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.
Wednesday, 11 May 2016
Tuesday, 10 May 2016
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.
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.
Monday, 9 May 2016
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.
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.
Saturday, 7 May 2016
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.
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.
Thursday, 5 May 2016
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.
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.
Tuesday, 3 May 2016
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.
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.
Sunday, 1 May 2016
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)