia”, he shrugged

“So, do you think I am safe here?”

“Of course, no problem at all!”

I wanted to finish early, because I wanted to ride to Silivri to meet some of my Armenian friends who also happened to be in Istanbul with their own affairs. There was also a Portuguese lady who I really wanted to meet. So I rushed Alaattin Bey.

“Women eh?” he smiled wide. I think he was really into women. “Women!~”

Alaattin was really proud of the job his usta did on my bike, and I was pretty happy as well.

“We are connected to Honda’s global motorcycle maintenance system. It is completely online. Every single thing that we did on your bike is recorded in the system. So next time you take your bike to any Honda in Turkey, Europe, USA or Armenia, they will have access to all that information!”

“We don’t have an official Honda in Armenia!”

“Really? How many motorcyclists are there in Yerevan?”

“Very few!”

“Very few? How few? Around 500?”

“Around 50!”

“50? Five and one zero? How many people live in Yerevan?”

“Over a million!”

“Aslan Bey!” he yelled to the chief usta, followed by something in Turkish, laughing.

“I just told him there are only about 50 motorcycles in Yerevan! That is crazy! Maybe I should open business there! Do you think there is good potential? In a million-man city with only 50 bikes there must be!”

I didn’t know what to answer. “Maybe if you promote motorcycles really well, people will start riding!”

“We’ll stay in touch about that” he concluded.

They took the motorcycle off the stand and washed it. Alaattin then rode his beautiful white motorcycle with me to the nearest petrol station where I could refuel.

Turkish 95 fuel looks much different from the Armenian 95 (“Premium” as we call it in Armenia). It is a lot greener and its smell is much more intensely chemical.

“Use  95! 97 fucks your motorcycle! Also be careful for the next 200 kilometers because of the new tires, and be easy on your brakes! Ride safe, call me if you need anything!”

“Thanks a lot!!”

I rode to Silivri. That is about 80 kilometers from the Asian side of Istanbul. After the carburetor tweaks and the new fuel, the motorcycle was flying! I felt like I had purchased a new motorcycle with at least 20 more horsepower!

The way people drive in Istanbul deserves a separate dedicated post, or perhaps a dedicated book. But anyway, the motorcycle ran perfect, the roads were awesome, and I arrived in Silivri to meet Masheé and Dina and spend some fun night at a beach with dozens of young foreign architecture students from all over Europe.

Day 6: Honda

“Normally, we are the best Honda service in all of Turkey.”
—Alaattin Balta

The bus was some huge fancy Mercedes and the comfort level was no less than in the Airbus A380 that flew me from San Francisco to Paris.

The personnel of the bus were extremely helpful in trying to make sure the motorcycle is fitted securely and arranging my actions after I arrive in Istanbul.

Some of the crowd, however, were not exactly the positive kind. A couple of guys on the back seats who were waiting for the same bus at the station were very obviously talking about me and making some jokes between each other.

One of them finally found the courage to speak.

“From?”

“Armenia”

(giggling) “Ermenistan?”

“Yeah”

“City? Erivan?”

“Yerevan”

“Yeh-reh-van! …What is?” he points at the Leatherman tool on my belt

“My Leatherman”

“Give!”

I handle him the Leatherman with a smile on my face. They play with it a little then give it back to me. How very typical.

“Photo!” they noticed the camera on my neck. They pose. I take a photograph. They make me show it to them. They don’t like the result. “Again!” — I take one again. “No, delete!” — I delete it.

“What is?” this time they point at my watch

“My watch” I shrug

“How much dollars?”

“Quite a few!”

“Give!”

“No way” I smile

“Gift to me?”

“Dude I am not giving you my Timex Expedition as a gift, sorry!” I know he doesn’t understand what I’m saying

“Change!” he points at his crappy $10 watch

“Sorry, I am not interested”

“Gift, gift!”

“No, sorry!” I smile wide again

I change my seat. They keep laughing about some things then get bored with me. Good.

After 18 hours of driving, 3 thirty-minute breaks and an annoyingly snoring man next to me, we arrive at Istanbul. The bus driver calls Honda, tells them where he “unloaded” me, tells me “wait here” and drives away. After about 40 minutes a white minivan with the Honda logo arrives. Two energetic young people ask me — “Motosiklet problem? Erzurum?” and as I nod they load my motorcycle into the van. I feel safe. It is a great feeling to know you can count on your brand!

As we drive in the van, the guys ask me questions. The one in red looks more shy than the driver who is in white. So the driver asks.

“…From?”

“Ermenistan”

“Ooo!”

After a while of driving we arrive at an official Honda “servis”. It looks very impressive. A mid-aged man approaches me with a welcoming smile and pretty decent English.

“Where are you my friend! I was calling you, but your phone was off!”

Meet Alaattin, the owner of the most awesome Honda motorcycle dealer and repair service you can imagine. After 5 minutes my motorcycle is already on the stand, and an “usta” is working on it.

 

 

 

 

The guy with glasses on the last picture is Usta’s apprentice. His job involves looking closely to what Usta does, handling him some tools if he asks for something, pumping air into the tires if needed and unscrewing the bolts Usta asks him to. Screwing them back is handled by Usta.

The folks have every single tool for the job. How do you find out the RPMs of an engine if the tachometer is broken? This is how!

Alaattin has about 10 motorcycle stands and all of them are busy. Judging by the amount of the motorcycles being serviced and the amount of those parked outside waiting to be serviced, the business is good.

The guys are doing a spectacular job at extraordinary pace. Alaattin talks to each customer personally.

“Have you eaten anything?” he asks

“Not lately I have not!”

He calls some guy who runs his affairs. After 15 minutes two kebabs and a can of coke are waiting for me at the personnel’s room.

Alaattin is aware of every little detail about his business. Oh and he loves to use the words “fuck” and “normally”. People say he is a “dinosaur” in motorcycle business in Istanbul. He’s been around since the 80ies of the past century. After repairing my bike Alaattin personally gives it a test ride to ensure everything is fine.

“It runs very good now!”

“Thanks, you guys got really awesome service here!”

“Thank you! Normally, we are the best Honda service in Turkey!”

“You look like you would be!”

“You need to change the tires as well, they won’t be good after less than a thousand kilometers!”

He is right. My tires are worn out. The worst part is, there are no motorcycle tires in Armenia.

“OK, how much would that cost me?”

“About 300 dollars for both!”

“What about the service cost?”

“It depends on whether or not you are taking the tires!”

“I will take the tires”

“Then the service will cost you $250!”

“Do you think you could drop that a little for me?” (long live Uğur!)

“What is your suggested price?”

“I don’t know… $200?”

“Deal!” — he dials Michelin and places an order for my tires. “The tires will be here tomorrow! You can leave your motorcycle in the store, and take it tomorrow after we change them — it is safe here! Do you have a hotel you will stay in?”

“Not yet!”

“Normally, I would offer you to stay in my home. But I have a 1 year old baby girl and she cries in the nights, so unfortunately I cannot do it now.”

He calls one of his employees.

“I will tell him to ride you on his bike to Deniz Hotel. We have a deal with them and they give our customers lower prices!”

“Perfect!”

The guy who rides me looks like a very typical Armenian kebab type of a person wearing an earring — an exceptional combination! I try to take some pictures as he rides me through Istanbul’s chaotic traffic.

Boy oh boy, my motorcycle is fixed, I got new tires, I only spent $550, and Istanbul looks amazing!!!!