It is Sunday morning in Antakya. The streets still deserted, except for a few remaining revelers. I stagger through the streets with my backpack to the south. Direction Yayladğı ", the border to Syria. Suddenly, what stands in the heel. A nail in the last "technical repair has pushed himself.
I hop into a bus stop and try with a pocket knife, pull the nail out. No chance. How do I get around this time, a pair of pliers? As I look up from my focused Fummlerei, a man with pliers and a screwdriver to me. I scream a "Yeah, exactly! I need you!"
The nail is out flux. Insanity so lucky.
All day I walk up to a Hochplatteaau. After
ca.25km. without civilization, cold wind and little shade, I see at the end of a long line a plate. This is not ... yes, that's a restaurant!
A young couple has opened the nice restaurant yesterday.
I am invited to stay overnight and get a Sleeping in a giant hammock on the terrace. So beautiful, I've slept often.
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