“Adana?” he repeated, presumably to ensure there was no confusion with Antakya, Antalya or any of the other similar-sounding places in Turkey. “Erm, yep, definitely Adana” I replied, tentatively fingering the newly-acquired train ticket in my pocket, not wanting to bring it out in public, lest I look even more unsure of my destination than I was already.

“Well, there’s a pleasant bus station, some nice skyscrapers….and your friends the Americans have a base there”, he chortled. This travel agent, one of many who lined the streets in tourist areas of Istanbul had a hastily-printed sign on his door: ‘Ask me, I know’. In this particular case evidently all he knew about Adana was that it was not somewhere worth going to. As I turned to go out the door, I flung back: “but it is easy to get to Halep (Aleppo), no?”

“Oh yes, my friend- many buses”

Any idea of times or access to a timetable? Of course not. Oh well, I’d have to wing it once I arrived. Worst case scenario, I’d heard, a taxi could do the 4 hour journey for about $90. Heading back onto the street, I could at least be reassured that whilst the ticket in my pocket took me nowhere, that nowhere was roughly near where I wanted to go.

And an American military base too, eh? Before any CIA agents reading this get interested, I had no intention of climbing any fences. However, a vague recollection of American nukes based in Turkey being involved in negotiations around the Cuban Missile crisis did spring to mind, as did an article I’d read just a few weeks ago about the US removing it’s nuclear weapons from the UK, leaving only those based in Turkey and the Eastern European countries it has bribed and coerced with aid.

So, if I’m guessing correctly, sometime tomorrow I’ll be passing the place from which, thousands of miles away, Armageddon could one day be unleashed, with hundreds of these things, I imagine, currently still pointed at Russia, China and a few other places. A brief point of interest, I suppose, if not quite the dramatic scenery one might wish for.

The scene in front of me is growing to be an increasingly familiar one, yet not entirely disagreeable. Train window to my left, compartment door to the right, sink and mirror in the right hand corner, desk/ cupboard in front of me, and seated in an arm chair which folds down into a ready-made bed. I have decided, ladies and gentlemen, that this is the way to travel. In terms of political aspirations, let’s just say Abe Lincoln and his campaign train had the right idea.

In terms of layout, my cabin in the Istanbul-Adana overnighter is exactly the same as those 24 hours I spent from Belgrade to Istanbul, albeit with a 50 year great leap forward. The sink is usable, there are power sockets, a restaurant car, and- get this, my very own fridge and thermostat.

Such exuberance makes the hostel where I’ve spent the past 4 nights look like a total dive (which is was, but a palace in comparison to the gloriously grubby Balkan express). To echo the phrases of my travel guide, what it lacks in character, it makes up for with a few of the creature comforts which, I’d imagine, will be missing in the kinds of places I’ll be staying in Syria.

Unfortunately though, the exhilarating exploits aboard the Serbian train are not to be repeated- a last minute and unexpected lack of any alcohol for sale at Hayderpassa station put paid to that one. Expecting no restaurant car, I however took the self-indulgent opportunity to go native. It’s bullshit of course- 90% of Istanbulites shop at the local supermarket like the one next to my hostel- but one particular ulterior motive of this trip has always been to play out my Orientalist, T.E. Lawrencesque fantasies.

What better way than to spend the morning roaming the Bazaar behaving like a discerning buyer of kilos of Pistachios, Dried Figs, Pistachio Lokum (Turkish delight), cheese, olives and bread?. It’s all very good, although I suspect it may necessitate a visit to the (shudder, although admittedly immaculate) squat at the rear of the carriage.

So I do, once again, find myself rattling through darkness, cocooned in my own private apartment, not 100% sure of where I’m going, but feeling unexpectedly relaxed and at ease. No night-time border crossings to worry about here either. Fingers crossed I’m on the right train though- having done my research, Istanbul-Adana forms part of the Berlin-Baghdad railway. Assuming the train stops where it’s supposed to, more on that tomorrow.