Istanbul, Turkey

Our final day of travelling (except for the long flight home) was an auspicious day in Turkey. National Youth Day occurs every 19th May, and is a national holiday. It commemorates the day in 1919 when Mustafa Kemal landed at Samsun after leaving Istanbul, and decided to disobey his Ottoman leaders to begin an uprising that lead to the Turkish War of Independence, and the Turkish nation being declared in 1923. As we drove from Safranbolu into Istanbul (a big day of over 500 kms), we saw thousands of the distinctive red Turkish flag and portraits of Ataturk draped from buildings, billboards, windows, cars, buses, service stations, offices, schools, flagpoles, even mountain tops. It was great to see a people proud of its history, independence and culture, with no political undertones. 

Going south and inland from the Black Sea, we drove through some beautiful forests, with canopies so thick that very little sunlight reaches the ground. Trees grew over the road to such an extent that we drove through tunnels of green. We also drove through tunnels of rock, as several hills had been penetrated by some incredibly engineered roads. Further on, the outskirts of Istanbul seemed to go on forever, it is a huge city. Being a holiday, there were crowds of people everywhere, and most of them were enjoying a day off. Many parks had families who’d set up a portable barbeque equipped with a wood fire, going by the tell-tale smoke.

We returned to the same hotel that we’d left three weeks ago, having negotiated nearly 4,000 kilometres. The tour concluded with a cruise to the head of the Bosphoros River at the Black Sea, followed by lunch, and the final night dinner on the top floor of the hotel with that fabulous view. It has been a fantastic holiday, but there was one last item on our agenda before closing out this chapter. We went to the hospital where we’d spent a month recovering from my motorcycle injury, and visited the orthopaedic surgeon who looked after us seven years ago. Dr Mik greeted us enthusiastically and listened intently on how the treatment had continued once we’d returned to Tasmania, and how my foot looked and felt today. His kindness, interest and compassion was remarkable, but not atypical of the Turkish spirit that we’d come to know.

We won’t miss the cigarette smoke in its restaurants, or the Call to Prayer at 4am, but this is a wonderful place for a holiday. Whilst in the Istanbul hospital seven years ago, I had a blood transfusion and I’ve always said that I’ve had a little bit of Turkey in me ever since. We’ve been overwhelmed by it again, and will always sing its praises.

Safranbolu, northern Turkey

In these final few days of our time away (nearly seven weeks now), we are making our way west back to Istanbul by following the Black Sea coast from Sinop. This sea is no different to the Med and Aegean, certainly not black at all, but we discovered that it’s not as warm after diving into it from our Sinop hotel’s private landing. It was cold, but at least we added another sea to the list of worldly swims. The Black Sea gets its name from its murky depths where the water has become anoxic, but at the surface it’s a bright blue and very clear. It was from Sinop that we left the tour seven years ago, when Barish and Yussuf drove us at 3am to Samsun airport, three hours to the east. So we had not seen any of these final few days’ scenery.
Driving along the coast, to our right was a vast sea, and to our left were high rolling mountains covered in thick, dense forests. The lush green foliage would usually extend right down to the water’s edge, but some of the steep slopes have succumbed to gravity and collapsed, creating precipitous cliffs of bare rock. Either way, the coastline was spectacular at every turn. The road had countless twists and turns, and Mike says that this is one of the most popular motorcycling roads of all of his tours. The downside was that the bus took three times as long as the motorbikes to travel the same distance. The coastline is so mountainous that vehicles must use all of their gears going up and down while negotiating tight hairpin bends, one after the other. Poor Yussuf, but the scenery was fantastic for the passengers.
The night after Sinop was at a delightful port town called Amasra, nestled snugly into a natural harbour, and understandably popular with tourists for its beautiful scenery and water views and activities. As with so many other Turkish cities and towns, Amasra has a Roman-built wall and castle, and we have almost become blasé about walking through two-thousand year old gates and arches.
Our next night was spent at Safranbolu, about a hundred kilometres inland from the Black Sea. Again like so many Turkish places, it has an Old City with the new city built around it, and has a UNESCO World Heritage listing. What’s unique about this place are the well-preserved Ottoman houses and architecture, and we even stayed in a 400-year-old hotel converted from one of these Ottoman houses. Quite a privilege, I must say.

Safranbolu really had a special charm about it, with so many interesting little streets and laneways. It’s famous for Turkish Delight, and several vendors walked about offering free samples of their wares. As the name implies, this town is also known for saffron, but there were no free samples of that, being so expensive. It was an important trading town over a thousand years ago on the Silk Road between China and Europe that lead to the interaction of cultures and people from the East and West. With only an afternoon to explore, Safranbolu begs for another visit.

Amasra, northern Turkey

There’s something  we need to talk about. In fact, the whole tour group have been discussing this since arriving in Turkey.

Our Australian Government’s official travel advice for Turkey is to “exercise extreme caution” and “reconsider your need to travel”. So, let’s be clear … we are under the watchful eye of some very experienced locals on this tour. Barish, Yussuf and Aberdin have travelled this country for many years, and they know it like it’s their home town. Even so, we have wandered through some very crowded places, such as the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, and been surrounded by thousands of people, any one of whom may have wanted to hurt us. 

We have never felt threatened or frightened by any place, situation or individual whilst being in Turkey. There is a constant police presence on the streets of every city we’ve visited. They are always armed, with either a pistol on their belt or a semi-automatic weapon draped over their shoulder. This does not bother us at all, in fact quite the opposite – it conveys a sense of reassurance.
The tour group all agree that our Government’s travel warning is not warranted for this country. In fact, it is doing the will of the terrorists, who want to spread fear and create hardship in this wonderful land. The Turks don’t deserve to have their tourist industry turned away by the over-reaction of foreign governments. Of course there is trouble in the extreme south-east near the Syrian border, but we are a thousand miles away from there, both geographically and symbolically.   
We’re also being told that Australia expects another terrorist attack, similar to the Lindt Café siege, at some time in the future. Accordingly, the travel warning for Australia should be to “exercise extreme caution” and “reconsider your need to travel”. Does that mean we cannot return home?

We say - don’t let the terrorists win, come and see this fabulous place, and experience the sights, the people, the culture, the food, the friendship. It is no more dangerous than anywhere else in the world. The other day we stopped for morning tea at a tiny village called  Agaccami. The café had a group of men sitting on its verandah. They beckoned me over, sat me in a chair, and I had to shake the hand of every one of ten of them. They asked where I was from. They were fascinated about Australia, and particularly Tasmania, and we had a good chat. Only thing was, they knew no English, and I knew no Turkish, but the conversation was between friends, kindred spirits, ordinary people just wishing to learn about the world we live in. As we were leaving, the café owner refused to take any payment for the 15 cups of tea. You don’t charge friends.
That’s the Turkey that awaits you.

Corum, central Turkey

Much of this trip is unfinished business, and perhaps the most important business item on this agenda was the hot air balloon ride over the fairy chimneys of Cappodocia that I missed seven years ago. The whole group eagerly signed up for the once-in-a-lifetime experience, despite the 4am start. The balloon company picked us up at 4:15, bussed us to the airfield and gave us breakfast, although I think I was too excited to eat much at all. As we finished, and were about to head to the take-off area, the announcement was made that the wind had come up, and the aviation authorities had cancelled all flights for that morning. "Devastated" was an understatement.
Anyway, life, and this journey, goes on. As we continued to head north towards the Black Sea, we stopped for the night in a large city called Corum, and on the way we were treated to more evidence of another ancient civilisation. This time it was the Hittites, who inhabited much of eastern Turkey and the Middle East from around 17th century BC to 12th century BC. They are famous for coming up with, supposedly, the very first Peace Treaty, which they made with the Egyptians. Written in stone, it is now in an Istanbul museum.  Their capital was the city of Hattusa, and although it is in ruins, there exists some remarkable examples of their culture and stone building skills. Again, being able-bodied this time allowed me to explore Hattusa properly.
We visited two open-air temples that were used by Hittites to worship their many hundreds of Gods, some of whom had been represented in rock carvings. These temples were simply narrow crevices in a rock canyon, and as we roamed them, with Barish’s expert commentary, we could hear a thunder storm brewing not far away. Being alone in this ancient and sacred place, with sound effects coming from the heavens, it had an eerie ambience.
Apart from rock foundations indicating where Hattusa’s buildings once stood, the most fascinating part of the city is its ramparts that used to protect the inner city. Some gates still exist in these walls, most famously the Lion Gate, with two lions carved in solid stone protecting the entrance. To actually touch the handiwork of a stonemason from 3,000 years ago was a solemn experience. A long tunnel still exists beneath this wall of stone and earth, lined with very carefully placed rocks to ensure the tunnel does not collapse. The fact that it’s still standing after 30 centuries, safe enough for us to walk through, is testament to the building skill of these people.
Very little is known of the Hittite civilisation, including its own unique language, Barish told us that there is only one person, a woman, who can understand this language, and she is 106 years old. Makes you think …

Cappadocia, central Turkey

Cappodocia is surely one of the most unique and interesting regions anywhere in the world. This time I was abled-bodied enough to actually see it. The geological anomaly that created this place is due to three volcanoes, now extinct, that form a triangle surrounding this highland plain, which is itself over 1,000 metres above sea level. Eons of volcanic activity has deposited layers of ash over the area, but the resultant rock is soft enough to be easily eroded and chiselled. The erosion is from centuries of weather, wind and rain, while the chiselling is from centuries of civilisations that have built underground cities into the hills. The erosion has shaped rock creations that can look like liquid that’s been frozen in time or some kind of natural pornography, and many of these rock formations have windows and doors carved into their facades. 

Amazingly enough, the features of Cappodocia could be epitomised by our hotel that’s been built into the side of a hill in the lovely little town of Urgup. Our room was encased in stone, with one wall being the actual rock of the hill itself. Such large, thick, stone walls make for a perfectly quiet space, great for sleeping and keeping an ambient temperature. The hotel was spread over several floors, the top floor giving a fantastic panorama in all directions, like all the hilltops in the region would also do.
At the very bottom of the hotel are several doors, most of them lead to accommodation rooms, but one door does not. It enters a tunnel that’s been chiselled out of the rock, just wide and high enough to walk through. A few metres down, after taking a 90-degee turn, it enters a room, again chiselled out of rock, with shelves specially carved to hold several hundred wine bottles for aging. The perfect wine cellar. The tunnel then continues from this room for several more metres, with motion-activated lights strategically placed. Daylight appears in the distance, and the tunnel eventually opens onto a veranda that’s been chiselled into the side of the hill. The view from this veranda looks out over the township of Urgup from about a hundred metres above, and is totally unexpected as you emerge from the tunnel. You’ve just walked through a hill of solid rock. Simply extraordinary.

There are countless tunnels, houses, even cities, carved into the rocky hills throughout the Cappodocia region. Dating from about the 6th century AD, some of these houses are still inhabited, while others have collapsed due to the ravages of time. Underground living was commonplace here over the centuries, and there’s no need to pay an entrance fee to see a museum. You can explore a centuries old underground house by simply walking around any of the towns. And then there are the weird fairy chimneys in the appropriately called Love Valley. It’s hard to imagine nature coming up with anything more obscene or pornographic than these rock formations.

I don’t think it’s possible to adequately describe in words or pictures the moonscape that is Cappadocia. I think tour participant Nick said it well - “Just tell everyone to get on a plane, get over here and see it for themselves.”

Silifke, southern Turkey

In my mind’s eye there’s a corner in southern Turkey where things changed seven years ago. It’s in my mind’s eye because the collision with the truck knocked me unconscious and I’ve had to rely on other people’s recollection and a few photos to recreate the scene. Yesterday we drove through that same area, and I learned a lot, most importantly that this infamous corner will have to remain in my mind’s eye.

The road follows the Med coastline from Antalya to Silifke, with the Mediterranean an ever-present vista to our right. Once past the large town of Alanya, Barish starts giving us commentary on the events of that day seven years ago. Bozyazi is another sizable town, and roadworks begin to appear. Several small villages like Telefki, Yenikas and Soguksu passed by as the roadworks picked up intensity, with gangs of men operating large trucks and diggers removing chunks of mountainside to enable the new road to progress with minimum corners and level gradients. On some occasions they haven’t cut into the side of the hill, they’ve actually cut right through it, and they haven’t just dug one tunnel, they've dug two, to enable a double carriageway in both directions. These are massive earthworks, to create some beautifully smooth roads.

In Aydincik (pronounced "Aiden-chick"), we passed its hospital, and Barish pointed out the emergency entrance. “That’s where we first bought you after the accident, that happened about 8 to 10 kilometres further on”. I didn’t realise that I'd come backwards to the first hospital. As the road ascended out of Aydincik into more hills, we could sometimes see the old road below us, and we’d watch as it disappeared under tonnes of newly deposited rocks and earth created by the new road.
Eventually Barish asked Yusuf to pull over and stop. We got out and walked along the road’s edge to view a corner of the old road that had escaped the advance of progress. It lay about ten metres below us. Barish doesn’t know if that’s the actual corner or not, but it’s probably not because it's heading down the hill, and the accident occurred on the crest of the hill. Looking up the hill, it was obvious that the majority of the old road, and my corner, no longer exists.

Further on is Silifke, and hospital #2. They didn’t have the facilities to operate on me (although they would do now, with a brand new hospital since being built), and I was taken on to Mercin further along the coast to hospital #3 for the operation to correct my foot. Our tour, however, does not go that far, and we stopped for the night just past Silifke at a little place called Kiskalesi.
Outside our hotel’s back door is a beach onto the Med, and about 300 metres offshore is a castle, built on a little island about a thousand years ago. I’ve always had vague memories of seeing this castle in the early morning light as we arrived at the same hotel at 5am after being discharged from the Mercin hospital. After checking in, the group went for a swim in the sea, and I decided to test my aquatic skills and swim out to the castle and back. I did it, and felt like I’d conquered a little self-imposed challenge. Mike shook my hand, saying I’d joined a small elite group from his tours to have swum it.
The rest of the tour will be new for us, and we will eagerly embrace it. The past is now buried under tonnes of rock and earthworks, and my swim proves that life goes on, there’s still more world to explore, and I’m glad to still be here to do it.

Antalya, southern Turkey

Further along the Mediterranean coast, east from Kas, the road is cut into the side of mountains that fall into the sea, giving the most incredible views at every turn. It is still the extravaganza of blue in both the sea and the sky that we saw yesterday. A huge city appears in the distance, announcing itself with an alarming panorama.
Antalya is a large sprawling city, the largest Turkish sea resort on the Med, population one and a quarter million. Its main attraction is an ancient Roman marina that is still surrounded by a protective Roman stone wall, and associated stone structures of a similar age. With a rest day in hand, we were treated to a 3-hour cruise from the harbour along the coast to the Lower Duden Falls. Dropping anchor adjacent to the falls, most of us jumped overboard for a swim in the beautiful warm waters of the Med Sea.
I didn't want to get out, it was a surreal time - swimming in clear, blue, deep, warm water, as a big boat with white wine on ice and a whole bunch of new and old friends waited for me. Passenger jets flew overhead every few minutes after taking off from the local international airport. Before me were high cliffs and a cascading waterfall that roared to make its presence known. In the distance across the wide bay, the Taurus Mountains provided a multilayered backdrop as its peaks faded into the distance. It's obvious why this city, known as the Turkish Riviera, is so popular with tourists.
Tomorrow we continue heading east along Turkey's south coast. Tomorrow, however, will also be a significant day, for it was this day seven years ago that my motorcycle circuit of Turkey came unstuck. Barish and I have discussed finding the offending corner where the accident happened, as apparently the road now bypasses these twisty bends. We’ll see how we go, but it will be a strange and confronting return.

Kusadasi, western Turkey

A two night stay in Kusadadi enabled a spot of laundry, and Jim Baba’s familiarity with the town enabled us to forgo the expensive hotel laundry service to instead use a local family business. It was a nice to support the locals.
Kusadasi is well known to cruise ship exponents because it can accommodate large ocean-going vessels in the heart of the city, and these monsters disgorge huge numbers of tourists. The main attraction is the nearby Greek/Roman city of Ephesus, but Kusadasi also has a charm all to itself, with a beachside esplanade bustling with people, pubs and interesting sights.
Although this was our second visit, we explored Ephesus with the same fascination and astonishment as seven years ago. Considered the best-restored example of any Roman city on the Mediterranean, it covers a huge area and cannot possibly be seen in just a few hours. What’s even more extraordinary is that only a quarter of the city has been excavated, the other 75% still lies buried.
I think one thing we were able to discern this time around was those parts that had been restored and those parts that were genuinely 2,000 years old. After all, they didn’t have concrete in Roman days. Many of the buildings and archways had been reconstructed with a mixture of modern techniques and original stone blocks. Also Barish explained that many of the statues are replicas, the originals are in museums in Vienna and the British Museum – rewards for those countries paying for expensive excavations. However there is still so much work to be done, and we saw teams of workmen digging into the side of a hill, uncovering walls and floors as they worked. Apparently this recent spate of excavation is being paid for by some foreign private companies, as well as the Turkish government.
The grandest part of the city, for us, was the amphitheatre built into the side of a hill. Its steep, tiered, U-shaped seating had a capacity for 24,000 people, and indeed the acoustics are amazing even today. It was like walking into a time machine. There’s no doubt about it, the Romans were master builders in stone.
A big difference for us this time around, was the small numbers of visitors to Ephesus. Last time there were tens of thousands, delivered by hundreds of coaches and buses, coming from several cruise ships moored in Kusadasi. This day there were maybe just a few hundred, and there were no cruise ships in town. This was good for us, but the local economy must be hurting. Many restaurants in Kusadasi had no clients sitting at their tables. Our hotel staff told us that they are usually heavily booked at this time of year, but we seem to have our huge hotel to ourselves. It’s a very sad situation.

Kas, south-western Turkey

Next, south to the quaint little port town of Kas. First, however, we had to cross the Taurus Mountains. I think we may have been spoilt with Morocco’s mighty mountains, for the peaks of the Taurus were not as high or spectacular, but the views became outstanding as we drove higher. Fertile valleys were growing crops or grazing animals on little family unfenced plots. We eventually came down out of the mountains to hit the Mediterranean coast, and I use the word “hit” quite literally. Coming around a bend to be greeted by a deep blue expansive sea, it really does smack you in the face, causing a sharp intake of breathe. The Med was as we remembered it seven years ago, a brilliant blue, with every connotation on the word “blue” that you can think of. The water is so clear that the shallows reveal whatever lies on the bottom, but the sea floats to the horizon in a blue vastness until it gives way to a blue cloudless sky.
Our Kas hotel is built into the side of a hill (appropriately called the Aqua Princess), and therefore takes in a commanding view from the balcony, bar and restaurant. Your gaze is drawn out to sea. Just a few kilometres away is the Greek island of Meis, which is the closest of all the Greek Islands of the Turkish coast. After checking in and a swim in the Med from the hotel’s own landing, we walked a short way into the town square for yet another delicious Turkish meal (haven’t had a bad one yet). We then scouted the square for a pub, and were drawn towards the origin of some loud music. The pub attendant had his laptop sitting on the bar which was plugged into a sizable P.A. system, belting out some very recognisable rock tunes. The place was empty, so we sat at some tables outside with a drink.
Jim Baba made a request from the barman (Deep Purple’s “Smoke on the Water”), and he was invited to find it on Youtube. Then it was Mike’s turn, and he found Chris Rea’s “Josephine” in honour of Josie in our tour group. He then issued a challenge to play more songs with girl’s names, so I found Status Quo’s “Caroline”, Pete chose Elvis Costello’s “Alison”, Jim got Pavlov’s Dog’s “Julia”, I chose Richard Clapton’s “Angelou”, Nick played Stevie Wright’s “Evie”. We realised that we were attracting a crowd.
We learned that one couple were from Holland, so Mike played Golden Earring’s “Radar Love”, and I played Focus’ “Hocus Pocus”. The Dutchies were most impressed. The crowd had grown some more. The Dutch guy requested AC/DC "Whole Lotta Rosie", so we then got into a whole spate of Australian rock – Midnight Oil, The Angels, Rose Tattoo, Skyhooks, Russell Morris, Billy Thorpe, and a couple for Phil, the token New Zealander of our group, with Dragon and Crowded House. The place had become packed (admittedly it was a small space), and I reckon the guy behind the bar was very happy to have a bunch of crazy Australians commandeer his music. He was too busy serving drinks to care anyway. It was a surreal two hours, playing some great Oz rock ‘n’ roll to a small cross-section of the world’s population in southern Turkey. They'd probably never heard the songs before, but some were up dancing and several thanked us for the music. We felt some patriotic pride for flying the flag.

Pammakale, central-western Turkey

We headed west from Kusadasi, away from the coast and towards the central Turkish region called Antolia, with the small town of Pammakale as our destination for the night. Approaching Pammakale, we could see some white topped hills in the distance, about two hundred meters high and a kilometre long. Is that snow? As the view became closer and clearer, it became stranger. Are those hills actually painted white with a giant brush?
At the top of these hills is the ancient Roman city of Hierapolis, now in ruins but being excavated since the late 1950s. As Jim Baba would say, more crumblies. The Romans chose this location to build a city to take advantage of several hot water springs that seemed to have magical healing powers. We now know that this water is rich in minerals, especially calcium, and as it cascades over the hills it has left a white residue over the centuries. “Pammakale” means “cotton castle” and this weird geological phenomenon has become a huge tourist attraction, in conjunction with the Roman ruins surrounding it.
The highlight of Hierapolis is its amphitheatre. Smaller than the one at Ephesus, it is all the more impressive because its stage area is still intact. Large columns hold up facades and archways of stone, with intricate carvings and statues.  Entrances and exits are clearly visible at side of stage and also for the flat area at the very bottom of the structure, where animals would’ve been let loose, such as lions. Apparently many Christians met their demise here. The tiers for the seating were so steep it seemed that we were looking straight down to the performance area. The very top seats also had a commanding view beyond the ruined city, to the calcified hilltops and the large city of Denizli about 30 kilometres away. The horizon was dominated by the mighty Taurus Mountains, which we will cross tomorrow.
To complete our Pammakale experience, we went to the hilltop to get up close to these mystical waters. We removed our shoes and socks to walk over the smooth, white, limestone surface and wade in ankle-deep pools. The water was warm and invigorating. I wondered if it was performing its magic on my previously injured left foot? Surely, this place must be unique in the world.

Cannakale, western Turkey

I’m sure that a visit to Gallipoli is confronting for any Australian, taking away many thoughts, impressions and emotions with you as you leave. Our guide Barish began the morning by stating that he would not be giving us any numbers, as he thinks it’s disrespectful. One death is as important as a thousand. I liked that reasoning, particularly when you consider that the death toll of this nine month campaign in 1915 was horrendous.
We saw Anzac Cove, Ari Burnu, Lone Pine, The Nek, Chunuk Bair, all the famous battle grounds from the Gallipoli campaign. Seeing these actual theatres of war brought home to us how impossible the task was, and how pointless all those deaths were. These areas are surprisingly small, the trenches would’ve only been metres apart, and it’s easy to imagine the stories of Anzacs chatting to the Turks and exchanging cigarettes and biscuits in between the fighting, they would’ve easily been within talking and throwing distance.
This place is important to Turkey as well, as they not only celebrate their victory but also the beginning of their path to becoming a republic in 1923. The guy who led the Turkish forces at Gallipoli, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, would go on to father the new nation, in a remarkable story of history. Some of our group were visibly moved by reading Ataturk’s famous speech - “Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives are now lying in the soil of a friendly country …”. It was a remarkable thing to say in 1934, less than 20 years after Australia, as the invader, was at war with Turkey. We learned of how Ataturk was shot during a Gallipoli battle, but the bullet struck his watch that was in his pocket sitting over his heart. If he’d not had his watch that day, we’d probably be visiting a very different Turkey today, especially if it were to go down the same path as neighbouring Syria.
A hundred years ago, this area was just beach and hilly scrubland. Now there are roads leading all over the peninsula to several cemeteries and memorials, encroaching onto the beaches and into the headlands. When these roads were widened a few years ago to help cope with the intense tourist numbers, it reportedly exposed many wartime skeletons. The new road work and its violation of the old terrain was evident as we drove into Anzac Cove, so it’s a little sad that this sacred ground is not as it was, solely because of the number of visitors.
I felt both sad and angry after our Anzac experience. For example I looked at a headstone for a 17 year old Australian guy, and wondered why did he have to die? Why were we even there in the first place? Yes, it helped shape our nation, but weren’t we just pawns for the British generals playing their wargames from London? They say we should learn from history, but have we learned anything from Anzac considering our recent involvement in overseas conflicts?
Leaving the Gallipoli Peninsula, we caught a ferry from Eceabat across the Dardanelles to Cannakale, effectively crossing from Europe into Asia. All of these little towns – Geribolu, Eceabat, Cannakale – are tourists centres for the Gallipoli battlefields, with hundreds of hotels and restaurants. Cannakale is also the closest city to another great Turkish historical treasure: the ruins of Troy. They’ve discovered a total of nine cities here, all built on top of each other, spanning 3,000 BC up to 500 AD. Barish led us around this remarkable city, relating its story that’s too long to even summarise here, but to stand amongst stone structures that were built 5,000 years ago was extraordinary.

Geribolu, western Turkey

After three days lounging around Istanbul, we leave for a three-week circumnavigation of the western half of Turkey. We have nine motorcycles in the group, with Anne and I in the bus bringing up the rear. With us are driver Yussuf, guide Baris and a motorbike mechanic. What’s so wonderful about this is that both Baris and Yussuf were on our 2009 tour, and they both played such an integral part in the traumatic events that unfolded back then. Greeting them both in the hotel carpark on today’s first morning was a special moment, and sharing the bus with them over the next three weeks will be a special part of this journey.
Driving out of Istanbul from a 9am start takes a couple of hours. It’s such a large city, the outskirts and suburbs seem to go on forever. We pass several large commercial centres, with immense shopping centres that drape a Turkish flag wherever they can. Eventually we reach the countryside after lunch, and it’s green, with rolling hills of pasture and agriculture such as vineyards and orchards. To our left is the Marmara Sea which narrows into the Dardanelles as we make our way onto the Gallipoli Peninsula. At one point we also have the Aegean Sea to our right. The houses all have a gabled roof made of terracotta, and are nestled into little bays on the coast.
Our destination for tonight is the seaport of Geribolu, and appropriately we dine that evening at a seafood restaurant on calamari and sea bass. Anne and I, Mike, Jim Baba and Baris finish with a nightcap of Raki, the traditional Turkish spirit with an aniseed flavour. Yes, we have returned to Turkey, surrounded by important people from our past and profoundly friendly locals, and tomorrow we visit a sacred site for Australians from a hundred years ago.

Istanbul, Turkey

And so, after three weeks and 4,800 kilometres exploring Morocco, we’ve made it to Istanbul. It was seven years ago, sitting in the back of a taxi heading for the airport with my left foot heavily bandaged, that I wondered if I’d ever get back here. It’s sometimes strange where life takes you.
After just 24 hours in this majestic city, one big difference to seven years ago is the police presence. The blue uniforms make themselves obvious all over the city, either on foot or horseback, motorcycle, Segway, car or armoured vehicle. In light of recent events, it is somewhat assuring for us to see them out and about. Locals are telling us that tourist numbers are down for this time of year. Hotels and restaurants are feeling the pinch.
Another difference in Istanbul that we’ve found to Morocco is that the street hawkers always apologise for interrupting as you walk past, and they are friendly and wish you well when you refuse them. They are polite at being annoying.
I think we still love Istanbul, as we grew to love it back then. It is a fascinating place – the largest city in Europe, only second to Shanghai in the world for the number of people who live within its city boundary (population 14 million). It is modern, has skyscrapers and state-of-the-art bridges and freeways. It also has old sections with buildings dating from Roman times and before. You can drive over a bridge and cross from Europe into Asia. The population is 99% muslim, and some women still wear traditional Islamic head cover, but the majority dress as women do in any Western city. The red Turkish flag flies from every building and vantage point. We arrived here on the Friday to have a few days before the tour starts to explore more of this great city. The rest of the tour participants arrive on Monday morning.
The evening after we’d arrived, there was a knock at our hotel door. We opened it to be greeted by tour member Jim, who’d also arrived early. Now, let me introduce you to Jim, because there’s no doubt he’ll be mentioned several times in this story. Jim lives in Sydney, and has been to Turkey on every one of Mike’s tours, so this is trip number 16, therefore he was on our 2009 tour. He loves this country, and he has become so well known to several locals that they call him Jim Baba – “Jim my brother”. When you’re with Jim in Turkey, you feel like you’re in his home. Mike arrived the following day, and so the four of us have had a couple of days to reconnoitre before the others arrive and the tour starts.