WITH Bulgaria seeming like a distant memory and Scandinavia a flashback to a past life, I am sat in an internet cafe in Albania's chaotic capital, Tirana.

Aiming for Alexandropolis in north eastern Greece, we set out from Sozopol (Bulgaria - keep up!) south for the Turkish border. Passed by ever more excitable and dangerous drivers, the border appeared in what seemed like no time and we began the lengthy process of entering north- western Turkey.

The first patrol, sat in a small tin office high in the hilly borderlands, simply wanted our passports and vehicle documents. Happy with them (only after some discussions about Sarah's temporary V5), he handed us a small memory stick each which we were to take to another office around the corner.

Around the corner, a small gathering of un-signposted buildings gave us no clue as to what to do with our newly-acquired sticks, but he had mentioned something about the police so off we trotted to the friendly policeman sat in the main building behind a grubby sheet of glass.

"You need visa first" he said in understandable-enough English.

Next door, another glass bowl housed an extremely grumpy, portly grey-haired man. A visa would cost us Euros or dollars - absolutely NO Bulgarian or Turkish money could be handed over. Working on the basis that he didn't really mind how much as long as he received something, we used some of Sarah's dollars and returned to the police with our shiny new visa stamped, rather frustratingly, right in the middle of our passports and upside down.

Next, vehicle import. Again grumbling about Sarah's V5, the large moustashed man said, rather sternly 'No!'. 'No what?'

'Green card.'

Regardless of what the suited men and women of the EU, DVLA and your lovely insurance companies may insist as regulation, yes you DO need a green card (that it seems must be green) to travel abroad. Attempting to explain that a nine-till-fiver on the phone in the UK said that regulations state that a valid insurance certificate is fine to a non-English speaking Turk (surrounded by police with guns) is impossible. Stood in line to fork out more dollars for a green card, I grumbled about how I bet no insurance directors have ever actually tried entering most of Europe with their own trusty (white coloured) insurance certificates.

An hour passed and all was fine as we headed into a very hot and bustling Turkey. Entering the first town for food, postcards and stamps, we negotiated a new road system of every man for himself, swerving frantically through traffic on a roundabout before coming to a halt on the side of the road beside a park in which old men were playing chess.

Sarah went to grab the goods from across the road whilst two young boys cautiously approached. Two things interested them - 1. two girls had just arrived by motorbike, something that we realised greatly disturbed all Turks.

2. Our boots were filthy and they had the equipmewnt to right this problem.

Leaving with a fuller belly, postcards and free Turkey flag stickers courtesy of a friendly shop keeper, my boots were now also black again. This was not ideal as previously my boots had been made up of an array of logos and, more importantly, reflective strips. Still, for the grand cost of a Euro, I was happy!

Turkey put on a good show of beautiful views, fantastic coloured buildings and drying laundery and was all the while introducing us to the incredibly friendly inhabitants.

All too soon, Greece loomed ahead of us and I was sad that Turkey would never have the chance to be explored on this trip - although I'm sure we will be returning as soon as time and money allow.

The border crossing was simple enough, although it was leaving Turkey that took the time as we had to prove that we had been riding the bikes since entering. A further 30 miles skipped by beneath our trusty wheels and finally the sea expanded across a very blue horizon as we passed the city of what I will call Alex for the sake of argument. Pulling off the smooth fast motorway at the first sign of a village, we stumbled upon a clearing out on a headland that overlooked the glistening water and parked up for the night. A dip in another new sea later and we curled up on our roll mats for a night sleeping underneath the stars (put more simply, we didn't bother putting up the tents.) At this point, I will have to leave you hanging for reasons that I will explain in the next blog that should (all being well) be uploaded later today. Keep that position on the edge of your seats ready for the story of how we got to Albania.

Mike.