Harry…. Harry Kewell….

The chants for Kewell confirmed the local fan’s admiration for the Australian football star. He didn’t disappoint. Two goals and one assist saw him cheered off the field as he was replaced in the 60^th minute. One of his goals was scored right in front of us, leaving the crowd screaming in unison ‘Harry….Harry Kewell…’. Quite the experience. Mark and I were lucky to even get into the stadium, as it was the first home game of the season for Galatasaray, and the 20,000 fans swelled outside the security checkpoint, all simultaneously trying to squeeze through the tiny barrier that led to the stadium entrance. Upon finally pushing through the masses and getting a seat, we were left stunned by the atmosphere inside ‘Hell’ (as the Galatasaray fans call their caldron), where we witnessed some of the most spine tingling and adrenaline-pumping chants I have ever heard. In one notable occasion, with flares swaying in unison, the crowd went silent before erupting in a four-piece call-and-reply between each of the four stands. The players seemed to rise to the occasion with a convincing and crowd-pleasing 4-1 victory. 

 

The following morning I caught a bus down the coast to Gallipoli, where the morning after I engaged on a tour of the battlefields and surrounding region. It was quite an emotional experience to be taken through the history, and walk through the very trenches where so many young diggers perished. What was even more rewarding and emotional was the walk I attempted to complete the day after. Starting at ANZAC Cove, I followed the initial path of the Aussie and NZ troops up ‘Shrapnel Valley’, attempting to get over the ridgeline and up to ‘The Neck’, as the troops had done in their initial offensive in 1915. I somehow made it through the valley, following an old path, which twisted through low (and seriously thorny) shrub-land to the base of the ridge. By the time I reached the almost vertical cliff-face I was bleeding from cuts on my legs, and had thorns that had penetrated my shoes into my feet, and was unable to continue. Retracing my steps and then attempting to follow another of the ANZAC routes, I climbed Plugge’s Plateau to follow the ridgeline, again attempting to reach The Neck (site of the finale to the movie Gallipoli). Once again I was stopped in my tracks, this time by the narrowing of the ridge to half-a-metre in width, and dropping on either side a hundred metres or so to the valley below. Taking into account that erosion may have changed the landscape slightly since 1915, I am still absolutely bemused as to how the ANZACS made it over this ridgeline. I sat there for some time studying the terrain from the backside of the Plateau, and was left with a deep sense of admiration for the courage, skill and determination of the troops who pushed through this area on April 25, 1915.

Leaving Gallipoli, I turned north again, heading towards the Greek and Bulgarian border, to a small city called Edirne. This city was briefly the capital of the Ottoman Empire, and thus was adorned with fine baths, caravanserais and mosques, including the serene Selimiye Camaii, one of the most beautiful I have seen in all of Turkey. One of the most special parts of this small city is it’s authenticity, in part I assume due to the lack of foreign visitors who seem to rush to make their way through to Istanbul, or to cross one of the nearby borders. Their loss I guess, as this is one of the most attractive places I have visited during my time in the country. There are mosques everywhere, and the town is small enough that you can walk around and explore the regions attractions, including the old hamams, roman bridges, beautiful parks, and the river, which surround the city like a natural moat. One of the more rewarding parts of my day was spent sitting in the courtyard of Selimiye Camaii, listening to the call-to-prayer, and watching the locals casually wash themselves and enter the mosque to pray.

 

Tomorrow I head back to Istanbul to wait for my flight out two days later to Abu Dhabi. I have also booked my flight out to Delhi from the UAE a week later on the 3^rd of September, so I’m guessing after a week or two in India I will head home (most likely with a stopover in Singapore) arriving around September 20. Looking forward to it.

 

Matt.

I'm still alive!

Gday all,

Well it seems it’s been some time since I last updated this blog, and for good reason; I’ve been busily tearing my way across the Mediterranean coast, shacking up in treehouses, drinking copious amounts of raki, trekking to mountain top ruins, exploring underground cities, hot air ballooning over Cappadoccia, becoming bed-ridden for days from the local water, and somehow recovering from all that to eventually end up in vibrant, fascinating Istanbul from where I am finally attending to the closest thing I have had to work in months – updating this essay-length blog!

What a journey it has been. Moving on from the hordes of tourists in Marmaris some weeks ago, I travelled east to the beautiful seaside town of Fethiye, where our dorm room at Ferah’s Place overlooked the nearby harbour and down the spectacular cliff-lined coast of the Mediterranean. Ferah’s Place was an experience in itself, with Monica’s (the hostel owner’s) ‘sexy dinners’, and her vine-covered garden oasis, which sheltered us (beers included) from the outside temperature that apparently hit 50 degrees one seriously hot afternoon! During the relatively cool mornings I explored the remarkable ghost city of Kay village, where the 2000 strong Greek Orthodox community had left Turkey for the nearby Greek Islands following WWI, and also the Lycean tombs on the nearby cliff-faces, which turned a spectacular array of colours as I sat on a nearby hill, observing them at sunset.

 

Following Fethiye, I took a short bus ride further down the coast to the backpacker haven of Olympos, where a small community living in old huts and funky treehouses resides in a seriously beautiful valley. The nearby beach could also be classified as beautiful, if one was to actually see a speck of sand hidden beneath the thousands of sunbathing day-trippers. Solace for me was found in the nearby ruins of ancient Olympos, where unmarked trails lead to vine covered ruins, far from the hordes, with spectacular views down the coast. At night, I joined a group of long-time backpacker locals and hit the ‘town’ for a wild night dancing to Turkish pop and consuming far too much local raki. Feeling that more than one night in this place would set me in a permanent cycle of sleeping and partying, I left the following day in search of a place I had heard about in the nearby area, where an ancient civilization had spend centuries constructing and fiercely guarding a mountain-top fortress city.

Termossos was by far the most spectacular sight I have seen thus far during this trip. After a 45 minute drive out to a national park near Antalya, you embark on a steep climb up through the ancient walls of the city, past the crumbling gymnasium, taking a left at the vine-covered markets, and emerging over a ridge line to view the old amphitheatre, extraordinarily perched precariously atop a cliff that abruptly drops hundreds of metres to the tree-lined valley below. What a sight. For over an hour I sat, alone, simply taking it all in. The photos may look amazing, but trust me, to be up there, high in the brisk mountain air, with no one else around; it was really something else.

Leaving Antalya, I embarked on a marathon bus trip north to Cappadoccia, where ¾ the way into the journey, I mysteriously picked up a stomach bug, leaving me stopping the bus, full of vocally unimpressed locals, every 20 minutes or so to visit the toilet. Truthfully, I have never been so happy to see a squatter in all my life! I made it to Goreme, Cappadoccia, alive, mostly thanks to a Japanese pharmacist onboard who, seeing my predicament, fed me a concoction of drugs that kept me clogged up for days! Arigatou!

Goreme and the nearby region were amazing! I trekked through the nearby valleys lined with caves, and up volcanic mountaintops to obtain superb views of the heavily eroded, and thus fascinating landscape. However the best view, and experience of my time there, was courtesy of an early morning hot air balloon trip, which sent me peacefully floating over craggy mountaintops and through the myriad of valleys with such intimacy that you could literally peer into the windows of the cave dwellings, or pick fruit from the resident’s crops that lined the valley floor below. It was such a memorable experience.

 

Leaving Cappadoccia was harder than I thought. Yes, in part due to the endless opportunities to further explore the region, but more so because I became so sick again, that it was virtually impossible to travel via bus all the way to Istanbul. Realising this, I rested for a couple of days in my cave accommodation, then made the journey further east to Kayseri, where I would mercifully take a plane to Istanbul, cutting the journey time by 10 hours.

Now in Istanbul, I have visited all the sites, and taken in the vibe that emanates from the bustling bazaars and the musical mosques. The energy in this city is contagious. However, I feel that I am yet to see it in its full glory, and I plan to experience this by attending a football game at the home ground of Harry Kewell’s Galatasaray. With my bazaar bought club jersey, a few Effes in hand, and a crew of rowdy supporters from the hostel, we will soon head off for the stadium…

Kewell to score in the 90^th minute for a victory I reakon.

Until then,

Matt.

Weddings, theft, and a hell of a lot of tourists!

It’s really quite hard to believe I’m in Turkey at the moment. This disbelief has stemmed simply from the fact that Marmaris, the port town in which I am currently located, is absolutely packed with tourists. In all honesty, I have found it hard to locate legitimate locals who appear to be hiding down back alleys, or sitting in coffee shops, seemingly sharing my bewilderment with the hordes of foreigners strolling past in tiny swimmers and displaying all types of bemusing attire. I have never seen anything like it. Only the distant echo of the call to prayer, barely heard over the blaring music coming from the myriad of bars along the waterfront, reminds me where I actually am.

Currently I am sitting on the balcony of my room listening to an English tourist murder Spice Girls in the Karaoke bar opposite the hostel. On the positive side, the packs of Pommes has meant that a number of local bars and restaurants have been screening The Ashes, which has occupied the majority of my day.

The coastline of Turkey as I came into Marmaris

Today I arrived in Turkey after a short ferry trip from Rhodes, one of the eastern-most Greek Islands. The fortified city, arguably the last inhabited medieval town in Europe, was just amazing! The fact that you share the experience with masses of tourists detracts little from the splendour of simply wandering around the old cobbled streets and taking in the vibe. Getting lost is inevitable in the 200 or so alleyways, and it became an experience I welcomed with open arms. Around every bend is another set of ruins, an old mosque, a quaint set of tavernas, or an old residence of the Knights of centuries past. Pretending to be a student of the EU ensured I was able to see, for free, the archaeological museum, grand masters palace, knight’s castle and many of the other fascinating attractions. That fact that these sightseeing excursions were free of charge was of vital importance to me considering I had, the night before, been subject to a robbery that cost me somewhere between 300 to 400 Euros.

Rhodes Old Town

This is what happened: At 6am, the morning after my first night in Rhodes, my lone dorm companion returned from a night out at one of the local discotheques, apparently completely drunk and angry, as evident from his loud conversation on the phone outside my window. Hearing all this commotion, I found my i-pod and started listening to music to drown out the noise outside. Soon after I heard the French/Algerian, and fairly large man come into the room, turn on the light and get into the bed next to mine. He turned the light off and seeing me lying still must have assumed I was asleep. Soon after, I heard the sound of rustling through a bag of some sort, which continued for 30 seconds or so. Hearing this, I turned to see the bag through which he was searching was in fact my bag! I questioned him immediately, and startled, he dropped the bag and lay flat down on the bed pretending to not hear me. I got up, turned the light on and searched through my bag to find the front zipper open, and my wallet completely devoid of cash. I yelled at him ‘get up’, which he did, and face to face I challenged him as to why he was looking through my bag, and where he had put my money. He acted dumb, pretending like he never touched my bag. After five minutes or so of arguing, and me frantically trying to work out where he had hid the cash (I made him empty his pockets but he wouldn’t comply any further), I decided to head down to the police station to get some help as there was no official present at the hostel until 10am. The police told me to come back at 8am (it was 6.30am at the time) as I had told them I didn’t want him arrested and simply wanted to get my money back through filling out forms for insurance purposes. Following this, I randomly bumped into the hostel owner waking the streets of the Old Town, where he told me to head back to my room, where his wife would meet me to sort out the problem. However, upon returning to the hostel I found my roommate gone. He had packed up all his stuff and done a runner, after being at the hostel for over two weeks (and still owing them money). There was no doubt from this point that he was guilty. The hostel owner, Peter, the proceeded to round up his friends in the police force and send out a warrant for his arrest (which was issued to every port on the island). Peter even called his friends in the police in Belgium, as the Algerian fellow had told him of his plans to go there after Rhodes. To top it all off, Jack, a hostel guest and former member of the French legion, went down to the local port to try and find him and set him straight! Crazy! Out of all this came nothing, and frustratingly I learnt that my insurance wouldn’t cover the loss.

Accepting this, I moved on from the event and enjoyed the rest of my time on the island, visiting the famous castle at Lindos, and partying with the other hostel guests, who were a heap of fun, and even bought me drinks in sympathy following the robbery. All in all it turned out to be a fantastic few days in Rhodes.

The crew from Rodos Youth Hostel

Preceding my time on Rhodes, and the 18 hour ferry ride that followed, was a memorable stay on the beautiful island of Santorini. The purpose of Gay and my time there was to attend the wedding of Rob and Jacqui, who planned to be married at sunset on a headland on the far side of the island. Before the wedding however, the wedding party had some catching up to do (I hadn’t seen them all in over 7 months), and we re-united over a few Coopers, VBs and Tooheys News in a nearby Australian Bar that was perched precariously on the cliff-face in the whitewashed town of Fira. From what I remember (not much) it was a very memorable night! Aside from the various nights out on the island, the wedding party (Rob’s entire family, and Jacqui’s two friends, sister and mother) did engage in some strenuous daily activities including lying by the pool, wading in the pool, eating by the pool… you get the picture. We did one day decide to climb the volcano in the centre of the massive caldera, which afforded spectacular views back across to the rugged cliff faces and small hilltop towns of the main island of Santorini. That night we indulged in a superb seafood dinner at a restaurant with a terrace that overlooked the caldera and enjoyed the magical sunset.

Sunset from our dinner table

The following day was the wedding, where at sunset Rob and Jacquie said ‘I do’ in the presence of the small gathering of family and friends (and a curios couple of happy snapping Japanese tourists of course). Despite the howling wind, the ceremony was flawless. It was a beautiful memory to take with me as I departed the party that evening for the 15 hour (which turned into 18 hour) crossing to Rhodes.

The wedding party

Now in Turkey, I plan to head west along the Mediterranean coast to a couple of isolated little beaches, stay in treehouses, and visit ancient hilltop ruins. Following this I will head north into Cappadocia to see the crazy rock formations and caves, then fly (I think) to Istanbul where I will spend a few days seeing the sights and visiting Gallipoli, before departing for the U.A.E. My current planning suggests I will be in Abu Dhabi by 15-20 August, then India sometime in the first week of September, and finally home in time for Graduation (September 23).

Cheers,

Matt.