Ayvalik

A horse is a horse of course, of course

Pamukkale-Dubai 139The next morning the full glory of the Ottoman house we were staying in came into focus. As I wandered around looking at the architecture I wondered just how many additions this house had over the years. The bathroom, in particular, a slightly rounded room that sat between the hallway and the kitchen definitely appeared to be built after the rest of the house (logically of course as a bathroom would probably have taken a very different form in Ottoman times). The most charming part of the house was of course the upper level terrace (about the size of a lounge room) where we sat in the sun amongst the vines growing, looking down on the town and the ocean in the distance,

Once we packed up and walked all our stuff back up to the top of the hill for the bus to retrieve it, (Despite the best efforts of yesterday’s drivers, the laneways weren’t really designed for motorized transport. We headed back into the hills- our destination? Canakkale, a port town and in terms of tourism mostly just a jump off point for the ferry across to the Gallipoli Peninsula. The drive though was pleasant enough. This is tomato country and the hillsides are littered with greenhouses for both local consumption and export. This part of the world forms part of Europe’s food basket. And as the Turkish economy is not part of the Eurozone, one imagines the food can be produced here much more cheaply. Having said that, the Turks certainly consume a lot of tomatoes. They are a mainstay in Turkish breakfast for a start.

On the way we stopped at the only ancient ruin in Turkey that I had heard of before embarking on this trip. In my defence, I’m not really a scholar of ancient history and the story of Troy does involve a big thing*

But more on that later. Our first stop was at another roadside buffet. And the reason I mention Troy is that it was really the reason the place was here. And as you’d expect from a tourist driven eatery, it also sold quite the array of tacky souvenirs (which of course I find thoroughly intriguing). And this place had all bases covered – as it was on the way to both Troy and Gallipoli. I bought a (crudely) handcrafted Trojan horse calendar – the kind of thing you’d find at a school fete and pay 50c for and TC purchased a book on Gallipoli. The lunch itself was unspectacular but it was a good exercise in people watching. There were quite a lot of older Turkish people about. (Koka Kolanisation – H-Block 101 – the ultimate anthem for anti-globalisation activists. And a great song from one of Melbourne’s best ever punk bands. Full of old skool punk ethos. Their ode to Pauline Hanson is a must.)

We bundled back in the bus and headed a short distance down the road to Troy and it’s great big wooden horse, quite obviously constructed in the 70s (during the glory days of the big thing). It was even painted mission brown. Some serious things happened at troy and not to denigrate the memory of that but really the most impressive thing about Troy was the horse. Of course as a big-thing-o-phile I couldn’t help but climb up inside it. Almost all of my fellow travelers joined me for the obligatory group photo on 25 different cameras.

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After that we wandered about the ruins that were really quite unimpressive in comparison to the other ones we had seen. The most interesting part was that there were several layers of ruins here because Troy had existed over several ages due to its position on a hillside looking over one of the most easterly parts of Turkey’s Mediterranean coastline. Troy had been uncovered a long time before the other ruins when archaeological digs were more an exercise in rip and run than preservation and consequently they had been stripped bare of anything significant and left to the elements to be worn down and overgrown. Apparently they were pillaged by a German in the 1800s. And it doesn’t look like there’s been much investment or effort in their upkeep since. Having said that, it is still worth a visit if ancient history (or big things) is your bag. Just make sure you do the circuit in the other direction and come here before Ephesus and Pamukkale.

At least there wasn’t some naff attempt at pageantry to recreate the Trojan horse legend. I can think of a few places in the world where that kind of strategy might be used to prop up a decaying tourist attraction.

A few hours later we arrived in Cannakele and went for a stroll through the town. Actually TC and I were doing a bit more than strolling. We were still without appropriate clothing for our High Tea in Dubai. TC had been furnished with a fab linen shirt and leather shoes but was still lacking a pair of suitable trousers. The ones we had bought in the market turned out to be way too small. We found a suitable pair. I on the other hand was searching for shoes. To no avail.

We had arranged with our tour group to meet with them and our guide and driver for a last supper at a local seafood restaurant by the water. We opened with some traditional starters – I had beans and TC fried calamari of course. Then for mains – sea bass for me and salmon for TC, traditionally grilled.

Then at the insistence of Mutlu, our guide, we embarked on yet another Turkish tradition that was very similar to their Greek neighbours – Raki. Raki is basically the Turkish version of Ouzo and, thankfully, the aniseed flavor is a little more subdued. It was great just hanging out with the group on our last night together. This was the first time I had been on a tour – previously all my travel was self planned and organised, some of it solo – or done for a specific occasion, like a Bali wedding for example.  I felt incredibly blessed on still my only tour to date that I was surrounded by such interesting, likable and generous folks. My fellow travelers and our tour guide and driver would be welcome guests in my home if they were ever to make the (long for most) journey to our part of the world.

We had a walk along harbor after dinner and of course there was ice cream to be had. As always at TC’s suggestion. It was then that we came across one of the first historical monuments that actually resonated with me. It turns out Gladiator was largely filmed in Cannakkale. After this little revelation we walked back to the hotel and got some zzzs before our dawn awakening – perhaps as it should be for a visit to Gallipoli. (Straight to Hell – The Clash – this wasn’t one of the two tunes that got me addicted to The Clash (the very 80s Rock the Casbah and the fan anthem London Calling) but nevertheless it’s the one that’s more pften than not stuck on repeat in my mind with the husky vocals of one Mr Joe Strummer – there are worse things to have clogging your synapses).

*a tacky cultural icon way bigger than the thing it represents and in modern times (i.e. in Australia) generally made from fibreglass

There’s more to Ottomans than putting your feet up

Pamukkale-Dubai 182Next morning we were on the road again. This time on our way to Ayvalik but with a couple of little detours. First stop was a leather goods factory where, apparently, they produce leather jackets for the fashion industry. First we sat and watched a fashion parade, which felt a lot sleazier than I was lead to believe from Gossip Girl and my plethora of fash mags. After that we could go and buy the discounted jackets – although not really discounted enough for me. I found a coat with Burberry lining (one presumes not counterfeit given the price tag of several hundred dollars) but it wasn’t available in my size. The extremely pushy sales girl kept bringing me alternatives in my size that were boxy zip up the front style jackets that made me look like the size of a house and didn’t look anything like the trench style jacket I was originally looking at. Eventually after an extremely forceful refusal, I managed to get out of there despite the sales girl almost insisting I couldn’t leave without a purchase.

Next stop was an onyx shop. There were some absolutely stunning jewelry pieces here – also outside my price range but the lovely man who ran the place gave us a demonstration of working stone on a lathe. Once he turned the piece, he was willing to give it to anybody who could hold it – it was hot but years of manual jobs have hardened my hands and I could – I got to take it with me even though it will probably add half a kilo to my pack weight. TC also found something – a mini mortar and pestle.

Our accommodation for the night was to be in an old Ottoman guest house on the hillside in the town. Located in one of the winding cobblestone laneways not wide enough for the bus (or probably many vehicles, we grabbed our gear and headed down until we came to it. It was a cute little house over a couple of floors – the bedrooms were mostly upstairs and all were quite unusual. There was a loft room and the room TC and I were in had the longest double bed in the world. You could top and tail in it and probably only your feet would be touching. But the best part was the terrace – off the hallway to the bedrooms it opened out into a spectacular terrace with views over the town – this was where we would eat breakfast (Turkish of course) in the morning.

From there it was off to explore – to wander the streets – there were some awesome buildings (and even more awesome doors in the cobblestoned streets of this town. It was also market day where the square was filled with a cacophony of produce almost as impressive as, yet much more chaotic than the market in Barcelona. The surrounding laneways that snaked themselves up and down the hill and a few streets back from the waterfront were littered with shops and stalls selling all manner of wares – a much more chaotic version of paddy’s markets,  heaving with people. There was produce, there were clothes, there was fabric, there were handicrafts and of course there were rugs. TC and I wandered about occasionally winding up somewhere we had seen before and had a grand old time exploring the market. We even left with some goods – a comfy cotton shirt and chinos for TC to wear to afternoon tea although the pants turned out to be waaaay too small, and a red cotton embroidered maxi cover up for me for after swimming.

During our market jaunt we took time out at a waterfront bar for a beer with a few of the travelling crew, including our new kiwi friends. It was delightful sitting by the harbour and watching the world go by. This particular market was supposed to be renowned for fabric – I found the stores at the last minute but didn’t really find anything that particularly took my fancy.

It was fun just wandering the streets exploring – there were people on scooters zipping by and at one point a mini trying to get up the tight laneway and zipping around corners with no indicators, barely making it between the buildings. There were dogs wandering everywhere as well – even more here than we had seen in other places on our journey. (I Danced – Violent Femmes – still one of the best things to come out of the 80s. Lucky for us the quality seems to have continued on.)

After a rest back in our room, we headed out with our new friends for dinner at a restaurant/bar on the harbor. It was beautiful sitting there and watching a glorious sunset over the Mediterranean (even though my photography skills failed to really capture it.  TC ordered fried calamari (of course) and I had a calamari casserole which had way too much (white) cheese in it for me to enjoy it. We got some cheese rolls and potato croquettes as sides. It wasn’t the most delectable dinner we had enjoyed but it was a relaxed and enjoyable evening. After dinner we took a stroll around the marina area, looking at the shops before heading back to the hotel.

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