Balloon Magic

Eight years ago I took my first balloon flight over Cappadoccia and fell in

love with the idea of photographing from a hot air balloon. In 2003 there were just 12 balloons in Cappadoccia, today there are 100 adorning the skies above the spectacular landscape.

Our balloon company Kappadokya Balloons is one of the largest and runs like a smooth, well-oiled machine; from the 5am pick-up in a VW minibus to the coffee and cake, safety briefing and flight certificate.

The Carpet Baggers

It appears compulsory that every tour in Turkey must visit a carpet factory. Although a little groan went around the Shutterbus, Omer, our guide, promised us we would enjoy the half hour presentation plus a free apple tea or Turkish coffee with absolutely no hard sell at the end of it. Okey-dokey.


Where's the flyer version?

To see and feel silk worms in action was a treat. To watch the women weave the intricate silk designs on their looms was fascinating. Then we were shown upstairs to the big 'showing room',
A well-practised performance began with 18 of us feeling locked in staring at a huge pile of carpets ominously rolled up in the corner. It would have been easier to escape Ikea than this place.

Stuck in this huge room, with our shoes off watching these wondrous carpets being effortlessly rolled out by several young handsome Turks, we enjoyed the drinks and loved the fantastic carpet designs, each more complex, more beautiful and more expensive than the previous. I was desperate to take one home – which, for me was strange; their magic was definitely working.

Uh-oh -  hoards of male carpet sellers suddenly slipped quietly into the vast showing room as the show ended, honing onto each and every one of us. Surprise surprise. Nothing is for free after all.



More carpets and more carpets yet more carpets

‘Can I assist you in making your choice?’

‘No thanks’, I replied. ‘My husband has chosen his favourite.’

‘But that’s not your choice’, he persisted.

‘I will love whatever he chooses.’

Yay, he couldn’t top that one so made my way quick smart to the restroom thinking I’d escaped only to find he was waiting outside with yet another carpet and yet another winning deal. Thank goodness John came to my rescue and we clambered over the carpet sellers and ran down the stairs to freedom with wallets still intact.



Salih

Salih Karademir must be one of the best bus drivers in Turkey. He hasn't missed a corner, a location or a gear change since he picked us up in Istanbul. 'I think he's fabulous; I've sat right up the front and feel safe with him' says Heather 'He's obliging and patient, We're lucky to have him.'
Alih Karademir Türkiye'deki birlerce en iyi otobüs sürücüsü olan. O o İstanbul'da bizi kaldırdığı için bir köşe, bir yer veya bir vites değişimi kaçırmadı. 'Ben; sanırım; ben cephenin yukarısına doğru oturdum ve güvenli onla hissetirim ' söyler funda ' o zorluyor ve sabırlı, biz oluruz Onunki var şanslı.'
Babylon 9

Hot Air Ballooning in Cappadocia

Yesterday I experienced my first hot air balloon flight. I awoke about 4am and our group were collected from our hotel at 5am by our balloon company Kapadokya Balloons.

The whole experience was a wonderous one. It had been a dream of mine to fly in a hot air balloon for many years and what a magical experience in a magical place.

Our flight took about an hour over the Cappadocian landscape. We shared the airspace with 69 other colourful balloons, what a sight to behold. Balloons of all colours, some with signage, some without.

This magical experience will remain as one of the highligts of this wonderful country. Turkey has provided more than I had hoped for.

I floated in the Mediterranean Sea today!
After paying 10TL each to the attendant at the private beach, descended the wooden steps, walked around the many people  and straight in - delicious! Looking across at the steep mountains which form the other side of the bay it was a real re connection for me with this place.

Nice and Spicey

Wandering through the markets, the aroma of all the spices saturates the senses. I love the smells, the colours and the tastes. The shop owners won't let you pass without tasting their spice teas. Apple, mixed spice, hybiscus, mint - anything you can think of, they have it there. The tastes and smells are sensational. I wish I could take some home, but sadly customs would not be so enthusiastic.

The Great Library at Ephesus



Ephesus




Here are a few of my favourite photos so far of this amazing tour. Turkey is the most wonderful place to be. The Turkish people are friendly and charming wherever we go and love to be photographed which is so refreshing. Even the children love to be photographed. We all loved Troy. It was so peaceful. We could have stayed there for a couple of hours to take in the marvellous views and sense of history. Pergamon was on top of a very high hill and we took a cable car to get to the top. Wonderful ruins to be explored. Ephesus was an enormous site and quite crowded even early in the morning but we took a couple of hours to explore about two kilometres of streets with outstanding ruins. A photographer's paradise!



Annie in Aspendos

 
 

Lady on Bosphorus








Turkish boy near Pamukkale



Pergamon



A Texan in Turkey

"You'll need to donate $50 to my church" was his opening gambit when I asked to photograph the man with the long black sutan. Father Andrews hails from Dallas, Texas and stood out from the MCG size crowd with his cowboy hat. As a religious leader of the Coptic Church in Texas he agreed to barter on the shoot fee. I agreed to say a prayer for him and we quashed the fifty buck fee. 'Now let's do this right' he said. He put hi right hand in his pocket and took out his wooden cross.

Figs, Flags & Friendliness

Almost everywhere I've travelled in Turkey I've always been able to see a turkish Flag and smell a fig tree. They are every where. Fig trees dot the landscapes, line the streets and spring up in ancient Greco-Roman ruins. The flavour of the small green Turkish figs is sublime. Fig trees provide shade from the clear autumn sun and they also invade our senses. Visually unimposing but always there like an old friend; you can feel the sand-paper prickle of their leaves (like some of my special old friends); smell the sweet scent of the fig in the air and taste the sweet luscious fruit itself. Some consider the fig a symbol of life and love. The only sense the fig doesn't influence is hearing. Then again, like old loves, its probably a good thing that old fig trees don't talk.

The Travertines

A few days ago David showed me a photo of the travertines. Until then I had no idea what to expect. The night before our planned trip there, David, Connie and I decided to take a taxi ride up there for sunrise. It was less than 10 minutes away so we had time before breakfast. Sunday morning arrived and off we went, with our very enthusiastic taxi driver. It was well worth the early rise to spend the 45 minutes taking photos unimpeded by tourists and with time to marvel at the beautiful formations. Our very obliging taxi driver had a coffee with his friend at a nearby cafe while he waited for us. I should have taken a photo of him, it was remiss of me to not think of it, especially when he kissed the 45L we paid him, his lucky fare - "chance" was what he called it - the first fare of the day.

A little later we ventured back to the travertines with the Turkish Delight tour and again marvelled at the beautiful snow like formations and ponds of cool, refreshing water, which many people were paddling or swimming in. We chatted to a couple of french girls from Versailles who were touring around. They were very happy to be photographed and were delighted to learn we came from Perth, the next stop on their travels.

Gallipoli

Six frigates of the Turkish navy came from the south, sailing sedately and line astern out of the faint haze of the Aegean. I watched them from a small bluff on Anzac Cove, conscious of the poignancy of witnessing warships once more standing off this sacred site.

The Cove itself is insignificant: there might be a million like it off the Aegean. What is surprising is the height of the country: it rises immediately from the beach; cliffs of clay ascending into steep, gorse covered hills. Not that they were covered in gorse in 1915; within days of the landing all that was blasted into oblivion by the guns. Yet the sharp rise of the hills remained the same; every rising metre to be fought for and died for.

This was a battle for the high ground; our visit to Lone Pine tells us that immediately. This place dominates the coast line for miles. Howitzers here would have rained devastation on the beaches below. If you took the high ground you could take out the guns guarding the narrow Dardanelles; take out the guns and the British and French battleships could sail unhindered to Istanbul and take Turkey out of the war. Great strategy on paper: but one look at this country tells you that, against a superbly led determined and experienced enemy, it would be the hardest ask imaginable

I think maybe the generals in the panelled rooms of the British War Office underestimated ‘Johnny’ Turk. Men in the regiments under Attaturk had seen action and were hardened soldiers; six months earlier our boys had been farm hands and shop assistants. It’s a wonder that they hung on so long.

Which is perhaps why so many of the eulogies carved on the simple gravestones try to make some sense of the senseless; to reconcile the loss of young, long-limbed sons and brothers and husbands to the will of God and the certainty of meeting again on the other side.

But carved in stone on a grave marker at Lone Pine is a message that, for me, says it all. It’s the grave marker of a captain lying between two privates. Captain GW Brown was twenty-five: a captain at the same age our kids are starting their careers. What could a man who made captain at the age of twenty-five have made of his life? What could he have been at forty; at fifty?

Captain Brown, dead at twenty-five was the son of WA and EA Brown. They knew exactly what they had lost. They made no attempt at patriotism or reconciliation to an after life. On their son’s marker they had carved, ‘Our best we have given to the earth’.

This sombre, gorse-covered earth is filled with the best of at least five nations. The generations who have come and gone since they went into the earth have missed them sorely.

Troy

I stood on the walls of Troy, alone for a moment with no other tourists, not even the sound of tourists, only the rustle of the soft wind over the stones. Beyond the walls and fallen columns lay the plain; fields and vineyards, green and gold in the September light. The sea has long since receded from the walls and the beach is distant, but it doesn’t take much imagination to hear the clash of bronze on bronze; the cries of men in battle; see the tall towers, their battlements glittering with spears. Then, suddenly, a group of French tourists appeared and my moment was gone; a small respite from the chatter of people and the clicking of a billion shutters.

It’s good to be here, but it’s people like me who make it hard for people like me to get a sense of history.

Kusadasi

Driving through tunnels is not normally the most exciting thing I do on overseas trips. But as our bus entered a tunnel on the outskirts of Kusadasi I noticed the number of coloured lights in the tunnel. Shot on Shutter Speed priority with a speed of 1/2 sec and -1 set in exp modification.

Brief Encounter

Friendliness and openness are Turkish trademarks. An invite for a cup of tea, a handshake or eagerness to pose for the camera. There's no fakery or pretence - they're real people and proud of their homeland. Strolling along the banks of the Dardanelles we saw couples and small groups of all ages; fishing, chatting, cycling and picnicking. A lone fisherman was hauling his nets a stone's throw offshore.
Then we came across a half dozen Turkish men enjoying shots of Raki with bread, dips and chocolate! They called us over and invited us to share. Within a minute or two one of them was laying into a violin virtuoso like he was at the Royal Albert Hall while the others broke into spontaneous dancing and clapping. A brief encounter; a memory gem.

The Dardanelles

The Dardanelles was formerly known as the Hellespont or 'Sea of Helle'; a narrow strait in north-western Turkey. From my window at the Kolin Hotel I watched the tankers glide along and the birds wheel overhead in the westerly. Later, when the wind dropped, I walked a kilometre or two along the banks.

Turkey on a diet

We found a great restaurant on our second night in Istanbul and got chatting to Huseyin, the waiter who, like any Turk we have met so far, was extremely friendly. His English was superb. Towards the end of the Lucullan meal. Abbe said, 'We're on a 17 day tour of Turkey and I don't want to get fat'. Quick as a flash, Huseyin came back, 'well you've come to the wrong country'.

Graves beneath the shelter of an oak

For Jack. Written at Gallipoli, 21 September 2011

For Jack (Captain John McIntyre)

You landed here.

You, your friends from Kal, the training camps,

and from the ship transporting men and horses,

to your first taste of war.

You landed here.

And today’s blue waters still look stained

with the blood of men shot down

as they set foot on Turkish soil.

And today’s cloudy skies

echo still with cries of surprise, and fear and pain.

You landed here.

But family history says little of the days, the nights.

Did you, once landed on the beach,

scramble on through undergrowth, take shelter

among trees, in trenches swiftly dug

wherever clay earth would yield?

I know no tales of you or the men, who

followed you, their captain,

of how you survived where others died, on shaly hills,

among the cypress and the guns.

You landed here.

And did you see that camaraderie

grow between two countries’ foes,

that shines within the Anzac legend,

where Turkish soldiers bore the Aussie privates

to safety and to solace?

You landed here.

But left your friends and comrades,

some roughly buried,

others in their trenches, melting into the Turkish countryside,

to remain forever part of this most challenged shore.

Today we remember them in neatly ordered rows

beneath the peaceful shade of oaks

in scenes that quite belie the chaos

of those two hundred and forty days.

You landed here – and left.

And there are no stories of your going.

Were you stretcher-borne,

from field hospital, to waiting ship,

thence to a safe recovery?

Or did you press further inland,

before obeying the army’s call

to leave the Dardanelles and move on to another

field of war, in France?

You landed in France, where you remain.

In Sommieres, at end of day, a ricocheting bullet

did the work the Turks had failed to do, when,

having left the trenches, near the tents,

you fell into your best friend’s arms,

and now lie beneath a wooden cross.

The only relic that reached home,

the New Testament from your left breast pocket

that still bears the bullet’s furrow.

Anzac Cove, Gallipoli. Wednesday 21 September 2011

The Girl from the Blue Mosque

Trisha, Helen and I met Alexandra from Australia in the Blue Mosque. The light was almost perfect 'Butterfly' lighting and her dark shawl framed her face so well. Alexandra mentioned in an email she had only arrived in Istanbul that day and was feeling a bit down in the dumps. But we managed to add a bit of magic to her day. 'I must admıt ıt was a strange experıence, but ı was very flattered and ıt absolutely made my day.'

Wind and Waves

Our bus drove abord the ferry alongside cars and trucks. Then a laden donkey cart appeared with half a dozen older ladies. In Turkey the old and the new sit comfortably side by side. The fisherman with in their wooden boats and the stand of wind turbines on the horizon. While Turkey is progressive and forward thinking it prides itself on tradition.

Boats

Boats, boats, everywhere one turns there seem to be boats. Big boats, small boats and inbetween sized boats. There are fishing boats, ferries, gigantic ocean liners, military and cargo boats, or rather ships. From the first day I arrived in Turkey, I have seen boats.

The day we left Istanbul, golly was that only yesterday, there were six ocean liners in the city. They are so huge and they were lined up along the shores of the Golden Horn. When we were at Topkapi Palace I saw an ocean liner from a viewpoint on one side of the palace and on the other side I saw large cargo vessels.

As I gazed out of the window of my room at the Kolin Hotel I pondered on what I could write in a further article. I looked across the water to the other side of Canakkale and the topic came to me. On the waterway there were a stream of vessels sailing in both directions. It is a sight to behold. After a wet afternoon, the sun shone on the vessels as they sailed past.

Yesterday we cruised along the Bosphorous. What an enjoyable sail, both for pleasure and for admiring the magnificent architecture along the shoreline.

Later, we also travelled across the Marmara Sea by ferry. Then today we travelled to the other side of Canakkale also by ferry and returned after a trip to Gallipoli. So boats have been a mode of transport on our trip thus far.

I also thought of my husband, who in his past was a merchant marine and wondered what he would make of these sights.

What do I wear to the Aya Sofia museum?

Thousands of people streamed into the museum. Its not quite a mosque but we're in a muslim country with certain dress codes. Turkey is referred to as 'secular muslim' because of its more progressive approach to religion, women and dress.

Animal Day in Istanbul

'No, bus, we walk' Omer announced. So it was a Shank's Pony tour ar we set off towards Topkapi Palace. We were lucky there were only about five million people there. Omer said the crowds were smaller than usual. Most were off the cruise ships - Germans, Brazilians, Dutch, Canadians, Americans. Omer said the crowds were usually much bigger. Topkapi Palace was filled with all the trappings of the Ottoman Sultans - jewels, elaborate clothing and ceremonial swords. As we trecked between the palace and the Blue Mosque Omer said he felt like 'a donkey leading camels'. I'm still pondering this deep philosophical observation.

Our first day in Istanbul is a kaleidoscope of differences with masses of people on the streets. Perhaps this is due to the locals joining in with the tourists as it is a Sunday, or maybe it is always like this. Although the streets are crowded, there is no agro, and not a lot of noise. Private cars seem to use the main roads that are tarmac, while these cobblestone streets have mainly trams, buses and yellow taxis.  The cobbles are grey and much worn, the buildings are old with new frontages, and the footpaths are narrow and irregular.  Some of the streets are incredibly steep. It is immediately apparent that we are in an ancient city.

Although there are few bins, the streets are very clean. People appear in a range of clothing from not much to completely covered. We haven’t encountered a single fly or mosquito, or any dogs, although we have come across a couple of cute kittens. The trams run often and are hugely long with articulated carriages crammed full of patient looking men and women. Apart from an intermittent clanging bell to let pedestrians know that one is approaching, they are quiet and from our hotel room we can look down and see tram tops racing by, their workings exposed.

Everyone is friendly and delighted with our very clumsy attempts to say ‘thank you' in their language. Turkish hospitality means we receive tiny glasses of delicious hot apple tea wherever we go.

We have just returned from our evening meal, consisting of lamb on a bed of eggplant for Trisha and lamb on pita bread for me. Both were delicious. Both waiters were jokers with dark gleaming eyes. The meals come in a good size, not gigantic as they are tend to be in Australia. All the shops here are open til late and  don’t have prices on anything. The social aspect of shopping seems more important than the sale of goods, with a large amount of preliminary chatting before any mention of prices or sales. The haggling that follows also takes ages and seems to be a hugely enjoyable activity for the shopkeepers. Despite huge temptation, neither of us have bought anything yet. 

  

lunch and hats

A fascinating morning in Istanbul walking along narrow streets lined with shops, full of colourful fabrics and ceramics. Crossed the Galata bridge from west to east and watched a fishing competition where they were barbecuing freshly caught fish. Lunch at "Homemade" where we had Turkish bread and dips - meze - for starters followed by tsitsi kebapi or clay pot lamb, cooked in clay pot and brought to the table on a dish with open flames. Gino the waiter charming and friendly, tipped contents onto plate before breaking pot to get everything out. Thought he'd broken it by mistake but he said it was intentional. The second waiter kindly gave me a hat on leaving. Lyn and Karen

Turkish hospitality

My first day in Istanbul.

Yesterday was a very interesting and enjoyable experience. I set off and walked through many streets and ended up at the water watching the hive of activity with many boats and people coming and going. I found myself at the Spice Bazaar and markets. I bought dates and of course Turkish Delight with pistacchio and some Istanbul baklava, all yummy treats. I also found myself at the Yeni Mosque and wandered around watching people and taking photos. After some time I decided that it was time to sit down, to rest and have something to drink and eat and as there were a shortage of tables I was seated with a lovely Belgium lady. We started talking and had a little difficulty with language but managed very nicely. We introduced ourselves and Aurore explained that they were in Istanbul for 3 days, her husband Erdal is Turkish and has lived in Beligum for 20 years. Erdal was at the mosque for prayers. When he returned he communicated through his wife and he told me about Turkey. He also insisted on paying for my meal and drinks and later they accompanied me to the Grand Bazaar and paid for my fare on the tram. We wandered around for some time and I watched the process as Erdal bought a watch, it was a lengthy and interesting process. I took some photos of Aurore and Erdal. The intention was when we had finished shopping that they would take me back to my hotel. Unfortunately we lost each other at the bazaar and whilst I got their first names I did not get any contact details. I was sad to have lost them and would have liked to properly thank Erdal for his generosity and hospitality.

To me the experience epitomises what I had read about Turkish hospitality and I was very pleased to have the experience. Travelling alone brings its benefits.

DNA

What have Agatha Christie, Ernest Hemingway and Ataturk all got in common? Well, they all used to stay at the Pera Palace Hotel in Istanbul. I hadr dinner last night hoping that some of the DNA they left behind might somehow get into the food. For the price they charged for a glass of merlot I reckon I deserved just a tad.
I first visited Istanbul back eight years ago and I've no doubt Turkey is a country on the rise. With more than 50% of the population under 29 years of age Turkey has youth and its also got vitality. You can see the confidence in people's faces and the way they dress and walk. I'm not surprised Turkey was voted European Capital of Culture in 2010.