Çanakkale

August 18, 2005

Our first bus was to Izmir, where we had to wait for about an hour before catching our second bus to Çanakkale. During our wait we got kebabs, which were decent and brownies, which are like brownie cupcakes and cookies with soft chocolate in the middle.

When we arrived at the bus station in Çanakkale, we were greeted by a guy who works for a hostel. It was a good rate and the place was nice and had a good location so we booked. It was clear that the place is a jump point for the Gallipoli battlefields and nearly everyone there was Aussie or Kiwi. We also watched the movie “Gallipoli” after dinner, which is shown every night.

Dinner was great; mine grilled meat dish was on bread and Elizabeth’s was simply grilled. For dessert we had something called kunefe or something like that. It was too sweet for me, essentially some sort of weird pastry thing with cheese soaking in honey.

August 19, 2005

Didn’t sleep well since some French girl arrived in the middle of the night and was loud. In addition, she got up early and talked on the phone at full volume. I was not feeling well and since breakfast wasn’t included in the price of the room I had a break from that eating thing.

After making a day trip to Troy, we returned and got kebabs immediately since I was hungry and demanded to eat now. It was almost as if God was looking down upon me and we stopped just outside a kebab place. This was the greatest kebab that has ever been made. The first clue to its wonder was the fact that the kebab guy didn’t speak a word of English and no one in the place was foreign. This kebab goodness was made of half bread with lamb, crushed red pepper, oregano, and tomatoes. It was spectacular and at this moment I became aware that I need a döner maker when I return to the States.

We returned to the hotel and Elizabeth decided to go to Istanbul immediately since she realized that there is a free room at our hostel there. I stayed behind due to cheapness, so was on my own and I made the most of it. As I relaxed alone I dwelled on strange Turkish things like the fact that nearly every car has an annoying car horn with some sort of song instead of simply a beep-beep. This is irritating to an unimaginable degree. The other thing that I dwelled on was the vast number of mosquitoes. But what was so interesting about this was the speed of the mosquitoes. They were almost impossible to kill due to their speed, even if you had one in your sights and your hand was prepared over it, they often escaped. This was frustrating to see mosquitoes as quick as flies… imagine the number of diseases which could be spread by these speedy mosquitos.

I soon got tired of sitting in my hostel so went to buy some food, I got bread and juice, which was more money than a kebab costs, bad decision, I was out of money and had only a bad meal in front of me. Later I went for another walk, checked out the castle and saw real Turkish life. The side streets in the area were great, with a real atmosphere entirely in a different world. As I turned down one street I saw a man in a green cart being pulled by a horse. The street was lined with older men sitting outside, some talking, others just watching life. The streets were covered with hidden secrets, one corner a bakery, another a barber shop and a third a mosque nearing the call to prayers. The men were coming from every direction to wash in the public fountain, the place became alive, at one moment it felt like a show for my eyes only, and then it became real. An act everywhere in the world, some places more noticeable than others, and here the mosque was for worship not a symbol of identity or of past dynasties and power and influence the world over. Like a pagan watching Christians walk into Sunday mass, I stood amazed, I’m not sure at what. This religion is common and belief in religion is everywhere, but here I realized that belief is based not only on faith, but also based on culture. Here however, this culture was based enough on faith that the people still worshipped, a statement better than many countries and individuals can claim.

As I continued down the streets more hidden treasures I easily could have missed seemed to appear from the most un-touristy coast: a machinery shop, tool shop, kebab shops. The people were on bike or simply walking, there was no hurry and the people were real, not corrupted by foreign influence or money.

I finally sat down by the water, looking out past the docks to the shores of Gallipoli. Cars rushed in from the south to the car ferry; a ferry left nearly every ten minutes. The girls here were dressed more like Britney than a conservative Muslim and really didn’t seem to fear showing more skin than is socially acceptable in the US. The sky was hazy with the pollution, perhaps due to the port and ships, perhaps since the city seems to be a transit route from Asia to Europe and vice versa.

As I sat and enjoyed the scene, a man sat next to me, Hussein. A nice man, whose innocent conversation turned into a “situations to avoid” context quite quickly. He told me of the parallels of Troy and Gallipoli, protecting the straight to the Sea of Marmara. He told me of his travels and the neighboring Greeks. As if reading a history book, he told me of the switch in territory, when Greek towns and Turkish towns were swapped, the people that is, so that the land could change possession. His town near Çanakkale was one such town, his town now, but for much of its history a town of the Hellenes. The mayor of this town is friends with the mayor of the sister city in Greece, from where these people’s ancestors were from. Every year the people, led by these two mayor friends travel to the other city and see the homes of their ancestors. In this day and age I looked at Hussein amazed by such an act of kindness and hospitality. He told me that Atatürk was also born in one such town (near modern day Thessalonica), now on Greek soil.

He told me of his travels, which amazed me, especially of his time in Uzbekistan, a place I very much want to see. He told me of the Uzbeks ties to Islam and his time as a teacher there. He showed me the castle on the shores of Gallipoli for Allah and Muhammad. He showed me where a chain was connected from this castle to the eastern shore to prevent ships from passing.

The time was getting late by now and as I tried to leave he insisted on him showing me the city; a kind act, however it involved getting into his car. I would have been skeptical if I had no plans, but the bus was a perfect excuse as were the imaginary friends I had waiting for me at the hostel. For all I know his intentions were good, he taught me much and his company was appreciated, so I left while my impression was still positive.

I caught the night bus, which took the ferry across The Dardanelles (formerly the Hellespont) and was sleeping before reaching Europe.