In week two, things started to settle down. I’d done most of what I was meant to for uni, and had found some friends to hang around with. It was some time late during this second week that my roommate (yes, roommate) arrived. I was quite excited about this, and still am. It’s great living with a Czech person, because it means that I can actually practice my Czech without being limited to ‘hello’, ‘how much is this’ and ‘my name is Nick’. It’s also quite good because, as I forget if I’ve mentioned, the people in the office of our dorm don’t speak English. None. The one who does is over in the MAIN office, which is open some days, 9-5. The result: a very grateful Nick that when the proverbial hits the fan and my little translation dictionary isn’t holding up, there’s somebody to put out the fires. I swear it was only through his help that I got to wash my clothes. I think I had been insulting someone’s mother before that.
Prague is definitely a beautiful city. However, I haven’t really seen that many of the touristy sites. Charles Bridge was noteworthy of course, but packed with people from 8am – 10pm. Prague Castle looks amazing but, like so many other places, I haven’t yet been inside. There is also a Salvador Dali (my favourite artist) exhibition on Old Town Square, which I noticed on my first day but still haven’t been to. But I’ve rationalised all of this. It seems there will soon be an almost constant stream of Australian friends and family, including Emily, coming through Prague over the next few months. So, I can tell myself that it’s not because I’m lazy, but that I’m waiting to see it with my old friends. Good excuse, huh?
But, consistent with the phrase that you never do the things in your own backyard first, I have been on a couple of other trips. Two weeks ago, a group of friends and I ventured off to Berlin for the weekend. This heightened my envy of Europeans. To get to Berlin, ground zero of 20th century political struggles, was a mere 5 hour bus ride. And that was considered a slow bus. A five hour bus ride from Brisbane would take you to somewhere near Tenterfield. Now, I’m not casting any aspersions on Tenterfield, but let’s just say I remain jealous of Europeans.
Berlin was a strange city. Given that 90% of it was destroyed in WW2, you raise your eyebrow at its ‘old’ buildings, though they have been fantastically rebuilt. It also has a much different feel to Brisbane or, for that matter, Prague. In a city of 3.5 million people, there are only a handful of skyscrapers. The streets are wide, the demeanour calm and the city sprawling. It was unusual to be in a city with no discernable centre, and it wasn’t until we spent a few hours wandering on foot that we started to get a bit of a feel for the place. It seemed the sort of city that grows on you. That said, we saw some amazing things. To be at the Berlin Wall and Checkpoint Charlie, standing atop the Reichstag or reflecting at the Holocaust Memorial stirs strange emotions. All in all, a thoroughly enjoyable long weekend, but even German efficiency has nothing on the Prague public transport system.
The second trip was markedly different. Tucked away in the very south of the Czech Republic is Cesky Krumlov. It will forever have a place in my memory as the first place I saw it snowing. It was worth the frostbite. The town is dominated by a huge castle built on a cliff. Walking around it was beautiful. Every street was cobbled, the houses must all be over two centuries old, and its food was sensational. While not going in for the bear paw, I availed myself of the venison, rabbit and pheasant. Delicious. The photo attached gives some indication of the vibe of the place.
Which just about brings us up to today. Uni’s starting to take up some time, and I’m eagerly anticipating friends staring to trickle in soon. This weekend I’m going to Budapest (in Hungary), so there will be more to report back on shortly. I’ve probably forgotten something important, but I have no doubt that someone will point out what it is.
Nashledanou!
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Thursday, November 8, 2007
I love a wind/rain/snow/history-swept country...
I can’t believe it’s been five weeks.
Five weeks since I arrived in Prague, yet it feels like only two. And now I’m sitting down to write this first blog and I don’t know where to start. So, without any better method, let’s go with chronology.
The first week was a mess. Really. I’d thought that the Middle East had been a bit lacking in the organisation department, but I was to experience worse. Apparently not everything Soviet has yet faded from everyday life (or, at least, the everyday life of someone travelling). Having to sort yourself out for university only adds to the chaos. The first day was a day of extremes. I’d arrived in Prague, blue-eyed and bushy-tailed and was really excited. I met up with my ‘tandem’, a Czech student who was lucky enough to have to show me around the place and get me oriented (Jan/John). Apparently he had volunteered. Fool. But we hit it off, which made the waiting that was to come slightly more bearable.
Walking through the first rain I had seen for 3 months (Brisbane drought + Middle East), I couldn’t stop smiling. Surrounding me were ancient buildings, cathedrals, churches, cobbled streets and, above all, rain! I got used to the rain part pretty quick though. Yet, with a shopping list of things to do before uni started in two days I had my work cut out for me. First stop: getting a student card. Three hours later, with student card in hand, to the dorms to find me somewhere to sleep for the night. By this stage it was 6pm, and the office was meant to have closed at 5. It was only through an act of god that the only English speaking person in the office had a massive love of ACDC and, being Australian, would thus go to the ends of the earth for me. Somehow I secured a room that night, all thanks to Aussie rock.
But the day wasn’t over, oh no. I was immediately taught what I’ve come to realise are the two most important words in the Czech language: pivo prosim. Armed with this phrase, Jan and I headed to the nearest place it would be most useful. Finding one attached to my college, we entered the fray and began my long spiral into, among other things, the Czech language. ‘Pivo prosim!’ I exclaimed. They had already guessed what I had wanted, and barely had the words left my lips than they were sitting on the counter in front of me. Two glistening, amber columns sent from god themselves. Czech beer is god’s beer, and I had two just waiting in front of me. Might I also add these important considerations. Beer here is around 4% and comes in half litres. The next consideration is that if you buy it in the supermarket, it will cost around 9 krona. If you return the bottle, you will get three krona back. And let’s assume that the Aussie dollar is currently pegging around 17 ½ krona. So if I buy 1 ½ litres of alcohol, at 9 krona each, and return the bottles… those of you who can do the maths deserve a pivo.
Jan and I made it out of there. How, when or why, I am none the wiser. And, in retrospect, it probably didn’t make the next day any better. This was the first of three days of the immigration police, trying to get a visa or register my address or just something. Something that would make the (one, two…) cumulative 17 hours I spent in that god forsaken police office all worth it. The third try, I was rewarded by my efforts by being told that, no, I couldn’t have a student visa, but yes, if I really wanted to I could register my address with them. Oh, and by the way, you have 90 days stay visa-free, just if anyone asks you, don’t mention you’re studying here. Done.
Somewhere in this time, I also got around navigating my enrolment in three different faculties, with three different systems (one online in two places, one on paper in two places, one with paper and one online), filled in various other forms, got my photocopy card, got my internet account and my library thing and could almost have time to go to class. Which takes me to the end of week one. But there was always time for pivo. Always. And the Czechs, well, the Czechs understand.
My roommate (yes, roommate, not flatmate) didn’t arrive until some time in week two, but he’s a really cool Czech guy. Unfortunately he goes home for the weekends, so I only see him for 3-4 days per week. But he’s been a great help with trying to navigate my way around the painful Czech language. I mean really, who needs 7 different cases? Nominative, accusative, dative, locative…
So we have reached the end of week one. I don’t want to try and recount more here, because if the posts get too long, you will probably get bored reading them. So some time in the next few days, I will write another one which should hopefully bring us up to date. Hope all is well in whatever country people are reading this in, including those who plan on visiting me here on their way through.
I think I should also mention that the Czech Republic is an amazing place. It only just strikes me that from my description it sounds quite painful. But even then it was fun, and gets a whole lot better. But the pivo? Well, the pivo can’t get any better.
Five weeks since I arrived in Prague, yet it feels like only two. And now I’m sitting down to write this first blog and I don’t know where to start. So, without any better method, let’s go with chronology.
The first week was a mess. Really. I’d thought that the Middle East had been a bit lacking in the organisation department, but I was to experience worse. Apparently not everything Soviet has yet faded from everyday life (or, at least, the everyday life of someone travelling). Having to sort yourself out for university only adds to the chaos. The first day was a day of extremes. I’d arrived in Prague, blue-eyed and bushy-tailed and was really excited. I met up with my ‘tandem’, a Czech student who was lucky enough to have to show me around the place and get me oriented (Jan/John). Apparently he had volunteered. Fool. But we hit it off, which made the waiting that was to come slightly more bearable.
Walking through the first rain I had seen for 3 months (Brisbane drought + Middle East), I couldn’t stop smiling. Surrounding me were ancient buildings, cathedrals, churches, cobbled streets and, above all, rain! I got used to the rain part pretty quick though. Yet, with a shopping list of things to do before uni started in two days I had my work cut out for me. First stop: getting a student card. Three hours later, with student card in hand, to the dorms to find me somewhere to sleep for the night. By this stage it was 6pm, and the office was meant to have closed at 5. It was only through an act of god that the only English speaking person in the office had a massive love of ACDC and, being Australian, would thus go to the ends of the earth for me. Somehow I secured a room that night, all thanks to Aussie rock.
But the day wasn’t over, oh no. I was immediately taught what I’ve come to realise are the two most important words in the Czech language: pivo prosim. Armed with this phrase, Jan and I headed to the nearest place it would be most useful. Finding one attached to my college, we entered the fray and began my long spiral into, among other things, the Czech language. ‘Pivo prosim!’ I exclaimed. They had already guessed what I had wanted, and barely had the words left my lips than they were sitting on the counter in front of me. Two glistening, amber columns sent from god themselves. Czech beer is god’s beer, and I had two just waiting in front of me. Might I also add these important considerations. Beer here is around 4% and comes in half litres. The next consideration is that if you buy it in the supermarket, it will cost around 9 krona. If you return the bottle, you will get three krona back. And let’s assume that the Aussie dollar is currently pegging around 17 ½ krona. So if I buy 1 ½ litres of alcohol, at 9 krona each, and return the bottles… those of you who can do the maths deserve a pivo.
Jan and I made it out of there. How, when or why, I am none the wiser. And, in retrospect, it probably didn’t make the next day any better. This was the first of three days of the immigration police, trying to get a visa or register my address or just something. Something that would make the (one, two…) cumulative 17 hours I spent in that god forsaken police office all worth it. The third try, I was rewarded by my efforts by being told that, no, I couldn’t have a student visa, but yes, if I really wanted to I could register my address with them. Oh, and by the way, you have 90 days stay visa-free, just if anyone asks you, don’t mention you’re studying here. Done.
Somewhere in this time, I also got around navigating my enrolment in three different faculties, with three different systems (one online in two places, one on paper in two places, one with paper and one online), filled in various other forms, got my photocopy card, got my internet account and my library thing and could almost have time to go to class. Which takes me to the end of week one. But there was always time for pivo. Always. And the Czechs, well, the Czechs understand.
My roommate (yes, roommate, not flatmate) didn’t arrive until some time in week two, but he’s a really cool Czech guy. Unfortunately he goes home for the weekends, so I only see him for 3-4 days per week. But he’s been a great help with trying to navigate my way around the painful Czech language. I mean really, who needs 7 different cases? Nominative, accusative, dative, locative…
So we have reached the end of week one. I don’t want to try and recount more here, because if the posts get too long, you will probably get bored reading them. So some time in the next few days, I will write another one which should hopefully bring us up to date. Hope all is well in whatever country people are reading this in, including those who plan on visiting me here on their way through.
I think I should also mention that the Czech Republic is an amazing place. It only just strikes me that from my description it sounds quite painful. But even then it was fun, and gets a whole lot better. But the pivo? Well, the pivo can’t get any better.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Journey's End
What’s only been a little over two months feels like a year. The 30+ hour train ride from Istanbul to Vienna gave me a lot of thinking time to reflect on it all. My conclusion was that everyone who can should do a trip through the Middle East. It’s remarkably safe, most of it care-free and most is very cheap. I stand a proponent of the region, or at least the countries I visited.
Vienna, the city of music, was certainly a change from the previous 2 or so months. It seems that the moment you cross the Turkish border the remnants of the Middle East fall away at once, and the journey west moves you along a spectrum from ex-communist deep south increasingly close to stereotypical continental Europe. By the time you arrive in Vienna, you are firmly ensconced in the West, but with a lingering feeling of a restless past. A recent Austrian ruler put it quite succinctly when he said that ‘Austrians anticipate the past with great confidence’. This mood seems to permeate Vienna. A quite confidence radiates from the city; they have the music, they have the culture, they have the history. What do they need to prove themselves for now? In my few days there I saw a number of things, most notable the Schonbrunn Palace, but my favourite part of Vienna was just wandering the streets soaking up the atmosphere. A few other backpackers I spoke to said they ran out of things to do in Vienna after 2 or so days. Evidently they weren’t in it for the museums, music, galleries or relaxation, but they’re right about the lack of ‘sights’ per se. I think the thing that gives Vienna its charm is the sense you get that it was build very slowly over a very long time. Which is true of course. But the lack of sky-scrapers and traffic jams, yet profusion of beautiful historic buildings and peaceful ambiance make it a great place to get your head together for a couple of days.
Schonbrunn Palace has a grandness that sets it apart from the palaces in Turkey. To be fair, some of the detail in the Dolmabahce Palace in Istanbul was more elaborate. However the Schonbrunn has all the things that readers of books like Animalia (yes, the kids’ picture book) would come to expect of a palace. A maze. Rose gardens. A zoo. A glasshouse. The sweeping lawn leading up the hill to the entertainment pavilion comes straight out of a Jane Austin novel, with plenty of secluded side-paths for unexpected encounter… It seems I don’t have the vocabulary to describe palaces, as I’ve had difficulty with this one and those in Istanbul. Suffice to say they’re very shiny and amazing.
Prague has been interesting thus far. I don’t mind bureaucracy, as long as it’s efficient. In Prague, it’s not. And, as I don’t fit in to the European ‘Erasmus’ exchange program, I get left out of a lot of information loops. It doesn’t help that I don’t speak Czech (yet!), nor that the office at my college doesn’t speak English. Or that there was a public holiday on Friday, just as I was still trying to organise my life. The running around has meant that I haven’t yet had time to see any of the sights, including the castle. It’s on my ‘to do’ list, and will probably end up happening in about a month. Luckily, I’m here for 5 or 6. But classes start on Monday, and I’m really looking forward to starting. The other thing I should mention about Prague is the beer. There’s a rumour that the beer in Prague is the best on earth. While I haven’t tried all the beers on earth, I’m prepared to believe it. It’s tasty, comes in half litre serves and is cheap (around $1.25 for a half litre). It’s no wonder that the Czechs drink the most alcohol the world over, and I’m slowly sinking into their habit of having a beer or two over lunch and dinner. It’s probably lucky it’s only for 6 months.
I still haven’t decided whether I will keep doing the blog. If I do, it definitely won’t be as regular as it is now. But, if you’d like to keep it bookmarked and log in every month or so, you might get lucky.
Hoping everyone in Brisbane is well and enjoying what they’re doing, and looking forward to reading any random emails people care to send my way,
Nick.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Istanbul, not Constantinople
The Middle Eastern adventure is over. As I write, I am sitting on a train heading to Belgrade, and on to Vienna. Cutting Turkey short a few days, I am heading to Austria for a brief stop-over before going finally to Prague on the morning of the 25th. What a two months it’s been.
Since my last post, I journeyed over the Dardanelles to Gallipoli and on to Istanbul for the remainder of the Turkey chapter. Gallipoli, I’m pleased to say, was the only time I have taken an organised tour on the trip. The peninsular is far too large to get about by foot, and public transport is non-existent. On the up side, a friend I’d met the day before was going to, and it was good to have someone around my own age/mindset to talk to.
I had wondered for a little while before what effect visiting Gallipoli would have on me. On the one hand, going to ANZAC Cove is the closest thing that most Australians have to the pilgrimage to Mecca. On the other, I’m not really that fond of military history, and hate the extent to which the ‘ANZAC legend’ is force-fed into everyone through school and the mass media. I still can’t decide whether I’m happy or sad that the experience elicited a fair bit of emotion. I don’t think I’ll watch an ANZAC Day ceremony the same again, for one. It was a slightly surreal experience being surrounded by a group of fellow Aussies and Kiwis, sharing some sort of collective identity being elicited by the Turkish guide. A strange thing to be standing somewhere so far from home, yet the place that so many died, and is one of the defining points of our nation.
The sites are interesting in themselves. ANZAC Cove, where 15 000 troops landed on the first day, is only around 600m long (photo). The trenches on the top of the ridge, from where there was essentially no movement in the 8 months of the campaign, were only around 8 metres apart. Go and measure eight metres somewhere. Than get a friend and throw rocks at each other for a bit, pretending they’re grenades. You’ll start to get a sense of just how close eight metres is. We learned of the decisive mistakes of the British commanders (idiots) that could have changed fate, the intentional strategy behind the conflict, and some great stories that were retold in letters from the diggers home. The guide was extremely knowledgeable. One of the defining points of the tour, however, was learning the Turkish side of the story. There’s too much to recount here, but it’s amazing in its own right. Some of the poetry and speeches relating to the battle are also extremely moving, and I’ll see if I can find a way to post them up somewhere.
I can’t decide how I feel about Istanbul, but suffice to say it’s a city with soul. The old quarter especially, Sultanahmet, brims with life, but firmly has its foot in the tourist trap market. Istanbul’s main attractions are, as you would expect, absolutely stunning. To borrow a description, the outside of the Blue Mosque (photo) seemingly tries to emulate the grandeur of the inside of the Aya Sofia, and sit only a few hundred metres apart. The Grand Bazaar, I would was a bit of a let-down. Expecting something like the markets in Islamic Cairo (tiny alleys, overhanging shops, donkeys, spirit!), the Grand Bazaar seems the missing link between Islamic Cairo and a modern shopping mall. Yes, you get to haggle, but it’s done in nice, quite sanitary, tiled and covered surrounds. And you will always get ripped off if you’re a tourist. Just accept that and move on. There are two big palaces in Istanbul: the Topkapı (Topkapa) and the Dolmabahçe (Dolmabahchè) (photo). The former had been the home of Ottoman sultans since the first half of last millennia, and is built and decorated in a purely Ottoman style. The latter was only built in the 1800s, and looks like something straight out of France. It was built in the neo-Classical European style, and has one of the most extraordinary festival halls I’ve ever seen. It rivals some of the best mosques.
There’s plenty, plenty more to say, but no room to say it. I think this will be my second last post about the journey, with the final one being in a few days after Vienna. I haven’t yet decided whether I’ll continue while I’m in Prague.
Hope all is well, and that life is enjoyable for all.
n.b. written 23 September.
Since my last post, I journeyed over the Dardanelles to Gallipoli and on to Istanbul for the remainder of the Turkey chapter. Gallipoli, I’m pleased to say, was the only time I have taken an organised tour on the trip. The peninsular is far too large to get about by foot, and public transport is non-existent. On the up side, a friend I’d met the day before was going to, and it was good to have someone around my own age/mindset to talk to.
I had wondered for a little while before what effect visiting Gallipoli would have on me. On the one hand, going to ANZAC Cove is the closest thing that most Australians have to the pilgrimage to Mecca. On the other, I’m not really that fond of military history, and hate the extent to which the ‘ANZAC legend’ is force-fed into everyone through school and the mass media. I still can’t decide whether I’m happy or sad that the experience elicited a fair bit of emotion. I don’t think I’ll watch an ANZAC Day ceremony the same again, for one. It was a slightly surreal experience being surrounded by a group of fellow Aussies and Kiwis, sharing some sort of collective identity being elicited by the Turkish guide. A strange thing to be standing somewhere so far from home, yet the place that so many died, and is one of the defining points of our nation.
The sites are interesting in themselves. ANZAC Cove, where 15 000 troops landed on the first day, is only around 600m long (photo). The trenches on the top of the ridge, from where there was essentially no movement in the 8 months of the campaign, were only around 8 metres apart. Go and measure eight metres somewhere. Than get a friend and throw rocks at each other for a bit, pretending they’re grenades. You’ll start to get a sense of just how close eight metres is. We learned of the decisive mistakes of the British commanders (idiots) that could have changed fate, the intentional strategy behind the conflict, and some great stories that were retold in letters from the diggers home. The guide was extremely knowledgeable. One of the defining points of the tour, however, was learning the Turkish side of the story. There’s too much to recount here, but it’s amazing in its own right. Some of the poetry and speeches relating to the battle are also extremely moving, and I’ll see if I can find a way to post them up somewhere.
I can’t decide how I feel about Istanbul, but suffice to say it’s a city with soul. The old quarter especially, Sultanahmet, brims with life, but firmly has its foot in the tourist trap market. Istanbul’s main attractions are, as you would expect, absolutely stunning. To borrow a description, the outside of the Blue Mosque (photo) seemingly tries to emulate the grandeur of the inside of the Aya Sofia, and sit only a few hundred metres apart. The Grand Bazaar, I would was a bit of a let-down. Expecting something like the markets in Islamic Cairo (tiny alleys, overhanging shops, donkeys, spirit!), the Grand Bazaar seems the missing link between Islamic Cairo and a modern shopping mall. Yes, you get to haggle, but it’s done in nice, quite sanitary, tiled and covered surrounds. And you will always get ripped off if you’re a tourist. Just accept that and move on. There are two big palaces in Istanbul: the Topkapı (Topkapa) and the Dolmabahçe (Dolmabahchè) (photo). The former had been the home of Ottoman sultans since the first half of last millennia, and is built and decorated in a purely Ottoman style. The latter was only built in the 1800s, and looks like something straight out of France. It was built in the neo-Classical European style, and has one of the most extraordinary festival halls I’ve ever seen. It rivals some of the best mosques.
There’s plenty, plenty more to say, but no room to say it. I think this will be my second last post about the journey, with the final one being in a few days after Vienna. I haven’t yet decided whether I’ll continue while I’m in Prague.
Hope all is well, and that life is enjoyable for all.
n.b. written 23 September.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Photos, diabetes, and other things Nick wıll take from Turkey.
The great benefit of travelling by your tastebuds is that it doesn’t preclude you seeing the sights as well. As such, while I still can’t really communicate with anyone very much, my times in Turkey have been packed full of sights, adventure, and puddings.
Turkey has a few big touristy spots; the fairy chimneys in Goreme, Istanbul, Ephasus. But one that wasn’t quite what I was expecting was Pamukkale. At Pamukkale, there is a spring. From this spring flows water that is packed full of minerals, but mostly calcium. The water then flows down the side of a mountain. As it does so it cools, depositing the calcium in ridges along the side of the cliff. The result is the side of a cliff cloaked in calcium, creating the travertines. Where the water formed pools, the deposits formed ledges that stretched out over the cliff and created what looked like miniature jacuzzis. So much so, in fact, that tourism during the 80s and 90s led to a line of hotels being constructed above them so that the paying public could bathe in them. Unfortunately, the construction stopped the flow of the water, and even after the demolition of the hotel the flow has not returned to its original force. Still, a magnificent sight (photo).
Then there was Ephasus (photo). Reputed to give visitors a feeling of what it would have felt like to live in a Roman town, it doesn’t fail to impress. The city’s layout is still very much apparent. The library and the 25 000 seat theatre are the two big draw cards, and draw they do. I think that one of the reasons that the site seems so whole and ‘authentic’ is the fact that the marble streets are still largely intact. While recurrent earthquakes may have ruined the buildings and shifted the stones around a bit, walking on stones where you can see the tracks of roman carriages really embellishes the connection you feel with the place.
I’ve climbed a few big hills/small mountains since my last post (my knee is now quite good): on in Izmir and one in Bergama. Atop each is a citadel. Overlooking Izmir is one of the many castles founded my Alexander the Great on his way through the region, BC. In Bergama, the walls house an acropolis; the entire ancient village is within its walls. This meant quite a lot of exploring, and amazing views. Sitting at the top after walking all the way, you realise what a good defensive strategy it is to build castles on hills. Before the invention of gunpowder, trying to breach those walls after the steep, steep hike a couple of kilometres uphill in your armour with your weapons would have been hell. It’s amazing that sometimes people succeeded. The ruins in Bergama were almost as good as those at Ephasus, though much harder to get to and around. But they somehow seemed all the more rewarding, as things do when you have to put in an enormous effort to achieve them.
Troy wasn’t that great, but it was interesting to see where Achilles killed Hector and was killed by Paris in turn (see photo of a giant wooden horse). Tomorrow I’m heading to Gallipoli and ANZAC Cove (for my little bit of nationalism). War seems to be high on the ‘to do’ list in Turkey. But I’m expecting tomorrow to really be quite moving, if only because of the amount of ANZAC propaganda Australians are fed.
I don’t know how much weight I have put on in the past week and a half, but it’s definitely there. My consumption of both chocolate and rice pudding (both of which have apparently become dessert staples in Turkey) has become quite ridiculous. I’ve also been eating 4 main meals a day. Not because it’s cheap (it’s not particularly). Not because I’m really that hungry. Just because it’s there and tastes so damn good. My culinary conquests have included imam bayildi (eggplants stuffed with a spiced, garlicky rice), gozleme (savoury pancakes filled with fetta, potato and spinach), su boregi (a Turkish cheese and parsley lasagne) and many more besides. And so, so much pudding. I really must ease up on the pudding consumption. Tomorrow.
Turkey has a few big touristy spots; the fairy chimneys in Goreme, Istanbul, Ephasus. But one that wasn’t quite what I was expecting was Pamukkale. At Pamukkale, there is a spring. From this spring flows water that is packed full of minerals, but mostly calcium. The water then flows down the side of a mountain. As it does so it cools, depositing the calcium in ridges along the side of the cliff. The result is the side of a cliff cloaked in calcium, creating the travertines. Where the water formed pools, the deposits formed ledges that stretched out over the cliff and created what looked like miniature jacuzzis. So much so, in fact, that tourism during the 80s and 90s led to a line of hotels being constructed above them so that the paying public could bathe in them. Unfortunately, the construction stopped the flow of the water, and even after the demolition of the hotel the flow has not returned to its original force. Still, a magnificent sight (photo).
Then there was Ephasus (photo). Reputed to give visitors a feeling of what it would have felt like to live in a Roman town, it doesn’t fail to impress. The city’s layout is still very much apparent. The library and the 25 000 seat theatre are the two big draw cards, and draw they do. I think that one of the reasons that the site seems so whole and ‘authentic’ is the fact that the marble streets are still largely intact. While recurrent earthquakes may have ruined the buildings and shifted the stones around a bit, walking on stones where you can see the tracks of roman carriages really embellishes the connection you feel with the place.
I’ve climbed a few big hills/small mountains since my last post (my knee is now quite good): on in Izmir and one in Bergama. Atop each is a citadel. Overlooking Izmir is one of the many castles founded my Alexander the Great on his way through the region, BC. In Bergama, the walls house an acropolis; the entire ancient village is within its walls. This meant quite a lot of exploring, and amazing views. Sitting at the top after walking all the way, you realise what a good defensive strategy it is to build castles on hills. Before the invention of gunpowder, trying to breach those walls after the steep, steep hike a couple of kilometres uphill in your armour with your weapons would have been hell. It’s amazing that sometimes people succeeded. The ruins in Bergama were almost as good as those at Ephasus, though much harder to get to and around. But they somehow seemed all the more rewarding, as things do when you have to put in an enormous effort to achieve them.
Troy wasn’t that great, but it was interesting to see where Achilles killed Hector and was killed by Paris in turn (see photo of a giant wooden horse). Tomorrow I’m heading to Gallipoli and ANZAC Cove (for my little bit of nationalism). War seems to be high on the ‘to do’ list in Turkey. But I’m expecting tomorrow to really be quite moving, if only because of the amount of ANZAC propaganda Australians are fed.
I don’t know how much weight I have put on in the past week and a half, but it’s definitely there. My consumption of both chocolate and rice pudding (both of which have apparently become dessert staples in Turkey) has become quite ridiculous. I’ve also been eating 4 main meals a day. Not because it’s cheap (it’s not particularly). Not because I’m really that hungry. Just because it’s there and tastes so damn good. My culinary conquests have included imam bayildi (eggplants stuffed with a spiced, garlicky rice), gozleme (savoury pancakes filled with fetta, potato and spinach), su boregi (a Turkish cheese and parsley lasagne) and many more besides. And so, so much pudding. I really must ease up on the pudding consumption. Tomorrow.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Gobble Gobble Turkey Gobble
It’s mandatory that I make at least one pun involving Turkey. It’s a big country. It can handle it. However the title is also quite apt. I have started planning my travels a little differently to those through the rest of the Middle East. While before I had focussed on the people and the sights, I am now concentrating on the food. And what food. Turkey has a reputation that spreads throughout the region as a nation of food-lovers. Everywhere, food is either being grown or eaten. Turkey is apparently one of only a few countries in the world who can feed its population to excess and still export a substantial remainder.
So as I criss-cross the country, I’m sampling the best of the regional specialties. In Gaziantep, Baklava was the order of the day. Apparently, the best baklava shop in Gaziantep vies for the title of the best in Turkey/the world with one other in Istanbul. We’ll see how it pans out. Malatya is famous for its apricots, whether fresh, dried, mashed, whatever. A lot of the dried apricots you buy in supermarkets come from around here. While I didn’t find the fresh ones overwhelmingly different to those back home, the dried ones definitely had an added flavour. They are definitely better at the source. Kahramanmaras is known Turkey-wide for its ice-cream, mixed with the flour of an orchid root. This makes it elastic and chewy and means it can be hung off meat hooks; a taste/texture sensation worth visiting this town just to try. At present, I’m in Bursa, home of the almighty kebap (kebab). Today I saw the grave of Kebapci Iskender, the man who created the very first one. Random fact: the kebap is actually the national dish of Turkey. Something to keep in mind when you’ve had a big night out and craving some doner times. Today I also tried olives from Iznik. They are probably the best I’ve tasted, and I get the feeling that the seeming forest of olive trees surrounding the town produces much of the world’s supply. Future plans include: Afyon, where the milk and cream is apparently so good because the cows graze on legally grown opium poppies over spring; Istanbul, for its Turkish Delight and the competitor for best baklava; and more else besides. The food here is amazing. There are dessert restaurants, that’s right, dessert restaurants on every street. I’ve eaten so much baked rice pudding I would laugh, if only I could be more sure my stomach wouldn’t explode.
As for the sights and sounds, there have been a few standouts. Foremost amongst them is the underground villages in Cappadocia. I think I mentioned in a blog about Egypt that I went to an underground labyrinth cemetery and was mightily impressed. That was like a sandpit tunnel to this place. An entire village carved into the soft rock underground, complete with a winery, stables and giant communal kitchens (photo). Eight stories of interwoven passages (no grid plan, just windows and tunnels to everywhere), enough to house an entire village for up to six months if an enemy army happened to invade. It was incredible. The ‘fairy chimneys’ in Goreme were fun for a bit too. There are a few different shapes, but most form when there are two different types of rock, with the toughest being on top. As erosion occurs, this tough top layer protects the rock directly below it. The results can look like mushrooms, cones or spires (photo). They are meant to be Turkey’s big tourist puller.
In other news, my knee is getting better, either thanks to the knee-strap I ended up buying or the chiropractic advice from back home. I no longer walk like a pirate, but I’ve kept the voice because I find it amusing.
So that’s Turkey for now. Oh, and don’t bother going to Ankara. Aside from seeing Ataturk’s memorial, there’s no reason to visit. I’m heading south-west from here and plan on tracing the coast up to Istanbul. My next post may be from Troy or Gallipoli. Somewhere around there. But I really wish I was back in Brisbane instead. Really.
So as I criss-cross the country, I’m sampling the best of the regional specialties. In Gaziantep, Baklava was the order of the day. Apparently, the best baklava shop in Gaziantep vies for the title of the best in Turkey/the world with one other in Istanbul. We’ll see how it pans out. Malatya is famous for its apricots, whether fresh, dried, mashed, whatever. A lot of the dried apricots you buy in supermarkets come from around here. While I didn’t find the fresh ones overwhelmingly different to those back home, the dried ones definitely had an added flavour. They are definitely better at the source. Kahramanmaras is known Turkey-wide for its ice-cream, mixed with the flour of an orchid root. This makes it elastic and chewy and means it can be hung off meat hooks; a taste/texture sensation worth visiting this town just to try. At present, I’m in Bursa, home of the almighty kebap (kebab). Today I saw the grave of Kebapci Iskender, the man who created the very first one. Random fact: the kebap is actually the national dish of Turkey. Something to keep in mind when you’ve had a big night out and craving some doner times. Today I also tried olives from Iznik. They are probably the best I’ve tasted, and I get the feeling that the seeming forest of olive trees surrounding the town produces much of the world’s supply. Future plans include: Afyon, where the milk and cream is apparently so good because the cows graze on legally grown opium poppies over spring; Istanbul, for its Turkish Delight and the competitor for best baklava; and more else besides. The food here is amazing. There are dessert restaurants, that’s right, dessert restaurants on every street. I’ve eaten so much baked rice pudding I would laugh, if only I could be more sure my stomach wouldn’t explode.
As for the sights and sounds, there have been a few standouts. Foremost amongst them is the underground villages in Cappadocia. I think I mentioned in a blog about Egypt that I went to an underground labyrinth cemetery and was mightily impressed. That was like a sandpit tunnel to this place. An entire village carved into the soft rock underground, complete with a winery, stables and giant communal kitchens (photo). Eight stories of interwoven passages (no grid plan, just windows and tunnels to everywhere), enough to house an entire village for up to six months if an enemy army happened to invade. It was incredible. The ‘fairy chimneys’ in Goreme were fun for a bit too. There are a few different shapes, but most form when there are two different types of rock, with the toughest being on top. As erosion occurs, this tough top layer protects the rock directly below it. The results can look like mushrooms, cones or spires (photo). They are meant to be Turkey’s big tourist puller.
In other news, my knee is getting better, either thanks to the knee-strap I ended up buying or the chiropractic advice from back home. I no longer walk like a pirate, but I’ve kept the voice because I find it amusing.
So that’s Turkey for now. Oh, and don’t bother going to Ankara. Aside from seeing Ataturk’s memorial, there’s no reason to visit. I’m heading south-west from here and plan on tracing the coast up to Istanbul. My next post may be from Troy or Gallipoli. Somewhere around there. But I really wish I was back in Brisbane instead. Really.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Retro Syria
Syria
What to say about a country that all you had envisaged turned out to be incorrect. Only, I guess, that Syria is a marvel, and don’t believe the press.
To be honest, the sights in Syria are a little limited if you’re going in for the ‘old stuff’ tour. Palmyra in the East is OK, but as I said in my last post on Syria, not really worth the hassle unless you’ve got your own car and speak Arabic pretty fluently. Even then, when you’ve come from further south and seen the ruins in Jordan and Egypt, it’s a bit of a let-down. The Roman Theatre at Bosra was interesting, but I think this may have been due in part to it being the first castle-esque structure I’d fully explored.
Of far more interest is Krak des Chevaliers, the majestic crusader castle built by the French on their way to the Holy Land. The castle is epic. That’s a perfect world to describe it. From its turrets to its tunnels, this is the castle you’ve thought about when imagining knights riding into the yonder. I had the fortune of visiting on my birthday, figuring it was a suitable present, though my leg hated me for it afterwards.
But the reason you’ll enjoy Syria is not the buildings, but the people and the experiences. Far from being AK47 slinging Middle Eastern freedom haters, the people I met in Syria have been the nicest yet. When you ask them where something is, they don’t point you in the general direction; they’ll take you by the hand and walk/drive you there, all the while finding out your life story. Syria perfectly blends the friendliness of Jordan and Lebanon with the austerity of Egypt. Such a mix of genuine warmth and cheap food/transport/shopping/everything will make you want to change your trip to stay here longer.
I think the two highlights of my Syrian sojourn happened in the first half, in the south. The first was going to the hammam in Damascus, where I found out just how white I still was. I swear there would be a market for this in Australia. It’s not only a great place to go and get clean or have a massage or sauna or whatever, it’s also a really social place to just chat with people here. Nobody has their shields up, and nobody’s posing. It’s a nice change from the street, where everyone is trying to look their trendiest.
The second highlight was definitely going to Quneitra in the Golan Heights. Going to a place like this, that has been the cause of so much anger and nationalistic aggression was a little overwhelming. Everyone in Australia has heard of the Golan Heights, and its infamy follows you when you go there. It’s so easy to imagine this now deserted shell of a town as a battlefield for a conflict that’s gone on for generations. History is alive here.
As for the north, I feel a little cheated. Following doctors orders, I tried to rest as much as possible when I returned to Syria (excluding the trip to the Krak, but it was my birthday). As a result, I saw very little of Hama and Homs, two of the big cities in the north. Though from what I saw, Hama seems a relaxing place to spend a day or two. Nor did I get to go on the day trips I had planned. In Aleppo, I didn’t even go to the ‘sights’, as I was trying ridiculously hard to stay in bed resting. And for all my self-deprivation, I’m still in pain, and a little bit grumpy about it. However, it does leave me with a good excuse to come back, which I very much hope to do in the near future. It’s an amazing place, all the more so because it’s so underrated in the West.
What to say about a country that all you had envisaged turned out to be incorrect. Only, I guess, that Syria is a marvel, and don’t believe the press.
To be honest, the sights in Syria are a little limited if you’re going in for the ‘old stuff’ tour. Palmyra in the East is OK, but as I said in my last post on Syria, not really worth the hassle unless you’ve got your own car and speak Arabic pretty fluently. Even then, when you’ve come from further south and seen the ruins in Jordan and Egypt, it’s a bit of a let-down. The Roman Theatre at Bosra was interesting, but I think this may have been due in part to it being the first castle-esque structure I’d fully explored.
Of far more interest is Krak des Chevaliers, the majestic crusader castle built by the French on their way to the Holy Land. The castle is epic. That’s a perfect world to describe it. From its turrets to its tunnels, this is the castle you’ve thought about when imagining knights riding into the yonder. I had the fortune of visiting on my birthday, figuring it was a suitable present, though my leg hated me for it afterwards.
But the reason you’ll enjoy Syria is not the buildings, but the people and the experiences. Far from being AK47 slinging Middle Eastern freedom haters, the people I met in Syria have been the nicest yet. When you ask them where something is, they don’t point you in the general direction; they’ll take you by the hand and walk/drive you there, all the while finding out your life story. Syria perfectly blends the friendliness of Jordan and Lebanon with the austerity of Egypt. Such a mix of genuine warmth and cheap food/transport/shopping/everything will make you want to change your trip to stay here longer.
I think the two highlights of my Syrian sojourn happened in the first half, in the south. The first was going to the hammam in Damascus, where I found out just how white I still was. I swear there would be a market for this in Australia. It’s not only a great place to go and get clean or have a massage or sauna or whatever, it’s also a really social place to just chat with people here. Nobody has their shields up, and nobody’s posing. It’s a nice change from the street, where everyone is trying to look their trendiest.
The second highlight was definitely going to Quneitra in the Golan Heights. Going to a place like this, that has been the cause of so much anger and nationalistic aggression was a little overwhelming. Everyone in Australia has heard of the Golan Heights, and its infamy follows you when you go there. It’s so easy to imagine this now deserted shell of a town as a battlefield for a conflict that’s gone on for generations. History is alive here.
As for the north, I feel a little cheated. Following doctors orders, I tried to rest as much as possible when I returned to Syria (excluding the trip to the Krak, but it was my birthday). As a result, I saw very little of Hama and Homs, two of the big cities in the north. Though from what I saw, Hama seems a relaxing place to spend a day or two. Nor did I get to go on the day trips I had planned. In Aleppo, I didn’t even go to the ‘sights’, as I was trying ridiculously hard to stay in bed resting. And for all my self-deprivation, I’m still in pain, and a little bit grumpy about it. However, it does leave me with a good excuse to come back, which I very much hope to do in the near future. It’s an amazing place, all the more so because it’s so underrated in the West.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
