A big day … after three and half weeks in this room in this Istanbul hospital, and seven weeks since we left Tasmania, we are leaving for home. The Insurance Company have arranged Business Class flights (to allow me to elevate my leg) via Dubai and Melbourne flying Emirates. Incidentally, today (May 19) is a public holiday in Turkey – referred to as “Youth and Sports Day”, it is dedicated to the Father of the Republic Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, and the youth of the Republic. The date is significant as the beginning of Ataturk’s fight against the Ottoman regime following the First World War. Coincidently, we were admitted to this hospital on another public holiday – April 23 is “National Sovereignty and Children’s Day”, and it commemorates the first meeting of the Turkish Grand National Assembly in 1920. These holidays are a good illustration of just how important Ataturk and the post WW1 republic is to the modern-day Turkey.
We said goodbye to the night staff – Meral has been a fantastic nurse over our time here, and her friend Temel is a male nurse who works in Intensive Care but has frequently visited us to say “hello” in his very broken English. An enduring image of my time here was the day when Temel and Dayna were sitting in the corner of my room, each armed with their laptops, and having a conversation using an on-line English-Turkish translation website. Duelling laptops!!! This morning Temel used a translation website to tell us that he and Meral will miss us, they like us, and wished us a good trip home. This is characteristic of the friendships we’ve had with our nurses and doctors here, and typical of the beautiful nature of the Turkish people.
More preparations for leaving – I have the intravenous drip removed from my arm. It has been there since Day One, and has changed locations every 3 or 4 days across both arms and hands, to enable drip-fed antibiotics three times a day. To not have this thing sticking into my body somewhere is like being set free. Quite symbolic, really.
We shower, and the lovely male attendant gives me a shave and a trim. I haven’t felt this spruce for a month. Baris calls in to say hello, and goodbye. Being a holiday today, Dr Mik called in yesterday to say goodbye. Sadly we will miss saying goodbye to several staff, as they are off today. A quick change of the dressing before we go, and a final farewell to the Plastic Surgeon. The insurance company called to make sure all is ready. The flight itinerary arrives by fax. The hospital manager confirms that the bill has been taken care of. The handover of all medical reports written by both surgeons for us to take back to our Tasmanian doctors. And an official “OK to fly” for us to present to the airline at the airport.
At 4.30, at taxi arrives to take us to the airport. Our flight leaves at 7.30. On the way to the airport (I finally get to see some more of Istanbul), the Turkish flag is flying everywhere for today's celebrations, and if it's not the distinctive red flag, then it's a portrait of Ataturk. Many high-rise office buildings drape a huge flag down one side, as big as the building itself.
As we finally depart, I pause to reflect. Turkey is a fabulous country, and we’ve loved being here. The last three weeks may have been frustrating, but even under these trying conditions, the Turkish friendship and warmth has shone through. To call it an eventful seven weeks is an understatement, and half of this period was not planned the way it actually unfolded. But then again, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans”.
Tuesday, 19 May 2009
Saturday, 16 May 2009
Istanbul Surgical Hospital
Another week rolls by in Istanbul – same hospital room, same affliction, same routine. But things are looking up, and we are rushing headlong to a belated journey home. My left foot (there’s a good movie title) is improving every day, with less aches and pains and more involuntary muscle spasms as my foot tries to break out of its restrictive bandages. These spasms make me jump and are quite unpleasant, but I’m happy to put up with them if it means that the injuries are settling down and improving. The dressing is changed every two or three day, and while the skin graft is still looks very raw, the plastic surgeon is happy with its progress and is confident the new skin coverage will do its job. He tells us that the second injury, to the heel, can wait until we return to Australia, and he has granted us permission to travel. The donor site for the skin graft (the left thigh) is recovering so well that it is driving me mad with itch. To strengthen my legs I am doing physio exercises and walking down the corridor several times each day, on crutches.
It’s been a month since the accident, and we have been in this hospital three weeks. That three weeks has been as much a journey as the prior three weeks, even though I haven’t left the confines of this building. Such a journey has left a lasting impression on me, as any traveling holiday would do. The things that must be endured to get well – the pain, the medical procedures, and the needles of all shapes and sizes that get injected into every part of your body to either put something in or take something out. I feel like a pin-cushion – any unsuspecting drug-enforcer inspecting my arms must get suspicious by the number of pin-holes. Of course, all these are merely inconveniences – bumps in the road that will eventually lead us home.
We’re now negotiating with our doctors and the travel insurance company for our release from hospital and our return flights home, in the coming days. We are making enquiries about follow-up surgery in Launceston to fix my heel, so there’s more hospital time for me as soon as I return. The care we received in the Turkish hospitals has been second-to-none, and we will actually miss the staff that have become our friends over the past 3 weeks.
It’s been a month since the accident, and we have been in this hospital three weeks. That three weeks has been as much a journey as the prior three weeks, even though I haven’t left the confines of this building. Such a journey has left a lasting impression on me, as any traveling holiday would do. The things that must be endured to get well – the pain, the medical procedures, and the needles of all shapes and sizes that get injected into every part of your body to either put something in or take something out. I feel like a pin-cushion – any unsuspecting drug-enforcer inspecting my arms must get suspicious by the number of pin-holes. Of course, all these are merely inconveniences – bumps in the road that will eventually lead us home.
We’re now negotiating with our doctors and the travel insurance company for our release from hospital and our return flights home, in the coming days. We are making enquiries about follow-up surgery in Launceston to fix my heel, so there’s more hospital time for me as soon as I return. The care we received in the Turkish hospitals has been second-to-none, and we will actually miss the staff that have become our friends over the past 3 weeks.
Sunday, 10 May 2009
Istanbul Surgical Hospital
So our journey continues. Through time, not space. We remain in the same space – this single bed hospital room in Istanbul, with Anne’s fold-out single bed in the corner. The plastic surgery finally happened last Thursday, and it provided some surreal moments. We were expecting a general anaesthetic, but when I was wheeled into theatre, the Doc said “we’re going to do something different today”. My mind started racing – were we all gonna go down the pub instead, or were they gonna try a new technique on this unwary Australian guinea pig? Instead of a GA, I had an epidural – an anaesthetic injected into the back to deaden me from the waist down. A better method, avoiding the potentially dangerous GA, and consequently I was awake for the entire two hour procedure. A curtain across my chest forced me to miss the floor show, and by the sound of the device that was used to cut the skin off my thigh, I think I was happy not to witness the carnage. The conversation between the theatre staff was casual, the occasional laughter, but unfortunately in Turkish, so I was the odd-man-out. So I was forced to watch the digital clock on the wall and listen to the Istanbul radio station that was playing in the background. The playlist was 1980s western pop – Video Killed the Radio Star, Grease, Sam Brown’s “Stop”, Footloose, Oasis, and Kylie (with “I’ve Got to be Certain”). My daughter Leah’s favourite artist is Kylie, and why else would a Turkish radio station be playing Kylie if not to let me know that Leah was with me in that operating theatre?
So I emerged from this session with the top of my foot finally having skin coverage (although still swathed in bandages and a plaster backslab), and an additional “injury” to my left thigh wrapped in a bandage and feeling like a second-degree burn. Oh well, something to take my mind off my injured left foot. Two days later I had the thigh dressing removed, to expose the wound to air and allow it to dry. This was probably the most pain I’d felt since the accident – no amount of pain relief could stop me feeling the doctor peeling off this bandage that had stuck to the wound after the post-op weepage. And I might add that the final scene was not a pretty sight, but one step closer to coming home.
We were told that the other area of concern – the heel – was progressing on its own by regenerating the missing muscle. If this continued, the Istanbul surgeon could reapply the skin flap for the journey home, and I then have the heel operation in Launceston. Maybe.
In the meantime, Anne has been getting out and about, taking walks near the hospital and even catching a taxi further afield to a fashionable shopping district where she buys paperback novels to read, and even bought a video camera for the laptop to allow us to talk to home.
So I emerged from this session with the top of my foot finally having skin coverage (although still swathed in bandages and a plaster backslab), and an additional “injury” to my left thigh wrapped in a bandage and feeling like a second-degree burn. Oh well, something to take my mind off my injured left foot. Two days later I had the thigh dressing removed, to expose the wound to air and allow it to dry. This was probably the most pain I’d felt since the accident – no amount of pain relief could stop me feeling the doctor peeling off this bandage that had stuck to the wound after the post-op weepage. And I might add that the final scene was not a pretty sight, but one step closer to coming home.
We were told that the other area of concern – the heel – was progressing on its own by regenerating the missing muscle. If this continued, the Istanbul surgeon could reapply the skin flap for the journey home, and I then have the heel operation in Launceston. Maybe.
In the meantime, Anne has been getting out and about, taking walks near the hospital and even catching a taxi further afield to a fashionable shopping district where she buys paperback novels to read, and even bought a video camera for the laptop to allow us to talk to home.
Wednesday, 6 May 2009
Istanbul Surgical Hospital
It’s been nearly two weeks since we landed in this single bed room at the Istanbul hospital … and there is no clock on the wall. Of course all it takes is an easy glance at the mobile phone to get the time, but when you’re just killing time lying in bed, time becomes a strange enemy. The longer we spend here, the longer the recovery must be taking, the more we miss home and want to go home.
I can update the travel blog by saying that I hobble to the toilet a few times each day, and every couple of days I get taken to theatre where surgeons change my dressing and continue to clean up my foot. I’m a regular now – the theatre staff know me, and welcome me like a member of the family. Their smiling face and warm Turkish humour is just what you need when you’re in such unfamiliar and clinical surroundings. One theatre attendant’s name is Assan, and his cheeky beaming smile is so settling. I have to transfer myself from the trolley to the operating table, and one day Assan left a metre gap and challenged me to take the leap. The theatre staff even put on music for me -some lovely gentle acoustic traditional music. These are highlights in my day, believe it or not.
The other highlights are all the calls and emails from home – a genuine tsunami of love and good wishes coming from Australia, and a few from Canada. Makes me feel very humble; they are all appreciated and lift our spirits immensely.
The hospital food is just that, hardly interesting but edible and nutritious. Thankfully there is a café just outside the hospital where Anne has become a regular customer. They even deliver her order to our room, even though they are not connected to the hospital at all. This enables us some genuine Turkish fare to supplement hospital meals. This must also be the longest we’ve gone without alcohol for ages.
I feel that my foot is recovering slowly every day, and all that’s left is plastic surgery (over two operations) to replace skin and muscle lost since the accident. Then we can come home and start the long rehabilitation road, but there are no dates for those yet.
I can update the travel blog by saying that I hobble to the toilet a few times each day, and every couple of days I get taken to theatre where surgeons change my dressing and continue to clean up my foot. I’m a regular now – the theatre staff know me, and welcome me like a member of the family. Their smiling face and warm Turkish humour is just what you need when you’re in such unfamiliar and clinical surroundings. One theatre attendant’s name is Assan, and his cheeky beaming smile is so settling. I have to transfer myself from the trolley to the operating table, and one day Assan left a metre gap and challenged me to take the leap. The theatre staff even put on music for me -some lovely gentle acoustic traditional music. These are highlights in my day, believe it or not.
The other highlights are all the calls and emails from home – a genuine tsunami of love and good wishes coming from Australia, and a few from Canada. Makes me feel very humble; they are all appreciated and lift our spirits immensely.
The hospital food is just that, hardly interesting but edible and nutritious. Thankfully there is a café just outside the hospital where Anne has become a regular customer. They even deliver her order to our room, even though they are not connected to the hospital at all. This enables us some genuine Turkish fare to supplement hospital meals. This must also be the longest we’ve gone without alcohol for ages.
I feel that my foot is recovering slowly every day, and all that’s left is plastic surgery (over two operations) to replace skin and muscle lost since the accident. Then we can come home and start the long rehabilitation road, but there are no dates for those yet.
Friday, 1 May 2009
Istanbul Surgical Hospital
I don’t quite know why you’d want to update a Travel Blog when you’re not actually traveling, but it's all I got I'm afraid. I won’t bore you with medical details, as much to say that several small operations later, my left foot is improving every day, but treatment continues. Skin grafts are scheduled to start next week. I am, however, stuck to this bed with my foot heavily bandaged and fitted with a plaster cast under my foot and up the back of my calf. The staff are great, some lack English but they are good fun and very understanding; the hospital food is typical hospital food – lacking imagination and repetitive every day; the only English television is CNN and BBC World News – there’s only so much Swine Flu one can take. We had our daughter Dayna from Toronto for few days for family support – another one of those surreal events that have overtaken our lives in the past couple weeks. It was wonderful to see her – certainly a bonus – but she’s returned to Canada now. Anne is now sleeping on a convertible bed in my room.
Let’s see if I can find a few new photos to post ….
Let’s see if I can find a few new photos to post ….
Saturday, 25 April 2009
Istanbul Surgical Hospital
ANZAC Day.
I’m writing this while lying in my Istanbul hospital bed, the same bed I’ve been occupying for two nights now. This is supposed to be a travel diary – not much traveling being done by this little black duck, I’m afraid. Yesterday I was poked and prodded by a joint party of an orthopedic and a vascular surgeon. Their joint assessment of my injured left foot was that I should stay in Istanbul and undergo a series of operations to clear up some issues that may turn nasty if I opted to fly back to Australia. Of course, my insurance cover is dependant on doctor’s advice, so here I stay. With this news, Dayna is coming to my rescue. She is on her way over from Toronto and will be a wonderful help for Anne while I an in-and-out of theatre. Again, our lovely doctor was recommended to the insurance company that family assistance is required.
I underwent surgery yesterday, and have another one this afternoon. Sunday is a rest day (I may need it) and another operation on Monday. We will know more by Monday night about my immediate future. The care in this place is overwhelming, just a continuation of the lovely friendships and warmth we’ve had over the last 3 weeks.
The motorcycle tour actually rides into Istanbul this afternoon, returning to our starting place after three weeks on the road. I should be riding with them. No doubt they will all pay me a visit sometime before they head home sometime on Monday, although Mike, Jim and Joel are staying on a few more days. Can’t blame them – it’s killing me being bed-ridden while I listen to this fabulous city buzzing outside my window. It really is the most exciting of cities – we thoroughly recommend Istanbul as a holiday destination.
I’m writing this while lying in my Istanbul hospital bed, the same bed I’ve been occupying for two nights now. This is supposed to be a travel diary – not much traveling being done by this little black duck, I’m afraid. Yesterday I was poked and prodded by a joint party of an orthopedic and a vascular surgeon. Their joint assessment of my injured left foot was that I should stay in Istanbul and undergo a series of operations to clear up some issues that may turn nasty if I opted to fly back to Australia. Of course, my insurance cover is dependant on doctor’s advice, so here I stay. With this news, Dayna is coming to my rescue. She is on her way over from Toronto and will be a wonderful help for Anne while I an in-and-out of theatre. Again, our lovely doctor was recommended to the insurance company that family assistance is required.
I underwent surgery yesterday, and have another one this afternoon. Sunday is a rest day (I may need it) and another operation on Monday. We will know more by Monday night about my immediate future. The care in this place is overwhelming, just a continuation of the lovely friendships and warmth we’ve had over the last 3 weeks.
The motorcycle tour actually rides into Istanbul this afternoon, returning to our starting place after three weeks on the road. I should be riding with them. No doubt they will all pay me a visit sometime before they head home sometime on Monday, although Mike, Jim and Joel are staying on a few more days. Can’t blame them – it’s killing me being bed-ridden while I listen to this fabulous city buzzing outside my window. It really is the most exciting of cities – we thoroughly recommend Istanbul as a holiday destination.
Wednesday, 22 April 2009
Sinop, northern Turkey
Day 21 April 21
As I write this, I’m on the bus heading to Sinop, on the Black Sea coast. It has taken 3 days of traveling to get from the Med coast in the south to the Black Sea coast in the north. The countryside is very rural with mountains all around us and obviously fertile plains in the valleys. This is a major area for growing rice and chick peas, and water is in abundance as the Black Sea influences rainfall across the northern regions of Turkey. Much of these roads are snaking their way around mountains and valleys, and the bus is being expertly driven by Yusuf. Such a sweet guy, a gentleman who can’t do enough for us. There were many times when Yusuf came to my aid when I was negotiating hectic city traffic on the bike. More often than not I would end up being “tail-end Charlie” of all the bikes, but Yusuf was always right behind me with the bus and he would block a lane behind me to allow me to change lanes unhindered by aggressive city traffic. We are lucky to have such a good driver – I don’t know how he has driven the bus down such narrow laneways and mountain roads. He is a Turkish gem.
Sitting in the passenger seat is Baris, our tour guide and interpreter. This guy never left my side during the accident aftermath. He stayed with us til 5.30 the following morning (as did Yusuf), and was always there to discuss my condition with hospital staff. Baris and Yusuf work for a tour company called Orion, and he is qualified to lead tours through Turkey’s ancient ruins – he actually studies ancient civilizations and carries reference books with him on tour. We could never repay this man for what he’s done for us.
I’m sitting directly behind Yusuf, and sitting opposite me is Shukru, our bike mechanic, who works for the company renting the bikes to us. He is always there to deal with bike problems (he has a range of spares on the bus), and at the end of every day, when the rest of us head to our hotel room after a hard day’s grind on the road, Shukru is washing the bikes, checking their oil, and lining them up for a smooth getaway in the morning. He is proud of his young family, and he loves to dance the traditional Turkish dance.
Also on the bus is Tom and Sylvia, a retired couple from Sydney, who have decided to relinquish their bike a couple of days ago for the comfort of the bus. Don’t ask Tom to rate the Yamaha cruiser motorbike!!.
Having made it to Sinop, I had to go straight to its hospital to get the dressing changed, and get my wounds inspected by a doctor, after 5 days since the accident. The Doc wasn’t happy (in fact there seemed to be many doctors offering the same advice) – they said I shouldn’t be traveling, I should be resting on my back, with my foot in the air. Some of the sutures were not healing well, and some patches of skin was dying, indicating circulation problems. The recommendation was an immediate trip to Istanbul, see a plastic surgeon and a bone doctor there, and depending what they say, either a hospital stay or fly home to Australia. Baris immediately got a flight booked to Istanbul tomorrow morning.
I’m devastated. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. All that work, planning, bike training and practice. We’ve seen ¾ of the tour, and we’ve been astounded, moved, stunned, and thoroughly spoilt to have been accepted by these people into their country. To have the tour end abruptly is heartbreaking, but our Turkey adventure might not be over yet.
As I write this, I’m on the bus heading to Sinop, on the Black Sea coast. It has taken 3 days of traveling to get from the Med coast in the south to the Black Sea coast in the north. The countryside is very rural with mountains all around us and obviously fertile plains in the valleys. This is a major area for growing rice and chick peas, and water is in abundance as the Black Sea influences rainfall across the northern regions of Turkey. Much of these roads are snaking their way around mountains and valleys, and the bus is being expertly driven by Yusuf. Such a sweet guy, a gentleman who can’t do enough for us. There were many times when Yusuf came to my aid when I was negotiating hectic city traffic on the bike. More often than not I would end up being “tail-end Charlie” of all the bikes, but Yusuf was always right behind me with the bus and he would block a lane behind me to allow me to change lanes unhindered by aggressive city traffic. We are lucky to have such a good driver – I don’t know how he has driven the bus down such narrow laneways and mountain roads. He is a Turkish gem.
Sitting in the passenger seat is Baris, our tour guide and interpreter. This guy never left my side during the accident aftermath. He stayed with us til 5.30 the following morning (as did Yusuf), and was always there to discuss my condition with hospital staff. Baris and Yusuf work for a tour company called Orion, and he is qualified to lead tours through Turkey’s ancient ruins – he actually studies ancient civilizations and carries reference books with him on tour. We could never repay this man for what he’s done for us.
I’m sitting directly behind Yusuf, and sitting opposite me is Shukru, our bike mechanic, who works for the company renting the bikes to us. He is always there to deal with bike problems (he has a range of spares on the bus), and at the end of every day, when the rest of us head to our hotel room after a hard day’s grind on the road, Shukru is washing the bikes, checking their oil, and lining them up for a smooth getaway in the morning. He is proud of his young family, and he loves to dance the traditional Turkish dance.
Also on the bus is Tom and Sylvia, a retired couple from Sydney, who have decided to relinquish their bike a couple of days ago for the comfort of the bus. Don’t ask Tom to rate the Yamaha cruiser motorbike!!.
Having made it to Sinop, I had to go straight to its hospital to get the dressing changed, and get my wounds inspected by a doctor, after 5 days since the accident. The Doc wasn’t happy (in fact there seemed to be many doctors offering the same advice) – they said I shouldn’t be traveling, I should be resting on my back, with my foot in the air. Some of the sutures were not healing well, and some patches of skin was dying, indicating circulation problems. The recommendation was an immediate trip to Istanbul, see a plastic surgeon and a bone doctor there, and depending what they say, either a hospital stay or fly home to Australia. Baris immediately got a flight booked to Istanbul tomorrow morning.
I’m devastated. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. All that work, planning, bike training and practice. We’ve seen ¾ of the tour, and we’ve been astounded, moved, stunned, and thoroughly spoilt to have been accepted by these people into their country. To have the tour end abruptly is heartbreaking, but our Turkey adventure might not be over yet.
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
Hattusha, central Turkey
Day 21, April 21
Back on the bus to continue our journey north through the middle of Turkey, and I rode quite comfortably considering. I rested my leg on a suitcase, and hobbled on crutches to lunch and a couple of notable sights of interest. The air is quite crisp – we are quite high on mountainous plateaux, and the terrain is stark, with very few trees but lots of rocky outcrops and open fields with cattle grazing. No fences to stop the cattle roaming onto the road – usually there is a farmer controlling them, but when the grass is so green and plentiful on both sides of the road, the cattle don’t need to wander.
We stop at yet another ruined city, called Hattusha, it was the major city of an ancient civilization called the Hittites. We could inspect their carvings, walk their paths, even walked through a tunnel of rock boulders that was an entrance to the city – an incredible feat of engineering that it’s still standing, since these people lived here 13 centuries B.C. We were incredulous – we were touching the handiwork of a stonemason from 3,300 years ago !!!
Back on the bus to continue our journey north through the middle of Turkey, and I rode quite comfortably considering. I rested my leg on a suitcase, and hobbled on crutches to lunch and a couple of notable sights of interest. The air is quite crisp – we are quite high on mountainous plateaux, and the terrain is stark, with very few trees but lots of rocky outcrops and open fields with cattle grazing. No fences to stop the cattle roaming onto the road – usually there is a farmer controlling them, but when the grass is so green and plentiful on both sides of the road, the cattle don’t need to wander.
We stop at yet another ruined city, called Hattusha, it was the major city of an ancient civilization called the Hittites. We could inspect their carvings, walk their paths, even walked through a tunnel of rock boulders that was an entrance to the city – an incredible feat of engineering that it’s still standing, since these people lived here 13 centuries B.C. We were incredulous – we were touching the handiwork of a stonemason from 3,300 years ago !!!
Monday, 20 April 2009
Cappadocia, central Turkey
The surreal landscape of Cappadocia was formed many thousands of years ago when two volcanoes erupted together, and the resulting lava flows then eroded with rain, snow and wind to form conical shaped chimneys and honeycomb cliffs. The amazing landscape is contained within a huge canyon that reminds us of the Grand Canyon in the States – different coloured layers of rock form the deep ravines at the canyon walls, but the so-called fairy chimneys make Cappadocia unique in the world. About 2,000 years ago, inhabitants carved out their homes in these strange rock formations, creating an underground ancient city that can still be visited today. In the centre of this area is a charming little village called Gorome, and our hotel is there, perched on a hill overlooking this entire valley. The view from our windows and the hotels gardens is just stunning.
One night we are taken to a “Turkish Cultural Night”, in a local restaurant that is about 2 flights of stairs underground. Rather difficult for me to achieve on crutches, but Barish already had that worked out with the restaurant owner. Tell you in a minute … First item for the floorshow was an extraordinary religious ceremony performed by a Muslim sect called the Dervishes. Four guys enter the room, under low lighting, dressed in black robes and wearing conical felt fez hats, with their arms folded over their chest and their hands on their shoulders. After a period of bows and prayer, they remove their black robes to reveal pure white, floor-length robes, and they begin to spin on the one spot with their arms outstretched– they twirl around and around so that their white robes flow out like a flower in bloom, and they spin and spin for five minutes while very atmospheric Turkish music is playing. They stop (without any sign of giddiness or unsteadyness), chant some more, and start spinning again. We all found it the most moving, peaceful, and beautiful of ceremonies. It really was extraordinary – the Twirling Dervishes.
What followed was Turkish music and traditional dancing, and the final act for the evening was a belly dancer, who entered the central stage area by being lowered from the ceiling in a sequined and colourful-lit cage. Remember the show-room is 2 storeys underground – the bellydancer’s dressing room was at ground-level, just off the carpark. Yes, you guessed it – this is how I made my dramatic entrance and exit from the showroom. And no, the belly dancer was nowhere in sight when I used her dressing room.
In my current condition, I’m not fit for all the planned activities, and one such activity was a hot-air balloon ride over the fairy chimneys of Cappadocia at sunrise. I just could not climb into the basket, and I couldn’t sit down. But Anne went, and loved it.
One night we are taken to a “Turkish Cultural Night”, in a local restaurant that is about 2 flights of stairs underground. Rather difficult for me to achieve on crutches, but Barish already had that worked out with the restaurant owner. Tell you in a minute … First item for the floorshow was an extraordinary religious ceremony performed by a Muslim sect called the Dervishes. Four guys enter the room, under low lighting, dressed in black robes and wearing conical felt fez hats, with their arms folded over their chest and their hands on their shoulders. After a period of bows and prayer, they remove their black robes to reveal pure white, floor-length robes, and they begin to spin on the one spot with their arms outstretched– they twirl around and around so that their white robes flow out like a flower in bloom, and they spin and spin for five minutes while very atmospheric Turkish music is playing. They stop (without any sign of giddiness or unsteadyness), chant some more, and start spinning again. We all found it the most moving, peaceful, and beautiful of ceremonies. It really was extraordinary – the Twirling Dervishes.
What followed was Turkish music and traditional dancing, and the final act for the evening was a belly dancer, who entered the central stage area by being lowered from the ceiling in a sequined and colourful-lit cage. Remember the show-room is 2 storeys underground – the bellydancer’s dressing room was at ground-level, just off the carpark. Yes, you guessed it – this is how I made my dramatic entrance and exit from the showroom. And no, the belly dancer was nowhere in sight when I used her dressing room.
In my current condition, I’m not fit for all the planned activities, and one such activity was a hot-air balloon ride over the fairy chimneys of Cappadocia at sunrise. I just could not climb into the basket, and I couldn’t sit down. But Anne went, and loved it.
Friday, 17 April 2009
Kizkalesi, southern Turkey
We say good bye to Antalya and follow Mike out of city, old and new, to continue following the rugged Mediterranean coastline to the west. Our destination was Kizkelasi, near Silifke, a coastal town with an ancient castle occupying a small island about 200 meters from the shore. After lunch at Anamur, we needed to take a windy road to traverse a range of hills, but this was no big deal – I had mastered the art of motorcycling around hairpin corners and dealing with the other traffic around me. At one tight turn I encountered a large herd of mountain goats on the road direct in front of me, an old woman was trying to get them from one side of the road to the other. My emergency braking training came into good use, although the old woman was not happy that my bike had startled and scattered her goats in all directions. Not long after this, was my accident.
I really don’t remember anything of what happened. I just remember waking up in the back of the ambulance. I’m told that I was taking a tight left-hander, quite slowly, and I crashed head-on with a truck coming the other way, that was completely on my side of the road to take his right-hander as wide as possible. So, the consequence was a few cuts and bruises, and a dislocated left ankle. No broken bones. My protective gear did its job. I was fitted with plaster on the back of my left leg, from behind the knee to under my feet to the toes, and for the rest of the tour I will be joining Anne on the bus. No more Turkey motorbike riding for me.
The really annoying thing is that the accident was not my fault, and I was feeling so good and confident on the bike. Let’s face it – if I could negotiate such heavy city traffic as there was in Istanbul, Izmir and Antalya, then I could have certainly finished the tour. That was my intention, and the challenge I set myself was to ride into Istanbul on the last day. That ain’t gonna happen now.
But the tour goes on. We didn’t see much of Kizkalesi due to the overnight hospital stay (almost overnight – I was discharged at 4am, had a few hours sleep at hotel, then left at 8.30). Our next stop is Cappadocia, where we had a two day/three night stay scheduled, and this prolonged stay would help my recuperation.
I really don’t remember anything of what happened. I just remember waking up in the back of the ambulance. I’m told that I was taking a tight left-hander, quite slowly, and I crashed head-on with a truck coming the other way, that was completely on my side of the road to take his right-hander as wide as possible. So, the consequence was a few cuts and bruises, and a dislocated left ankle. No broken bones. My protective gear did its job. I was fitted with plaster on the back of my left leg, from behind the knee to under my feet to the toes, and for the rest of the tour I will be joining Anne on the bus. No more Turkey motorbike riding for me.
The really annoying thing is that the accident was not my fault, and I was feeling so good and confident on the bike. Let’s face it – if I could negotiate such heavy city traffic as there was in Istanbul, Izmir and Antalya, then I could have certainly finished the tour. That was my intention, and the challenge I set myself was to ride into Istanbul on the last day. That ain’t gonna happen now.
But the tour goes on. We didn’t see much of Kizkalesi due to the overnight hospital stay (almost overnight – I was discharged at 4am, had a few hours sleep at hotel, then left at 8.30). Our next stop is Cappadocia, where we had a two day/three night stay scheduled, and this prolonged stay would help my recuperation.
Thursday, 16 April 2009
Antalya, southern Turkey
All of the treats on this tour have been organized by Ferris Wheels, and I must say that Mike has done very well to capture much of the essence of this country. Today we are treated to a morning cruise on a wooden motor cruiser that took us to the Lower Duden Falls, about 10kms north of the city, Perhaps not a huge waterfall, as waterfalls go, but the volume of water entering the Mediterranean from this small river is quite spectacular. We drop anchor a couple hundred meters from the waterfall, and while the captain cooks lunch in the galley, some of us dive in for a swim. I expected the water to be cold due to the melting snow coming over the waterfall, but it was quite warm and a delight to swim in. The water was crystal-clear and we could see the sandy bottom in 8 meters of water. The coastline is all cliffs with hotels perched above them, each with their own private stairs down to water-level. Baris tells us that the main industry in Antalya is tourism. By the number of hotels, restaurants and street merchants we’ve seen, he is clearly right.
The cruiser departed from an ancient Roman marina dating from 2nd century BC, which is quite central to the old part of the city. Our hotel is 5 minutes walk from here, and is an old Ottoman style building. Just up the cobblestone laneway is Hadrian’s Gate, built in 1st Century AD by Roman emperor Hadrian as the main gate to the old city. The gate is part of a wall that surrounds the old city, and many hotels have been built into the wall and ramparts to keep the historical value (somewhat). It’s fascinating to see the wall still there, still standing, after 2,000 years. Over the expanse of water we see the mountains that we skirted yesterday to get here, and the highest peaks still have snow on them. The scene reminds us of Vancouver.
The cruiser departed from an ancient Roman marina dating from 2nd century BC, which is quite central to the old part of the city. Our hotel is 5 minutes walk from here, and is an old Ottoman style building. Just up the cobblestone laneway is Hadrian’s Gate, built in 1st Century AD by Roman emperor Hadrian as the main gate to the old city. The gate is part of a wall that surrounds the old city, and many hotels have been built into the wall and ramparts to keep the historical value (somewhat). It’s fascinating to see the wall still there, still standing, after 2,000 years. Over the expanse of water we see the mountains that we skirted yesterday to get here, and the highest peaks still have snow on them. The scene reminds us of Vancouver.
Wednesday, 15 April 2009
Kas, south-west Turkey
196 kms on the bike.
The morning exploring Kas (pronounced “cash”). As usual in Turkey, there are ancient ruins nearby, and it’s yet another theatre. Much smaller than the ones at Ephesus and Heiropolis, this one’s not Roman, it was built by the Lyceans a couple centuries BC, and it looks out over the sea and islands in the distance. Certainly the theatre with the best view of the four we’ve seen this week.
After lunch in Kas, we ride into the east for Antalya, hugging the coastline as we go. The magnificent seaviews continue. I can tell you that the Med is really blue, quite brilliantly blue, and it’s no coincidence that the word “turquoise” originated from the word Turkey – it aptly describes the colour of the water off to our right. Quite amazing.
Antalya is a sprawling city, Turkey’s third largest, and our hotel is right in the middle, which means it’s in the old section of the city, and a fight through congested traffic at 4pm. Narrow laneways, cobbled alley, lots of pedestrians to avoid on the bike, but we eventually make it to the hotel. Two days here means laundry, and a bike-free day tomorrow.
The morning exploring Kas (pronounced “cash”). As usual in Turkey, there are ancient ruins nearby, and it’s yet another theatre. Much smaller than the ones at Ephesus and Heiropolis, this one’s not Roman, it was built by the Lyceans a couple centuries BC, and it looks out over the sea and islands in the distance. Certainly the theatre with the best view of the four we’ve seen this week.
After lunch in Kas, we ride into the east for Antalya, hugging the coastline as we go. The magnificent seaviews continue. I can tell you that the Med is really blue, quite brilliantly blue, and it’s no coincidence that the word “turquoise” originated from the word Turkey – it aptly describes the colour of the water off to our right. Quite amazing.
Antalya is a sprawling city, Turkey’s third largest, and our hotel is right in the middle, which means it’s in the old section of the city, and a fight through congested traffic at 4pm. Narrow laneways, cobbled alley, lots of pedestrians to avoid on the bike, but we eventually make it to the hotel. Two days here means laundry, and a bike-free day tomorrow.
Tuesday, 14 April 2009
Kas, south-west Turkey
We crossed another one off the list today … we swam in the Mediterranean. And covered 328 kms on the bike.
After a 6.30am dip in the hot mud pool for one last time, we headed off at 8.30, riding south. We ride towards the snow covered mountains that had been on our right yesterday, the intention is to cross them over the next 4 hours. Within an hour, we are well into the mountains, the air became crisp, and the scenery was superb. The terrain is barren, too rocky for undergrowth, but trees dot the landscape. The peaks soar all around as you ride through the valleys. Ahead you see the road snake its way around the mountains, behind is the road that you’ve just ridden on, stretching for miles in both directions. Every now and then you ride through a small village where people go about their daily life. Mostly elderly, husband and wife tending the garden or orchard; or men sitting outside the café drinking tea; a woman leading a donkey laden with bags or kids; farmers driving a tractor pulling a cart of hay or firewood, with the Mrs sitting on the back. You gotta watch out for the flock of sheep grazing on the fresh grass at the side of the road, under the watchful eye of an old shepherd.
Coming down from the mountains, we have lunch at Fethiye, at an old roadside café where we have the best pida (Turkish pizza) ever. We watch them being made, and as they cook, his son takes us around the back to see his chooks. The son wants me to take a photo of him on my bike, then I must take a photo of him and his mother. We shake hands with the whole family, and we’re off again. A typical lunch stop for us in rural Turkey.
Riding further south, we eventually hit the Mediterranean, or rather, it hits us. Hills 500 metres high fall into the beautiful blue sea, and we ride on a road that has been cut into the side of the hill. The views are so spectacular, it’s dangerous for motorbike riders. A motorbike tends to head in the direction that you’re looking, and when you’re looking at an incredibly blue sea stretching out to your right, it can be quite dangerous. Greek islands are clearly visible a few kilometers away, and the coastline weaves in and out forming bays and headlands as far as the eye can see. Dotted along the coast are built-up areas, many containing multi-storey hotels, and every window in every house has a view over this magnificent seascape.
We soon arrive at Kas, population 8,000, and our hotel has “that” view. Just across the road is the hotel’s own landing for accessing the sea. No beach, just a very rocky shoreline, so we jump in, and climb out by the hotel’s own ladder, while wondering if life could get any better?
After a 6.30am dip in the hot mud pool for one last time, we headed off at 8.30, riding south. We ride towards the snow covered mountains that had been on our right yesterday, the intention is to cross them over the next 4 hours. Within an hour, we are well into the mountains, the air became crisp, and the scenery was superb. The terrain is barren, too rocky for undergrowth, but trees dot the landscape. The peaks soar all around as you ride through the valleys. Ahead you see the road snake its way around the mountains, behind is the road that you’ve just ridden on, stretching for miles in both directions. Every now and then you ride through a small village where people go about their daily life. Mostly elderly, husband and wife tending the garden or orchard; or men sitting outside the café drinking tea; a woman leading a donkey laden with bags or kids; farmers driving a tractor pulling a cart of hay or firewood, with the Mrs sitting on the back. You gotta watch out for the flock of sheep grazing on the fresh grass at the side of the road, under the watchful eye of an old shepherd.
Coming down from the mountains, we have lunch at Fethiye, at an old roadside café where we have the best pida (Turkish pizza) ever. We watch them being made, and as they cook, his son takes us around the back to see his chooks. The son wants me to take a photo of him on my bike, then I must take a photo of him and his mother. We shake hands with the whole family, and we’re off again. A typical lunch stop for us in rural Turkey.
Riding further south, we eventually hit the Mediterranean, or rather, it hits us. Hills 500 metres high fall into the beautiful blue sea, and we ride on a road that has been cut into the side of the hill. The views are so spectacular, it’s dangerous for motorbike riders. A motorbike tends to head in the direction that you’re looking, and when you’re looking at an incredibly blue sea stretching out to your right, it can be quite dangerous. Greek islands are clearly visible a few kilometers away, and the coastline weaves in and out forming bays and headlands as far as the eye can see. Dotted along the coast are built-up areas, many containing multi-storey hotels, and every window in every house has a view over this magnificent seascape.
We soon arrive at Kas, population 8,000, and our hotel has “that” view. Just across the road is the hotel’s own landing for accessing the sea. No beach, just a very rocky shoreline, so we jump in, and climb out by the hotel’s own ladder, while wondering if life could get any better?
Monday, 13 April 2009
Pammakale
Ephesus was a city in the present-day western Turkey, a few hundred year B.C. The Romans made it capital of Asia Minor and its population was around 250,000. Today we walked its streets just as the Romans did, we walked through their arched doors, we even sat on their stone lavatories. This amazingly preserved site just out of Kusadasi on the Turkish western coast was just incredible at every turn in the main street that takes you through the stone city. We were gobsmacked, along with the thousands of other tourists, delivered by dozens of buses and lead by dozens of tourguides holding up their uniquely numbered sign as a shepherd would do for his flock. Our tourguide, Baris, kept us nice and close, so he didn’t need a sign. Of course, it’s like Disneyland just outside the main gates.
Photos cannot do it justice, but the ruins were more intact than Troy (of course much younger, its only 2,000 years old). The façade to the library has been reconstructed from the original pieces, like a jigsaw puzzle, and the Great Theatre down the street was huge, intact, and incredible. Artists like Sting and Elton have actually played concerts in this place in recent years – the acoustics are so perfect, and its 2,000 years old. Finally we walked though some terraced houses that have been recently excavated, and it was like eavesdropping on the extravagant Roman lifestyle from 2,000 years ago. Two storey’s high, with colourful mosaic floors and walled frescoes, columns and walled rooms. It really did feel like we were connecting with people from 20 centuries ago.
There is so much to see, and absorb, at Ephesus, and the history is mindblowing. St Paul and Jesus’ mother Mary supposedly lived here in the middle of 1st century – Paul wrote his letter to the Ephesians here, that appears in the bible. They say that this place is the best-preserved classical city of the eastern Mediterranean.
Kusadasi to Pammukale 189 kms on the bike.
After a much appreciated “rest” day in Kusadasi (with Ephesus on that day), we’re back on the bikes and heading inland, away from the western Agean Sea coast. By lunchtime we reach our destination – the little village of Pamukkale, population only 2,500. The reason why we’re here is two-fold – the ruins of the ancient city of Hieropolis, and the travertines. The latter is so other-worldly that it’s hard to explain, while the former is yet another ancient Roman city in ruins but so well preserved.
Travertines are created by calcium rich water reaching the surface from deep below the earth, and as it instantly cools the calcium deposits on the hillside, forming a marble-white surface. Of course the water is also thermal (ie hot) and it was these thermal springs that brought the Romans to build the city of Hieropolis directly adjacent. The sight of the white cliffs was quite weird but spectacular, but the Roman ruins were exceptional. Again, like Ephesus, we walked the streets of Hieropolis as if we were one of its citizens. Huge archways and tombs, but the most incredible was the theatre – the third one we’ve seen in 3 days, and the most spectacular. Not as big as the one at Ephesus, but more intact and much steeper seating, making it much higher. It reminded me of sitting at the Docklands Stadium in Melbourne – the tiers were so steep that you were quite close to the stage. To sit where Romans sat 2,000 years ago to watch a theatrical performance, was quite something for us. We were mesmerised.
Back to our hotel at Pamukkale for a swim, and like any hotel in this area, it has taken advantage of the thermal springs and it has it’s own hot-water pools. Unfiltered, which means that the water contains a fine silt that settles out into an orange, sulphur-smelling mud. Apparently very therapeutic. Who cares, so much fun playing in hot mud and then showering off for a Turkish banquet that night. And yet another raki – Turkish liquor as the traditional nightcap.
Saturday, 11 April 2009
Kusadasi, Turkey
489 kms on the bike.
We leave Cannakale heading for Kusadasi on the southern coast, for what will be a very long ride – over 400 kms. On the way however, we stop off at the ancient city of Troy. Well, what’s left of it, for it is only ruins that have been excavated over the past century. Some imagination is required when looking at lines of stone embedded in the ground, but to think that we are walking over 5,000 years of history – it’s rather mind-boggling. We are greeted by a replica of the wooden horse that lead to the downfall of Troy, according to legend, and it seems that much about this city is obscured by legend. But we had to pinch ourselves to realize just how much humanity had been here before us.
Then off to Kusadasi, and part of this long journey involved bypassing Izmir, 4th largest city in Turkey. Looking over the city as we skirted it, this must be the ugliest city we’ve seen – spread out over a huge area, very industrial (oil refineries, steel mills, cement works) and just myriads of high-rise residential blocks. But either side of this city was rural splendour – small towns with homely locals selling their wares by the roadside, and by far the most popular plant of choice olives. For hundreds of kilometers, plantation after plantation of olive groves. Quite incredible that this many olives can be consumed, and many trees were obviously very old, judging by the size of their trunks.
Once we hit the coastline, the views were fantastic – hills and mountains falling into the Mediterranean Sea. Clear blue water. Oh, and more olive groves.
We leave Cannakale heading for Kusadasi on the southern coast, for what will be a very long ride – over 400 kms. On the way however, we stop off at the ancient city of Troy. Well, what’s left of it, for it is only ruins that have been excavated over the past century. Some imagination is required when looking at lines of stone embedded in the ground, but to think that we are walking over 5,000 years of history – it’s rather mind-boggling. We are greeted by a replica of the wooden horse that lead to the downfall of Troy, according to legend, and it seems that much about this city is obscured by legend. But we had to pinch ourselves to realize just how much humanity had been here before us.
Then off to Kusadasi, and part of this long journey involved bypassing Izmir, 4th largest city in Turkey. Looking over the city as we skirted it, this must be the ugliest city we’ve seen – spread out over a huge area, very industrial (oil refineries, steel mills, cement works) and just myriads of high-rise residential blocks. But either side of this city was rural splendour – small towns with homely locals selling their wares by the roadside, and by far the most popular plant of choice olives. For hundreds of kilometers, plantation after plantation of olive groves. Quite incredible that this many olives can be consumed, and many trees were obviously very old, judging by the size of their trunks.
Once we hit the coastline, the views were fantastic – hills and mountains falling into the Mediterranean Sea. Clear blue water. Oh, and more olive groves.
Friday, 10 April 2009
Cannakale, Turkey
80 kms on the bike.
We have a list of places we want to visit before we die. We crossed one of them off the list today. Gallipoli is a place that we’ve been hearing about since our earliest memories, and seeing it today was quite surreal. We were lucky to visit on a brilliant sunny day, the water was calm and blue, making this place serenely beautiful. Hard to imagine the hundreds of thousands of casualties suffered by the ANZACs, British, French and Turks over the 9 month Gallipoli campaign. I am currently reading the book “Gallipoli” written by Alan Moorehead published in 1956 – I recommend it – and I recognize most of the place names in this relatively small area. We rode to 5 different places, each with a memorial, either Australian, New Zealand or Turkish, and each one was so very well presented and maintained. I think we came away wiser for the experience, and re-assured that the ANZAC memory is in the reliable hands of the Turks. We’re glad we did not do this on ANZAC Day – for example we had the whole of ANZAC Cove to ourselves – the stands were already erected for April 25th, and the thousands of seats available was quite scary for the hoards about to occupy them.
It’s crazy to think of what a senseless waste of human life this campaign was in 1915, but quite beautiful to think that the commander who led the Turks to victory against the ANZACs eventually went on to lead his country to become a republic, and told Australia in 1934 that “your fallen now lie in the soil of a friendly country … your sons are now our sons”. Indeed, we can confirm that this is a friendly country, and we are loving their friendship and hospitality.
After the emotional morning at Gallipoli, which is on the outer, western side of the Gallipoli peninsula, we crossed over to the western side to catch a ferry over to the other side of the Dardenelles, effectively crossing from Europe into Asia, in reality from the townships of Eceabat to Cannakale, where we stayed the night in a very appropriately hotel called the Anafartalar (??) These two towns straddle the waterway that leads north to the Marmara Sea and then the Bosphorus River, and then the Black Sea (and Russia). This stretch of just over a kilometer wide is called The Narrows, and has been of strategic importance for centuries for the control of this water system, including the vital period in 1915. Both towns have a stone fortress either side that has guarded the entrance for hundreds of years.
We have a list of places we want to visit before we die. We crossed one of them off the list today. Gallipoli is a place that we’ve been hearing about since our earliest memories, and seeing it today was quite surreal. We were lucky to visit on a brilliant sunny day, the water was calm and blue, making this place serenely beautiful. Hard to imagine the hundreds of thousands of casualties suffered by the ANZACs, British, French and Turks over the 9 month Gallipoli campaign. I am currently reading the book “Gallipoli” written by Alan Moorehead published in 1956 – I recommend it – and I recognize most of the place names in this relatively small area. We rode to 5 different places, each with a memorial, either Australian, New Zealand or Turkish, and each one was so very well presented and maintained. I think we came away wiser for the experience, and re-assured that the ANZAC memory is in the reliable hands of the Turks. We’re glad we did not do this on ANZAC Day – for example we had the whole of ANZAC Cove to ourselves – the stands were already erected for April 25th, and the thousands of seats available was quite scary for the hoards about to occupy them.
It’s crazy to think of what a senseless waste of human life this campaign was in 1915, but quite beautiful to think that the commander who led the Turks to victory against the ANZACs eventually went on to lead his country to become a republic, and told Australia in 1934 that “your fallen now lie in the soil of a friendly country … your sons are now our sons”. Indeed, we can confirm that this is a friendly country, and we are loving their friendship and hospitality.
After the emotional morning at Gallipoli, which is on the outer, western side of the Gallipoli peninsula, we crossed over to the western side to catch a ferry over to the other side of the Dardenelles, effectively crossing from Europe into Asia, in reality from the townships of Eceabat to Cannakale, where we stayed the night in a very appropriately hotel called the Anafartalar (??) These two towns straddle the waterway that leads north to the Marmara Sea and then the Bosphorus River, and then the Black Sea (and Russia). This stretch of just over a kilometer wide is called The Narrows, and has been of strategic importance for centuries for the control of this water system, including the vital period in 1915. Both towns have a stone fortress either side that has guarded the entrance for hundreds of years.
Thursday, 9 April 2009
Geribolu, western Turkey
Day 8 April 8
The first official day of the Ferris Wheels Turkey Treasures Tour for 2009. We met the people whom we will be traveling with for the next 3 weeks: Tom & Sylvia, James & Joanne, and Jim all from N.S.W., Joel is an American from Seattle; there’s our tour leader Mike, and our 3-man Turkish support crew - guide Baris, driver Yusuf and motorbike mechanic Shukru.
Today Baris took us to the two major buildings in the old part of Istanbul, and both buildings were visited by Barack Obama just 24 hours prior (as pictures in today’s newspaper showed – I bet he didn’t have to battle the crowds of people like we did). The Blue Mosque is an actual place of worship for Muslims in Istanbul – unique for its six minarets. Mosques only have a maximum of four of these high, needle-like spires, this is the only one in the world with six. This building is relatively new, only being built in the 17th century. Almost next door is the Hagia Sofia – once a working mosque after one of history’s very first Christian churches, building started about 600AD. Walking inside both buildings takes the breath away.
Later that afternoon, the bikes are delivered to the hotel, and I got my first look and feel of my "bike buddy" for the next 3 weeks.
Day 9 April 9
284 kms on the bike.
A rather nerve-wracking start to the day, as we negotiate our way from our hotel to the main road south out of Istanbul. The streets directly from our hotel are very narrow, cobblestones, and full of traffic and people. Just as we got onto the four lane highway that runs right alongside the Bosphorus, I could see dolphins playing, just 10 metres from the shore. About half-dozen, jumping right out of the water, and happily playing in the calm morning air. How fantastic … and we were only 5 minutes into the ride. I suddenly realized that I to concentrate on riding this dam big bike underneath me – this Ferris guy certainly puts on a show for his clients.
I am riding a Suzuki 650 V-Strom, and it’s a beautiful thing to ride. So much bigger and more powerful than my 400 back home, but after an hour, I felt quite comfortable. It took us the morning to ride out of the Istanbul built-up area – it is a huge city, and it hugs the coastline for ages. When we left the main highway, things got a bit hairy with windy roads, but I finished the first day feeling a sense of accomplishment. All that training and now I'm here doing Turkey. We finish the day in Geribolu, a charming little fishing village about 30 minutes from the Gallipoli battlefields. They're tomorrow.
The first official day of the Ferris Wheels Turkey Treasures Tour for 2009. We met the people whom we will be traveling with for the next 3 weeks: Tom & Sylvia, James & Joanne, and Jim all from N.S.W., Joel is an American from Seattle; there’s our tour leader Mike, and our 3-man Turkish support crew - guide Baris, driver Yusuf and motorbike mechanic Shukru.
Today Baris took us to the two major buildings in the old part of Istanbul, and both buildings were visited by Barack Obama just 24 hours prior (as pictures in today’s newspaper showed – I bet he didn’t have to battle the crowds of people like we did). The Blue Mosque is an actual place of worship for Muslims in Istanbul – unique for its six minarets. Mosques only have a maximum of four of these high, needle-like spires, this is the only one in the world with six. This building is relatively new, only being built in the 17th century. Almost next door is the Hagia Sofia – once a working mosque after one of history’s very first Christian churches, building started about 600AD. Walking inside both buildings takes the breath away.
Later that afternoon, the bikes are delivered to the hotel, and I got my first look and feel of my "bike buddy" for the next 3 weeks.
Day 9 April 9
284 kms on the bike.
A rather nerve-wracking start to the day, as we negotiate our way from our hotel to the main road south out of Istanbul. The streets directly from our hotel are very narrow, cobblestones, and full of traffic and people. Just as we got onto the four lane highway that runs right alongside the Bosphorus, I could see dolphins playing, just 10 metres from the shore. About half-dozen, jumping right out of the water, and happily playing in the calm morning air. How fantastic … and we were only 5 minutes into the ride. I suddenly realized that I to concentrate on riding this dam big bike underneath me – this Ferris guy certainly puts on a show for his clients.
I am riding a Suzuki 650 V-Strom, and it’s a beautiful thing to ride. So much bigger and more powerful than my 400 back home, but after an hour, I felt quite comfortable. It took us the morning to ride out of the Istanbul built-up area – it is a huge city, and it hugs the coastline for ages. When we left the main highway, things got a bit hairy with windy roads, but I finished the first day feeling a sense of accomplishment. All that training and now I'm here doing Turkey. We finish the day in Geribolu, a charming little fishing village about 30 minutes from the Gallipoli battlefields. They're tomorrow.
Tuesday, 7 April 2009
Istanbul
What an amazing first day in Turkey. It started with breakfast on the top floor of our hotel (World Park Hotel, in central Istanbul), with an amazing view over a sprawling city. The habour was right in front of us, and we watched ferries come and go as we had breakfast. Again we noticed a marked police presence on the main road down by the Bosphorus River, hinting at more Obama movements today.
Mike then took us on a quick tour of Istanbul, about 10 kilometers on foot, over 5 hours. First stop was the Spice Bazaar down by the Bosphorus, but on the way, the police grew in numbers. Busloads of them, in fact. Helicopters directly overhead. A police marksman in a minaret above us. Then the main road was cleared of cars, the street cars stopped operating, and police cars and motorbikes zoomed past. Then … the man himself. Barack was sitting on our side of the big black limo, and waved at the crowd as he drove past. Everybody stopped and watched him go by. We find out later that he was heading for the Blue Mosque, perhaps the most holiest of Muslim buildings in Turkey.
The Spice Bazaar was crazy – with every kind of edible spice on sale. Also there was an animal market - rabbits, chickens, peacocks, dogs, and the strangest was a bottle full of swimming leeches!! The spices are so colourful, and one guy tried to sell Anne a little jar of aphrodisiac for her husband. She declined.
Up the hill and through narrow streets we found the Grand Bazaar – a huge covered market many hundreds of years old, with 4000 shops selling absolutely everything. The shopkeepers hassle as you walk past, but if you humour them, it’s actually fun. You could spend hours, even days, here.
We then went underground to explore the Basilica Cistern – built in 532 AD to provide water to the palace and important buildings. It was actually re-discovered in 1545 when people found they could get buckets of water from underneath their floors. You can now walk through this underground room of stone, with hundreds of columns holding up the roof and about one foot of water on the floor. It’s an extraordinary feat of Roman stone engineering.
Walking back to our hotel, we pass through a park with garden beds of flowers, quite beautiful. The dominate flower is the tulip – of every colour.
Mike then took us on a quick tour of Istanbul, about 10 kilometers on foot, over 5 hours. First stop was the Spice Bazaar down by the Bosphorus, but on the way, the police grew in numbers. Busloads of them, in fact. Helicopters directly overhead. A police marksman in a minaret above us. Then the main road was cleared of cars, the street cars stopped operating, and police cars and motorbikes zoomed past. Then … the man himself. Barack was sitting on our side of the big black limo, and waved at the crowd as he drove past. Everybody stopped and watched him go by. We find out later that he was heading for the Blue Mosque, perhaps the most holiest of Muslim buildings in Turkey.
The Spice Bazaar was crazy – with every kind of edible spice on sale. Also there was an animal market - rabbits, chickens, peacocks, dogs, and the strangest was a bottle full of swimming leeches!! The spices are so colourful, and one guy tried to sell Anne a little jar of aphrodisiac for her husband. She declined.
Up the hill and through narrow streets we found the Grand Bazaar – a huge covered market many hundreds of years old, with 4000 shops selling absolutely everything. The shopkeepers hassle as you walk past, but if you humour them, it’s actually fun. You could spend hours, even days, here.
We then went underground to explore the Basilica Cistern – built in 532 AD to provide water to the palace and important buildings. It was actually re-discovered in 1545 when people found they could get buckets of water from underneath their floors. You can now walk through this underground room of stone, with hundreds of columns holding up the roof and about one foot of water on the floor. It’s an extraordinary feat of Roman stone engineering.
Walking back to our hotel, we pass through a park with garden beds of flowers, quite beautiful. The dominate flower is the tulip – of every colour.
Monday, 6 April 2009
Istanbul
We learn that none other than Barack Obama is also in Turkey today, addressing the Turkish parliament in Ankara on his way home from the NATO summit in Strasbourg and the G20 meeting in London. On our way into the city from Istanbul's Ataturk International Airport, we pass hundreds of police, on every corner, carrying weapons, and we learn that Mr Obama is arriving here a few hours after us, after his visit to Ankara. And his visit to Turkey is all over the Turkish news - press and TV - the guy is creating huge expectations in Turkey after 8 years of bad relations between Turkey and the US.
By the way, we saw a great t-shirt in Vienna the other day. It said "20-1-2009, the end of an error".
We have a couple days to explore Istanbul before starting the bike tour on Thursday.
By the way, we saw a great t-shirt in Vienna the other day. It said "20-1-2009, the end of an error".
We have a couple days to explore Istanbul before starting the bike tour on Thursday.
Sunday, 5 April 2009
Vienna, Austria
Our final full day in Vienna, and after a leisurely start, we purchased a day ticket for the public transport and just wandered aimlessly, starting off heading away from the city, unlike every day previous. The train line ended up across the Danube in the new part of Vienna – modern, new buildings of glass and steel, open parklands and mostly apartments. A Sunday market was happening in adjacent to the station, with a children’s merry-go-round and colourful train. Again we got the impression that this is a very livable city. Heading back to the old city, we passed an amazing piece of architecture – a working waste treatment factory that has been made into a work of art - it has to be seen to be believed. I can imagine some people thinking it grotesque … we thought it was a very clever way of beautifying a drab piece of industry. Very arty, eye-catching and provocative. Maybe everyone should consider turning their ugly industrial sites into visual works of art?
Our friend Judy recommended a visit to the Sacher hotel for their famous torte and hot chocolate – and honestly it was the most heavenly chocolate experience we’ve ever had. Enough said – end of story.
Then on to the museums, and we chose the History Museum – we could have chosen from dozens of others. Egyptian and Greek artifacts from 1,300 years B.C., and then paintings by Rubens, Rembrandt, etc, etc, some paintings from 16th century. All housed in the most incredible building with a marble interior, huge staircases, huge stone pillars, vaulted ceilings with gold-plated paintings. Every corner we turned took our breath away. What must the other museums be like? You could spend a month in Vienna and not see everything in its museums.
Packing our cases for the flight to Turkey tomorrow. We finished the day by popping round the corner to our favourite restaurant/pub (within staggering distance), and our new friend from the other night Thomas was working again. Nice to catch up again before we go. To finish our Austrian experience, we had traditional Austrian fare – “camembertbrot” – apple slices, melted cheese and cranberries on traditional brown bread, and then a traditional dish from the Styrian region of Austria called “grostl” – potatoes, small dumplings and onions. I had black pudding (or blood sausage as the locals call it) and sauerkraut, while Anne has grilled turkey and cheese. And it was delicious.
Our friend Judy recommended a visit to the Sacher hotel for their famous torte and hot chocolate – and honestly it was the most heavenly chocolate experience we’ve ever had. Enough said – end of story.
Then on to the museums, and we chose the History Museum – we could have chosen from dozens of others. Egyptian and Greek artifacts from 1,300 years B.C., and then paintings by Rubens, Rembrandt, etc, etc, some paintings from 16th century. All housed in the most incredible building with a marble interior, huge staircases, huge stone pillars, vaulted ceilings with gold-plated paintings. Every corner we turned took our breath away. What must the other museums be like? You could spend a month in Vienna and not see everything in its museums.
Packing our cases for the flight to Turkey tomorrow. We finished the day by popping round the corner to our favourite restaurant/pub (within staggering distance), and our new friend from the other night Thomas was working again. Nice to catch up again before we go. To finish our Austrian experience, we had traditional Austrian fare – “camembertbrot” – apple slices, melted cheese and cranberries on traditional brown bread, and then a traditional dish from the Styrian region of Austria called “grostl” – potatoes, small dumplings and onions. I had black pudding (or blood sausage as the locals call it) and sauerkraut, while Anne has grilled turkey and cheese. And it was delicious.
Saturday, 4 April 2009
Vienna, Austria
A good look around Vienna today, by foot. Quite easy since the city centre is quite close to our apartment, and the beautiful old buildings at every turn made the walk so enjoyable. We lost count of the statues, parks, sidewalk restaurants (very bus at lunchtime), stone buildings, and horse-drawn open carriages. A three-hour bus tour of the city then took us outside the city centre, and we discovered that there is a very modern side to Vienna. The Danube actually flows a couple of kilometers away from the old city, and modern Vienna has been built on its banks, with wide open parklands, wide multi-lane freeways and glass and steel buildings for offices and high-rise dwellings. Just outside the city boundary is a large hill, or small mountain, covered in trees (the Vienna Forests) that give a commanding view of the city below. Several open spaces have been planted in vines, and many Austrian wines come from this area.
Schonbrunn Palace was the residence for the ruling Habsburg dynasty in Austria for hundreds of years until the revolution that made it a republic and ended the monarchy in 1918. This sprawling and opulent palace and gardens reminds us of what we saw at Versaille in 2007 – as grand and expansive. The attention to detail was amazing, from the paintings on the ceiling of each of the thousand rooms, to the hedge trimming in the gardens. We spent most of the day here, finishing with a demonstration by a professional cook on how to make real Austrian apple strudel. Anne was picked up out of the audience to help him finish it off, earning her a certificate in making Apple Strudel!!!
We’ve just returned from a restaurant within staggering distance from our apartment, it’s 10pm. We were served by a young Hungarian guy called Thomas, who’s been living in Vienna for many years, and he was typical of all the locals that we’ve met in Vienna. So friendly, very helpful, amazed that we’ve travelled so far, very proud of his city, and speaks very good English. We love this city too.
The biggest priority for Anne on this trip was crossed off the list this morning – the Lipizzaner horses of the Spanish Riding School of Vienna. An interesting product from the Spanish connection of the Habsburg monarchy of Austria, these white stallions have been bred for the past 400 years to perform in this huge stone building. The tradition of classical horsemanship has been handed down by the handlers of these magnificent animals for hundreds of years, and you could tell that these were special horses.
In the afternoon, we took a scenic cruise on the Danube – another one to cross off the list. A highlight were the two locks we had to navigate, due to the 8-meter drop in the Danube downstream from Vienna, and again coming back to our point of origin. The Danube itself is very wide, which shows why it’s so important to shipping for Vienna. It may have been blue once upon a time, but now it’s a dirty, muddy brown colour, largely thanks to the silt it brings downstream from its upper reaches. But it’s still a magnificent stretch of water, and a pleasure to cruise on. We shared a table-for-four on the top deck with a mother and her 12-year-old daughter, and by the end of the four-hour journey, we’d made yet another friend in this wonderful city.
Vienna calls itself The Music Capital of the World, maybe because of favourite sons like Strauss, Beethoven and Mozart, among others, but it certainly has a healthy music scene in styles other than classical – I’ve seen posters for up-coming concerts in Vienna by Al Jarreau, Robin Gibb, Bruce Springsteen, Kraftwerk, Al Di Meola, Chris de Burgh, Patti Smith, Metallica, and productions of Rocky Horror and Jesus Christ Superstar. And it's not unusual to see someone on the train with their musical instrument of preference over their shoulder ... and it's quite often a cello in a large hard case.
Schonbrunn Palace was the residence for the ruling Habsburg dynasty in Austria for hundreds of years until the revolution that made it a republic and ended the monarchy in 1918. This sprawling and opulent palace and gardens reminds us of what we saw at Versaille in 2007 – as grand and expansive. The attention to detail was amazing, from the paintings on the ceiling of each of the thousand rooms, to the hedge trimming in the gardens. We spent most of the day here, finishing with a demonstration by a professional cook on how to make real Austrian apple strudel. Anne was picked up out of the audience to help him finish it off, earning her a certificate in making Apple Strudel!!!
We’ve just returned from a restaurant within staggering distance from our apartment, it’s 10pm. We were served by a young Hungarian guy called Thomas, who’s been living in Vienna for many years, and he was typical of all the locals that we’ve met in Vienna. So friendly, very helpful, amazed that we’ve travelled so far, very proud of his city, and speaks very good English. We love this city too.
The biggest priority for Anne on this trip was crossed off the list this morning – the Lipizzaner horses of the Spanish Riding School of Vienna. An interesting product from the Spanish connection of the Habsburg monarchy of Austria, these white stallions have been bred for the past 400 years to perform in this huge stone building. The tradition of classical horsemanship has been handed down by the handlers of these magnificent animals for hundreds of years, and you could tell that these were special horses.
In the afternoon, we took a scenic cruise on the Danube – another one to cross off the list. A highlight were the two locks we had to navigate, due to the 8-meter drop in the Danube downstream from Vienna, and again coming back to our point of origin. The Danube itself is very wide, which shows why it’s so important to shipping for Vienna. It may have been blue once upon a time, but now it’s a dirty, muddy brown colour, largely thanks to the silt it brings downstream from its upper reaches. But it’s still a magnificent stretch of water, and a pleasure to cruise on. We shared a table-for-four on the top deck with a mother and her 12-year-old daughter, and by the end of the four-hour journey, we’d made yet another friend in this wonderful city.
Vienna calls itself The Music Capital of the World, maybe because of favourite sons like Strauss, Beethoven and Mozart, among others, but it certainly has a healthy music scene in styles other than classical – I’ve seen posters for up-coming concerts in Vienna by Al Jarreau, Robin Gibb, Bruce Springsteen, Kraftwerk, Al Di Meola, Chris de Burgh, Patti Smith, Metallica, and productions of Rocky Horror and Jesus Christ Superstar. And it's not unusual to see someone on the train with their musical instrument of preference over their shoulder ... and it's quite often a cello in a large hard case.
Thursday, 2 April 2009
in-flight to Japan
Tokyo Narita International Airport – killing 4 hours while waiting for our connecting flight to Vienna, it’s pouring rain here – just as it was when we left Sydney 10 hours ago. We’ve had just enough time to make some observations of the Japanese way of life, and in this short time we’ve learned that the Japanese are incredibly friendly people, sometimes embarrassingly humble. Everyone we’ve spoken to can’t do enough to please us, and they always finish their task with a bow of the head. Makes you feel like royalty.
Several locals are wearing a white mask over their nose and mouth – are they protecting themselves from airborne viruses, or are they so polite that they don’t want to infect us with theirs? They are an obviously fastidiously clean people – the place is spotless. Check-in areas, restaurants, boarding gates, toilets (that are equipped with bidets and squat toilets too). I also just saw an elderly guy reading a rather thick book, and walking past I noticed it was all black-and-white line drawings, comic style.
Vienna : It’s 7pm and we’re settling into a charming little apartment, quite central to the Vienna city centre, after spending a whole day in the skies. Our host, Erika, is charming, very welcoming and friendly. We booked this place through its website, and it was recommended to us by our Lonnie friends Roger and Judy, who also stayed here a couple of years ago. Their advice to pre-book a taxi from the airport was also brilliant – how special was it to walk out of the immigration hall at Vienna airport to find a uniformed driver waving a sign adorned with our name. And our two suitcases were the very first ones to emerge from the baggage carousel – how about that?
It was a cloudy spring day in Vienna, about 9degC outside, and what immediately struck us was that (nearly) every tree is bare, the parks and gardens in Vienna are full of leafless trees. Such a contrast to where we were a day and a half ago. An early night tonight after a very long and tiring journey, ready for some exploring tomorrow.
Several locals are wearing a white mask over their nose and mouth – are they protecting themselves from airborne viruses, or are they so polite that they don’t want to infect us with theirs? They are an obviously fastidiously clean people – the place is spotless. Check-in areas, restaurants, boarding gates, toilets (that are equipped with bidets and squat toilets too). I also just saw an elderly guy reading a rather thick book, and walking past I noticed it was all black-and-white line drawings, comic style.
Vienna : It’s 7pm and we’re settling into a charming little apartment, quite central to the Vienna city centre, after spending a whole day in the skies. Our host, Erika, is charming, very welcoming and friendly. We booked this place through its website, and it was recommended to us by our Lonnie friends Roger and Judy, who also stayed here a couple of years ago. Their advice to pre-book a taxi from the airport was also brilliant – how special was it to walk out of the immigration hall at Vienna airport to find a uniformed driver waving a sign adorned with our name. And our two suitcases were the very first ones to emerge from the baggage carousel – how about that?
It was a cloudy spring day in Vienna, about 9degC outside, and what immediately struck us was that (nearly) every tree is bare, the parks and gardens in Vienna are full of leafless trees. Such a contrast to where we were a day and a half ago. An early night tonight after a very long and tiring journey, ready for some exploring tomorrow.
Tuesday, 24 March 2009
Launceston
Prologue
The idea for this crazy adventure began on the evening of Thursday 11th October, 2007, when Anne and I were sitting in the restaurant of the Sylvia Hotel in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, with our good friends Mike and Denise Ferris. We had just finished a memorable week exploring BC, and we were discussing what the next big adventure might be. For the umpteenth time Mike tried to convince me to join him on one of his motorcycle tours, as he had been trying to do since starting his Ferris Wheels travel company years ago. Motorcycles had always terrified me, so his attempts at persuasion had always been in vain. This time it felt different, and I began to consider it as a possibility, having just driven all through France and Ireland in a hire car, and enjoyed the most fantastic journey in Europe and Canada. Mike said Anne could ride in the support vehicle and still join his tour – all I had to do was learn to ride a motorbike (gulp!). From all the tours in his portfolio, Mike’s recommendation for a first-time rider ... was Turkey.
As I procrastinated over the next four months, Mike gave me a gift for my 50th birthday in February 2008 ... a very good, and very shiny and very black, motorcycle helmet. Some friend, eh? Talk about "gentle persuasion" - as subtle as a sledgehammer! So I undertook the Motorcycle Learner’s Course in March 2008, which was my first time ever in control of a motorbike; then bought a 2nd-hand Suzuki 400; clocked up the k’s on an L plate; and then passed my Provisional License on 7th February, 2009. Phew, just the lead-up to this trip has been an adventure in itself.
Leaving on March 31st, we spend a few days in Vienna courtesy of cheap airfares with Austrian Airlines, then three weeks in Turkey from April 7th. France and Ireland was Anne’s dream in 2007 – this one’s mine.
(By the way, our account of France, Ireland, London and Canada in 2007 still appears below.)
24th March
As the trip draws nearer, I am spending many hours "in the saddle", so to speak, getting as much bike time as possible. My nerves have now given way to nervous anticipation of the fantastic trip ahead, perhaps similar to the expectations prior to driving a hire car around France and Ireland in 2007. Back then, I had to quickly adapt to driving on the right-hand side of the road, and Turkey should be no different, only this time I will have half as many wheels beneath me.
Last Sunday I did my longest day on a bike - 383 kilometers - a good dress rehearsal for a typical day in Turkey. Thanks to Joe for being my mentor on this epic ride to the East Coast of Tassie.
Another acknowledgment must go to actors Ewan McGregor and Charlie Boorman, as their “Long Way Round” and “Long Way Down” series served as an inspiration for this trip. I won’t even pretend to consider my journey to be as adventurous as theirs, but their attitude to pushing the boundaries, exploring new cultures and a quest for living life was a spark for me wanting to do this.
We have house sitters arranged, have my International Drivers License, travel insurance is good, travel documents photocopied, all accommodation confirmed, Anne's already packed, and I will pack at the last minute (I was still wearing riding gear daily).
The idea for this crazy adventure began on the evening of Thursday 11th October, 2007, when Anne and I were sitting in the restaurant of the Sylvia Hotel in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, with our good friends Mike and Denise Ferris. We had just finished a memorable week exploring BC, and we were discussing what the next big adventure might be. For the umpteenth time Mike tried to convince me to join him on one of his motorcycle tours, as he had been trying to do since starting his Ferris Wheels travel company years ago. Motorcycles had always terrified me, so his attempts at persuasion had always been in vain. This time it felt different, and I began to consider it as a possibility, having just driven all through France and Ireland in a hire car, and enjoyed the most fantastic journey in Europe and Canada. Mike said Anne could ride in the support vehicle and still join his tour – all I had to do was learn to ride a motorbike (gulp!). From all the tours in his portfolio, Mike’s recommendation for a first-time rider ... was Turkey.
As I procrastinated over the next four months, Mike gave me a gift for my 50th birthday in February 2008 ... a very good, and very shiny and very black, motorcycle helmet. Some friend, eh? Talk about "gentle persuasion" - as subtle as a sledgehammer! So I undertook the Motorcycle Learner’s Course in March 2008, which was my first time ever in control of a motorbike; then bought a 2nd-hand Suzuki 400; clocked up the k’s on an L plate; and then passed my Provisional License on 7th February, 2009. Phew, just the lead-up to this trip has been an adventure in itself.
Leaving on March 31st, we spend a few days in Vienna courtesy of cheap airfares with Austrian Airlines, then three weeks in Turkey from April 7th. France and Ireland was Anne’s dream in 2007 – this one’s mine.
(By the way, our account of France, Ireland, London and Canada in 2007 still appears below.)
24th March
As the trip draws nearer, I am spending many hours "in the saddle", so to speak, getting as much bike time as possible. My nerves have now given way to nervous anticipation of the fantastic trip ahead, perhaps similar to the expectations prior to driving a hire car around France and Ireland in 2007. Back then, I had to quickly adapt to driving on the right-hand side of the road, and Turkey should be no different, only this time I will have half as many wheels beneath me.
Last Sunday I did my longest day on a bike - 383 kilometers - a good dress rehearsal for a typical day in Turkey. Thanks to Joe for being my mentor on this epic ride to the East Coast of Tassie.
Another acknowledgment must go to actors Ewan McGregor and Charlie Boorman, as their “Long Way Round” and “Long Way Down” series served as an inspiration for this trip. I won’t even pretend to consider my journey to be as adventurous as theirs, but their attitude to pushing the boundaries, exploring new cultures and a quest for living life was a spark for me wanting to do this.
We have house sitters arranged, have my International Drivers License, travel insurance is good, travel documents photocopied, all accommodation confirmed, Anne's already packed, and I will pack at the last minute (I was still wearing riding gear daily).
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