Journey Perspective

Shehzadi (the Vagabond Couple's 2024 Toyota Tundra) has now covered enough ground to circle the Earth's equator nearly 1.7 times. This journey utilized approximately $11,500 worth of fuel (estimated at $4.00/gal, additives needed to balance quality of gasoline not included) and required a massive logistical effort to navigate the diverse terrains of the world's most iconic roads. At the current fuel rate, Shehzadi has consumed enough fuel to fill her tank approximately 89 times.

Road to Heaven (Swarg ka Rasta): National Highway 754K, Rann of Kutch, Gujarat, India

Alright, let's really unpack this smaller Indian epic. 10,586 km by road across 14 Indian state crossings, via India's highways NH-27, NH-19, NE-4, NH-48, NE-1, NH-44, NH-16, NH-316A and countless other local roads. Strap in, because this is the full, meandering, fact-soaked single-post summary of how our Texas-born Toyota Tundra pickup truck named Shehzadi and we - two slightly lost souls - ate up the map of India, one chai stop and mountain pass at a time. We embarked on this pan-India road-trip after our larger epic: a quad-continental North-America - Africa - Europe - Asia Silk Road expedition.

It all began with a negotiation. Not at a border, but with a cow. We had just rolled Shehzadi across the Birgunj-Raxaul bridge (Nepal-India Friendship Bridge, i.e. Maitri Bridge) from Birgunj, Nepal into the beautiful, blistering chaos of Raxaul, Bihar, India. The air changed instantly - thicker, hotter, smelling of diesel, dust, and something frying deliciously nearby. And there she was, a magnificent white bovine, planted squarely in the middle of the chaotic Station Road of Raxaul, as if contemplating the meaning of oncoming traffic. She didn't move. The trucks swerved. The rickshaws parted. We, in our giant American pickup, simply stopped. This was our welcome committee. This was India politely informing us that we were no longer in charge of the schedule. With a final, slow look our way, she ambled off, and we were officially on the Great Indian Overland Road Trip, our only plan to follow the squiggly line on our screen.

Standing in timeless silence at Gerdekkaya Anıtı, Çukurca / Seyitgazi, Eskişehir. This remarkable Phrygian rock-cut tomb, carved into the mountain centuries ago, tells a story of ancient civilizations in the heart of Turkey.

This chapter of our Silk Road journey, overlanding Turkey (map), continues directly from Sofia, Bulgaria to Turkey – Silk Road Overland, that subtle continental moment where Europe slowly loosens its grip and Anatolia leans in, folds its arms and says, “Fine. Now let’s talk Istanbul, Bursa, Koza Han and the greater Anatolia properly.”

Türkiye was not new to us. We had visited Istanbul and Pamukkale-Hierapolis by airplane earlier, as well as crossed the Bosporus westwards overland, tracing the Black Sea coast from Georgia and slipping into Greece, a route we documented in Overlanding Asia to Europe – Georgia to Greece. That earlier crossing left us with one of the most durable souvenirs we have ever acquired on the road: a Turkish HGS toll tag, purchased from a PTT (pronounced paa-taa-taa) office in Arhavi, still clinging loyally to Shehzadi’s windscreen like a Ottoman visa that refuses to acknowledge time.

This time, however, the intent was different. We were not passing through Turkey as a logistical necessity. We were returning to it deliberately, retracing routes that humanity itself has rehearsed for thousands of years. Anatolia does not appreciate haste. It has waited out empires far more confident than us. The landscape here feels like it's judging your timeline against its own geological clock, where millennia are measured in volcanic eruptions and civilizations are just temporary tenants.

Türkiye is not a country that exists merely as a destination. It exists as a process. Roads here are not shortcuts; they are habits, worn into the land by repetition so persistent that geography itself gave up resisting. Long before borders, passports and laminated vehicle documents, people crossed Anatolia because there was no other sensible option. If you wanted to move between Europe, the Caucasus, the Middle East and Central Asia, this land quietly stood in your way and said, “Through here.”

This is the first of two long chapters covering our Turkey overland segment of our quad-continental journey. Like the Silk Road, it unfolds slowly, layering meaning rather than racing for conclusions. Think of it as a conversation with the landscape rather than a checklist of sites - a dialogue conducted in kilometers, tea breaks and the occasional wrong turn that reveals something more interesting than the planned route.

"Drunken People Crossing" warning road sign near the UNESCO Boyana Church in Sofia, Bulgaria. A uniquely Balkan traffic sign that humorously reflects the region's vibrant nightlife and pragmatic approach to road safety near cultural heritage sites. This sign, while modern, stands in stark contrast to the ancient Thracian and Roman roads that once crossed this same land, where travelers might have been warned of mythical creatures like the samodivi (wood nymphs) or the zmey (dragons) of Slavic folklore instead of inebriated pedestrians.

Departing Belgrade on our eastward trajectory, we remain firmly planted on the ancient spine of the Silk Road, tracing the historic Niš–Sofia corridor. This isn't merely a scenic detour through the Balkans; it's one of Europe's great historical funnels, a geostrategic trough that has channeled the movement of civilizations, commerce, and conquering armies for over two millennia. Long before Romans laid their sturdy stones, this route was trodden by Thracian tribes—the fierce Getae and Odrysians—who established the first kingdoms in this region and buried their kings in magnificent tumuli filled with gold treasures now displayed in Sofia's museums. The Romans, with their characteristic efficiency, later christened it the Via Militaris, a military highway connecting Singidunum (Belgrade) with Constantinople (Istanbul). Today, modern engineering has laid asphalt over those old Roman stones, and the route is officially designated the E80, but the fundamental purpose remains unchanged: moving people and goods between Central Europe and Anatolia. The journey from Belgrade to Sofia covers approximately 390 kilometers, a distance that once took Roman legions weeks but now unfolds over a single day of driving, passing through the dramatic landscapes of southeastern Serbia and into the heart of Bulgaria.

Belgrade: Where Rivers Decide History

Church of Saint Sava, Belgrade, Serbia: Ayasofya-inspired Byzantine architecture and stunning soaring dome

Bosnia and Croatia to Serbia, onward to Bulgaria

Having driven Shehzad from Croatia and Bosnia into Serbia yesterday, we slept well in Belgrade at the Hotel Villa Bulevar, not too far from the Embassy of The State of Palestine Serbia.

That mattered more than it sounds.

Bridge on Una river between Croatia (right) and Bosnia & Herzegovina at Hrvatska Dubica-Kozarska Dubica Border Crossing

We had a comfortable night's sleep at Zagreb. The morning sun rose, golden light slipping between baroque spires and red-tiled rooftops. It was the kind of morning that practically demands a flaky pastry and strong coffee—which is exactly how we started our day, perched in a café off Tkalčićeva Street. Today was another legend, we overlanded three countries on our beloved Shehzadi (meaning "the Princess") and also paid our respects at profoundly somber memorials at a horrible Yugoslav concentration camp site.

Bled Castle overlooking Lake Bled, Slovenia

The day started with a cappuccino in Venice, our spirits as high as the tide. Shehzadi, our trusty Toyota Tundra, and Chetak, the Odyssean Journey Toyota Hilux, were humming with anticipation. Today we would not just cross one, but two international borders — three countries, a shimmering lake, a wine-soaked sunset and at least six kinds of road trip snacks.

We were headed for Slovenia, then into Croatia, in one of the most charming cross-border days of our Silk Road expedition so far. The route was postcard-perfect: Venice → Valico di Sant’Andrea → Lake Bled → Ljubljana → Maribor → Obrežje border → Zagreb.

Luigi Bevilacqua Silk Weaving Mill, Venice, Italy

We woke up in the alpine calm of our campground near Chandolin, the birds chirping, the air so fresh it could probably be bottled and sold to stressed-out city folks. After a hearty breakfast (which may or may not have included a final farewell fondue), we bid adieu to the legacy of Ella Maillart, slung our packs into Shehzadi, our ever-reliable Toyota Tundra and hit the road with our fellow adventurers Odyssean Journey in Chetak, their Toyota Hilux Invincible-X.

Sierre, Switzerland

Our heading? Italy! But not the usual boring border crossing with passport stamps and yawns. Nope. We decided to ride through the belly of the Alps — literally — on the Autoverlad Brig-Iselle car train, rocketing through the legendary Simplon Tunnel like caffeinated hobbits in pickups.

Chandolin, Switzerland

We broke camp at sunrise near Lyon, France, the sky just beginning to blush behind the mountains and the air sharp enough to wake even the sleepiest overlander. Today was the day we (a) visited the famous Silk Museum of Lyon, France and (b) traveled into Switzerland through Charlie Chaplin and Ella Maillart territory. The next chapter of our Silk Road expedition was calling and it came with silk artesans, alpine peaks, endless switchbacks and the promise of standing in the shadow of the Matterhorn and visiting the Chandolin home of legendary Swiss traveler Ella Maillart.

Pont Séjourné viaduct, Fontpédrouse, Pyrénées-Orientales, France

We woke up in our pine-nestled campsite next to Spain's border with Andorra in the Pyrenees, to the sound of mountain silence, which is to say: the occasional bird call, a rustle of wind through pine needles, and Chetak squeaking every time Odyssean Journey rolled over in their rooftop tent. The air was crisp, almost alpine-sharp, and it smelled faintly of woodsmoke and damp moss. Shehzadi, our ever-stoic Toyota Tundra, had a light coat of dew. It was the kind of morning that feels borrowed from a postcard.

Coffee was brewed, stretches were stretched, and sleepy grins passed between our two overlanding couples. The Vagabond Couple and the Odyssean Journey were back on the road. Today’s mission: leave Spain behind (temporarily), enter the fairytale micronation of Andorra, fuel up, caffeinate, and then keep pushing toward France. Because that’s what you do on the Silk Road—follow the stories wherever they lead.