ANZAC day

Yesterday was ANZAC day. 
Although I was aware of it I've never understood the significance of April the 25th to the national psyche of the Kiwi (and Australian, but they're not under scrutiny right now) and the self-image of the country as a whole. When travelling I enjoy investigating such ideas of collective identity or the perception of the self as part of a greater whole, shared common values and mythology in a historical context so when Brigette said she was going to the dawn parade to represent St. John's Ambulance I had to go along to learn more.

And so at 4.30am I rose bleary-eyed, complete darkness outside and rain lashing against the window. I got dressed and staggered into the kitchen, downed a black coffee, chewed up a muffin and we were off. Around 45 minutes later we arrived (still well before dawn) in Taumarunui, the rain had petered out and stars buried in the spaces between the clouds were beginning to invite upward glances with their flickering; stationary but moving.

Outside the RSA, see any kids wearing medals?

We headed to the local RSA club which is analogous to the British Legion to find a decent-sized group of people waiting for the dawn service. Some medal-decked old men and their families, current servicemen, police, fire and ambulance in uniform, assorted townspeople and Maori wardens, whatever they are, stood about fussing with poppies and sharing bonhomie. Later, but still before dawn a senior member of the club mustered the group into a marching column with the veterans at the front. The column moved off to the irregular beat of a muffled drum in order to reach the town war memorial by the 6am ceremony. 

The column ready for the march

The old boys take a minibus

The group marched down the street, turned right and moved along one of the main east-west streets. more people joined the procession including myself. 

The ceremony was very similar to the ones in the UK, with wreath laying by order of importance, religion, anthem singing etc. There were some interesting differences such as the inclusion of a lot of the Maori language into the service and a haunting waiata (female solo) sung at the end of the service. There is a gun salute in this case provided by a cannon somewhere away in a car park.
The date and time of the dawn service is in commemoration of the dawn landings and battles at Anzac cove on the Gallipoli peninsula in Turkey. After eight months of bitter fighting in the hills of the peninsula the invasion failed and the troops withdrew. In those eight months the Anzac legend was born, an important facet of the Australian and New Zealand national character as some would point out. Of course the veterans of this campaign are long gone, but like armistice day in the UK, subsequent conflicts have unfortunately provided more returned servicemen, some maimed, some just to be remembered by those who return to these spartan memorials every year to honour their memory. However, the way in which Anzac day and the ANZAC spirit have become such an important part of the national consciousness reminds me of a time last year when I was considering the foundation myths of another country directly linked to this story. 

I remember writing about what I had learned about the Turkish sense of identity based on the defence of the Ottoman Empire as it was then from a series of invasions culminating in the foundation of the Turkish Republic. I wondered as I heard and read about the tradition of Anzac day if there was a common nationalist impetus to forging a joint identity using the sacrifice and bravery of the nations soldiers as a figurehead (almost, perhaps prototype?) for the qualities that each nations leaders aspire to. The comparisons between the heroic ANZACs of lore and the way in which the Turkish defenders are portrayed are easy to make; for every Simpson and his donkey bravely evacuating the wounded there is a Gunner Seyit keeping the guns firing using superhuman feats of strength. Both are now more fiction than fact, ideals rather than human beings. See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Simpson_Kirkpatrick and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seyit_%C3%87abuk
What is the Anzac spirit? I'm not going to explain it here, as people I've asked here can't really explain it well and I cannot pare it down beyond what i found on wikipedia:

"...endurance, courage, ingenuity, good humour, larrikinism, and mateship."

These qualities are considered so important that politicians have considered including them into some sort of citizenship test- except there is no practical way to test if you're fit to join the Kiwi club. 
If this is such a large part of what it is to be a New Zealander, is there any chance that over the last 99 years the meaning and use of the public holiday has changed? Certainly the memorial has become more of a public holiday (of remembrance) with the liberalisation of trading and licencing laws. However, there is still a lot of pride here, in the tenacity of these island's inhabitants in the face of hardship in particular. So it seems the events of 99 years ago will not fade from the public consciousness soon, to the contrary the increasing mythalogicalisation of the Gallipoli campaign (Mel Gibson, again) is even now overshadowing the sacrifice of the Australian and New Zealand soldiers in northern Europe during the Great War where many more were killed and wounded over a longer period of time.  It seems from my observations that in the years since 2001 and the subsequent wars, this remembrance and encouragement to feel pride is on the upswing. 
To someone who grew up in the relatively non-observant 1980's having to sit through emotional powerpoint presentations and holding a full minute silence (followed by an actual bugle rendition of the last post) in school assemblies is a little unsettling. The young people now enthusiastically marking this anniversary are the great grandchildren of the veterans of world war two and the great-great grandchildren (at least) of those that fought in the Great War. What about their children, and theirs? Will we still hold such parades in 100 years from now? If so why? In New Zealand I believe that the 'myth' of the Anzac spirit is so deeply ingrained in the common identity that I think it will go on, I cannot say the same for the UK where there is no equivalent and after the centenaries approaching over the next four years as well as the decreasing number of surviving veterans from WW2, I expect that the original meaning of armistice day will begin to fade for better or for worse and the rituals become more divorced from reality and living memories, text book history. I hope that whatever happens the insanity and the slaughter that occurs when so-called civilised nations go to war with each other will not be forgotten in the plastic poppy fever, and the silence.

Izmir, Karşıyaka, Çanakkale and back to Istanbul

It's cold in Istanbul, very cold indeed when the north wind sweeps icily in and across the city from the black sea. So like a flamingo, I migrated south to warmer parts during the night. I suppose I'g better tell you how this unplanned part of my travels has gone: Terribly.

Don't take this the wrong way, I loved every day I spent in Izmir and the surrounding area, the hosts I found were fantastic and even a few people from the local couchsurfing community got in touch (albeit too late) to meet up during the day. 

The problem is after three weeks inside Turkey, I still feel like I haven't scratched the surface. I go from large city to large city because that's where the hosts are, it takes days just to find a good host for 2-3 days, meaning I'm always on the internet either scanning lists of potential hosts, reading profiles or writing personalised requests to stay with them. I've toyed with the thought thought of just finding my way to some random small town and letting fortune take over. Walking into the town  square, waving my arms in the air and yelling 'HELP!'

The problem is language, I can order food and drink, I can buy a bus ticket, I can ask where something is, and say please. This however isn't enough. I want to tell people I like the way they've arranged the flowers in their window box, admire their Ataturk portrait, talk about the things we dream about, ask if the land here is good for growing olives or grapes and understand the complexities of the answers. I will always be that goofy tourist, no matter how many phrases I learn. Perhaps it's about time I accepted that and swallowed my pride.

The night bus to Izmir boards a ferry.

On the way to Asia for the first time!

I decided to take the night bus to Izmir, I could sleep on the bus and arrive the next morning bright and full of energy to explore this new place.

Why don't I learn?

I arrived in Izmir after about one and a half hours sleep, poorly dressed for the pre-dawn cold and somehow an hour before the bus was supposed to arrive. It was a shock to be dropped shivering on a street corner, but just along the road the most amazing view awaited me, so I took a seat on a little wall and had a breakfast of biscuits and mandarins.

Pelicans of Karsiyaka

Sunrise over Karsiyaka

The waterfront is often said to be the pride of Karsiyaka, indeed it is beautiful as, unlike the view across the bay in Izmir, the sun is always near or over the sea. Many natives of the area (including one or two I know well) have fond memories of going to the sea with their relatives as children, including these rather fetching dolphin statues in one plaza. Admittedly it is a nice place to spend an afternoon, especially if the wind is not so cold. One Saturday afternoon I observed a sizable percentage of the town's population just walking along the sea-front, promenading if you like. This is not the only familiar pastime that the locals practice; they also like to ride the ferryboats across the bay. In fact I do to.

Feeding the seagulls from the open back of the ferry. I tried to get a nice picture of the food being given to a bird directly, but the timing was too difficult.

The Sea-front in Izmir

I like Izmir, it has a much more 'chilled out' (perhaps Mediterranean) feeling than Istanbul. Also it has around 1% of the street hustlers of Istanbul, meaning I was only accosted by a smartly dressed gentleman offering to be my guide and friend once. By the old bazaar/market in fact, right where you'd expect this species to have it's niche. I did try to buy socks here too, but couldn't find a shop that sold them all of the time. It was always a case of 'come inside the shop sir' whilst they send a boy (in uniform bad fringe and black leather jacket) to the actual shops for right and left socks to find some matching pairs for me to buy at marked-up prices.
Izmir has a few things to do and see, but not nearly as many things as I expected so my conscience was free to just do what I wanted to do and wander around wide-eyed taking the whole place in.
The minor residential streets just inland from Bostanli are quite something to wander through. Plants line the balcony rails, still many are in flower and you can just catch their perfume from the street. Turkish flags with the image of Ataturk hang from some while from others women beat carpets or shake brooms or mops over the unsuspecting pedestrians below. Municipal workers seem to be on a perpetual break from laying the new cobble-bricks in the wet sand that has been spread evenly and miss the local stray cats using it as a toilet due to being pre-occupied talking  (presumably about their boss, football or politics) over tea in little tulip-shaped glasses.  

My first hosts in Karsiyaka, a sneaky picture while they were cooking supper. (Yayla Corbasi)

The best thing about living in Izmir, in my opinion. Too dirty to swim in, apparently. And most definitely too cold.

I like how the Izmir mindset is generally pragmatic and cosmopolitan, liberal and progressive. Both my hosts in the area were very laid back and open-minded (no, not in the couchsurfing reference-code way!) which they assured me was common for the area, the current prime-minister seeing the city as a thorn in his side and a hotbed of opposition to his conservative policies. I never did get to ask anyone about 'The Great Fire' although there are reminders here and there if your eyes are open. There are certainly no monuments to the suffering of the civilian population although there are a few victorious monuments marking the day the Greek army were driven back to the sea, but not the aftermath. Too messy I expect, someone with too much pride may need to acknowledge something dreadful happened. Such is the state of Aegean national politics. 

A much-overlooked sculpture park. The lion to the right of center is at least 2600 years old. 

However, after just over a week it was time to move on. Without, may I add seeing almost all of the 'must see' attractions in the area  I chose to travel a few hours north to Chanakkale where there were many more interesting things not to see. 
I've grown accustomed to missing out on tourism by now; I don't have a driving licence with me, nor would I use a hire car if I did, it's a matter of stubborn principle. I find excuses of course, like not going to Ephesus because I was out drinking the night before and woke up late, the weather being cold and nasty and the public transport being sparse. I think I didn't go because it was OK not to. I'm allowed not to visit these places. It's my yardstick I'm being measured by, no-one else's.
It's my bloody trip.

The Bosphorus straights at Canakkale

In Canakkale I began to get the feeling I was starting to understand the country better; if you don't know it is the site of the Battle of Gallipoli http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gallipoli_Campaign in particular Canakkale was the site of the WW1 allies' first attempt to run the Dardanelles straight, reach Constantinople, knock the Ottoman empire effectively out of the war and open a southern sea route to Russia. It may well have worked if mines hadn't been laid in the straights prior to the attack. The Denial of the straights to the British and French navies and the subsequent land campaign occupies a colossal part of the Turkish folk memory. I suppose it is as if the Battle of Britain (national survival) was crossed with Thermopylae (overwhelming odds) and the Battle of the Somme (horrific casualties). It is also the battle in which modern Turkey was largely conceived and forms a part of The War of Independence.  

The replica of the minelayer Nusret

Ataturk forever..

The battle also ties in with the Ataturk story, so it's pretty much the most important thing to have happened to the Turkish people since yogurt was invented. However, when walking around town and going into the visitor attractions and museums in the area I cant help feeling that a myth has been built up around a truth, historical fact has been pumped up and given steroids where appropriate and quietly left out if not. This wall and rampart has been re-built after being destroyed by the allied bombardment but not labeled as such, however this shore defence gun was destroyed after the war and most definitely  not by British shells and clearly labeled with these facts. The examples will long outlast the time available to me to write. However what I can say is that a lot rides on the myths built on this place. Many are mutually supporting, the largest myth of them all; of the identity of the state of Turkey. More on this later.

Ramparts for artillery at the fort in Canakkale

The caption for this model was just the slightest bit weighted towards a politically convenient narrative of national survival battles against a cunning and powerful foe. But what did I expect if the exhibition is built and staged by the military?

Hmm, a Trojan horse.

That feeling when the breakfast buffet is all just for you...

Happy new year!

The ferry ride to Eceabat

So what is it to be Turkish?
I have made some vague conclusions based on the observations I have made throughout my limited time in the country. I have asked the people I have met about life, their beliefs and habits, probably asking some awkward questions in the process although I only asked the toughies to people I thought wouldn't react badly. The results are most likely skewed by only travelling in the west of the country and only talking to young, educated and 21st century minded people. This is what I have found:

Turkey is a multi-ethnic, multi-racial and multi-faith society, in fact it is several societies telescoped into one physical space, several ways of seeing the world and even several economies coexisting on the same income. If it were a person it would be schizophrenic. This is evidenced best by the political views of the people I have stayed with versus the party currently in power. One side liberal and reformist, the other traditional, religious and conservative. 
However, there is more than that,
Historically much nationalism was and probably still is based upon the idea of 'Turkishness', however Anatolia has an incredibly long and rich history before the Turks arrived. These peoples of Anatolia were not wiped out  by the invaders from the Asian heartland but persisted with their own language and customs in many cases. Even those groups that converted to Islam and learned to speak in the new language kept many of their old ways. Then the Ottoman Empire drew new peoples in from near and far and of course moved a few around against their will. This all contributes to one of the most racially diverse populations I have ever seen, just riding the metro is a delight for a casual face spotter, in one car you can spot individuals that would not look out of place in Britain or Denmark, France of Spain, Northern Italy, Poland, European Russia, Asian Russia, Mongolia, China, Greece, Egypt and the Levant. All speaking Turkish.

In my last week in Istanbul I began to get a better understanding of how this happened; after the collapse of the Ottoman Empire the remnant of the empire centered on Anatolia was fighting for survival. Arab nationalism to the south, Soviet expansion to the north-east, Greek invasion to the west which at first threatened to capture the whole west coast of Asia minor, Constantinople and push along the Black Sea coast re-capturing ancient Byzantine territories. Everywhere there were pockets of the very people threatening to consume Turkey practicing their own languages, customs and religions.

Gunner Sayit saves the day yet again, in statue form.

The Mehter band perform for me and 200 schoolkids and their teachers

I love this picture.

The Turkish army under Ataturk managed to carve a new country out of this mess by first driving out the invasion, putting down rebellions and then the stage that interests me; the consolidation. Turkish became the only language to be spoken, Sunni Islam the only form to be practiced. The Koran was to be translated into Turkish as was to be the language of religious affairs to remove the influence of the new Arab states forming to the south. Of the disparate peoples in the new republic many left or were forced to leave the country, a process that continued until the 1970s. Many died in events that still inspire controversy and hatred today.  If you ever visit Istanbul after you have 'done' the main sights and buildings I recommend a visit to the National Military Museum which in spite of it's name is half cultural center. The legend of the Turkic tribes spreading from their home in central Asia, conquering and populating the world as they went is right there, presented often in face-slappingly gaudy modern artworks painting these ancient eurasians in the palette of modern Turkish faces.  Here is the myth distilled and presented for you in a single building, cherry-picking historical fruits here and there and fusing it into a single narrative. As the quote , written over the theatre where the re-created Ottoman Mehter band play, from Mustafa Kemal himself says: "Nations that are unaware of their history are obliged to die out". What else was there to do but write a history.

An ossury built from gravestones from the relocated graves of Le grand champs cemetery

The Roman Catholic cemetery  contains the graves of French, Italian and a huge Levantine population, descendants of Byzantine Constantinople.

Gravestones of the English merchant families that settled in Galata and the surrounding districts, I wonder if this is the cause of some of those faces on the metro?

Myths again. Bilge.

My hosts district.

Modern Turkey, too modern.

However, it worked. The myth covered the cracks, it took like a skin graft on raw flesh. Turkey was born. Or created. The choice is up to the individual. It is a modern country, but it is not western, rather it exists at the cross-roads of the world. I would like to see the nation acknowledge the differences between it's disparate peoples, the shared origins with it's neighbours and the need to encompass all traditions within it's borders. I wonder...

Well done if you've read this far. This post is huge. I'm finishing it off in Bahrain waiting for my connecting flight to India and another adventure. I'm sad to be leaving Europe behind. I miss the places I've been and I miss it's peoples, especially the ones who have opened their homes and their hearts to me. I have the feeling even if I stay in my Aegean loop I will never be ready to leave, never be finished. There's always more.

See? Modern?

Istanbul

Ferries across the Bosphorus

I have been looking forward to visiting this city for many years, its history, its landscape, the archaeological remains that just litter some parts of the city, some visited, some not. It's position as the crossroads of the world; straddling the divide between east and west physically and culturally. It was supposed to be the beginning of a great step into the unknown. The start of traveling in Asia, the beginning of the unfamiliar and the challenging contrast to what was so familiar and too easy in mainland Europe. It's that challenge thing again, I'm seeking experiences either consciously or unconsciously that will be difficult. At least I think so.
However, three factors have changed the route for me. The first is the cessation of diplomatic relations between the United Kingdom and Iran following the http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2011_attack_on_the_British_Embassy_in_Iran incident, the bandit-country nature of the border regions near Turkey and Pakistan. Secondly it's getting really cold here so I'm sticking to the coast where it's warmer and third my Indian visa is swiftly running out (it only lasts for six months).
So I'm flying to India on the 8th of January and sticking close to Istanbul until then. I'm actually writing this post in Izmir where I headed to get some slightly warmer weather. My travels until then will be confined to the western side of Turkey. 
The journey into Turkey was difficult to sat the least, which I enjoyed, but my travels here have involved too much tourism for my liking. In Istanbul there are literally weeks worth of things to do and see. Except I'm not happy doing just that. I can visit historical buildings and museums for a few days but aside from the learning about the place that goes on there isn't much living there for me to see. Also wandering around a (cold and rainy) city by yourself loses it's appeal after the third or forth day.
I am travelling because... Honestly I cannot say why exactly, but to experience new and interesting places through my own eyes and also through the impressions of the local people I meet along the way is important. That is what I takes me along the road to the next place. There is no guidebook for Turkey in my bag. No list of sights to tick off, places to stay or eat and definitely no key vocabulary.
So when the only people I have stunted conversations with are shopkeepers, cafe owners, hotel desk staff and those strange guys who are employed to start friendly conversations with tourists for the purpose of luring them into shops and selling them items for an extortionate rate- I'm not at my happiest.
You can tell when I'm having this kind of experience by the way I take many more photographs than usual.

Tourism at Topkapi

The Tower of Justice- more tourism...

Looks cold and wet doesn't it? It was.

Inside the council chamber, the sultan used to sit behind the golden window to observe the proceedings taking part in his name.

See? Just like that.

Ottoman Bunchuks, symbols of power a lot like a standard.

16th Century Armour, the irate guard caught up with me at this point and told me 'no photo'

Re-curved composite bows

Views from Topkapi across to the Galata tower http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galata_Tower

There were far more photographs taken, I didn't manage to get any from the inside of the room where the relics of various religious figures are kept, there were far too many security guards around for that so I couldn't better the picture of the hand of John the Baptist that my father took many years ago with my own of the staff of Moses. In all I spent around 4 hours at the palace and I didn't see it all, missing several important exhibits and the harem altogether. Then again, I am a lousy tourist.

Agia Sophia, more tourism, but wow! Just look at it!

There was one place that I simply HAD to go to and that was Hagia Sophia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hagia_Sophia which was one of the big draws of the city for me. 1500 years of history on top of another several thousand years worth buried underneath. I can confirm that it really has to be seen, read up about it first, then just go along and experience the place. Cathedrals are built to awe the visitor and in this respect Hagia Sophia did not disappoint, with many of the original Byzantine mosaics restored and visible after being stripped of the later layers of plaster put there to cover the idolatry by the conquering Turks. 

Recently it was discovered that the four seraphim have faces under their gold masks!

The spot where the emperors of Byzantium were crowned.

Isis and Horus

Stereotypes :)

Oh look, a thing you can touch!

Christ Pantocrator with the Mary and John the Baptist

Breathtaking mosaics around the galleries

It was a little busy on the day I visited, so I cannot begin to imagine how busy it could be in the peak season. I would recommend a visit to anyone, I may even go back again myself! However I would think twice if there were so many visitors that stopping, staring and contemplating was impossible. That is, I believe, the point of visiting a place like this, it's that whole 'pilgrimage' thing again.

The Archaeological museum.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexander_Sarcophagus

A gladiators grave steele

Part of the chain that closed the Golden Horn to ships in times of siege.

A female deity figure from the neolithic, yup another one...

Some days the kindness and openness of strangers truly shocks and fills me with awe and gratitude simultaneously. It shouldn't as I'm couchsurfing and I'm trying to remember that people can be amazingly open, yet it does and frequently I cannot express how grateful I am. 
Antje, a former couchsurfer of mine who stayed in my cold little house in Wales nearly two years ago asked me randomly on facebook what I was up to and ever-so-kindly took it upon herself to find me some more friends in the city, to my surprise it worked out wonderfully and her university friend Aslihan replied that she could meet up one evening; she took me to a rooftop restaurant with the most ridiculously good views. I mean they were literally breathtaking, even the cold was worth it, I've forgotten the name of the restaurant, but it was a stones throw from the Galata tower

Sneaky pic

One part of the panarama; towards Topkapi Saray

One day I took a walk along the city walls (another reason I had to visit). The walls are situated in a band of open ground in a girdle around the peninsula. Often major roads and transport infrastructure has been built in this open space giving the walls a surreal aspect as in places they have a four lane highway in a deep trench as a kind of impenetrable 21st century moat. There were also strange-looking men lurking between the curtain walls looking out and down upon passers by. I didn't linger anywhere long and took few pictures as a result. My host later told me that an American woman was molested and murdered there in the summer. 
I did find a little museum along the way; it was called the panorama 1453 museum. Inside after a lot of information boards you climb into a spherical chamber where there is a panoramic painting of the scene when the defences of Constantinople  were breached. It was quite interesting to watch the other visitors as most seemed to want their photograph taken in front of various scenes, what visitor and which scene is open to interpretation. The wording of the exhibition was also fascinating in respect to it being very much the history of the victor and the glorification of the personal skills of the sultan Mehmed II. There he is below, sitting on his horse winning the battle all by himself. 

I think the artist has misguidedly used modern Turkish faces for models, look carefully...

Cavalry charges at the city walls? Really?

The city walls today

The maritime museum, I just cannot resist a maritime museum....

Propellor from SMS Goeben/Yavuz Sultan Selim

Rowing boats that belonged to Mustafa Kemal Ataturk

I find Istanbul fascinating, like Turkey in microcosm it is a city with many personalities; traditional, progressive, nationalist, pious, conservative, liberal and countless more modes of thinking live inside the same shared space and shared consciousness. I'm not done with it yet, there is so much more to experience here, so I'll be back for another helping in the new year.