Filed under: Travel
Gallipoli
After waiting with a handful of other Aussies and Kiwis outside the Aya Sofia, I boarded the TJ’s Tours bus, and headed the five hours out to the Gallipoli Peninsula, to a small town called Eceabat: the closest to the Gelibolu (Gallipoli is an anglicised version of the Turkish name) National Park. From there, blue totes full of processed snacks and a couple of bread rolls were thrown into our laps (including an oh-so-tacky-that-it’s-cool red and blue bucket hat with embroidered Aussie, Kiwi, and Turkish flags), and we headed out to the organised chaos of the Anzac commemoration site.
Anzac Cove at sunset.
I’ve seen plenty of pictures of the scrubby place, which again reminded me of the scrublands south east of Adelaide (like near Wellington), but none with the massive infrastructure of the commemoration: it was like being at the Big Day Out, with big screens, volunteers and safety officers in fluro safety vests, and a ‘pre-dawn program’ consisting of documentaries and music performances to entertain the sea of sleeping bagged attendees. We were pretty late: arriving at 8pm, we were forced to find spaces to lie down on the fringes. Some people, arriving at 3am, had to beg spots to sit. I couldn’t see the main event, but being directly under a big screen, I could watch everything happily as I froze to death on the hard ground. I didn’t know anyone there – the bloke I’d been talking to on the bus disappeared (he hurried in to score a spot at the front), so instead I sat with a discontented and homesick beauty queen who alternately scowled and flirted with the cute guy behind us. Luckily, I sat near a Turkish Australian photographer guy who told me about the Turkish side of the event – he pointed out the young Turkish kids from nearby towns who’d come down to see what all the fuss was about. The Turkish who live nearby, he said, thought we were a bit silly to sit in the freezing cold (and usually rain) all night for a service at dawn, in the middle of a national park, in the middle of nowhere, on the other side of the world. I thought that was hilarious. Later when I saw some of the Turkish memorial service, I could understand their amusement: whereas the dawn service and Lone Pine services were solemn, reflecting affairs, the Turkish services were bubbly and full of life, with traditional dancing and up-beat music. Oh, our oh-so-British misery when it comes to memorial services.
But anyway, back to the music-festival-that-was-actually-a-memorial-service:
Sea of Sleeping bags
This year, apparently there were 7,000-8,000 attendees; previous years were as high as 25,000; last year were 10,000.
Big screens. I slept to the right.
Dawn breaks, everyone wanders around dressed in flags and sleeping bags.
I was impressed, though, at the amount of Turkish people who did come: I would really have thought it wouldn’t interest them. But I think the Aussie and Kiwi governments, who pay and organise the whole thing, would like greater Turkish participation in the day – the brochures issued included Turkish translations; excerpts from Turkish documentaries were shown (including one by a Turkish filmmaker that was excellent – narrated by Sam Neil and Jeremy Irons, I’m going to track it down when I get home), and the Turkish President apparently included a video message alongisde Ruddy and the Kiwi Prime Minister (however, I must have been asleep for that bit, because I don’t remember seeing any of them). There was also a lot about Ataturk, the commanding officer in charge of the Turkish forces who fought in Gallipoli, and who later went on to be the driving force behind Turkish independence and democratic reform; he later became good mates with Australian and Kiwi Prime Ministers, and it’s because of his goodwill and respect for us foreign invaders that we have such a good relationship with Turkey today (and can take over their sacred national park for a massive event every year like we do, and can host thousands of drunken 20 year old Australians, which is a hard sell in any country).
After the ceremony I hung around in a high position, waiting to see if I could find Brad and Pamela, who I knew were there somewhere (earlier in the morning, I’d been waiting in the toilet queue when Brad tapped me on the shoulder).
When I found them, we all headed up the steep hill that leads to the Lone Pine memorial site for the Australian service. Again, big screens and grandstands, though this time we sat amongst graves instead of grassed lawns (though, technically, given the amount of dead buried randomly throughout the peninsula, every part of the Gallipoli National Park is a grave site). At this point it was near impossible to stay awake – the announcer, an ABC journalist with a funny goatie, asked the crowd not to ‘lay down’ amongst the graves, but here and there people slumped dozing.
In the chaos after the memorial, some were choosing to head 6km uphill to Chunuck Bair, for the New Zealand service; the rest had given up already, crashing wherever there was shade. I lost Brad and Pam in the throng, and decided to head uphill. Mistake or not, I made up for the oily (but delicious!) Iskender kebab I would eat later that day in that grueling trek – and I didn’t even attend the Kiwi service. However, the sun was out, and the views across the Dardanelles were without comparison: I was kicking myself that my camera battery had died earlier that morning (tuckered out by Topkapi Palace and the Dawn Service). There was a reward at Chunuck Bair though: Turkish Icecream, chewy and wonderful, though no comparison to gelati, of course.
The NZ service ended at 1:30pm. Now, imagine getting 7500 Australasians onto tour buses all at once, in a tiny one-lane road, in a national park not that different to Belair. Imagine the chaos. Our tour organiser was ‘mates’ with the local police, so our buses were the first to leave, thankfully – but some friends didn’t get out till 7pm. Meanwhile, we were ferried, exhausted, cold, and grotty, back to Eceabat, where we had a bizarrely civil three course dinner, and met the infamous ‘TJ’ responsible for all the insanity.
Enduring memories of the dawn service:
1. It was f___king cold. Thankyou thankyou thankyou Caro for that sleeping bag! It saved my life.
2. As I sat near the food stalls, the enduring sound of the night will be ‘kebab! kebab! Chucken kebab!’. The pushy capitalistic ’Kebab/Kebab’ sellers penetrated even in this little fantasy zone, even though there were no other choices for food as we were a good 10 kilometres from the nearest market or take away store.
3. Turkish capitalism extended even further than in Istanbul. I expected to find a carpet seller just a few stalls down if I’d kept walking. Instead there were guys selling polyester rugs and cushions, starting at 30 lira at the beginning of the night, leading to 5 lira just before dawn; home printed ‘ANZAK’ t-shirts and jumpers; random second hand clothing, beanies and gloves; 5lira coffee (thats $5 AUD – not filtered, Nescafe of course); and even Aussie and Kiwi flags.
4. An appreciation of Ataturk – he was the Nelson Mandela or Abraham Lincoln of his country – guy did some good things.
4. And, a feeling of gentle horror, dealt by an Andrew Denton documentary – an excerpt of which was shown before the dawn service: he walked in a plow field on the peninsula, and picked up shell casings, bullet casings, teeth and human bones from the cracked soil. Every part of the peninsula is a cemetery. As I was walking up the gravel road to Lone Pine, I looked down with a sick feeling in my stomach expecting to find a piece of soldier somewhere.
Returning to Eceabat, I lay straight down on my bed after checking in and, like everyone else, slept until late evening. I had that Iskender kebab (lamb kebab with a tomato sauce and yoghurt – really really good), and joined the others to watch Gallipoli; I survived up to the point where they’re in Egypt, and went back to bed.
Battlefield Tour
My tour included a tour of the battlefields the next day. It was a case of revisiting everywhere I’d been the day before, except more awake and with a guide.
TJ is a Turkish Eceabat native, who grew up in a nomadic Turkish village, before somehow ending up living in New South Wales. He said his name refers to his ‘Tom Jones’ haircut. Now married to an Australian, he spends his summers alternately in Australia managing a Turkish restaurant in Aubury Wodonga, and in Turkey managing his hostel. He’d become somewhat of a Gallipoli national park expert, and his tour of the battlefields is the best of the (many) tours I’ve taken in Turkey (and there’s been some shockers).
Unlike the day before, which had been warm and clear, the day we returned to the battlefields (in which I actually had a working camera), it was rainy and overcast until the afternoon. Brilliant.
Geographic map of the peninsula - one long ridge, surrounded by beaches and scrubland.
TJ demonstrates where 'Anzac Cove' is on both maps.
Anzac cove, with WWII bunkers.
WWII Bunker.
Grave stone of John Simpson, the Donkey guy.
- The ‘Sphinx’, named so by the Anzacs in affection for the Egyptian sphinx which they’d trained under.
- Wreaths from the previous days ceremony dumped by the cleaning crew.
- Statue commemorating the Turkish soldier who carried a Brit to safety.
- Lone Pine memorial with wreaths.
- the ‘lone pine’ at Lone Pine. Grown from the seeds of the original, which was cut down in the course of the hand-to-hand battle that happened here.
- Australian trenches.
- Aussie tunnel.
- Turkish gravestone. It means the boy, Mehmet Jarahimoglu, from Gelibolu, born 1890, died at 23 years of age.
- Turkish memorial.
- Ataturk at Chunuck Bair.
- Turkish trenches near Chunuck Bair.
- TJ tour group, me on the left.
The tour continued the next day with a visit to Troy, Assos and TJ’s parents village …
Filed under: Travel
Istanbul Main Events
In Istanbul the biggest (and most ridiculously expensive) sights are the Aya Sofia, a 1500 church slash mosque built by the Roman Emperor Justinian, and the Ottoman built Topkapi Palace.
Aya Sofia
She looks like a big red monolith of bricks, bubbles and boxes from the outside; and she’s falling apart on the inside; but she’s still incredible. Incredibly huge, and architecturally ambitious, this shrine to ‘Holy Wisdom’ (‘aya/hagia sofia’) was built by Justinian as a Christian cathedral. When the Muslims arrived, the Byzantine mosaics were whitewashed and modifications done to convert it to a mosque; Ataturk had the wisdom in the 30’s, when Turkey gained her independence, to convert it to a secular museum. Now renovations continue, jostled by competing relgious interests over which period each section should be restored to reflect: the Christian mosaics or the Islamic frescos?
She’s in a bit worse condition than, say, St Peters in the Vatican (her only real rival for historical significance), but just remember 1500 years old.
Aya Sofia, exterior.
It was rare to get a shot of the Aya Sofia without a hundred white coaches included: the front carpark is usually stacked head to tail with tour buses. In fact, most tours to/from other parts of the country, including my tour to Gallipoli, departed from there.
Fountain outside side entrance of Aya Sofia.
Outside of every mosque there will be a fountain with sinks where the faithful can wash their feet and hands before entering the sacred place. The one outside the Aya Sofia was absolutely opulent and elegant.
Emperors Gate ... renovated by Tim the Toolman.
I entered via the side Emperor’s Gate – armed with Anne Marie’s Rick Steves book (on a side note I’d always been dismissive of Rick Steve’s travel books, but they’re actually pretty good if you want to avoid taking guided tours, and still want to get as much as possible out of each site.) The door here is massive and gorgeous; only problem, at some point in history, someone had the bright idea of raising the floors so … the gates can never close. Smart thinking that.
Looking into the main auditorium.
She’s opulent. She’s big. She’s multi-dominational.
Restored cielings.
Side dome.
Ah - Holy Virgin Mary mosaic above the altar ... yep, definitely a Christian building.
But wait - isn't that an Islamic altar, subtly tilted towards Mecca?
Look at all the little ants next to the scaffolding ... now do you have an idea of the massiveness of the place?
So, yeah, it’s a huge massive basilica. Significant and worth seeing – especially when the renovations are finished, potentional in 2050.
Topkapi Palace
The other main draw is the massive opulent Ottoman Emperor’s palace, right behind the Aya Sofia, and with line of sight to the Blue Mosque.
It’s a bizarre mixture of traditional Turkish architecture with a little Versailles thrown in. It’s ridiculously expensive – $35 AUD in total, including entrance to the Harem – but, hey, I and thousands of others paid it.
Entrance gate to Topkapi - with minaret of Aya Sofia to the left. It is literally behind the Aya Sofia.
Above the pergola standing outside the entrance gate. I think it may be a tomb?
Italian influence cieling rose.
Well worn entrance.
Me not taking photos in the Treasury, very very sneakily.
Emperor's uniform in the treasury.
Summer palace cieling.
Gates near Harem entrance.
Now who is like Versailles?
European inspired decoration in Harem.
Harem audience room.
Cielings in Prince's quarters.
Emperor's bedroom.
Cieling in Harem.
Harem courtyard. Awesome architecture.
Gardens at Topkapi.Overall, I was a little under-awed by Topkapi.
I have been ruined by the amazing palaces at Versailles (France) and Potsdam (Germany); I was hoping for extreme ludicrous Arabian opulence; while there were moments in the Harem, most of Topkapi is quite plain; either that, or the more extremely beautiful rooms didn’t survive or aren’t on display. How much is there yet to see?Apparently I’ll get my fill of Arabian opulence when I head south … can’t wait.
Further notes on why Istanbul is awesome
The Tulips. Seriously, this was the best time of year to visit Istanbul – did you know tulips originate from this area? They’re everywhere – ‘Flanders’ Poppies, too. I’ve gone insane taking photos of wild flowers, tulips and poppies.
Random bits of Byzantine/Roman/Ottoman architecture. Bits and pieces, excavated during renovations and construction, are scattered throughout the city. Ruins are everywhere. Wandering towards the Chora Museum, we discovered an aqueduct (Roman), and an old mosque (Ottoman) and of course, the Byzantine church which is the Chora Museum – 1600 years in one three hour trip. Nice work.
But I can’t get over the bits of Roman architecture just sort of … around:
Roman random architecture. And more tulips.
So, from here I loaded up my bag – sans any souvenirs as I was still in shock at Istanbuli prices – and headed to the Aya Sofia unofficial bus station and joined TJ’s Option 5 Tour: 5 days on the Gallipoli peninsula, including side trips to Troy, Assos and a ‘home cooked meal at TJ’s parent’s house’ …
Filed under: Travel
Reading: East of the Sun, about British women and their dreadful naievity in colonial India. Now I’m reading The Perks of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky, apparently one of the top 10 texts which American readers want banned for under 18’s (hence why I was reading it) and you know what, it’s excellent. Every kid should read it.
Doing: Today, sleeping in a cave. Best sleep of the trip so far. I contemplating going down the street to get a kebab, but really didn’t feel up to dealing with the kebab-kebab!/want-to-buy-a-carpet? people today.
Watching: Who forgot to tell me that Good News Week is back on??? Thank god for iPod touches, I can download it on the road.
Istanbul
Finally, I’m on a computer that isn’t ready for the scrapheap, and due to the serious lack of occupancy in this hotel, I can pretty much use it for as long as I want, so I can talk about my trip so far.
Right now I’m in Cappadocia, on the tail end of the Turkey section of this adventure, and I’ve been to Pammukkale, Selcuk and Gallipoli so far.
But going back to where I left off, I was in Istanbul.
Like I said, it’s a pretty wicked city, if filled with crazy drivers, somewhat interesting public transport and want-to-buy-a-carpet sellers.
The Orient really was a shambles: Brad and Pam came for the Anzac party on the 23rd, but I was so sick of the place that I and another guest I met – Anne Marie – retired to our room with smuggled kebabs and ayran, and I missed them. The $5 kebab I ordered, which ended up being upgraded to the $12 kebab without my knowledge, is below: it tasted like re-heated spam and frozen spinach. The rich was alright though. And the wine was very very nice, although ludicrously overpriced.
This meal cost me $20. Not happy Jan. I thought this was supposed to be a low-socio-economic country?
But anyway, I wasn’t there to sample to hostels.
The Grand Bazaar
Grand Bazaar
… is a lovely tourist attraction, but not quite the bargain hunters paradise I had hoped. I was in quite the disagreeable mood on the day, which doesn’t help when you are hasseled by “Yes! Madam! Please! Hello! Hola! Bonjour! Where are you from?” at every other moment. I did enquire about some prices, but wasn’t in the mood for haggling, especially when I felt I was being taken for all I was worth. I ended up buying my scarf from a seller who advertised his prices: oh how I love it when things have price tags!
For the traveller to Turkey, I do have this advice: if you’re only going to Istanbul, then sure, buy from the bazaar (if you’re prepared to haggle aggressively, you might get a decent price). But if you’re going to any other part of Turkey, then wait: I’ve found most stuff goes down in price once you get closer to it’s point of origin. For example, a backgammon board I looked at in Istanbul was 30lira; the same one in Selcuk 20lira, and I finally bought it in Goreme for 14 lira (from a lovely old guy whose items all had price tags! Yay!).
Also, with the Grand Bazaar, get out of it: go for a walk through the rabbits warrens of streets to the north, and you’ll find the bazaars that the locals shop in, eventually leading you to the Spice bazaar, another tourist attraction. It was rather nice (this was where I got my scarf from). I almost bought the place out of lokum (Turkish Delight), though, so it’s dangerous.
Spices in the Spice bazaar
Basilica Cistern
Basilica Cistern
… is a Roman underground water tank. Awesome for photographs.
One of the Medusa statues
There are two Medusa sculptures in the cistern, one upside down, one on her side. They were apparently stolen from some conquered city sometime previously, and placed here to protect from evil spirits.
- Medusa on her side.
Chora Museum
… is a Byzantine church in which magnificient mosaics were discovered covered in whitewash when the church was convertered into a mosque. The most interesting thing about the church though was the walk there. I went off with American/Brit Anne-Marie who was armed with a Rick Steves tour guidebook, and vague directions from the Orient’s desk clerk. We ended up lost, but wandering past several interesting places, including the remains of an old aqueduct, and the Fatih Camii, a rather pretty mosque (on the outside anyway); and down a main street lined with bridal shops, featuring the most decadent and frou frou uses of synthetic lace and taffeta I’ve ever seen. We did also see the ruins of the walls, and an old palace, now crumbling besides rows of slums.
The Chora Museum was really difficult to find: it’s in the middle of nowhere and it’s not until you burst into a square filled with overpriced tourist shops and touts that you find anything resembling a museum is nearby. It’s also surrounded by slums, shanty shacks and slowly degrading ruins, being a residential area.
But, with the help of a local and a Belgian couple in search of the same place, find it we did.
It was stunning. Incredibly wealthy benefactors at some point supported the creation of these mosaics which are so far beyond anything I’ve seen up to this point. They are so finely formed and detailed that they appear like paintings. Notably, they’re a lot more realistic and advanced than the medieval art I’ve seen much of in France, Italy and Germany – clearly the world lost a lot when the Roman empire collapsed.
Blue frescos, totally gorgeous.
Silk cut marble slabs.
There was a colourful array of marble brought from all over the mediterranean. Noticeably were the symmetrical marble sections as seen above – these are created by cutting marble blocks into fine slices using silk. Yes, silk, the only thing fine enough and strong enough to slowly saw through marble in those days. This kind of decoration is all over Istanbul, including the Aya Sofia.
Jesus mosaic, incredibly finely detailed. It's not a painting, it's done with mosaics.
Restoration works brought out what they could of the mosaics, then left the remaining spaces bare, showing the circular structure underneath.
- Lovely dome, with spines structure, covered in gold mosaics.
Blue Mosque
One of the main draw cards is Sultanahmet, the Blue Mosque. Oh she’s pretty, and she’s big, and you know what the best thing is? She was free.
The Blue Mosque
She was also the first mosque I’d ever visited. It’s famous for having an unheard of six minarets – apparently, the Ottoman Emperor was a bit of a megalomaniac. When he was chastised for building as many minarets as the mosque in Medina – a big no no – and was ordered to tear one down, he instead paid for a seventh minaret to be built in Medina.
But the inside is gorgeous:
Interior of the Blue Mosque.
Well, now I’m dead tired and my cave-room is calling me. There’s still Aya Sofia and Topkapi Palace to come: the main events in Istanbul. Bye.
