Ye Olde Ampitheatre Challenge of '07

The last week in Turkey has been so fabulous, if I described it in detail you would just want to get a giant rubber hand and slap me a few times for excessive bragging. The last week has been fılled with games of checkers by the beach, roof top meals and 1960s and 1970s themed karaoke.

The beach in Bodrum. Good times. Until I lost.

There have also been ruins galore. To some, ruins are boring. To others, they are only to be appreciated with solemn 'ooooh' and 'aaaaahs' at appropriate intervals, as well as quiet and subdued reverence for the ancients who walked around the ruins in times long passed. Tane and I, along with Stephen and Erica were in the latter category. Mostly.

Stephen at the St John Basilica in Selcuk. Apparently, the real St John wrote the book of Revelation here. I guess he left out his predictions regarding strange men in the crane stance when predicting what tragedy will befall the world.

Not to mention the strange cone man. That would certainly scare me.

The highlıght, though, has been the great Ye Olde Ampıtheatre Challenge of '07. The ampıtheatre at Ephesus seats 25,000 people and is a sight to behold. To honour the ancıent Romans, we did what they surely would have done back in the day. I mean, why would you build such a huge ampıtheatre and NOT race to the top? It would have been rude for us not to revıve the ancıent tradıtıon. So we dıd. Erica was the cheerleader, while Stephen, Tane and I raced to be the person that did not have to buy a round that evening.

Ready steady go! I had no ıdea my legs would burn so much ...
Afterward, in front of the ampıtheatre

Of course, I lost. The boys tell me that the beers - aptly named Efes Beer after a challenge taking place ın Efes - tasted good. Like victory, apparently.

The last week has been great. Ruins certainly get a big thumbs up from us. While I am getting sıck of museums, ruıns are still choıce.

Tane at Pergama

Ruining the holiday

Ruins, ruins, ruins. Sometimes travelling in Turkey feels like walking around a very old house that has had a bewildering number of tenants. Hatti, Hittites, Persians, Phygrians, Lycians, Lydians, Turks - of the Seljuk and Ottoman varieties - Romans - of the Imperial and Byzantine varieties ... everyone who was anyone back in the day has done their share of redecorating.

To get an idea of the layers of history here, check out this photo from Selçuk. The foreground has the former Wonder of the World, the Temple of Artemis, behind it is a 700 year old Turkish mosque and the 1500 year old ruins of St John's Bascilica, and in the background a restored Byzantine/Seljuk fortress.

We have had a ruin-feast in the last few days, as we have moved south from Canakkale along the Aegean coast. It's a struggle to reign in the superlatives and photos - suffıce to say, everything was cool!

First up was the mack-daddy of all abandoned cities, Troy. I have read so many versions of the Trojan War, from an illustrated children's version to the Illiad, and of course seen Brad and Eric battle it out in the movie, so I was drooling as we toured it. Our guide was excellent, full of passion despite having done the tours for as long as I have been alive, and the site (which had 11 different cities built on it) is an archaeologist's dream.

Lauren takes a break from hunting for Eric Bana to check out the walls of Homer's Troy. They would have been twice as high back when Odysseus was trying to give away dodgy horses.

From there it was off to bustling Bergama, where the highlights were the panorama-laden remains of Pergamon and the Red Bascilica, a former Roman temple and church that Revelations reckons will be the Throne of the Devil when the Apocalypse rolls around. Wicked.

Breakfast overlookıng the Throne of the Devil.

Sadly, the Prince of Darkness was not in when we visited, so we had to make do with the Former Communications Advisor of Dimness.

Indeed, we have decided that ruins are a great place to be silly.

Playing statues at Pergamon.

You would not have wanted to sell hot dogs at Pergamon's amphitheatre.

Amazing as Bergama's stuff was, Ephesus takes the cake. With wide marble streets, squillions of once stately buildings, the Library of Celsus (pic below) and extraordinarily well preserved mansions, it was easy to imagine what it would have been like walking around a big (200,000) Roman city.

The best bit came towards sunset, as Stephen and I went wandering around some of the package tourist-free outskirts of the city. Talk about atmospheric.

Gallipoli - nationalism and vegemite

In Turkey, being a New Zealander or Australian matters. After months of anonymous travel, random Turks have been greeting me with a hearty 'Kia Ora!' after seeing my bone carving. The only hostel in Canakkale is called Anzac House, and upon walking in we were greeted with a poster of the NZ, Australian and Turkish flags intertwined to remind us that our nations are all friends now. A sılver fern sticker is even stuck to the door. As a further reminder that Canakkale really loves the ANZACs, I got served vegemite for breakfast. It's funny to think that getting served vegemite in Turkey is a consequence of a failed invasion over 92 years ago. And yesterday, Tane and I went with Stephen and Erica to see what it was about Gallipoli that has made it a Mecca for NZ backpackers. Being a uber war history geek, I'd wanted to go to Gallipoli ever since I found out that you could. And, I don't know what I was expecting, but I was not dissapointed one bit.

First, the scenery was fantastic. You don't really expect somewhere where so many people were killed to be so beautiful, but Gallipoli is a stunner. If it hadn't been a battle site, I think the word Gallipoli would conjur up images of fat British tourists on a resort holiday rather than war and suffering.

Tane at Anzac Cove, where the ANZACs landed

As well as being beautiful, Gallipoli - in particular our tour guide- struck the perfect balance between being a sombre place to visit without being corny. According to the official NZ website dedicated to ANZAC day, Gallipoli has become a symbol for New Zealand's national identity, and this is why NZers come in their thousands. The theory goes that NZ and Australia went to Gallipoli wearing nappies and emerged wearing grown up trousers. The old ad for Huggies Pull-Up nappies springs to mind, where the children sing 'Look, Mum, I'm a big kid now!'

I've never been a big fan of the 'our nation was born at Gallipoli' idea. I think that Gallipoli was important, but not the most important thing that has happened in the history of NZ's emerging identity. First, I think that a sense of nationhood slowly emerged over time, and to say that our sense of national identity and relationshıp with the UK was changed forever on a rocky beach in Turkey seems to ignore the fact that during the Second World War most New Zealanders were more concerned with the war in Europe than the war in the Pacific because that was our 'spiritual home'. The theory goes that we were supposed to have decided at Gallipoli that NZ was not going to follow the UK around anymore, which ignores NZ's role in World War Two and Savage's famous speech that where England will go, NZ shall follow. Not to mention the reports of NZ men fighting in the Second World War for God, King and Country.

In the cemetery at the beach, looking at the grave of a Wellingtonian

Second, I don't like the idea that NZ identity was formed at an event that only white men were able to participate directly in, which implies that women played their part in the forming of NZ's identity by largely being at home. Maori units were at Gallipoli, but were largely employed digging trenches and making roads rather than fighting. I don't like the idea that our nation was formed at an event where white men get the Oscars for best Actor, Director and Picture, Maori get the Oscar for best costume design, and women are at home watching the show on TV. Gallipolli did contribute to our sense of being, I just don't think it was the single most important thing. But, I suppose it's harmless to beleive that we took off our nappies at Gallipoli. Turks have forgiven us for invading their home so there are no residual dramas involved when Gallipolı is celebrated. Unlike, say, the Battle of Rangiriri, which decided the fate of NZ much more definitively but discussions of which make many Kiwis uneasy, assuming they know about it at all. Tane lurking in a trench.

Anyway, going to Gallipoli there was no corny 'this is where our nation was born' what-not. The only unpleasont thing was seeing a shoe still containing a leg bone,as well as a skull with a bullet sticking out of the forehead. This aside, it was just a lovely place to visit to remember the people that died there, the Nzers, Australians and Turks. I recommend visiting, regardless of what you think about how it formed NZ identity, and whether or not the idea of our nation being formed there is as disgusting has being served vegemite rather than marmite in the first place.

The NZ memorial

Turkey vs Bulgaria - with pictures!

1. Turkey is filled with people who work really hard to encourage you into their shops and restaraunts. Bulgaria is filled with people who work really hard to avoid noticing you in their shops and restaraunts.

Great service, great view. Having a drink overlooking the Bosphorous

2. In Turkey, locals go out of their way to help you. In Bulgaria, we really had to go out of our way to find help.

Although, the way to McDonalds was well marked in Plovdiv ...

3. Turkey, especially Canakkale (our current location) is filled with monuments and reminders of World War One. In Bulgaria, street sellers sell genuine Nazi antiques and brooches. Including a very creepy SS knife. Shudder.

Nazi and Soviet memorabilia in a small Bulgarian village. We couldn't decide - is it OK to buy this stuff or plain dodgy? Would YOU want to own a genuine SS hip flask?

Tane and a WWI cannon in Canakkale, Turkey.

4. In Turkey, we are given cake and juice while travelling on buses. In Bulgaria, we are asked for bribes from the conductor so he can give us something that we had already paid for.

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5. In Bulgaria, we were warned against the police, gypsies, getting gassed to enable theives to steal our things while on the night train, not to mention getting killed while on the night train. In Turkey, we were warned against going to Bulgaria.
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Yes, Tane and I are back in Turkey and loving it. Don't get me wrong, we don't regret going to Bulgaria and had some very fun times there. However, leaving was a real drama. First, no-one wanted to tell us how to buy tickets. The woman in the train ticket office pointed us to wait at an empty desk for information while she ignored us and ate her lunch. We had been ignored earlier that morning at the info centre by two woman counting postcards. The train we eventually booked was four hours late, and while waiting we were huddled in a small space with a creepy drunk who smelt like a public toilet and a drug addict who ignored the non-smoking sign. When the train arrived, after boarding we were asked for a bribe to get a private carriage at one in the morning by a ticket conductor clearly taking advantage of weary travellers. So, Tane and I both love Turkey even more now than before. Yay!

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As we are staying a tiny distance from Galipolli (which is just as important to the Turks as it is to us), Canakkale is filled with reminders of the First World War, as well as having an excellent military museum. Canakkale is also near Troy, and the makers of the 2004 movie even donated the horse they used to the town. Even without going to Bulgaria first, this place would have been neat. Now it's a real pleasure.

I would not have been reading by the horse if Eric Bana and Brad Pitt were also gifted with it

The Good, The Bad and the Bulgarian

If you ever want proof that Communism sucked, you should come to Bulgaria. When I think of the country, I think of flowers struggling to push their way up through rubble. There are lovely people and lovely things to see, but there is also something of a sullen, grim atmosphere. We've liked being here, but it's definitely the place we've enjoyed least. Here's how I sum it up:

The Good

Old Towns: the wooden, paved hearts of Plovdiv (see the last entry) and Veliko Tarnovo are gorgeous.

Ruins without hordes of tourists: Plovdiv's amphitheatre and Tarnovo's Tsavarets Fortress are awesome.

She's Queen of the Castle

Tarnovo's scenery: whoever decided to stick a town in the middle of a winding, forested canyon, appreciated a good view.

Cheap meals: $20 gets a damn good meal for two, with drinks. Yay!

Meeting great people: the nice Bulgarians are really nice, and we had one of the best dinners of the trip talking to Ryan and Helen, Americans on their own global honeymoon tour.

The Bad

Driving: Bulgarians learnt their overtaking at the Bangkok Academy of Tuktuk Driving.

"Though I drive through the mountain pass of the shadow of death ..."

Women's fashion: to paraphrase Lauren, most young women look like they're on the way to 'pimps and skanks' themed party.

Transport to Turkey: despite the main road going past it, no bus stops at Edirne, a big town on the Turkish/Bulgarian border. This means we have to take the overnight train back to Istanbul, adding on more than a few hours to our trip to Gallipoli and depriving us of the chance to see one of the best mosques in the country.

The Bulgarian

Smoking. Anywhere, anytime, every time. I was stoked to see a no-smoking section in one restaurant, but when we returned there for dinner the guy next to us lit up. Grrrr.

If only ...

Apartment blocks: calling these omnipresent decaying concrete hulks monstrously ugly is an insult to monsters.

Customer service: 'happy as a Bulgarian shop assistant' is not a phrase you'll hear anytime soon, unless it's describing the clinically depressed. With a few honourable exceptions, Bulgarian service staff appear to model themselves on Grumpy Smurf and the Snow Queen.

Behind the Iron Curtain

I have wanted to visit Eastern Europe ever since reading I am David aged about 11. There is something about the history of Eastern Europe that is so dark yet facinating - War, Cold War, Communism and Capitalism, and all in a space of 50 years. After we decided to visit Turkey, I managed to convince Tane to spend some time in Bulgaria as well. Given that beer only costs about $1, coupled with the fact that we do not know a single person that has been to Bulgaria, he was convinced.

Mmmmm. Dollar beer .... We didn't realise that beer would be the only thing on the menu that we understood. Everything in Bulgaria is written in Cyrillic (as in, looks like backward letters), and few people speak English.

We have been in the city of Plovdiv for a couple of days now, and it is facinating. This morning we found ourselves in a part of town where donkey drawn carts were overtaken by Ladas on streets bordered by housing estates probably built about the time Khrushchev was waving his shoe around at the UN. The wide roads, though, are a more sinister reminder of Plovdiv's history as they were built to allow Soviet tanks to amble around easily.

While wandering around the suburbs, Plovdiv gave the impression of being a bleak and miserable place. Tourist infrastructure is non-existent, many of the locals look like they ritually suck lemons as a hobby, and two of the nice Bulgarians we met were insistent on giving us their phone numbers in case we get in trouble with the police. Or gypsies.

Our impression of Bulgaria changed, though, as soon as we found Plovdiv's old town. It turned out that this is a lovely place after all, and that Tane and I are just two idiot tourists for spontaneously going somewhere that hasn't made it onto the beaten track yet with no map and no clue how to pronounce even the Bulgarian word for 'hello'. Apparently, it is Здравей. Maybe you will have more luck than us.

Tane in the old part of town

We also discovered the definite benefit of going somewhere that only has a handful of tourists - we got to explore some fabulous places while completely alone. Especially when we found Plovdiv's Roman ampitheatre.

Me on the stage

In the stands

Tane pretending to be an ancient Roman actor. Although neither of us could actually think of any ancient Roman plays to mock act.

So, while I would not recommend Bulgaria to someone who values being understood and who is unwilling to play a game of lucky dip when ordering meals, it is a facinating place to visit. I look forward to seeing more of Bulgaria and the rest of Eastern Europe to see how this corner of what used to be well behind the Iron Curtain compares.

Istanbul - a history geek's paradise

Istanbul is my favourite place we have visited so far. Here are some reasons why.

Hagia Sophia!

Mucho magnifico mosques!

Crusty old castles!

The War On Terrorism chess set!

The Bosphorous!

The Topkapi Palace!

The palace harem!

Women so hot they should be in the harem!

A 3400 year old obelisk - that's still in great nick!

Ninja children!

Big flags everywhere!

Wicked good art!


If you have seen The Big Lebowski, you know the line I am thinking of.

The Alexander Sarcophagus

The cafe at the Istanbul Archaeology Museum

Rice pudding that is actually edible!

From Istanbul to Constantınople

Tane and I arrıved ın Istanbul yesterday mornıng. As soon as the jet lag wore off (we have changed tıme zones more often ın the last week than some people change theır underwear), ıt dıdn't take long for us to get ınto the groove of Istanbul and really enjoy beıng here. Thıs cıty ıs fabulous - ıt's a cıty wıth an amazıng hıstory of varıed and ınterestıng layers. Thıs mornıng we were havıng a break ın a small park when Tane realısed that we were sıttıng ın the mıddle of a charıot racıng sıte datıng back to Roman tımes, the well known Hıppodrome of Constantınople.

Dıet Coke and hıstory. A wınnıng combınatıon

The regular call to prayer that echoes over the cıty ıs also a remınder that Istanbul ıs dıfferent to the old cıtıes of Europe due to a strong Islamıc ınfluence. On that note, the famous mosques located ın Istanbul really are all that as well.

Tane and the Hagıa Sofıa. Near thıs spot we also got ın the way of a TV crew fılmıng a doco on Ramadan who gave us Turkısh tea to drınk after we moved out of the way of theır fılmıng

Me ın front of the Blue Mosque, dressed ın Vogue's 2007 Mosque Summer collectıon

You mıght also notıce from our bloggıng revıval that the ınternet ıs cheap agaın. Hurrah! And I wonder ıf any of you have also notıced that on Turkısh keyboards ı's have no dots?