During weekdays Maria is working. I explore the city a bit, but mostly need to prepare. I made the decision to fly back to Europe. Rome to be exact. Why and how I’ll explain in the next story. For now, I need a bike box. A suitcase would also not be a bad idea, since I doubt I can carry my five bike bags and separate tent with me just like that. The suitcase Maria gifts me. The bike box I find at a local Trek Bikes specialist, who I also ask to check my right-hand shifter. For two days now, it seems like a spring has broken. A metal piece stays extended whenever I change gears and I have to shove it back in manually to be able to shift again. Mert will dissect the shifter, but messages me the same day that the whole thing needs to be replaced. And oh yes, my chain, brake pads, brake discs, rear cassette, two front rings, derailleur pulleys and all cables should be changed too. I doubt that. But once he starts sending me pictures of almost snapped cables and brakes that my discs ate into, I start thinking he might be right. It costs me half a fortune, but once I get the bike back it rides as new!

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Then comes the last night, that I’ve preceded with a premature nostalgia for Turkey, that consisted of trudging through chaotic downtown, taking in the smells, the sounds and looking out over the bay. Maria and I sit on a terrace and decide to talk about what we’ve been avoiding all these days; Corona. Before we do however, we lay down one ground rule: we shall not try to convince or debate each other, we will just explain what we think and where that’s coming from. It’s more than interesting. She doesn’t believe in the mortality of the virus, or at least thinks it’s exaggerated, and is convinced all the measures are put in place by both the WHO and the World Economic Forum to make advancements in technology and artificial intelligence. I on the other hand, believe COVID to be a global pandemic that is quite mortal and the vaccines and measures are in place to combat that. We both make our arguments and try to see the other’s reasoning. Aside from what we believe the most interesting thing to me is that we’re living in completely different realities. We have the same script but we’re watching different movies. And because we believe that our truth is the truth and the only truth, there’s no point in convincing the other. The root of what we see as true is different. The essence of our realities does not match. It costs me a lot of effort not to debate and engulf her with facts, because yes, I’m convinced that my reality is based on facts and hers on delusion. I believe my reality to be superior to hers, yet she thinks the same. It’s a catch 22. There’s an insurmountable difference in which we can just explain, but not debate, or get closer to each other. I feel like if the crux of our thinking differs this much, then how can we ever come to terms? It’s problematic to me. Not in the last bit because I find such theories and the subsequent behaviour are harmful to others. At the same time, we do have fun, we can have deep conversations and we do laugh. In that sense I value our interaction a lot, we haven’t alienated or disrespected each other. If we were in a different setting, let’s say at home in Amsterdam, we might not have been friends, let alone have had this conversation. Now I can say, and I know Maria hates this word (please forgive me if you’re reading this), I’m friends with a wappie. For that I’m thankful.