Time for Tea

It is always time for a glass of Turkish tea - steaming hot, sweet and very strong!

We are heading home tomorrow - only a 30 hour journey door to door, travelling by car, enormous ferry boat, taxi, light rail and aeroplane. This will be an adventure in itself!

A Trip to a Castle Fortress (Yoros Kale)

Last week we spent a few days in and around Istanbul. We stayed with a long-time friend of mine, Frances, for several nights which were long on conversation and short on sleep (as always!) When you only catch up every couple of years or so, there is a lot of catching up to do! Aylin was thrilled to be able to sit and read and read and read through Frances' bookshelves and a large bag of books she brought up from the school where she has been teaching. Selin was enthralled with the cats and a collection of unicorns which she dressed in scarves and skirts and hats and rode upon them or put them to bed or included them in long stories.

One day while we were in Istanbul, we went to Anadolu Kavağı Kalesi, also known as Yoros Kale - a castle fortress on the hill near the sea where the Bosphorus Strait meets the Black Sea. Have a look at some photos taken by other people at
http://gallery.istanbul.gov.tr/Default.aspx?pid=632&ara=Yoros%20Kale

And here is a photo of mine, taken from the ferry as we approached the shore...

We took a taxi from the ferry jetty up to the castle. It was quite a climb even by car - would definitely have been too much for our legs to have climbed up and then walked down! The car park was dotted by rubbish and scraggy ownerless dogs that seem to subsist on the leavings of picnickers.

We made our way along a path that wound through a forest of blackberry, nettles and other spiky plants. It made me think of the story of Sleeping Beauty!

We crawled through a hole in the wall of the castle to emerge into the courtyard. The walls immediately surrounding the castle are in reasonably good condition but the rooms of the fortress are mostly fallen down, though it looks as though several may be still extant. However it would have been a real scramble to get up to them and I deemed it not suitable for four year old legs - and so none of us went up. From the skeleton of the building that remains, it looks like there were at least three storeys of rooms. I wonder how many soldiers were stationed there to protect the entry to the Bosphorus - an important strategic waterway that enables - or blocks - access from the Black Sea thence to the Mediterranean Sea and then ultimately the oceans of the world.

The fort was built originally by the Byzantines and then restored and reinforced by the Genoese in 1350 and then later again by the Ottomans. The construction was made using a variety of stone and brick mined from other buildings - there are flat Roman bricks intermingled with marble columns and plinths and other rough lumps of rock.

We wished at the Wishing Tree - Aylin and Selin wished quite a lot. To make a wish we had to pick up a piece of fabric and tie it onto the Wishing Tree. Then we could make a wish while holding the piece of fabric. The tree had lots of branches - Aylin even climbed it. It was right in the centre of the castle courtyard. The tree had lots of other pieces of fabric tied to it - it looked like a rainbow.

We wandered around the edges of the walls and looked at the wonderful views out across the dark waters of the Black Sea under glowering storm clouds and down the sparkling waters of the Bosphorus. It was very busy with shipping and I watched numerous freight ships power their way southwards. After several (?many) bad accidents of ships colliding or running aground, including a memorable explosion of a petrol-carrying ship that continued burning for days, and the sinking of a boat loaded with thousands of live sheep whose sodden corpses kept washing up along the shores of the Bosphorus and Marmara Sea, I gather that it is now a requirement that ships passing along the strait have a local navigator aboard. It also seems that there are certain times allocated for going up and going down the length of the water.

At one of the least comfortable spots within the castle, where the wind whistled off the waters and a Cukurova Thistle towered over my head, I was fascinated by the flight of a hawk moth. It was maybe 6 cm from head to tail and it hovered, wings moving faster than I could see, regardless of the wind, to reach its long proboscis down into the depths of the purple thistle flowers. It negotiated the spikes of the plant with elegant ease, sipping the nectar from every floret before zooming off somewhere else.

We also headed off - and made our way out through another hole in the castle walls, lower down the hillside. Within the castle courtyard, the ground level is quite high up the walls - I guess an archeological excavation would bring up the fascinating detritus of centuries - but for now, it is all buried under soil, blackberries, nettles and more picnicker rubbish.

We strolled down the hill to the ferry wharf, arriving just in time to take the Special Bosphorus Tour Ferry all the way down to the wharf at Besiktas. The views of the elegant old wooden buildings right at the edge of the waters are very special. Have a look at some of them at
http://gallery.istanbul.gov.tr/Default.aspx?pid=629&gid=6&aid=57&p=1

From Besiktas we caught a bus and then changed to catch another one. We waited among the seething crowds of homegoing business people for nearly an hour for our bus. Imagine our surprise to find that the woman waiting next to us had spent 37 years in Sydney and had returned to Istanbul several months ago to see whether she would like to live here again permanently. I got the impression that she was quite fed up with the noise and the crowds and the rigours of travel in such a large city and that Sydney was looking much more attractive!

For me it was exciting to watch the throngs of people passing to and fro - but oh it is pleasant to be back to a quieter place now!

Views of Istanbul

We have just returned to Bursa after several days in Istanbul. More of the details about our excursion a little later one, however you may like to take a preview of some wonderful views of the city at
http://gallery.istanbul.gov.tr/

Squeaky Clean!

Yesterday we went to the local Turkish bath (hamam): Aylin, Selin, Babaanne and I. We drove the kilometre or so to the hamam and parked under the shade of a spreading plane tree.

The sounds of jack-hammer construction assailed our ears from the carpark but, surprisingly it wasn't obvious from inside the baths. From blazing white heat, we stepped over the marble threshold into cool shadows and muted sounds. A woman took our valuable items and placed them in a safe deposit box behind her desk. She gave us the keys, tied with an elastic band to slip over our wrists while in the bath.

This particular hamam is for women only. Others have separate times and days allocated for men and women. It is only in touristic baths that men and women would ever bathe together.

We stripped off our clothes, hung them in our locker and proceeded, clad only in underpants to the inner rooms of the baths. Our plastic slippers slapped over the marble floors, echoing off the marble walls and from the domed ceilings. We looked into several marble rooms but each of their marble wash basins were already spoken for.

Finally we made our way into a room, again with marble floor and walls which was empty and silent. It too was arched over by a domed roof with small glassed skylights which let a soft light filter in. The quiet was suddenly disturbed as first a few drops and then a steady stream of very hot natural spring water flowed from pipes into each of the six marble basins in the room.

We selected our basins and turned on the cold water from elaborate brass taps. When the water was a suitable temperature, we began to scoop it over our heads and bodies. I had elected to have a scrub and soap massage, and we scooped the water over ourselves, keeping warm and softening the skin, until it became time for my scrub.

Aylin, Selin and I went into the scrub room, slightly cooler than the warmth of the bath room. I waited a few minutes before being led to the scrubbing table. Among the grey marble surfaces, the cream plastic and chrome seemed somewhat out of place!

The scrubber, Hazel, was clad in black lace underwear, but that barely covered her stout build. With practiced hands, she slid the kese - a rough hair cloth - over her right hand, laid me face down on the table and began to scrub.

My skin, not having been subjected to such abrasion for nearly two years now, almost screamed at me! Selin, who was standing beside my legs, was very worried to see long grey strips of something slide from my back. I explained that it was dead skin, but she didn't seem terribly convinced. She and Aylin soon went off with Babaanne to the hot pool and the room with the basins, leaving me to cringe under the ministrations of the scrubber in peace!

Hazel rubbed and rubbed up and down my back, down my legs, around my ankles, knocked on my heel to alert me to roll over and then she worked her way up and over my front. Most of the time I kept my eyes closed, but when I occasionally opened them, it was to see more swathes of skin roll from her scrubbing cloth. At last it was over - at least that part of it.

Hazel stepped back and wiped one forearm over her dripping forehead. Sweat glistened all over her, bursting from every pore of her face, arms and chest. She took a swig of water then got me to stand up for a moment to wash down the scrubbing table. She tossed a couple of dishes of water at it and the grubby rolls of my skin swished from the table, swirled and eddied across the floor before disappearing down the drain.

She motioned again to me to lie down on my tummy. She lathered up her hands, no kese this time, and began a vigorous massage. From neck to toes she worked down each muscle and sinew. Her fingers pried between every joint and pressed into the flesh of my legs. She used her not inconsiderable weight to help. She cracked every joint in my toes. Then she rolled me over. I was concerned about sliding off the soapy surface of the table, but she manoeuvred me to where she wanted me. And then she worked up from my toes to neck. I feared my ribs would crack with the way she pressed on me!

At last she told me to sit up. She rubbed and shook my arms, pushed her fingers between mine and cracked every joint again in a practised flip. Finally she worked in my neck and head. I feel lucky to still have my scalp, the way that she pushed and pulled and pressed and rubbed! After half an hour of lathery massage, and an hour or more of dunking and dousing the skin on my fingers was all pruned. But it wasn't over yet!

Now it was time for the soak in the hot pool. There was no steam but the conditions in the pool room were heavy and humid. Women of all shapes and sizes sat around the edges of the pool, with their feet in the water, or just outside. A young woman was coaxing her six or seven year old daughter to let go of the rail and be carried in the water. I dipped one foot into the water.

Oh! It was hot!! I withdrew for a moment before braving it again. Gradually, I eased myself into the water, all the way up to my neck. It was very restful to be buoyed up by the water - and would have been peaceful but for the echoing sounds of everyone's conversation in the domed areas.

The water in these baths is natural hot spring water. Baths are scattered around the whole area of Kukurtlu and Cekirge, suburbs of Bursa, on the foot hills of the great mountain of Uludag. The mountain reaches higher than the highest mountain of Australia, and snow remains in sheltered valleys throughout the year, however here it is considered a smallish mountain.

In times past, the springs area has been very popular for 'taking the waters' and people would come and stay at hotels associated with the various springs for several weeks for the cure to heal them of various ills. It is not so common now, but the hamams are always busy with locals and visitors.

After I had had my fill of the hot waters, I emerged, returned to the room where our soap, washers and things were by our basin and rinsed off. Aylin and Selin had had enough by now too. We gathered our things, turned off the cold water tap and returned to the locker to retrieve our clothes. We slowly dressed. Others also emerged and were dressing. It was strange to see the wrinkled or firm, fleshy or bony, twisted or straight bodies finally encased by clothing. Many of the women dressed themselves in long dark jackets and completely covered their hair with a dark or patterned silk headscarf. They lost their own singular identities and I could barely recognise them each from the other.

We donned our hats and stepped out into the hot early summer sunshine and were again assailed by the noise and dust of the never-ending traffic. We made our way home, enjoyed a light lunch and then I lay down to rest from the travails of the Turkish bath, squeaky clean and several layers of skin lighter.

Leaping into new technology

A blogging friend suggested that this would be a better way to post of our adventures - so here we start.
Thanks Laureen!