Hitch-hiking is not only a cheap way of getting around (you don’t really get much cheaper than free), but it is also a great way to meet locals and practice your handle on the local language.

So far, in Turkey, most people want to know how old you are and whether you are married or not. For a female, it is always safer to say yes. If you are travelling with a male, pretend you are married or engaged, even if you’re only friends. And always sit in the back or closest to the door. Never sit next to a Turkish male, he might see this as you soliciting sexual advances from him. Crazy, but it’s very common.

If you’re name is Natasha or Tatiana, or anything remotely sounding Russian or Eastern European, consider making a fake name just while you hitch-hike. Turkey has a history of female sex workers coming from these parts of the world, so much that these names have become synonymous with prostitution.

And dress modestly, even conservatively. Denim short and a singlet top may not get much notice back home, but in rural Turkey, you will be turning heads.

With all that said, hitch-hiking is super fun and incredibly easy in Turkey. You will never be waiting for more than 15 minutes, and most often you’ll be picked up between 30 seconds to 5 minutes of sticking your thumb out.

I hitch-hiked with my partner this time in Turkey, and we were amazed at how easy hitch-hiking is in Turkey. Cardboard signs usually helped to communicate where we wanted to go, but also unnecessary. Muslims who practice their faith, firmly believe that you have to help someone who looks like they are in need. And guess what, when it comes to hitch-hiking, being in a predominately Muslim country like Turkey means you will always get picked up.

We learnt key phrases in Turkish such as: Hello. How are you? What is your name? My name is… How old are you? I am .. years old. Are you married? We are married. Do you have any children? No, we don’t have any children. Maybe later. Where are you from? I am from Australia, He is from France. We worked in a small hostel in Kadikoy, Istanbul. Where are you going? We are going to … I’m sorry. I don’t understand. I speak Turkish, only a little bit. Thank you. Goodbye.

I was always pretty quick with languages so I did most of the talking, as my French partner search through a French-Turkish dictionary we had bought in a second-hand bookshop in Istanbul, pointing at words and creating more interpretive but highly hilarious conversations.

Even though it is easy to hitch-hike, you still have to keep sharp. You’ll be riding in a cloud of smoke (everyone smokes in their car in Turkey), in some dodgy cars where the windows don’t wind down and it is almost 40 degrees outside, plenty of Renault 12 models, trucks delivering tomatoes and cucumbers across the country, the occasional drunk driver at 3pm, Turkish men evading the police (and don’t make jokes about your immigration status unless you want to further unleash their paranoia), Turkish men who think masturbating while driving is ok, and even a Turkish mobster in an Audi sportscar who needs to do a small detour to speak with his friend “Stefano” who owes a Ferrari with personalised number plates (you guessed it, also “Stefano”).

Mostly, it’s harmless, interesting and entertaining. But if you’re not up for the hitch-hiking experience, just use the local dolmus system.