Wide Awake on the Sleeper.

by Sue Kullai (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

I didn't expect to find Turkey

At 3am, on the border between Turkey and Bulgaria, someone boarded the Istanbul-Sofia sleeper train. I will never know if he was a Turkish citizen trying to smuggle himself into Europe, a cunningly disguised border guard, or just a chancer looking for free food. In October last year I celebrated reaching the advanced age of 60 with a train trip through eastern Europe starting in Istanbul, a city I've always longed to visit. After a blissful week exploring the iconic city, I pitched up at 10 o'clock one night in Halkali, a suburban station 25km west of Istanbul. It was cold and spartan in the waiting room and I was glad when a guard came in calling "Sofia! Sofia!". I was so excited to get on the train, my first time on a sleeper. I knew that we would have to get off at 3am on the Turkish border to have our passports stamped, but that was just part of the excitement and exoticism. I'd paid the princely sum of around €35 for a private compartment. I had a bed, a fridge, a sink and a cupboard. Clean sheets in a bag and an overenthusiastic heater completed my facilities, and when I discovered crackers and juice in the fridge, it felt like Christmas. We set off. I made my bed, read my book, ate my crackers, drank my juice, peered out the window and steeled myself to visit the steel squat toilets. I was too excited to sleep and when we arrived at Halkali on the border, I was ready with my passport when the call came. The process was fairly easy, except when I was asked to fill in a form detailing how much money I'd spent in which currencies on what foodstuffs during my time in Turkey. Maths was never my strong suit and it was a bit like taking an exam you hadn't prepared for in the middle of the night, in a cold concrete office under a neon light. Luckily, I passed and when I got back to my compartment I though "OK, now I can sleep". It was around 2.45am as we moved slowly off and I settled in my bunk. BANG BANG BANG! on the door. "Passport!" Again? I got up and proffered my document. Back to bed. BANG BANG BANG. Man with torch searched my compartment. Back to bed. The train stopped. I twitched the curtain aside and peered out. All I could see was rolls of razor wire, fog and spotlights in the darkness. BANG BANG BANG. "Passport!" This time it was Bulgarian officials and they took my passport away. I waited uneasily. I didn't know where we were or why we had been there so long. It was slightly surreal: I thought I should be worried but I actually wasn't. (I realise how privileged I am to live a life where this is not a terrifying experience). Giving up on sleep, I lay on my bunk and waited for the next instalment. All the train personnel seemed to have disappeared. We were motionless in no-man's land. The fog swirled. There was a faint smell of smoke. I could hear the two men in the next compartment having a snoring competition. (How? How can they sleep?) Suddenly I heard a loud "Miaow, miaow!". Sliding open my door, I saw a tabby cat stalking down the corridor. He disappeared into the compartment of a couple of young Korean girls, the ones with fairy lights in their room. Do they travel the world with fairy lights? And cat food? You know that mildly hysterical feeling when you haven't slept and you're not sure if you're hallucinating? BANG BANG BANG. Passport returned. After another hour, the Istanbul-Sofia express finally moved off at non-express speeds. At last I could sleep. Except I couldn't. I lay on my bunk and watched the sun come up over the forests of Bulgaria as we rattled into Sofia two hours late. I never did find out what happened to the cat. Maybe he got off again on the border. Maybe he fancied a daytrip to Plovdiv. Maybe he lives a life of luxury in Seoul now. It's good to travel.