Here is the excerpt from my diary of August 1, 1992
Back on the Black Sea, we passed miles of tea plantations punctuated by enormous tea factories until we got to Trabzon where the car stopped and refused to do anything. The bump at Doğubeyazıt had wrecked the battery mounts and shaken it free, whereupon the casing had been punctured. By Trabzon, all the acid had leaked out. While car park attendants gathered to laugh at the car, I went to get a new battery while [my girlfriend] checked us into a brothel.
We thought it was a hotel but soon found that the only occupants were loud, semi-clothed Russian women (long-term residents) and furtive-looking men (short-term). Going downstairs one day, we passed a fearsome, screeching woman dragging a struggling little man into her room. We didn’t get involved.
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