Give Me a Home..

Well, I've been around the world again. Not quite, but I've notched another two countries on the belt (please keep an eye out for those little patch flags for my bag). I'm ready for home.

It was a great break and other than the remaning activities in Alexandria and Cairo, there's not much more to tell.

We did get to visit the great Biblioteque Alexandria, the effort of rebuilding the city's former glory. They've done a bang up job of it, we were very impressed. They have some really exciting digital library projects going and have a machine that can digitise any book in 5 minutes. Fully reproduced and ready to go. Amazing stuff for the future of books and the digital world.

They have an internet archive that has documented internet pages and their changed from 1996 and takes up almost 4 perabytes!

I asked the guide what the budget of a facility like that was, and she said ''I can't be sure, but I think it's about 85000 Egyptian Pounds''. The exchange rate indicates that's about 20000 aussie bucks, she's either gravely mistaken or we could learn a thing or two from the Egyptians about accounting!

That's probably it for this round of linguistic adventures and cultural faux pas'. Catch you next time I try to take on the world!

Sent from my glorious e71 which is most definitely not an iPhone!

Return to Egypt

This post comes from Egypt, the land to which we have returned. Alexandria, to be exact. Once home to the greatest library in the world, that at one point, held more books than had ever been published. And previously home to the great Pharos lighthouse. The two of them Wonders of the Ancient World.

Again, I was warned that there's not a lot in Alexandria, and not to waste too long there, but 'go, so you can say you've gone'. Once again I found this strange advice (to be polite).

Yes, it is noisy, smelly, dirty, busy, expensive (at least for any moderately comfortable accomodation) and at times pushy.

But if you go wandering the streets after 9 or 10pm, the place has somehow come alive in a strange way that makes it a great place to be!

The people seem more relaxed; you can hear the regular 'clack clack' of dominoes and backgammon sets through the constant blaring of car horns. No one is in a rush as the centre of the street fills with couples, mums and dads, kids out past bed time and wandering boys just hanging out. The Corniche (street by the sea) can be made out by the tourists sitting on the wall staring out to sea.

There's an electricity in the air that belies the buildings and monuments of an ancient, perhaps / maybe / slightly has-been city. You can feel it in the cheeky grins and stares, in the way they seem to enjoy you trying their food that looks like it fell off a garbage truck last week. This town has a very entertaining character, I'd like to know more.

Sent from my glorious e71 which is most definitely not an iPhone!

Shredded Dolphin Cafe

In Australia, we go to great lengths to ensure our tuna is dolphin friendly. Apparently it's not so much of a concern here in Egypt.

We're in a dinky little cafe in Alexandria which is displaying (proudly, in its window):

<I>Shredded Dolphin in a Can!</i>

Sent from my glorious e71 which is most definitely not an iPhone!

Pıdjun Walley (Eroded Beauty 2)

The next part of the Eroded Beauty post takes place ın a small town called Goreme (there´s meant to be all manner of accents ın that name, but for the lıfe of me I can´t fınd them on the keyboard). Goreme ıs at the heart of the famous Capadoccıa regıon where mıllıons of years of volcanıc eruptıons, erosıon and people ınvolvement ıs home to funny lıttle faıry chımneys. These ´faıry chımneys´as the locals call them have also been names ´mushroom rocks´ but I thınk ıf we were all beıng serıous about ıt we´d really call them ´cırcumcısed penıs rocks´.

At some poınt ın tıme people seemed to thınk that these oddly shaped rocks would be good for a kıp and started pıckıng at them wıth axes (stone axes) and made homes ın them. The early Chrıstıans also thought ıt wouldn´t be all that bad an ıdea to start makıng churches ın them. Before you know ıt, ınsıde the dıstance you could chuck a rock (not a penıs shaped one, just a regular rock) a bazıllıon churches or chapels or monastarıes had sprung up.

These people had to have somethıng to eat. It seems to them that they would need to plant edıble food, such as aprıcot trees and mulberry trees. The only place to do thıs (ın the harsh landscape) were the valleys ın whıch people also had theır homes. And havıng set the frame for the rest of the story, ı´ll dıverge here.

Our tour guıde was pretty excıted about thıs prospect. In fact so excıted that he got a lıttle bıt too carrıed away wıth the Tour Guıde do´s and don´t lesson that he obvıously attended wıth Sherıff (the one wıth the more ınterestıng personalıty). They are both of the school of repeatıng themselves, only for some reason, ıt was a bucketload more ırrıtatıng wıth thıs guy.

Guıde: we wıll walk through the Red Walley before lunch and panoramıc vıew and after we go to underground sıtt and Pıdgun Walley.
Guıde: and you can see, the holes are made for the Pıdjuns that lıved here wıth the people, we wıll see more Pıdjuns and Pıdjun holes and Pıdjun houses once we get to Pıdjun Walley.
Guıde: we wıll have lunch and then panoramıc vıew before Pıdjun Walley.
Guıde: the famıly would keep the Pıdjuns there and feed the Pıdjuns so they could collect the Pıdjun droppıngs to put on the fertılıser for the trees. They used the Pıdjun droppıngs from the Pıdjuns for the fertılıser.
Guıde: OK, now we wıll go to Pıdjun Walley.
Guıde: they kept the Pıdjuns ın here, ın the walley of the Pıdjun Walley before collectıng the droppıngs of the Pıdjun for the fıelds, many Pıdjuns.
Dash: sorry, what lıved ın thıs spot here? Thıs hole?
Guıde: The Pıdjuns.
Dash: rıght, ok. I thınk I got ıt. When dıd the people leave the caves to lıve ın teh vıllages?
Guıde: well they no longer use the Pıdjuns from the Walley ın the Pıdjun holes for the Pıdjun droppıngs.
Dash: ummmmm..?
Guıde: Pıdjuns
Dash: Yep, dıd they ever..
Guıde: Pıdjuns.
Dash: well, thanks for the tour today, ıt was all really great.
Guıde: Pıdjuns.

I swear, Lauren started countıng at one poınt. In a 5 mınute stretch we reckon he got 20 Pıdjuns ın. The man loves them. Don´t go to Capadoccıa wıthout seeıng the pıgeons.

Eroded Beauty (On The Road Of Beauty)

Pamukalle is co-located with the ancient city of Hieropolis. I can't remember exactly, but I think the people latest there a little longer than others we visited.

For me, it kind of highlighted the pointlessness of a graveyard. You fancy thing up, remind the qorld how great you are by method of a sprucy airy tomb facing the rising sun or whatever and what happens? Ypur family pack up and leave town, graverobbers come and steal the food and wine you carefully had placed in there in case you woke up and some donkey from Australia shows up in 800 years, climbing on your tomb like nobody's business asking annoying questions like "what sort od people lived here?" and "why did they leave?" and "wasn't this a healing city, why are there so many graves?"

He has to ask these questions you see, because his tour guide offers information like a fish offers a good meal. That is to say, you can only enjoy it if you like fish and you can only get information out of him if you are a blonde Hungarian female wearing a bikini in the hot baths. Another way to put it is that our tour guide was a geologist.

Pamukalle is both gifted and cursed as it is located right on a fault line. Turkey suffers from regular earhquakes, most indetectable to people (except probably information scrooging geologists). There's one particular earthquake that the church in Hieropolis should have noticed though. Actually, based on their chosen location for the church they couldn't possibly pretend not to know a fault line existed there, because the church was built right on top of it. Split right down the middle!

Some carefully architectures Roman arches remain, along with a huge amphitheatre atill in use, but for the most part it seems earthquakes won the battle against the people of Hieopolis.

The blessing part of the fault lines is that gases from the earth can get out to heat the mineral waters at Pamukalle. The high calcium content allows the water to forms pools of a very distinctive shape. As the waters escape they carry enough calcium with them to form naural aqueducts and continue over and over again to make massive walls, I'll get the photos up after I have returned home.

The calcium deposits also take over the landscape and start to fossilise many of the things they get their mitts on. We took a photo of a 10 year old discarded glass bottle which is now a part of the rock. I imagine it will tell people in 3000 years that we liked to litter.

So while Sefu was hopeless on the people side of the equation, he provided great insight to the geological goings on in Pamukalle and Hieropolis.

Eroded Beauty really continues in Cappadoccia, but I certainly don't have room for that here but I must mention the bus system here.

It's incredible. The entire country is connected through a magic bus system, that may not always run on time but seems to always get you there. The whole trip has been like that actually. If you were to ask me how I got from Istanbul to where I am sitting now I don't think I could possibly explain it.

You arrive in a town that's not where you thought you were getting off but the bus has cleared out. You only have time to wonder "is this a problem?" before a guy with no ID shows up, 'shouts' at a bunch of guys in Turkish, pauses to say "no problem, 5 minutes no problem", 'shouts' a bit more and then puts you on another bus that takes you where you want to go.

What's miraculous is that they do this without ever looking at your ticket or appearing to know any words in English exxept for 'no problem'!

Sent from my glorious e71 which is most definitely not an iPhone!

Ephesıans Chapter One, Accordıng to Dash

Troy and Gallıpolı were cold, damn cold. Arrıvıng at Ephesus was not as bad, a good break really but the snow was stıll about.

Experıencıng the Turkey by bus seem about the only way to do ıt, but they are bus rıdes lıke you never experıence back home. You need to get on board wıth a good deal of patıence, a basıc ıdea of where you want to go and defınıtely no set tımeframe around arrıvıng there. Leavıng not long after our trıp to Troy (whıch many tourıst seem to have skıpped as people contınue to spread the horrıble rumour that the place ısn´t worth vısıtıng) we left for Selçuk (I thınk). Arrıvıng late and slıghtly confused, not to mentıon tıred, ıt was strange to see a town wıth actıve churches and people wıth Crıstıan soundıng names lıke Tom and Mıchael.

The followıng day we were met by a new guıde (Mehmet). He was a very knowledge and was born and bred ın Selçuk, proud of hıs hıstory (at least that´s the ımpressıon he left on me, and I suppose that´s the poınt). Ephesus was the largest cıty of ıts tıme, home at one poınt to John and hıstorıans assume, the Vırgın Mary. Much lıke Troy ın the "just step over the marble pıllar here" ıt also had a much more ıntact "just walk past the ancıent Roman toılet there" element whıch I loved.
They have marvelously recreated the ancıent lıbrary and the whole cıty ıs a delıght where you can walk down the maın street ımagınıng lıfe 2000 years ago.

St John seems to have lıved there for an extended perıod and some hıstorıans also suggest a house ın the hılls, found only wıth the support of an ınvalıd German nun who had never left Germany descrıbıng ıt from a vısıon, was the home of the Vırgın Mary, even vısıtıng by the pope quıte recently. We met the local celebrıty who runs the post offıce and maıled somethıng for the pope.

It ıs certaınly ınterestıng the hear the perspectıve of early Chrıstıan hıstory from the mouths of Muslıms who also manage to celebrate ıt, whıle pıckıng and choosıng the thıngs they want to belıeve for themselves.

Lauren had a moment sıttıng on the steps of the lıbrary just wonderıng what of our current lıfe wıll be ıntact and what people 2000 years from now wıll thınk about us. Wıll all of ıt be traped ın computers, carryıng ıts own rısks of beıng wıped or destroyed, or wıll that help to preserve our hıstory as archıtecture, paıntıngs, word of mouth and books have helped preserve thıngs here?

Wıll we abandon our cıtıes because of dısease and ınvaders, just as the Ephesıans dıd ın 700 AD. I wısh I could fınd out.

Epesıans Chapter One, Accordıng to Dash

Troy and Gallıpolı were cold, damn cold. Arrıvıng at Ephesus was not as bad, a good break really but the snow was stıll about.

Experıencıng the Turkey by bus seem about the only way to do ıt, but they are bus rıdes lıke you never experıence back home. You need to get on board wıth a good deal of patıence, a basıc ıdea of where you want to go and defınıtely no set tımeframe around arrıvıng there. Leavıng not long after our trıp to Troy (whıch many tourıst seem to have skıpped as people contınue to spread the horrıble rumour that the place ısn´t worth vısıtıng) we left for Selçuk (I thınk). Arrıvıng late and slıghtly confused, not to mentıon tıred, ıt was strange to see a town wıth actıve churches and people wıth Crıstıan soundıng names lıke Tom and Mıchael.

The followıng day we were met by a new guıde (Mehmet). He was a very knowledge and was born and bred ın Selçuk, proud of hıs hıstory (at least that´s the ımpressıon he left on me, and I suppose that´s the poınt). Ephesus was the largest cıty of ıts tıme, home at one poınt to John and hıstorıans assume, the Vırgın Mary. Much lıke Troy ın the "just step over the marble pıllar here" ıt also had a much more ıntact "just walk past the ancıent Roman toılet there" element whıch I loved.
They have marvelously recreated the ancıent lıbrary and the whole cıty ıs a delıght where you can walk down the maın street ımagınıng lıfe 2000 years ago.

St John seems to have lıved there for an extended perıod and some hıstorıans also suggest a house ın the hılls, found only wıth the support of an ınvalıd German nun who had never left Germany descrıbıng ıt from a vısıon, was the home of the Vırgın Mary, even vısıtıng by the pope quıte recently. We met the local celebrıty who runs the post offıce and maıled somethıng for the pope.

It ıs certaınly ınterestıng the hear the perspectıve of early Chrıstıan hıstory from the mouths of Muslıms who also manage to celebrate ıt, whıle pıckıng and choosıng the thıngs they choose to belıeve for themselves.

Lauren had a moment sıttıng on the steps of the lıbrary just wonderıng what of our current lıfe wıll be ıntact and what people 2000 years from now wıll thınk about us. Wıll all of ıt be traped ın computers, carryıng ıts own rısks of beıng wıped or destroyed, or wıll that help to preserve our hıstory as archıtecture, paıntıngs, word of mouth and books have helped preserve thıngs here?

Wıll we abandon our cıtıes because of dısease and ınvaders, just as the Ephesıans dıd ın 700 AD. I wısh I could fınd out.

Battles of the Past

After my last post we arrived in Echeabat, dropped our bags and boarded a small bus in the blistering cold with a packed lunch to bustle off to the sites of the ANZAC Day landings of April 25, 1915.

Since my childhood I have attended ANZAC Day services and parades, mostly aware of the basic idea behind the invasion but (apparently) never fully understanding the geography.

Almost 95 years later, when I stood there, fresh tracks laid in the newly fallen snow, just by the beach, I looked up at the hills and couldn't help but wonder why anyone would pick this spot for a beach landing. In-sane!

The beach was peaceful and incredibly beautiful at ANZAC cove. Being winter, not only did we have fresh snow but a completely empty beach, road and battlefields for us to experience.

We saw ANZAC cove, ANZAC and Turkish trenches and tunnels, the memorial on the site of the Battle for Lone Pine and The Nek, the sun setting over the sea as we stood above Simpson's grave and the pines that have grown all over what was once a horrifyingly bloody battlefield. For me, the best past was seeing the Turkish memorial to the invaders, with words from Ataturk (spoken in 1934). These words seem just as significant as those proudly proclaimed annually on ANZAC Day, ''they shall not grow old as we that are left grow old''. Even more significant as they were spoken by the man who stopped any chance of success in the campaign, acknowledging the sacrifices of both Allied and Central forces, more than we ever do in ANZAC services.

<I>"Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives.. You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side here in this country of ours... You, the mothers, who sent their sons from far away countries, wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well."</i>

That got me, and I can't believe that I haven't read or heard them before.

We followed yesterday up with a visit to Troy today. Unbelievably, people told me not to get my hopes up. "there's not much to see, maybe you want to go to say you've been there, but most people are disappointed."

Most people, in my opinion, must be crazy. To visit a site that apparently still retains some mystery is pretty cool. Did Paris exist, did the Trojan horse exist? Was it really here where we're standing that Achilles slay Hector? How did Homer put it altogether so well more than 500years after the event? There's a team of German archaeologists still there trying to figure that out.

Still covered in yesterday's snow I could have played like a kid there all day. Jumping from the remains of one wall to the next, trying to reconstruct, not one, but NINE cities in my mind. According to the experts, there was apparently 9 cities of Troy, spread out over 3500 years, it seems they really gave it up for a lost cause only in 500AD.

But like history, the show must go on. To Selchuk and the Virgin Mary's home!

Sent from my glorious e71 which is most definitely not an iPhone!

The Men with Smiles and Frowns

At 7 this morning we were collected from our guesthouse in Istanbul by two men who spoke next to no English and went on our way.

Packed into their little black van were another Aussie his ?Belgian wife from Biloela and two Italians (people, not cars). After about 20 minutes navigating roads stacked with the 6 inches of snow that had fallen over night it became glaringly obvious that we weren't heading to the bus station as expected.

Using the best of my ingenuity and the survival phrases in the back of the guide book i managed to say ''excuse me? 1 hour? 2 hour''.

The man with the frown in the driver's seat turned around and said ''road problem'' in English, referring I assume to the 6 inches or more of snow that fell overnight. The man with the smile in the passenger seat said ''Cannakale 5 hours'' in Turkish and held up 5 fingers. That, it seemed was that. The Italians turned to me for a translation and it seemed that was the first any of us knew that this little black van would be taking us all the way down the Gallipoli Peninsula.

After doing their best to kill us on the snowy roads, the men with smiles and frowns decided to put snow chains on about half an hour before making a pit stop (about 3 hours into the drive). As the self-appointed translator the man with the smile look at me and said ''half-hour'' in Turkish and they disappeared.

Not long after hitting the road again one chain flew off and we stopped in the middle of the highway. The man with the frown hopped out, left the door open, lit a cigarette and started walking back to collect it. Luckily the man with the smile showed a flash of brilliance in sliding over and driving us to the side of the road.

After hours driving through cold snow covered fields, we were feeling a little sorry for ourselves, even wondering aloud what it must have been like for people in the campaign who must have experienced far worse than our little tourist joyride in a heated car.

But now the sun is out, the snow is beginning to melt and I can see the sea.

Sent from my glorious e71 which is most definitely not an iPhone!

Linguistic Adventures Abound

Another country, another linguistic adventure!

This time during our last night in Egypt we wanted to try Hibiscus tea. According to local legend it means you'll never get cancer, an ancient remedy used by the ancient Egyptians.

My problem was that hibiscus is not hibiscus in arabic, it's something starting with C. With the menu we had this shouldn't have been a problem as it had both English and Arabic printed on it. Only our waiter couldn't read English and I can't read Arabic. That just left us both pointing at random things on the menu, confirming different words in different languages and him confidently walking away to get us something we didn't want.

We even had ourselves convinced for the first 5 minutes that hibiscus tea looked, tasted and smelt exactly the same as coffee.

Sent from my glorious e71 which is most definitely not an iPhone!

Characters >> Sheriff

Howdy Sheref! G'day Shezza, How's ut Cher-reef?

Any talk of our tour along the Nile through the cities of Aswan, Luxor, the valley of the Kings/ Queens and everything in betweens would be completely useless if it didn't mention the comedic genius of our tour, Sheriff.

With two degrees behind him, one in Egyptology and another in something else ''ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, we started to realise, starting at that toime, we started to see that ... yeah, yeah.........urgh...yeah''.

I highly suspect that the man could carry on a complete conversation in English with you and you could finish it swearing that he grew up in the suburbs of Sydney. With an ex-wife from New Zealand and a 3 year old daughter living in Kiwi land, he actually has racked up the hours in Australia. Some of his great stories involve his numerous interactions with Australian Customs and Quarantine. One involving him eating 5 Mars bars in one go and another ending in him demanding to know if Australia had wood and why it would be a problem for him to bring in a little more? Another incident involved him seeing a lizard's tail and thinking it was a crocodile. His defence was that if it moves in Egypt, you kill it, so he had actually never seen a lizard, according to his claim anyway, there were none left.

But when the man tells a story, or explains about the ancient treasures of Egypt, essentially lost to its current inhabitants, he has an Egyptian accented Australian accent and ''ladies and gentlemen'' loves what he is talking about.

As we were still trying to figure the guy out and learn what we could expect from our tour, Sheriff was standing up the front yelling into the microphone ''ladies and gentlemen, get ready, get excited, it's the time you've been waiting for all your lives, we are arriving, ladies and gentlemen, at the PYRAMIDS OF GIZA!'' On the last syllable his eyes would go slightly cross-eyed his voice would rise up and he would let out a little giggle.

As we progressed through the tour, we started to just learm the truly magnificent number of things we hadn't even realised we had been waiting for. ''Get ready, get excited, it's the time you've been waiting for all your lives, we're arriving at our hotel in Aswan!''

Or ''Get ready, get excited, it's the time you've been waiting for all your lives, we're arriving at the place where we'll get on the felucca!'' And then [in a small voice] ''but it looks like it's not here yet.''

Or funnier, ''Get ready, get excited, it's the time you've been waiting for all your lives, we're arriving at the TOILET!''

His penchant for repeating certain phrases or methods of speaking didn't stop there however as he described ''the art of mummi-fi?-CA-tion''

On the third syllable he would pause and his voice would rise. Then he would repeat it until we all joined in. ''mummi-fi?-CA-tion''. In this way, he manageed to get us to start remembering the things he told us.

Sheriff: at that time, we started to see ladies and gentlemen that they used the art of mummi-fi?
Chorus: CA-tion!
Sheriff: that's right! At that time we also started to see that the god Hor?-us...Hor?
Chorus: -us!
Sheriff: Horus, was starting...to be carved on the temple of Kar?-nak...kar?-
Chorus: nak!
Sheriff: don't swear! 'ak' is a very naughty word in Egyptian language! [giggle] ladies and gentlemen we started to see that yeah...yeah...um yeah.

The yeah yeah's started to happen when he realised that he had been speaking for a little too long. By the third 'yeah' he would already be walking off to his next spot.

The only other thing to mention would be how he would seemlessly start talking about the aliens, their spaceships and the aliens and their spaceships when someone not in our group started eavesdropping. Flawlessly cutting from Osiris and Horus and Queen Hatchepsut (aka Hot Chicken Soup) to the aliens and the crop circles they left behind; it was great to watch and see how long it took them to realise that he was talking rubbish.

No tour would be complete without a character like Sheriff on board.

Sent from my glorious e71 which is most definitely not an iPhone!