Having seen what there was to see of Erzurum, I woke up and lazed around reading for most of the morning. As you may have guessed, it was raining again so no incentive to move. I had booked my bus to Doðubeyazýt (pronounced doh-ouh-bey-azhut) and promptly turned up at the bus station well in time for my bus. The usual cup of Çay (Turkish tea) was offered and then the bad news was broken: The 12:30 Express to Doðubeyazýt had been cancelled but that it was ok for me to take the already delayed 15.30 bus if I wanted. Trying to express my frustration was useless as the bus conductor simply patted me on the shoulder, pointed to the seats and repeated "tamam, tamam", turkish for it's ok. It certainly wasnt as I now had a four hour wait in a bus station which had nothing to do. So I sat drinking cups of tea and reading. Not long though, the curiosity of a foreigner in Erzurum struck the passing locals who managed between them to string some sentecnes of English together with much hand waving and I tried my best to use what little Turkish I have picked up. Before long, the polite chit-chat became serious.Through the aid of a bilingual dictoinary, the subject of religion was broached. Not satisifed by my response that I was a Christian, one guy called Wahit decided I should repeat various Turkish words after him and that I should be renamed Nihat in Muslim sense. I wasn't particularly comfortable repeating things I didn't understand, but he kept insisting and I thought it the best way to keep him happy, and myself occupied. Fortunately, before I could convert completely, the bus arrived and I said au revoir.

I have finally understood why so many people sit around drinking tea, especially in bus ticket kiosks. The bus companies can't (for some unkown and utterly uneconomical reason) sell bus tickets directly. Instead their agents do it for them and take a nice healthy commission which means that it gives several grateful people, who would otherwise be unemployed, the chance to make some money and of course inflates the price to the customer. Consequently however, the ticketeers try and sell one seat three times, meaning that when I got on the bus it was jam-packed and most people had to stand. Only the foreigner (me) actually had a properly reserved seat. The oercrowdedness wasn't helped by the fact that a very large man who took up one and a half seats was sat next to me - or rather I should say on me.

Once again we all had to get out at a military police check. It was here that a young man also called Mehmet (I reckon this is the most popular name I have encountered in Turkey) spoke to me in extremely good English (but with hints of an Australian accent). He was a Lieuteneant in the Turkish army's special forces and on his way to the military base (and his home) in Aðri. He explained to me why the East of Turkey had these military checks. They are checking to see that all people have done their military service and also for agents and foriegn spies. I feel thrilled that maybe back on the bus to Erzurum the military police had mistaken me for some sort of Swiss James bond using the clever disguise of shoddy clothes and a backpack to get around Eastern Europe rather than Black Tie and an Aston Martin.

The conversation was going perfectly well until I mentioned  that in Turkey I supported Fenerbahce and was annoyed that the bus was so late meaning I would miss the top of the table clash with Galatasaray. Mehmet's eyes suddenly lit up and once again Turkish hospitality was offered. I politely declined the offer to detour via Aðri and watch it with him and his wife on their projector screen. But Mehmet would have none of it and insisted. Feeling fed up by the whole day's journey and the fat man sitting on me, I accepted his kind offer, though with some trepidation that I had agreed to go to a complete stranger's home.

Whilst it was perhaps not the wisest thing to do when looking back, it ultimately proved the most charming and warmest hospitality. Mehmet and his wife Everita put European hospitality to shame and food was served constantly with beers. I could do nothing to help but cheer for Fenerbahce which I duly did as they toppled Galatasaray 4-0.

The town of Aðri mostly supports Fenerbahce and afterwards car horns were sounded in the street as the townspeople celebrated. We wandered the streets dressed in our Fenerbahce shirts soaking up the important victory. There were no problems as the Glatasaray fans had obviously decided it was best to hide away and the only minor fright was from a local policeman deciding to fire two pistol shots into the air.

Returning to their appartment we sat watching the highlights of the game and ended up chatting and playing the guitar. It was truly the most amazing and warming detour and one which I was ultimately glad to have taken.