Fattoria Terranova

It's been a tumultuous last 12 days. We've experienced a lot, both wonderful and difficult and have managed to find a little piece of heaven here on the Sorrentine peninsula. This is a working farm, which produces products that are then sold in a boutique, rather rustic, shop in Sorrento, just off the main square, the Piazza Tasso. From our room, we have sweeping views down over the steep hills to the Gulf of Salerno. Just up the hill, you can also see across the Bay of Naples to the city and Vesuvius. Our dinner last night and breakfast this morning were sumptuous - simple but delicious and in overwhelming quantity.

The Amalfi coast was beautiful but crowded, overrun, exhausted. My afternoon trip to Capri was interesting but more of the same - just joining the vast river of tourists streaming around these places. Here, we're away from all of that and in a little sanctuary of quiet and peace. Late this morning we drove down the meandering road through Nerano to Marina del Cantone. I went for a swim from the white pebbled beach while Nadia sat and enjoyed the warming sun. This afternoon, we drove down into Sorrento and were both pleasantly surprised by it - a picturesque old town, lots of tourists but not so  overwhelmingly so as along the Amalfitana.

We discovered this place quite by accident when driving from our hotel in Praiano - we got to the end of the Amalfi coast proper and drove up to Sant'Agata sui due Golfi to enjoy the views. We'd read in the Lonely Planet guide about an Agritourismo farm called Le Tore and thought we'd have a look at it - instead, we ended up stumbling upon this place and promptly made a booking for two nights. A brief look at Le Tore confirmed our feeling that Terranova was much better - even more rustic, with the option of meals and with stunning views.

So, we're about to head over for dinner again - our last before returning to Rome. It's been a lovely few days away - the highlight being this place.

Enroute to Athens then Rome

After lunch yesterday I visited the Archaeological Museum in the old town which turned out to contain a very comprehensive collection from prehistoric times right through to the Ottoman era. The exhibit on the development of the alphabet was particularly interesting. By the end, I was pretty much finished with traipsing around and on the way back to the hotel decided to take a mini-train tour of Rhodes town. It turned out to be a bit of a dud but at least I  got to see the acropolis and 2500 year old stadium. Had a bit of a siesta back at my room then headed out for a swim at the nearby beach - very nice, clear water, not many people around by 5:30pm. I sat on the beach for a while writing down Italian phrases I might like to say once in Rome. Dinner was at Tamam, recommended by George, and it was a huge improvement on the night before - excellent bourec followed by the best mousaka I've had (next time I get rubbish in Melbourne, I'll complain). Complimentary Grand Marnier drink from owner. An early start this morning (up at 4am), bus to airport and now descending into Athens.

Rhodes Old Town

The ferry trip was terrific - I thoroughly enjoyed listening to music and standing on deck being blown to smithereens. I ended up reading the whole of John's Revelation, whilst listening to my Tallis Scholars album - a thoroughly fitting combination. The book is a whirlwind, almost breathless ride through vision after vision of harrowing intensity. Every character is described in otherwordly terms, the action builds and builds until finally evil is destroyed utterly. The only word for it is apocalyptic! If anyone were to take any of this even slightly literally, they would miss the point entirely. It makes sense only in the context of a work written to encourage Christians during a time of extreme persecution at the hands of the great Babylon, which is very obviously a reference to Rome. This point makes the work completely subversive and I can imagine the Roman authorities would've dealt very swiftly with anyone found in possession of a copy of this book. I feel embarrassed to think that many evangelical Christians see Revelation as some sort of decipherable description of the end times. They all need to read more poetry.

The catamaran zipped along, away from the setting sun as the world slowly, inexorably came to an end. We arrived in Rhodes' Harbour just after sunset and I walked to the hotel using my GPS, which did an adequate job. The hotel is in the new town but Lonely Planet lists it under the old town, hence my confusion. Never mind - it's pretty nice all the same and his wireless network actually works in the room, unlike every other place I've stayed in.

After an average dinner I strolled into the old town and got thoroughly lost - it was brilliant. George, the owner of the New Village Inn was right - it's like another world. Here, more than anywhere else I've been on this trip, I have felt transported back in time. It's not at all hard to imagine the Knights of St. John still ruling here.

A chocolate croissant for breakfast this morning and I returned at a very leisurely pace to the old town. I'm currently waiting for my lunch at a cafe on a square in the central north of the old town - not too far up from the synagogue.

I've spent the morning just wandering around - walked past the old knights' quarters, Grand Master's palace, sundry mosques in various states of repair and disrepair. The synagogue was the highlight so far - the moving story of the Jewish community here in Rhodes - basically wiped out in 1944. I'm amazed Germans can live with themselves but then I guess most European nations have some skeletons in their respective closets. The Nazi skeleton is a Goliath compared to any others, though. There is a surprising lack of churches surviving from the Latin era here - I  expected more. The thing about this old town is that, firstly, it's absolutely enormous, and secondly, every square centimetre of it cries out to be photographed. It just can't be captured. Eventually you just give up trying and wander around in a state of semi-disbelief. It's Sunday today and many of the historical buildings (including churches) are closed - either they always are or I picked the wrong day to come. Either way, I've been surprised this morning by the low number of tourists, although that seems to be picking up now.

So, this time tomorrow, I'm going to be in Rome with Nadia - how absolutely fantastic! Early start tomorrow morning - the 4:45am bus.

I haven't done much Italian at all over the past 2 weeks. Whenever there's been time, I've usually felt quite tired and not mentally up to actually using my brain cells. Perhaps it's been the heat. In any case, I'm hopelessly under-prepared for 3 weeks in Rome!

The French songs have just switched to Italian - hilarious, sentimental chanson-style.

Enroute to Rhodes

Listening to music, standing on deck, gripping the handrail as we speed across the blue Aegean, I feel alive, truly alive. This is who I am; here I'm at peace, I am fully myself. I haven't even been away for 2 weeks yet and I've got 3 to go - fantastic. How am I  going to fit back into work?

The promo video running on the ferry just displayed the caption:  "the people of Tilos talk little but feel a lot". That has to be good.

Islands are sacred places

I've been back to Aspri beach for a swim - I was completely alone today. I swam over to the rocks near the holiday units and followed some of the little fish meandering around their rocky homes.

Rode into Skala and posted a postcard, then walked back after dropping off the bike. Soon I'll be leaving this little place and returning to the wider world. There is a special atmosphere here but I don't associate it with the shrines to John. I think he probably came here for the same reason that so many Celtic saints sought out small, out-of-the-way islands on which to draw nearer to God. At times I've had a similar feeling to that which I've had on Colonsay or Iona or Mull or Skye. There's a solitude, a timelessness, a peacefulness in these places.

Apocalyse Now

Spoke to Nadia when I got back to Nikolas' - spoke for about half an hour again. Hope she'll be alright on the flight over. I then had a little siesta, followed by a trip into Skala to get some postcards and stamps. After this I rode over the hill towards Meloi beach but turned right at the little chapel and headed down to Aspri beach instead. It was just lovely - secluded, empty except for a young Japanese couple. I went in for a swim and put my goggles on and swam over to the front of some holiday units right on the water. There were large numbers of sea urchins nestled amongst the rocks and many small-to-medium-sized fish swimming around.

Since then I've been out to dinner and had some dolmades followed by a whole stuffed calamari - done in the local style. Really very good.

Some things I've been meaning to write down: I was impressed by how little I noticed Turkish men checking out women walking by. Plenty of Turkish women dress quite provocatively but I think the men were more respectful in general than what a bunch of Aussie blokes would be. Greek men remind me more of Australians!

I didn't stay that long in either monastery today. I  think the religiosity of it all just left me a bit cold. It's fascinating that cultures like this develop and that traditions are kept alive over such a long time. But my cathedral has for its ceiling the heavens, for its floor the earth beneath our feet. I am closer to the Divine sitting on a beautiful secluded beach, smiling at a friendly little dog, or puffing and panting up a steep hill whilst wondering at the crystal blue of the Aegean washing the rocks below. I think the weary attitude of the priest at the Monastery of St. John also saddened me. It's a sacred place and every day between 8am and 1:30pm, it is flooded with disrespectful idiots. I don't know why they allow it.

There was one women, Greek, at the monastery of St. John who prayed with anguished groans, prostrating herself in front of the icons. There is great power in this for those who believe.

I'm feeling strangely flat this evening - can't think why. It's been difficult speaking to Nadia without having a private space in which to talk and because of the infernal delay on the line. She said today that she doesn't want to do this again - I agree and I've already said it myself. I don't want to be away from her at all, certainly not for two whole weeks. I miss her and want to share everything with her, including the experiences I'm having right now.

I think the real reason I'm feeling flat is related to what I've just written - it's because what I've been doing today seems a bit hollow without Nadia here to share it with.

I also forgot to mention, there's an Italian family staying here with a little 3 year old girl - it's been nice hearing her cute little voice speaking Italian - reminds me of the impossibly cute little Nadia of cappuccetto rosso fame!

Paradise found

This place just gets better and better. I had a good night's sleep although I seem to remember a cock crowing the whole night through, plus sundry dogs and donkeys joining in on the chorus. Had yoghurt and honey and a fresh fig for breakfast, washed down with pommegranate juice, before setting out on the daunting ride up to the monastery. I parked the bike and walked up the trail to the cave of the Apocalyse but as it turned out, it would've been more easily accessible from the road. A chapel has been built onto the side of the cave, enclosing it, and a monastery built around the site. It was interesting to see it and I could imagine John huddled in there scribbling away on some papyrus, haunted by the shocking violence of his madman's visions.

I continued up via the road to Hora and the main monastery at the top of the hill - well worth the effort for the spectacular views and the charming little whitewashed town, with its narrow cobblestoned alleyways and overflowing cascades of bougainvillea. The main church in the monastery was interesting, with its icons and frescos, but not all that old, I think 18th century. The usual band of ignorant and insensitive tourists were there, dressed inappropriately, taking photos when they shouldn't have and talking loudly and stupidly. Some people think it's the younger generation who have no respect for heritage but looking at these people, you can hardly blame 'the youth of today'.

I then enjoyed the downhill run to Grikos and Petra on the east side of the island, which is where I'm sitting now. The water was once again cool and refreshing and wonderfully clear.

The restaurant I'm sitting in is mentioned in Lonely Planet and uses its own home-grown organic produce. I've just had a home-grown rabbit (or part thereof) - delicious, sorry bunnies.

This place right here is about as close to perfection as I can imagine - there's no traffic, just the sound of the tiny waves on the pebble-sand beach. Time has stopped, nothing moves in a hurry, the restaurant staff are talking softly behind me. If I were to spend a couple of weeks here, my head would be in the right place again and I'd have enough inner peace to last me 6 months back in the un-real world of 40+ hour weeks and life in the 'burbs.

Sipping a glass of Retsina

Sipping on a glass of Retsina, looking up at the half moon, surrounded by banana trees, sunflowers and roses. Cicadas chirp contentedly and Nikolas' little daughter runs around excitedly. He is watering the garden in the cool of the evening.

Went for another swim at Meloi after the sun had left the beach - only one other person there at the other end of the beach. I just rode into town and bought some drinks - once again I'm not feeling all that hungry and wont bother getting dinner. I'll get something tomorrow night.

I truly love this place and I haven't even visited the historic sites I came here for.

Isle of Patmos

Oh my God, now I've finally landed in paradise. This place is perfect, so much so that I've changed my ferry ticket and will stay an extra night here. Nikolas picked me up at the port as promised and took me to his place on the outskirts of the town. Skala is only a small town and the monastery isn't anywhere near as huge and dominatinng as I expected. The white houses of Hora are beckoning me from atop the hill - I'll visit in the morning. Nikolas' studios are great and even have little kitchens - I can imagine coming here for a week or two with Nadia and having a brilliant time. 

I went for a walk over the hill at the back to Meloi beach - took about 10 minutes. A  fantastic, secluded little cove with a handful of people enjoying the quiet beach, the water flat and calm. A yacht lay at anchor - what a great thing to do too, although it's almost a bit too cliched!

Onboard the Pride of the Dodecanese

Well, I  could hardly be happier, on board a catamaran, zipping across the Aegean towards Patmos. We're running a bit late but who cares.

I'm glad I added this little diversion before heading for Rhodes - it's been great already and can only get better shortly. Spoke to my darling Nadia earlier for about half an hour - She'll be on her plane flying this way in less than three days - yay!!

Almost there. I've been having a lovely time listening to a variety of songs, which have certainly put me in the right frame of mind for my imminent pilgrimage. Chris de Burgh's song "The Risen Lord" captures something of what I was trying to write last night. There is some ancient, deep, inexpressible spiritual connection that can be made to the heart of the resurrection but few people get past the debates abot its literal truth or otherwise and so miss out. Paul did Christians a great disservice by insisting that Christianity stands or falls on the resurrection - but I wonder if he meant a literal resurrection. Probably not and anyway, in his theology "resurrection" and "ascension", "glorification" or "vindication" meant the same thing.  Other songs - "Crusader" - there is something about the Crusades that does touch me deeply - I am susceptible to its call and can't judge those men who chose to wear the cross all those centuries ago. It appeals because it would be so much easier if the world were black and white, like in any fairytale, like in Lord of the Rings, like in much of the Bible, e.g. that book penned on the island I'm about to land on. My reality is anything but - there doesn't seem to be any movement or cause that isn't somehow compromised or corrupted or simply not what I really believe in. "I'd join the movement, if there was one I could believe in, I'd break bread and wine, if there were a church I could receive in" - Bono's words but my feelings for the past 15 years at least.

The song that touched me most deeply was "In a Country Churchyard" - a simple wedding day in the distant past then years, decades, centuries later, a visitor to the overgrown churchyard is reminded of what lasts - it is love, only love. That is what I want to say to my darling Nadia, the love of my heart and my soul. It is our love that will last and that is the whole purpose of our existence - to love and cherish each other every day for the rest of our lives, until that day comes for us when we are ready to fly...

Kos by night

Just finished a very enjoyable, leisurely ride around some of the ancient sites here - the Roman odeum, some mosaics and frescos plus a reconstructed Roman house from the 3rd century. Last night after dinner I meandered around with the dynamo switched on, admiring the town at night and taking some photos.

I headed off to bed, "ke-li-nich-ta", and ended up watching a German TV  channel for over an hour - an interesting report on Islam in Europe and elsewhere. It took a somewhat alarmist line but ended by saying Europe's Muslims have the chance to lead Islam worldwide into a new era of democracy and openness. It's a difficult question - just what does your average Muslim think about things like conversion to another religion? It reminds me a bit of fuundamentalist Christianity - if you corner them, they will admit that they think followers of other religions are heading for eternal damnation. That's a bit different to believing a Muslim who converts to another religion should be killed, though. That sort of belief ended in Christianity with the religious wars of the 16th-17th century. So Islam has a few hundred years of catching up to do.

An old Greek tragedy, held over by popular acclaim

Just finished dinner across the street from here - a Mythos beer, saganaki baked with garlic for entrée, calamari done pretty well for main course and a complimentary ouzo to wash it down. Wow, that ouzo was a challenge - I  wanted to finish it since he'd given it to me but I felt about to gag a couple of times. Too much of it. The food quality has leapt enormously with the crossing into Greece - silly, really - Turkish food can be brilliant. The Tabepna (Beta is pronounced as a V and Rho looks like a P) was (is) full of Dutch people, a couple of men smoking those cigarellos that Grandpa and Uncle Arthur were so fond of and the smell of which transports me back to childhood.

I hired a bike and rode every available kilometre of the bike trails of Kos. It was great - I listened to a selection of my favourite Al Stewart songs as I  pedalled very languidly along the foreshore then later through the town and way out along the beaches on the other side. I went for a swim a couple of kms further out this side of town - pebbly beach but the water was lovely. It was nice riding so slowly and listening to those evocative songs. They transport me to another world - one of warm, hazy summer days in England, lying under the shade of an oak tree next to a country lane and just a stone's throw from a little stone village. Or to an island such as this, in another time perhaps, living in a little cottage somewhere with the door always open to the sea, but with change, inevitable, inexorable, gathering in storm clouds on the far horizon.  Or to the gates of Constantinople as they are about to fall finally and forever, bringing down the curtain on that old Greek tragedy that was Byzantium 'held over by popular acclaim'. Or the stoney roads of Merlin's time - of all times the one I love the most - the age of saints and scholars between the old world of the ancients and the new, confused world of the autocratic medieval.

Christ is here, triumphant, dominant, aggressive even. What would you expect from the children of that greatest of empires, after living as a minority in their own land for 400 years? When a people is under threat, or feel they are under threat, their religion, their particular version of it, becomes enormously important as an essential, perhaps the essential component of their identity. There is a mosque in the centre of town here but it's been turned into a place for tourist stalls. I miss the call to prayer: it is replaced by the commercial songs of the real national religion: hedonism, the faith that most of Turkey follows avidly too.

I must be honest - even I cannot rid myself entirely of a football team-like sense of partisanship on the religious front. Christ triumphant stirs some martial spirit within me - I want Christ to win, not Mohammed. All this mealy-mouthed 'let's all get along together' rubbish - forget it. I want Christ to dominate everywhere, to win the battle for hearts and minds...

Isn't it amazing? It precisely this feeling, when left to run unchecked, that leads to so much death, destruction and evil in the world. Mr. NSW bigot from the other day probably hasn't darkened the door of a church since Sunday School days but I'm sure he would relish the chance to do his bit in the war between Christianity and Islam. People who ridiculed Christianity as they were growing up, who called any Christians at schools poofs and sissies, are now that religion's greatest champions. F***ing hypocrites! The actual beliefs and teachings at the core of Christianity are utterly irrelevant and probably unknown to such people - it's all about their football team thrashing the other one.

Here's what I hold onto from the indoctrination and brainwashing I received for the first 20 years of my life:

• It's what's in your heart that matters, not the outward observance
• All people everywhere are to be treated with respect and genuine love, regardless of what or who they are
• What matters in life is quietness and strength within and gentleness and honesty without

That's probably enough for now - perhaps this is my creed. I don't think it matters what the details are of what you believe or don't believe - it's all about how you live. The whole believe/don't believe thing has long been irrelevant for me: how can I make myself believe a particular thing? Or not believe it? Do I  believe Jesus literally rose from the dead? I can't say because I wasn't there and didn't see it happen. Do I believe Julius Ceasar was murdered by his closest friends? I also can't say for sure. How can I make myself believe in a literal resurrection? If I don't believe it, what do I think actually happened? Well, I don't know and I don't care. When did this accursed literalism start plaguing and ruining everything? Isn't it just a scientific mindset transposed onto something that it just doesn't fit? The thing I'm really interested in is the power that the resurrection invokes in me. "I arise today" with St. Patrick because of the resurrection and I can feel the spirit of the Divine coursing through me now just thinking of it. As I'm reading in my Tom Cowan book, my body is contained within my soul, just as my heart is contained within my body. And my soul, as Hildegard of Bingen says, reaches to the uttermost parts of the world, perhaps beyond. So every thing I encounter within the natural world is within my soul. No wonder I am drawn to nature. My soul is just one little member of the Great Soul, of that Divine Spirit in which I live and breath and have my being. Paul in Athens was at his most profound! The half moon, the slow rhythm of the Greek music from across the street, the murmur of voices in conversation, the chirping of the cicadas. I am. All who have gone before me are here now in this moment, as are all who will follow. I feel all of those lives flowing over me, through me, like a river of souls and Spirit, of which I am a part. Not far from here, John sat in a cave on Patmos and received visions of utter madness and chaos, but out of which came an end and a victory for goodness. Madness and chaos - that is our world, whichever age we live in. And with each generation, we must strive to bring a victory for goodness, for light, for gentleness, understanding. We must resist the urge within, which tells us to force our wishes on others. Even if it means that they "win". There is a higher way, a deeper way, the difficult way, trodden by so few. Islam means "surrender" - this is the way. It is the way of the true Christ, of the man Yeshua bar Yosef from Nazareth, the revolutionary, who was eliminated for his subversive ideas. To surrender the ego - this is also the way of the Buddha.

I spoke my first words of modern Greek earlier - "ef-ha-ri-sto" for thankyou, "ya-sas" for hello, "an-dio" for goodbye. I'm going to go for a brief bike ride now to have a look at the town at night.

Isle of Kos, Greece

Well, it's been an annoying slog getting here but hopefully I'll let that go and really start settling in to the island rhythm. Taxi driver took me to the wrong place this morning but finally sorted it out, then I sat on the boat for an hour before it left. I listened to some Al Stewart as we crossed into Greece - completely appropriate with his evocative lyrics.

Annoyance continued when I went the wrong way entirely and took over an hour of traipsing around with my backpack on before I arrived here. In a few minutes I'll hire a bike and ride out to a nice beach somewhere. Spoke to Nadia at 1pm - we were both annoyed for different reasons! Her unreliable colleagues are messing up her plans for the extra week she's taking off. Funny how things affect us. My traipsing around has left me quite grumpy and I've lost the excitement I had on the ferry listening to Al Stewart. I might try a bit more whilst lying on the beach in an hour or so. I was thinking as we crossed on the ferry - who am I exactly? And my thought was - I'm this Al Stewart-listening, world-travelling, ruins-clambering, medieval literature-reading, inner peace-seeking individual who is most at home doing what I'm doing right now.

Bodrum, the Turkish Riviera

I've walked into a completely different world in this town - coastal Turkey and very much a tourist town with hundreds of holidaymakers everywhere.

The bus trip was excellent - new bus with TV  screens in the back of all the seats, a guy serving drinks all the way. Much, much better than the very poor transport provided by TJs - if I'd known, I'd have insisted on taking the public system. Downside was when I arrived here and had to make my own way to the hotel. Got here eventually and I'm just glad it's such a lively holiday place: wouldn't have enjoyed having to walk down seedy alleyways to get here. Set out a few minutes after check-in to find the port - by an almighty fluke, I found the ferry company running the ship I'm going on (guys playing backgammon out the front, luckily). He found my booking and told me I  had to go to the new port in the morning - there was no way I'd have  known this otherwise.

It's a beautiful day again today and will get up to about 30 I imagine. So it's goodbye to Turkey and hello to Greece. The harbour here in Bodrum is ringed by an endless sequence of restaurants, cafes, nightclubs, and sundry other tourist-oriented businesses. The harbour is full of expensive-looking boats which appear to be for the tourist cruising market.

This is by far the nicest hotel I've stayed in but I'm bidding it farewell in a couple of minutes. That tanker/minibus crash has been major national news - was repeated endlessly on a current affairs show last night (along with various other car-related incidents), including chilling footage of the crash, caught on CCTV. The tanker was turning left across the intersection on a orange/red light and the minbus came shooting through. 13 people killed.

Great is Diana of the Ephesians!

This keyboard has a problem - the keys u, j, n and the right space bar don't work the first time - I  have to disconnect and reconnect once or twice before they start working.

It's been a big day for mass tourism in Ephesus and surrounds. Our tour started at Mary's house on top of a hill overlooking modern Selcuk and ancient Ephesus. There were two cruise ships full of overweight tourists - apparently there'd been 7 ships on one day in August. We had about 12-15 coaches in the car park. All for a tiny, non-descript, mostly reconstructed 1st century house which probably has nothing to do with Jesus' mother. But there's a tradition going back at least to the 4th century so that's something in itself I suppose.

Ephesus was next and reminded me of the Roman Forum or the worst of the crowds in Egypt. Made the whole experience basically worthless. The crowds were truly amazing - I tried to turn them to good use by squinting and imagining it was market day in the old city but there was something particularly aimless and hostile about the wanderings of these modern-day pilgrims that didn't allow that fancy to stick. I didn't find Ephesus at all inspiring - Pergamum yesterday was much better, simply because there was hardly anyone there and because the views were stunning. At lunchtime (mass-produced all-you-can-eat place, although the food wasn't bad) I read a few chapters from Acts about Paul and his time in Ephesus - 2 years in all, before he headed to Jerusalem to meet with the real leaders of the church and thence went under arrest to Rome, where he was executed, at least according to tradition. Poor old Demetrius, who saw his souvenir livelihood slipping away and tried unsuccessfully to organise a riot to get rid of these pesky followers of the way (they weren't called Christians until later). The Christian symbol here was the 8-spoked wheel, which spelt out the letters in ICTHUS, the fish. Ingenious. The cross didn't come into use until much, much later - I'm guessing closer to Constantine's time in the late 3rd century.

After lunch, we visited the museum in Selcuk and then had a brief stop to admire what's left of the temple of Diana - great is Diana of the Ephesians! So said Ozymandius but here it's grass and earth that's buried things rather than sand. If only Demetrius had known, he could've switched to silver statues of Jesus, John, Paul and Mary and made an absolute killing - his descendants certainly aren't hesitating to ply the visiting Christians with trinkets galore. Somehow, though, I think those early followers of the way wouldn't have been at all interested in such trivial rubbish - their hearts set on grander, deeper things.

Now I'm drinking my first Efes Pilsen and waiting for the bus to Bodrum, which leaves at 5pm. I'm feeling exceedingly chuffed and smug about this little keyboard - I've become quite used to it and think it's probably done away with my notebook for good. About 3 hours to Bodrum, so hopefully not too painful, followed by a 5 minute walk to the hotel - hopefully also painless thanks to my GPS.

Rooftop, Canberra Hotel, Selcuk

Quite a long slog getting here but I've made it in one piece and have seen some things on the way. I got the 11am ferry over to Canakkale and was met by the TJs driver. We picked up a group from the same tacky shop near Troy and set off for Selcuk. Hours of driving with one main interlude - a tour of Pergamum, which was excellent. So with Ephesus tomorrow and Patmos in a couple of days, this is fast becoming a Revelation Ch 1 tour. The minibus group were a mix of Aussies and NZers. One man revealed a rather bad habit of sounding forth ignorantly when the call to prayer started in Bergama whilst we were atop Pergamum. Like Big Brother he said. He questioned our well-informed and thoroughly secular guide on the way down and just didn't get that the alcohol ban last night was due to the referendum having taken place, not any religious reason. I  eventually spelled it out for him and he still didn't get it:  but who enforces it, the police or the mullah? Turkey is such a clearly, strongly secular country and no mullah or imam or any other religious leader tells anyone, anywhere what to do or not to do. His wife asked earlier if women had the vote in Turkey. Oh my God, I hope these people listen and learn whilst here. They were very obviously from NSW. Our guide had obviously voted no in the referendum and clearly thought it a question of Islamicisation. I asked him about the change to allow courts to try army personnel but he didn't give me a straight answer. I wonder what the truth is. The NSW proto-bigot lapped up the anti-Islamic sentiment jokingly expressed by our guide: when you come back in one year I'll be wearing a kaftan and have a long beard, all the women will be in burqas wearing their Armani sunglasses.

Pergamum was terrific - what a site. Atop the highest hill in the area, nearer the gods. The theatre was particularly striking on the steep slope to the west of the main settlement. Afterwards we returned to where our driver was waiting and were shown around a weaving cooperative, which has government support. 1500 women receive employment from this and produce the most amazing carpets, all well out of my price range. One silk one was priced at around 12000 Euros. Saw the silk chrysalids (can't think of correct word) and how they pull the silk threads from them - 1000 to 1500m for each little one. They gave us each a glass of local wine to try - quite new and fresh in a Beaujolais-style. Last 2 hours drive mainly around Izmir, a massive city, at high speed.

Last night I watched some news in Turkish and it seemed to consist entirely of frighteningly graphic reports of traffic accidents. One with bodies and body parts strewn everywhere, more-or-less fuzzied out. A distraught man trying to take away the covered body of his beloved, who just moments before had been full of life. Another wasn't fuzzied out at all - a car full of adults being lifted out of a river, into which their car had crashed. It must have rolled first because the roof was squashed in. The dead occupants were clearly visible, still sitting upright like nothing had happened, including one passenger with his arm hanging lifeless out the window. It was utterly disturbing and shocking - so much more so than any TAC ad campaign. I really don't want to see anything like that ever again.

Still waiting...

Not 8am afterall! I'm having my first taste of TJs' slightly loose approach to planning. Apparently I'm going to Selcuk in the minibus like the annoying South Americans did yesterday, after the Troy tour has finished. So I wont be getting there until 7pm if I'm lucky. Nevermind, hopefully it wont make me as obnoxious as them. Just spoke to my darling Nadia - she's feeling rather flat and low on energy - I  hope she feels better again soon. Can't wait to see her in exactly one week's time.

I keep finding myself whistling Eric Bogle's The Band Played Waltzing Matilda. A haunting song and a very fitting account of the senseless slaughter that took place here 95 years ago. But the ending is obsolete - the young people are marching now on ANZAC Day and the legend has taken on a life of its own - I guess they'll still be marching in another 100 years and the legend will have morphed into something else altogether.

Bus to Ephesus

8am bus to Ephesus this morning. Flaked it again last night - went down at 9pm to see if Gallipoli was going to be screened but there was noone there and only an annoying X-Men film running. How can people be allowed to make such poor films? I felt really tired from about 3pm onwards - not tired enough to sleep but not alert enough to concentrate on a book. Really annoying - just ended up vege-ing out, watching TV , trying fairly unsuccessfully to surf the net.

Jetlagged ...

Holed up in my room after flaking it a couple of hours ago - this jetlag is really hanging around. The cold and windy day has deteriorated to cold, wet and windy. I bought some supplies from a local Aldi-like supermarket: cheap ayran and some muesli bars, dried apricots, chocolates, baklava and a pudding. Pudding turned out to be excellent - rice pudd/creme caramel-style. So the streets of the town and the decks of the ferries are now washed with rain, and I've packed away my delicious dried apricots so I don't give myself a stomach ache. My plan is to watch Gallipoli tonight at 9 if they're showing it downstairs.

Every country, every nation is different but each one seems to function just fine in its own way. Things are less orderly here than in northern Europe but everyone's on the same page so it works. A ferry has just pulled up full of cars and sure enough, all three lines of cars are charging off at the same time with noone directing them. On a Hebridean ferry, the personnel would ensure that one line after another disembarked. I suspect the Turkish way results in more scrapes and bumps but ultimately, who cares?

I crossed between Europe and Asia twice today and I'll do it again once tomorrow. The weather report from further south seems much better than here - 26-28 and sunny instead of 20 and wet.

Gallipoli continued ...

Have moved to a room with a view over the ferry terminal and across the Dardanelles. Troy visit this morning was actually better than I expected - from reading about the excavations there, I didn't think there'd be anything more than piles of rubble. But the archeologists had managed to excavate some clear walls from various of the 9 manifestations of Troy, plus some roads and lots of chunks of marble etc.

The group I was with - most of them from yesterday - were extremely annoying but on reflection it was only the South American representatives:  Sergio, plus an Argentine couple, who spent all their time whingeing and criticising. Sergio tried to ridicule the old lady at the shop we stopped at before entering Troy because she didn't look like she'd know what a cappucino was. A few minutes later, I noticed him drinking one. At the end of the Troy tour, the Argentine woman said to me "All confuse", I  responded with "do you feel confused?". She seemed greatly annoyed and thought for a minute before replying "no, the tour is confuse". I don't think they or Sergio had read a single word about Turkey before coming here. Sergio also asked Hassan the guide if he'd ever been out of Turkey and when he humbly replied no, Sergio told him he should go to Australia and visit a Turkish restaurant, where the food would be excellent. As for the food he'd had so far in Turkey - it was terrible. Perhaps he's right but I can't imagine a more patronising way to express it. Thankfully, Sergio has gone to Selcuk this afternoon and hopefully I wont bump into him again.

Didn't manage to speak to Nadia earlier due to problems at her end. Have had two kebabs for lunch, plus the ubiquitous Ayran, which Marie-Claire rightly pointed out yesterday was the ideal thing to be drinking when taking antibiotics - stomach flora and all that. And now I'm back in my room, tapping away. Perhaps I'll even get a bit bored this afternoon.

Hassan mentioned a number of New Zealanders yesterday who will warrant further research. Freiberg was the one I knew - later governor-general - who had acted as a one man army to create a diversion down near the salt lake next to Suvla. There was Henderson and his donkey, the Maori contingent who captured a hill near Lone Pine due to their stealth and lack of need for rifles. There was one other, who ended up dying later but who Hassan said would've gone on to be a great leader. He organised sniper teams to allow shrapnel valley to effectively remain under allied control and allow supplies to get through. Commander of Wellington forces. And Percy Black the Australian who rose from private to major within 18 months but then died in France. He was so well respected that some generals once saluted him. On the Turkish side, boys as young as 8 or 9 fought and died.

Another ferry is docking, packed full of cars and holiday-makers on this day of voting for a change in the constitution, which would give the High Court jurisdiction over the army for the first time. Coup leaders from 1980 could be tried for atrocities committed back then, but not forgotten.

Gallipoli

Another early start today, this time for Troy. Unfortunately, the very annoying Sergio the Brazilian from Mulgrave (Melbourne) is still here and I think will even be travelling to Ephesus with me. He flipped his lid yesterday at Ramazan because he'd boarded the bus in Istanbul not knowing it was 5 1/2 hours to Eceabat. We had one pitstop at a roadside service station, at which a young couple caught my eye. She was wearing a strapless dress which went to her ankles, problem was, it was decidedly see-through. Whether she or her well-dressed, slick-looking partner were aware this, I'm not sure, but it proved to be a distraction throughout the day not only for myself but for everyone else, judging from the sidelong glances  that I noticed many of the local men sending her way. The couple were Australian.

When we arrived in Eceabat, we had an uninspiring, watermelon-dominated lunch at a nearby restaurant, then gathered in the town square, where Hassan, our guide, introduced himself before we all piled back into the bus and set out for the Gallipoli sites. It was a excellent afternoon - Hassan was extremely well-informed and passionate about the subject. His stories and explanations greatly enhanced the experience. The whole area is beautiful - lovely pebble beaches, green hills, commanding views.

I think I was mostly moved by the Turkish side of the story - these boys defending their homeland against an unknown enemy from the uttermost parts of the earth, especially the 57th battalion, which was asked by Ataturk to lay down their lives, which they did. The Turkish cemetery was the most profound example of this, including the little prayer area, which some Turkish men were making use of, when they weren't being distracted by see-through-dress girl. The New Zealand presence I also found touching - probably because there is no chance of that little nation turning this hideous tragedy into a jingoistic John Howard-style swagger. Hassan related many New Zealand stories - probably half of all those he told but after years of ANZAC Day in Australia effectively being AAC Day, it felt like an NZ bias! I found the occasional headstone of a lad from Otago (see my tribute to my Great-Uncle George) - surely the uttermost of the uttermost - and mention of them at the New Zealand memorial at Chunuk Bair.

So, now I've seen these places for myself that I've known the names of since I was a boy - Anzac Cove, Suvla Bay, Lone Pine, Shrapnel Valley, Chunuk Bair, the Dardanelles.

A New Zealander approached me in the foyer of the hotel before we embarked on the tour and asked where I was from - he must've noticed my Maori hook. I said Gisborne but smiled and added that I'd left there over 30 years ago. He was from Wellington (but his family were originally from Poverty Bay), as were a number of others in the bus. I ended up having a beer with Phil (McCarthy) when we got back and had dinner with him and Marie-Claire his Irish-born wife. Phil had been in charge of NZ Corrections for 10 years before retiring and now works as a consultant. We had a great chat ranging across all sorts of topics including (Richard) Dawkins, (Francis) Collins and Celtic spirituality. They spoke glowingly of Patmos. Phil said they were Catholics who'd been involved in the charismatic renewal movement in the 70s and were currently worshipping in an Anglican church in the place they were living, as the Catholic church there was as dead as a doornail.

I headed off to bed after a shower and a few minutes enjoying the 1000 channels of rubbish on the satellite TV.

Eceabat

I didn't make it to the Grand Bazaar yesterday, in fact I didn't make it anywhere at all. I completely ran out of energy at about 6pm and fell asleep and I didn't get up again until 5:15 this morning. Breakfast was 2 pears and an antibiotic and was followed by a rather taxing 5 1/2 hour bus ride down to Eceabat in a midi-bus most certainly not suited to long-distance travel. After a basic lunch, we headed out on our Gallipoli tour with the enthusiastic and well-informed Hassan. Right now I'm too tired to write anything else but will update tomorrow afternoon after the Troy visit in the morning.

Aya Irini (Sancta Eirene)

Visited the Blue Mosque first thing after breakfast. It's a magnificent building but is unlucky to be right next to Ayasofya - any construction would suffer in comparison. Sultan Ahmet's decision to take on Ayasofya and attempt to equal or surpass it was about as well advised as a drunken boast to take on Muhammed Ali in his prime. And I mean the boxer.

I continued on down past Ayasofya, along a street lined with wonderfully well-preserved old wooden houses, to the Topkapi palace. The grounds were lovely, with shady trees and views out over the Sea of Marmara. I joined the throng and made my way into the inner palace area. Some intricately decorated doorways, lintels, facades.

The most interesting display for me was the holy relics of Islam - brought here during the Ottoman period. I wonder how authentic they are and how important or sacred Muslims consider them. It certainly reminds one of medieval Christendom and it's obsession with such things. Countless bits of the Prophet's beard, his swords, bow, mantle, part of a tooth of his. Swords and other items from a number of his companions. The arm and skull of John the Baptist (I'm sure a number of cathedrals throughout Europe would dispute this!), King David's sword and Moses' staff (these ones I was most skeptical about). Best, though, was Joseph's turban ... being an Egyptian, I doubt very much the man ever wore a turban in his life. Naive I suppose but I found these parts of it irritating. Christianity has rightly been subjected to rigorous historical examination and is better for it - thankfully few Christians today base their world view on a completely literal interpretation of their scriptures. Joseph's turban just reminds me that Islam hasn't yet endured such scrutiny. It desperately needs it, especially in the current world climate. It would help eliminate the medieval air that sometimes hangs over it and at times makes it seem more obstinate than it needs to be.

On the way out of the palace, I realised the Byzantine building I was passing was Aya Irini, Sancta Eirene. The man in the tourist bureau had told me it was closed except when concerts were held there, which disappointed me greatly.  The pictures I'd seen of this church looked intriguing. Bare stone with a large cross stencilled into the dome above the altar. As I  walked by, I  noticed with surprise that it was open, labelled as a museum and entrance was 5TL. I entered and was rewarded with a truly magnificent space. There had once been mosaics, no doubt, as there were still some clinging on around the rim of the apse. But the effect of the bare stone was much more striking - it gave it the feel of a raw medieval cathedral in a more western land, or the simply decorated, sometimes Crusader-built churches of Palestine, Lebanon and Syria. The Basilica's dome soared above impressively and if not parked right next to the world's most amazing building, would've no doubt been considered worth coming from miles around to see.

I wandered back, picking up some bread and drinks for lunch, and spoke to my darling Nadia for another good hour. The afternoon is sliding slowly towards the western sky and I'm in no hurry to rush out and do anything. I might go and have a look at the Grand Bazaar or I might not.

Little Ayasofya (Kuechuek)

Yesterday after Ayasofya, I  came back here before popping in to have a look at Little Ayasofya (Kuechuek) just a stone's throw away. A  beautiful space and three men came in and prayed while I was there. Next to the mosque was a courtyard flanked by little shops - booksellers and others- with a quiet coffee shop in the middle. Families played together, old men sat and watched the world go by.

I then strolled down to the water's edge which turned out to be rather uninspiring - the park area was strewn with rubbish (as expected of course) and the traffic noise was all-pervasive. I  wandered back and enjoyed a Turkish coffee in the restaurant next door to the main Deniz Konak building.

A bit of vege-out time watching TV and trying to read some things on the internet, and finally around 8pm I headed out for dinner. I took a slightly different route and stumbled on the bazaar, walked through it and arrived at the back of the Blue Mosque. I had dinner - Dervish Kavura and Ayran - at a touristy place with a duo performing traditional music along with a young guy doing a dervish dance. Music was quite good, as was the food.

I got to sleep easily again but woke at 4am and wasn't able to get back to sleep. Eventually gave up. It's windy this morning and not so warm yet. I think my cough might be almost better but I'm afraid to say it in case it isn't! What a curse it's been.

Ayasofya

Spoke to Nadia at 1pm which was lovely. After breakfast I walked down to Ayasofya but wasn't allowed in because I wasn't part of a tour group. I sat in the park for a while reading about the sights in the Sultanahmet then went and had a look at the Basilica Cistern - spectacular underground space, full of soaring columns and water brought in via aquaduct from (apparently) 29km away.

Finally made it inside Ayasofya after our phone call at around 2:30pm. Superlatives are wasted on it. It's like nothing else on Earth and doesn't seem possible - the upper dome really does just float above everything else. Some of the mosaics were quite well preserved, in spite of a few centuries underneath plaster and paint.

The mosque visible from where I'm sitting is the former church of Saints Sergius and Bacchus, I think - I'll go and have a look at it in a little while.

How shameful that the Swiss people voted to ban any further minarets in Switzerland. If they were genuinely worried about changed skylines in the cities, they could've opted to limit the height of any new tower, whether minaret or anything else. There are already laws in place for this. The down side of direct democracy - the bigots get to have a say too.

Bought a bread bun and some boerek from a little shop just up the street from here and practised my teshukuer ederim. I guess tomorrow I'll visit the Blue Mosque and perhaps wander up to Topkapi palace. It's nice not trying to see as much as I can - it's times like right now, sitting on the rooftop, that do me the most good.

Breakfast on the terrace

A decent night's sleep, a shower and a fine breakfast and I'm feeling very content. My cough is still there but isn't too irritating just yet. I've run out of lozenges and throat spray so it might be a trying day. Nadia is calling at 1pm today - can't wait to speak to my darling love. Being separated from her like this just makes so clear to me how much I love her, cherish her, value her. She is my whole life, she fills my heart and my soul.

I walked to Ayasofya last night before dinner, down along the length of the old hippodrome. What a place. All of my senses were more alive and alert than they've been for years. Past the great Blue Mosque and finally to the venerable seat of wisdom herself. It was once again quite overwhelming. A  man walked beside me and spoke Turkish but when I apologised for my lack of understanding, he laughed and said he thought I was Turkish because of my facial hair. We chatted for a few minutes before he heading back to the new town - wishing me welcome in Istanbul.

Right now I'm once again alone here, gazing out on the Sea of Marmara as the ferries ply their way to and fro. Hundreds of gulls circle overhead, squawking at each other.