Boost for Melbourne announced

[sbagman]

It's been five years....

... but I'm back. To live.

 

[skilts]

Originally posted by sbagman
It's been five years....

... but I'm back. To live.

All very well, but you owe us about twelve instalments of your traveldog.

So good to see you back. Thanks for the entertainment while you were away. I was thankful for the generous insight you made available to us of your travails O/S.

Now we can get down to some serious debate. BTW, this excludes any debate involving your profession's more arcane, obtuse terminology.

 

[sbagman]

9 June 2003 - Israel

First of all, something you don't see on the usual news reports that involve Israel.

Israel is a beautiful, well organised, pleasant and safe country with an amazing history, a varied landscape, great food and wonderful people. The images of suicide bombings have little to do with everyday Israeli life, the place is 100% safe for the ordinary traveller, and the Israelis continue to work hard and party harder despite the difficulties their country faces. For this alone, they have my respect.

Tel Aviv is a vibrant, multicultural city spread out on a sandy beach. What it lacks in historical and architectural appeal, it makes up for in liveliness, diversity and a party-minded attitude which I really clicked with. Some great nightspots, plenty of street food, some funky neighbourhoods as well as the historic port of Jaffa all make Tel Aviv a fascinating place... as well as highly secular.

Jerusalem defies description. It really has to be seen to be believed. An incredible mix of the world's religions, containing the most sacred sites for Christians and Jews, and the third most sacred site for Muslims. Few images have left such an imprint in my mind as the sight of the wailing wall with orthodox Jews praying, while above them the enormous golden dome of the temple of the mount looms, and the haunting cries of "allah akhbar" of the Muslim prayer caller. The Holy Sepulchre, administered by the Greek Orthodox church, lays claim to being the site of Christ's crucifixition. Although I'd hardly describe myself as religious, it did strike me that I was at the site of one of the most important events in the history of mankind. Jerusalem's amazing history is in evidence everywhere... the city consists of layers bearing the marks of Roman, Byzantine, Turkish, and many other rulers over the centuries. As well as all this, Jerusalem is an architecturally stunning city, clean, has many markets and street stalls, particularly in the muslim quarter. It also contains the neighbourhood of Mea Shearim. This neighbourhood is home to the most orthodox of the ultra-orthodox Jews, who mark the commencement of their rather dirty quarter with the warning to women to "dress modestly"- long skirts, no tight or revealing clothing. Apparently, offenders have been verbally admonished, had water thrown on them, or in extreme cases even stoned. The inhabitants of Mear Shearim dress as their predecessors in Europe have done for centuries... large fur hats, long black coats (despite the mid 30 temperatures) and rather bizarre hair and beards. It was quite unnerving, and it's pretty obvious these Jews are opposed to the state of Israel... graffiti on a wall stated "we would rather be a part of Palestine than a part of the Zionist state of Israel". As amazing as Jerusalem is, I got the impression more than once that it is the most beautiful, ancient mental institution on earth.

As well as the cities, toured around a bit in the Galilee, seeing lots of Jesus-related sites, which I didn't quite take very seriously... Eli, my Jewish friend, was upset I didn't break down and cry at these sites, while I was too busy accusing him of killing Jesus and trying to convince him to let me baptise him in the Jordan river, "just for a laugh" (I couldn't convince him). Visited the rather Muslim port of Akko, ate wonderfully in a Druzian village in the Galilee (despite my best attempts, I didn't manage to overdose on shawerma and felafel... actually found the food an unexpected pleasure in Israel). Floated on the Dead Sea, and climbed the ancient fortress of Masada in the desert around the Dead Sea, the famous last stand of the Jews in Palestine against the Romans.

Eight days was not enough. Israel offers plenty, mainly in the form of extremes. My guide and good friend Eli summed it up when he pointed to the map, indicating "the lowest point on Earth [Dead Sea], the largest crater on earth [Ramon crater] and most insane people [Jerusalem]".

My first taste of the Middle East left a strong impression. The beauty of not just the natural landscape, or the architecture, but also the food, the language, the script, the music, the mysticism... need to explore more. I will be off to Turkey in September.

7 July 2003 – Stuck
Hi All,

Well, my time at CERM has ended with a whimper rather than a bang. Neither my professors nor collegues bothered to say anything to me (I consider this a blessing) and I left without a murmur.

A couple of days later, Dad arrived in Florence. He's been staying with me almost a week now, and frankly, I'm ready to kill him. Despite being 28 (for those of you who forgot my birthday, a pox upon you all!) and despite being a guest in the apartment which I pay rent for, he still seems to think he has some say in what I do. He's been begging me to change my ticket to come home with him and avoid South America... it's dangerous, apparently. Hmmm. If there was ever any way to ensure I went to South America, this is it.

Aside from Dad's encroaching dementia, I've been enjoying myself quite a bit. The weather's warm, and Florence really is a beautiful city (particularly when you're about to leave!). The sheer number of tourists here is mindblowing... if it's not the American accent (which is usually is), it's British, German or *gasp* Australian. I don't know why I don't like this, but I don't. There's something particularly unnerving about hordes of badly-dressed American college kids screaming "oh, is THIS the dwoo-mo???".

Not much else to say, planning on heading to Croatia this week... hope you're all well, and until the next instalment, take it easy.

12 July 2003 – Back East….
Just a quick one,

Arrived in Croatia early this morning, after a long overnight ferry trip from Italy. Weather warm, people nice, the Mediterranean looks very inviting. Split has a pretty impressive roman and Venetian heritage, and the place feels more Italian than I expected. No specific plans at the moment... might be meeting up with people I met on the boat in Dubrovnik, but at this stage I will hang around Split for two or three days before heading to one of the offshore islands, then on to Dubrovnik. I think I'll end up spending a week here before heading on to Slovenia.


14 July - One million and one Dalmatians
Hi again,

I'm leaving Split today, and heading to Hvar island. It's been very hot lately, which has curtailed my sightseeing, and forced me into bars to drink copious amounts of cold beer, and head to beaches to swim in the meditereanean. Yes, it's a hard life, but whast can you do?

Went to a medieval town called Trogir yesterday, which was lovely. Still, everything is unnervingly Italian... Italian is more useful than English here. Split is quite amazing... the way in which the Roman ruins have been incorporated into the town is quite remarkable, and they probably are the most impressive Roman stuff I've seen, including Rome itself.

Have been quite lucky meeting people on this trip... have started travelling with an American guy, who's pretty cool and our travel plans coincide for the next few days. He's pretty cool, and he's the third such person I've met in three days... the "left wing, well travelled American teacher". So it's been good not being completely on my own.

Croatia is nice, and I'm having fun, but the place is not capturing my imagination as much as places like Budapest or Israel. I'm not really sure why. But for the most part, I'm enjoying swimming, cruising around, and stopping for the obligatory cold beer. Will head to Dubrovnik very soon, then go further north, to maybe one more costal town before heading to Zagreb. I plan to be in Slovenia by the weekend. From there I'll decide if I go to Poland.

Hope everyone is well and are not minding me cluttering up their inboxes with this stuff...

22 July 2003 – The European Jerusalem

Having discovered that I no longer needed a visa to head into Bosnia, I decided Sarajevo sounded an interesting place to check out for a couple of days, and break up the beachy stuff along the Croatian coast.

Rolling across the border into Bosnia-Hercegovina, the scars of war were soon apparent. Along the highway, bullet-holed and bombed-out buildings were a common sight. Nevertheless, the countryside was beautiful, with towering mountains forested with green, and running between them a crystal clear river.

Our approach into Sarajevo was quite a shock, even though it was in a way as I had expected. The skeletons of huge blocks of apartments, window-less, filled with bullet-holes, gave the sense that war hadn't really been that long ago. The spartan, derelict-looking bus station (the faded sign welcoming visitors to "sarajevo - 1984 olympic city" added to the impression that the city had seen better days) was an inauspicious start, but it all added to the curiosity.

After finding a room, myself and Tony embarked on a somewhat cursory walk around town. What struck me first were the mosques... Bosnia is a muslim enclave between christian worlds (catholic croatia and orthodox serbia). The cobbled old town gave the strong impression of Turkey (even though I've never been!), filled with stores selling copperwork including turkish coffee sets, decorative stuff made from old mortar shells, etc etc. Beyond this lay a newer part of town, complete not only with mosques, but synagogues and churches as well. Despite the ubiquitous bullet-holes (what it seems every single building in Sarajevo has them), the city exuded a rough beauty, more through its diversity and vitality than any physical attribute. People thronged the streets in the evenings., and colourful old trams rattled up and down the streets.

Next day, we took a tour of some of the sites that were significant in the war, the main one being a tunnel which connected Sarajevo to the outside world while the Bosnian Serba lay seige to the city. The rest of the day seemed to be taken up with trying to figure out the next move... it seemed noone knew any sort of timetable for getting away from Sarajevo, and a trip to the bus station yeilded no further information... the place didn't even have a timetable, and noone spoke english. After the well-functioning places in Croatia, it had been easy to overlook the fact (before arrival) that Sarajevo had bigger problems on its plate than catering to tourists. Nevertheless, we weren't the only ones there.

So a dose of reality (the former Yugoslavia ain't all beaches and sun) nicely divided up the trip at the halfway point.

From here (Split), I'm off to Pula on the Istrian peninsula, where I'll spend a couple of days before going to Zagreb and then heading into Slovenia for a few days, before getting back to Florence around Tuesday or Wednesday.

26 Jul 2003 - pair of eyes, a voice, a touch, complete surprise

After a long trip up to Pula on the Istrian peninsula and a couple of days in the area, I've increased my rate of travel and I'm currently in Zagreb. Pula was an interesting small city, with some nice roman ruins incorporated into the town. Did a day trip to Rovinj, a lovely little seaside town with really delightful little streets. Arrived in Zagreb yesterday afternoon, and in keeping with my increasing speed, I'm off tonight to Ljubliana in Slovenia. I'm miles behind in my schedule... I'm realising I seriously underestimated travel time between places in Croatia. I lost a whole day on the bus on Wednesday, and will lose another one on the train going back to Florence next week. And to think I wanted to casually slip Poland in!

Zagreb is a calm, graceful city with a much stronger Eastern European feel than the Croatian coast. While not the most thrilling city on earth, it is pleasant to wander around.

The nagging thought in my head in the last two weeks is that while I'm having a ball, the places I'm going to aren't capturing my imagination as much as I'd like to. I'm not sure if that has been the prevelance of Italian culture on the coast (in Istria, it was particularly strong) or perhaps that its just too European. I'm getting the impression that Eastern Europe, while cheap, beautiful and lots of fun, isn't going to offer me the strong contrasts with what I've already seen. So when I return to Florence in a few days, I'm thinking of changing my ticket so I spend less time in Europe (cutting out Romania and Bulgaria) and spending more time (total of five weeks) in South America. Reading up on Brazil, there seems alot of things I'd like to see there, whereas with Romania and Bulgaria there isn't anything specific I'd like to see. So I think I'll do two weeks in Turkey (early-mid September) and then fly out to Brazil, and have more time there and in Argentina.

Having been very lucky up until this point with travelling companions (have been hanging out with another Australian the last couple of days) I'm heading to Slovenia alone. It's been really easy to meet people though, so I'm not overly concerned.

30 July 2003 - A trinity, a way to map the universe

After a brief couple of days in Slovenia (a day wandering around a rather quiet Ljubljiana, and a dramatic day trip to Lake Bled, which involved a bus crash, thunderstorms, and missing the last bus back to Ljubljiana) I am finally back in Florence, sorting out the rest of my trip and various other bits and pieces that need doing. I will be here until Monday, when I will go to Calabria to meet up with dad.

I've also done all the ticketing to arrange the final two months of my time overseas. I'll be back in Florence from the 1st until the 8th of September, when I fly out to Istanbul. I fly back to Florence on the 23rd of September, and the evening of the 24th I fly out to Brazil. The final leg of my journey remains the same, the flight from Santiago (Chile) to Melbourne, on October 27th.

So less than three months now left overseas, and being back in Florence is a little strange. It seems my Italian has deteriorated even further, and I'm struggling not to be in the backpacker situation where it's easy to meet fellow travellers. It's great to have a home base again, recharge the batteries, but I'm glad I'll only be here for five days.

 

[sbagman]

12 August 2003 – It’s only water

Since stepping through customs at Tullamarine airport on August 22nd, 2002, very little, for better or worse, has gone to what I would call "plan". Almost twelve months later, and it seems nothing has changed.

A torturous few days in Florence (you know you're sick of Florence when you start fantasising that the dome of the cathedral explodes, "Independance Day"-style) were not made any easier when Dad rang from Calabria and told me he was going home early. Now, according to "plan", I was supposed to spend the entire month of August sunning myself on the beach. With this "plan" out the window, I started to hyperventilate of the thought of an extra two weeks in Florence. I decided this was not an option... and started to plan my escape. More on that later.

So I've been in Laureana di Borello, my father's home town, for a week now. Laureana is actually quite a pretty town, perhaps not in the Tuscany sense of it, but it certainly has its charm. OK, it's run down. Most of the young population has left. And yes, the facilities aren't really there. But still, whatever you think of it, it's genuine. There are no tourists. Things cost less than half what they do up north. And there's also the added appeal of this being Dad's home town. The place, in all it's humbleness, has grown on me.

Without a car though, it's difficult. We've been catching one of two daily buses down to Nicotera, a seaside town, pretty much every day. But getting anywhere else is a nightmare. Also, my eternally troubled relationship with my father is being strained to the point where I am starting to wonder where I can hide his body. Being in his presence all day every day is not easy, as he's not a conversationalist at the best of times, and when he is talking, he always seems to be pleading with me not to go to the places I'm headed, like Eastern Europe and Brazil, or admonishing me over where I've been, ie Israel. Thankfully, Andrew, my Canadian temporary housemate, is coming from Florence tomorrow morning, and will hopefully prevent a homicide occuring.

With all this time and lack of human contact on my hands, it's hard not to keep going over what happened in Florence in my head. It's like merely being in the same country as CERM is too traumatic, and the desire to jump on a plane, a boat, anything and leave the Italian territory is overwhelming. As you wander the streets of Laureana, you see people sitting out on the streets, chatting... people say hello to each other on the streets though. These are things you'd never see in Florence. Despite this though, it's still a "closed shop".... if you're not one of them, forget it. As my father attests. He's been here three weeks, and only one person, an old school friend, has bothered speaking to him. Even his cousins who remained here haven't bothered with him. He did mention how disappointed he was, and I wonder if his experience here has been a microcosm of mine in Florence.

So while it's been good to be here, the lack of the continual movement of my normal travelling, and the meeting of people along the way, means I'll be pretty happy when Dad leaves on Friday and I can get back into my usual travel routine. With half a month up my sleeve, I decided I needed somewhere cheap, and off the beaten track. So here's the plan. On Saturday, I take the train to Bari, from where I take a boat to Dubrovnik (Croatia). I stay again with tht lovely family there. Then I head to.... yup, Belgrade. Mum has the names and addresses of people who are our relatives there, and I'm going to seek them out. They don't speak English, so I'm going to spend a few days in Dubrovnik furiously burshing up my Serbo-Croatian. Then I'm heading south towards the Bulgarian border and Kosovo, around where are the two towns from which my grandfather and grandmother come from. From there, time permitting, I plan to cross the border into Bulgaria and travel around there for a week before returning to Florence in early September. I think the heat got to me that day Dad called me in Florence, and the idea of "Bulgaria" is suddenly incredibly appealing. I don't know why, perhaps because it sounds off the beaten track and is dirt cheap. Actually, I'm pretty sure that is why.

So now I'm revived for this latest adventure. The idea of lurking around the "notorious" Serbia, hunting down relatives I've never met, and discovering the "other half" of my heritage, sounds pretty amazing. I have no idea what to expect, which is the best part about it.

Anyway, haven't heard from some of you in a while. Would be nice for some of you (you know who you are!!!) to write a bit more often. No pressure....

18 August 2003 – Dubrovnik Again
Quick one,

Got the boat from Bari to Dubrovnik and arrived yesterday morning. Still recovering from a very hectic last few days in Calabria (lots of touring around with our "local driver"... some guy Dad hired off the street) with Dad and Andrew (who wanted to see every archaeological knick-knack within 500km). Slept most of today after going nearly two days without sleep. Back in the very hospitable home where I stayed last time, and trying to figure out the best way to get to Serbia from here.

Dad is now back in Melbourne, with about two thirds of the stuff I took to Florence in the first place. The plan is still to be back in Florence on the 1st of September.

19 August 2003 - But the healing won't know you when you hate

Now that I have a bit more time....

Andrew coming down to Calabria didn't quite go as planned. For a start, we weren't able to find a hire car for the three days he was going to be there. In desperation, Dad offered a guy he had met earlier in the town 50 euro a day to be our personal chauffeur for three days. Andrew arrived, and proceeded to list every town he wanted to see in the three days... some weren't even in Calabria. I could see he wasn't going to be happy merely going to the beach and taking an occasional trip somewhere. I felt frustrated, as he seemed incredibly enthusiastic over the archealogical museums scattered around Calabria, whereas I tired of looking at greek pottery after the first couple of hours. I had complained about my father's inertia, and now I was zipping all over the place with our eccentric driver who had some rather bizarre ideas about family structure (ie my dad is in command of my life and i should do as he says until he is no longer on this mortal coil) and science (the big bang is all a load of **** apparently). All the while the temperature was in the low 40's. Phew!

Still, Italy never ceases to amaze. Just when you think you've seen all the beauty of the place, it pulls out another gem to dazzle you. While Calabria has its problems, we visited some stunning little towns, the jewel of them being Gerace. It really was one of those places I love... little cobbled streets, wonderful architecture, people sitting out in piazzas... it really took my breath away and reminded me what a wealth Italy has. Calabria is more beautiful than I had remembered it.

Finally managed to get to Bari, despite a packed train which was an hour late. After a sleepless night on the boat, I arrived in Dubrovnik to even greater hospitality than that which I expierenced last month. The family cooked pizza and took the guests to the beach where we ate and drank and swam. That evening, they cooked a huge meal for everyone... I still can't believe how nice these people are. It's like staying with family.

However, when they asked where I wanted to go next, and I mention Belgrade, they wanted to know why I would want to go to such a place. I cautiously explained my family connection. The reaction was mainly indifference, but when I told Antonia, the 16 year old girl, she spat out a story of how horrible Serbia is, and how Serbians are all awful people, etc etc. It was pretty disappointing to be honest, but I could understand it. My mind went back to a friend in high school of Croatian decent, who upon finding out I had Serbian heritage, needed a couple of weeks to decide if he could talk to me again. My mind also wondered how accurated mum had been when she said people in this part of the world were "indoctrinated from birth"... fairly accurate, I thought.

Still, avoiding the subject, there are no problems, and it's wonderful to be back in beautiful Dubrovnik. I'm not really planning on doing anything touristy here, just organising the trip to Serbia, learning some Croatian, and relaxing.

Anyway, that's it for now. Looking forward to recounting some interesting stories from Serbia.


27 August 2003 - Quite A Shame That It Goes This Way

I spent my 365th day away from Australia on an uncomfortable bus ride (the term "comfortable bus journey in Eastern Europe" is a contradiction in terms) from Dubrovnik (yes Tony, Dubrovnik), having left the bosom of "the family", to Belgrade. I had to change buses in Mostar in Bosnia, and from then on we wound around the mountains towards the Serbian border. It was at this point I started to get excited about coming to Serbia and meeting the relatives I had never met... I also felt a sense of purpose, being the first of our family to go back to Serbia for 50 years (from my unerstanding, anyway).

I got off to an inauspicious start in Belgrade, being stuck in traffic for an hour in the bus, much to my frustration. With that strange Serbian music playing seemingly on repeat on the bus (that music that I feel like I heard at various stages in my childhood, but I couldn't tell you exactly where or when) we finally pulled into Belgrade bus station, and fortunately met up with the son (John) of my grandfather's sister (Miladija) without any problems. John spoke broken english, and I was armed with a total of about 30 words in Serbian, so we were able to communicate, albeit with difficulty.

To be honest, I was a bit shocked at first at how run-down Belgrade was, specifically, where Miladija and John lived. I found the whole situation somewhat depressing. Mildajia and John lived together 45 minutes outside of the centre of Belgrade, in a shabby little flat. John was in his 40's, unmarried, without a car, and living with his mum. It was also obvious to me pretty early on that they were quite poor. It was a sobering introduction to life in Serbia. It was also obvious it that the distance from the centre was going to make my stay difficult.

The following day, John's friend drove us to Siljomana, the place where my grandfather came from. It was a long drive, starting at 5am, and for good reason... by 8am, the heat was being to kick in. Compared to Siljomana, my father comes from a groovy Parisian suburb. Siljomana is a village, a cluster of rural houses on a dusty road, nowhere in particular. In fact, the Serbian countryside is pretty damned rural... field upon field of corn, every house seems to have a huge vegetable garden, and the small tractor or even the cart being pulled by a cow is a familiar mode of transport. I spent the day meeting people with mum's surnames, a huge number of people, all old, who looked like they'd never stepped outside of Siljomana. They didn't really seem to understand the concept that I really didn't speak Serbian, as some of them kept trying to tell me things even though it was blatantly obvious I didn't have a clue what they were trying to say. The homemade Slivovica came out regularly (plum brandy), as did other strange welcoming drinks... dunking a sugar cube in water for a brief second, then eating the sugar cube and drinking the water. One of the old men roared with national pride (as John translated) "go home and tell them there is no war in Serbia... Serbia is strong, like America!". ****'s sake, I thought to myself, Serbia isn't even strong like Bosnia. I bit my lip. Still, they were lovely people. I was invited to stay in this little village for a few days... I very quickly but politely said I needed to go back to Belgrade. "We'll find you a Serbian girl!" they cried, but I could only see old people and farm animals around me. I figured reality wasn't high on the list of priorites in Siljomana.

Food and drink is a bit of a shock to my system. Breakfast usually consists of pork sausage, or burek (a greasy pasty filled with either meat or cheese) and a glass or two of plain yoghurt. Being a cappuccino-and-cornetto man for breakfast, being faced with spicy Serbian salami at 7am required some mind over matter when it comes to my digestive abilities. The Serbians don't mind their drink either... Slivovica, Rakija, and other strong stuff gets pulled out of the cupboard fairly early in the day. I wasn't stupid enough to try and outdrink a Serbian, but I did try and match one with my abilities to eat a raw hot chili. I could ignored the throbbing tongue, but the people around me noticed I had no control when it came to my eyes watering profusely. I won't be doing that again, enough said.

Belgrade itself is no Dubrovnik. In fact, it's not even Zagreb. But what it lacks in physical beauty and backwardness (it seems communism is still haunting Belgrade... the police presence is large, and they don't seem to mind pulling people over merely to check their papers are in order), it makes up for in personality. If there's one thing Belgrade has, it's personality. There seems to be an infinite number of surprisingly trendy cafes and bars strewn all over the place, and in the evenings, it feels like there isn't a single person who isn't parading down the street. Numerous outdoor tennis courts, basketball courts, football courts, scatter the parks and alongside the river. There are loads of posters advertising beer fests, techno parties, etc etc. The people are suprisingly well dressed, and, well, the girls are very attractive, even by Eastern Europe's high standards. I actually like Belgrade.

Sadly though, I would have been better off not staying with relatives and exploring Belgrade on my own. It pains me to say it, because both John and Milajadija are lovely people, and have been incredibly hospitable (Miladija is like a 70 year old pixie, always laughing and joking, and seems thrilled with having me there). It's difficult because I have to buy them gifts and such, and mum wants to give presents to various people there, which is fair enough, but is an enormous headache for me, since I am miles out of town and Serbia's not exactly the easiest place to do these sorts of things (there are few ATMs which accept foreign cards, and few people speak english here). It's been something important for me coming here, but if there is a next time, I'll need someone to go to some of these cafes and bars with in the centre.

I have finally organised my departure from here, and leave tonight for Bulgaria. I will be there for only a few days, as I really should be back in Florence by Monday. So it will be a whirlwind tour, I'm hoping to make up for the inertia here by some serious travelling.

31 August 2003 – No subject -

Q:Name three European Countries That Start With "F"

A:France,Finland, and ****ing Bulgaria.

Hmmm. Overnight train this time from Belgrade to Sofia. Met a Bulgarian girl on the train, who spoke exceptional english and who gave me a lift from the train station to my hostel. Auspicious start, to say the least. Found everyone I came across in Sofia very friendly, and gave me a good feeling about this place. Needed to organise my return to Florence, but quickly discovered I had no option but to wait until the 3rd of September for a bus back there, so I will have only four days in Florence, and I'll have alot of stuff to do (the Brazilian visa being the most urgent of them) in those days before flying to Istanbul on the 8th.

But back to Sofia. Due to a persistent cold and a severe lack of sleep on the train, I slept the rest of the day. The next morning, headed off sightseeing in Sofia with a couple of young Canadian guys and an American girl. By this stage the warm fuzzy feeling about Sofia was starting to wear off, and I was beginning to see Sofia as what it is: a charmless large city with horrible architecture. I'm not sure if I'm becoming more discerning when it comes to architecture, or I just have been reading Rebecca Wests' critiques of Dalmation churches in "Black Lamb and Grey Falcon" (yes I read now), but I found Sofia to be "blessed" with some of the most hideous monuments I've seen. For a start, there are no areas for pedestrians... no streets where Bulgarians stroll, no square where they gather. Secondly, the architecture, mainly from the early 20th century or the Stalinist era, is ridiculously oversized and pompous. Enormous communist-style edifices line the main streets, which are invariably too wide and have insane Bulgarian drivers speeding down them. The main church was easily the ugliest church I've ever seen, far too large and without a scrap of grace about it. In comparison with Belgrade, it's much cleaner and less shabby, but it lacks Belgrade's charm, pedestrianised areas, and can't compare with the number of bars and cafes of Belgrade. While not unpleasant, Sofia is easily the most disappointing place I've been in Eastern Europe.

Still, I've not completely dismissed Bulgaria, despite my cold, lack of affection for Sofia, and my Bulgarian's friend complete inability to tell the time. Yesterday we took a (long) bus ride to Rila Monastery. Inside was a surprise... a colourful courtyard with countless striped arches, a frescoed orthodox church, and several levels of rooms where the monks stay (now with more than a few tourists) giving beautiful views of the surrounding countryside and mountains. It was certainly worth having to stand on the bus for three hours and listen to the most annoying Australian traveller I've ever met. This girl was the sterotypical Aussie... from Albury... an accent so strong it would curdle milk... lives in London... went to Gallipoli for Anzac Day (she told me "you HAVE to go when you're in Turkey" - "why?" - "....ummm..... you just have to")... going to Octoberfest in Munich to get ridiculously drunk with other Aussies... went to Amsterdam to get stoned... you get the picture.

Today I must decide where to go next in Bulgaria. Part of me is ready to just stay in Sofia the next three days. Things haven't gone really well here... I've been stressed about the Brazilian visa, busy organising my return to Florence, and coughing and spluttering due to the cold. The hostel we're I'm staying seems to be full of people much younger than me as well, and while they're nice, I feel somewhat out of place.

I'm glad I came, I was very curious and I'm glad I can see things I don't like about cities in the same way I can see things I do like. And Rila Monastery I'm just thinking it might be better to take it easy, get everything organised for the return to Florence, and then head to Turkey with no need to rush back anywhere.

5 September 2003 – In transition once again

Finally managed to meet up with Katerina, my new Bulgarian friend. The good news was that we had a car to drive to the beach in. The bad news was it was a beat up, 20 year old Lada.

A sweaty, seven-hour-long car trip later, we arrived in Sozopol, on the Black Sea coast. At 2am. The little flat she had managed to procure was a tiny little place right in the historic centre. While it lacked creature comforts - a "renovator's dream" in real estate parlance - the place was fine by me, and a relaxing couple of days were spent beaching, eating out and bar hopping with Katerina and her friend. However, I knew I had to return to Florence soon, and my bus ticket back left Sofia on Wednesday morning.

So me and Kat bundled into the tiny Lada at 1.30am and drove through the night back to Sofia. It was quite an experience, with bucketing rain and potholes the size of small African countries. This was a major road in Bulgaria, mind you. I took the wheel for a couple of hours, Kat feeling nervous that we drive on the left in Australia and that I hadn't driven a car for over a year. But we lived to tell the tale, and it left me with a different experience in Bulgaria than what I had expected - I had been lucky enough to meet locals and hang around with them, and get a more realistic impression of the place. While Sofia didn't appeal, I came away with a positive impression of the country, and hope to return some day.

Arrived in Sofia at 8am, and at 10.30am I got the bus back to Florence. This bus trip was easily the worst I've ever taken. Lasting a marathon 28 hours, being subjected to hour long delays at each border crossing (we went through Serbia, Croatia, Slovenia, and in to Italy). only to arrive in Milan, from where I had to get a train back to Florence. After nearly 48 hours of continuous travel, I finally arrived back in Firenze after an absence of a month.

So here I am again, and the times, they are a changin'. I feel as if I am finalising my divorce. My permission to reside has expired, as has my visa. I've closed my bank account, and the lease on the apartment expires tomorrow. The last t's are being crossed and the i's dotted on my links with this place, and I can't say I'm disappointed about that. While travelling through Italy in the last couple of days has reinforced to me what a physically beautiful country it can be, and how great the food is, the story of the last twelve months seems written into every nook and cranny of Florence. And although it sometimes seemed that Eastern Europe was awash with tourists, it only took a few hours to realise it pales into comparison with the number that are here. Even the weather, which has suddenly cooled off after four months of seemingly continuous heat, seems to be annoucing a time of change.

This also represents the last I'll see of Europe for a while, as I'm heading to the middle east on Monday (Turkey) and South America on the 24th. I'll miss Eastern Europe... I think it is a place I would like to spend more time in. Despite the occasional difficulty, travel in Eastern Europe was cheap, easy and I was very fortunate to meet some great people during my travels there. The places themselves varied enormoursly, each having its own particular appeal, and most were somewhat off the beaten track. Slightly, at least. While I recognise the need to explore different parts of the world now, I really would like to come back to the East and spend some more time there... maybe even teach English and live for a short time....

The other thing that's on my mind is how fast my time is disappearing. I have a mere seven weeks of travel left before returning to Melbourne, and I'm starting to think about what I'm going to do when I get there.

Hope you're all well. The next email will be from Istanbul. Can't wait for my two weeks in Turkey. I plan on living on kebab for two weeks straight. Just so you know.

 

[sbagman]

9 September 2003 – Istanbul… a wake up call
Note : this email was written on a Turkish keyboard, and all the i's are undotted (i). I'm not sure if they will appear ok in your email systems... just remember whatever strange character comes up in the words, it's an "i".

Some drama on my flight from Rome to Istanbul, with a passenger collapsing before take off, so the medical staff had to get her off the plane, and Alitalia had to get her luggage off the plane. This delay meant I didnt get to Istanbul until 2am. I slept until midday, having travelled twenty hours straight the previous day.

Today I braved the grey, drizzly weather and went and saw the Blue Mosque and St Sofia's. The Blue Mosque was impressive, the first mosque I'd ever been in, but St Sofia's took the prize. An ex-Byzantium church, the invading Turks had converted it into a mosque before it became a museum early in the 20th century. The combination of christian and muslim within the soaring interior was quite amazing, a good analogy for Istanbul and it's tumultuous history. I'm still yet to find where the "heart" of Istanbul beats.

The following story may leave you gasping at my naivety; judge me and it as you will.

It was immediately obvious to me that Istanbul was going to be somewhere where people always approached you on the street, usually with some ulterior motive. I had already brushed off many by the time the following happened. It seems the Turks are quite used to dealing with Australians, calling "Aussie Aussie Aussie" when I tell them where I'm from. Still, I had read and heard so much about Turkish hospitality, and I didn't want to block myself off from that either.

Walking down the street, a youngish guy, maybe slightly older than me, says "hello". Without stopping, I return the greeting. "Where are you from?" he calls after me. I continue walking, figuring he wants to sell me something.

"Hey!" he cries, "why won't you talk to me? I don't want to sell you anything. I just asked you where you're from".

I stop, and decide to drop the paranoia for a second and explain where I'm from. Immediately he offers me a coffee. No harm in that, I figure, having read that it's quite common in Turkey for locals to offer foriegners a drink. He offers me another; I accept. By this stage I am feeling embaressed for having ignored him earlier, and I apologise. Then he starts asking me if I want to go to the football tonight... Galatasaray (the big Istanbul team) are playing Manchester United, he tells me. My first impulse is to accept... Galatasaray v Man U!! Hang on... I don't remember reading anything about Galatasaray playing Man U.... I start to get suspicious again. He has some shoe-shine stuff with him... and shines my (****ty) shoes.... hmmm.Then he tells me I can stay at his place... now I'm REALLY suspicious. I claim I have to stay at the hostel tonight, as I'm waiting for my (imaginary) friend to show up. No problem, he says.

He asks how much money I have. I lie and tell him not much. He says I should withdraw 300 million lira (about 300 Australian dollars). Now I'm thinking of a way out. I say "before we go to the football, I have to go to an Internet cafe to check if my friend has emailed me to tell me she is coming... can we meet up later?".

"No no my friend, it is ok, I have a friend who has an internet cafe... come with me!". ****. We go to an internet cafe, and he does indeed seem to know the people there. He sits right behind me as I check my email. Then I have an idea... check to see if Man U and Galatasaray are playing tonight... that will settle whether he's up to no good.

The fact that I am checking the football pages does not go unnoticed by him, as he is sitting right behind me. It's obvious he doesn't like this.... "are you checking your email or looking at football?" he says irritably. The internet is obscenely slow, which makes things more tense. After half an hour I give up, but not before I see that Man U and Galatasaray are not in the same group and thus shouldn't be playing each other. Of course, my new friend doesn't allow me to pay for the internet.

"My friend hasn't emailed... I'm really worried" I lie. "I'll give her a text message to make sure she's ok". Instead, I message Glyn in England... if anyone knows if Man U are playing in Turkey tonight, it's him. The confirmation comes a minute later... "NO". I have to get out of this situation immediately.

"Uuuuhhhh, I'm afraid I can't come to the football tonight, I must wait for my friend to come to the hostel".

He seems irritated by this. We pass an ATM, and he stops and says I should take money out.
"We're not going to the football" I say, "I don't need any".

He gets angry.
"You must give me 45 million Lira!" he shouts.
"Why?" I demand, starting to tire of this game.
"Shoe shine... tea... coffee... internet..." he says angrily. 45 million is about 45 Australian dollars... somewhat of a rip off. I figure it would be better if I gave him something at this stage, as it might look bad if the police get involved and I hadn't paid for anything. But 45 million is ridiculous, and I tell him so.

"How much you give me?" he shouts. Now very angry, I shout back "10 million". I figure 10 Australian dollars is a reasonable offer for half an hour of internet, a shoe shine, a coffee and a tea. He calms down and, unbelieveably, tries to bargain.

"20 million" he pleads.
"10 million".
"OK, 15 million".
I growl, "shall we go to the Police station?".
"OK, ok, 10 million".

I give him the note. He looks at it forlornly and says "it's not enough". I snort "you lucky you're getting that... I know there's no game on".
"Yes yes! I saw you looking at football on the internet!" he says, as if I were the sinner in this.

"And I messaged my friend in England" I added triumphantly, trying to reinforce the fact that he had failed to dupe me. The guy had no shame, he even offered me a handshake, and I reluctuntly took it and left.

Its a bit sad that this has been my introduction to the wonderful Turkish hospitality. I know now that I am not going to talk to anyone in Istanbul as a result, which is a shame. I feel somewhat foolish for having placed myself in that situation, but on the positive side I was smart enough to recognise the situation for what is was and get out of it with no harm done. Still, as a wake up call it was pretty effective... I just hope it doesn't affect my enjoyment of the rest of Turkey. I'm determined it won't.

11 September 2003 – Make the Empire State Building Look High

Tomorrow I leave Istanbul.

I leave feeling strangely unfulfilled. Istanbul has been a surprise really, good and bad. Istanbul is a clean, modern, well-functioning city that seems quite prosperous. It is surprising in that it is a traveller's paradise for these reasons and more... food is cheap and good, accommodation plentiful and cheap (I've been paying only 6 Euro a night), loads to see and do... I think I could have spent a week here easily. It is quite a vibrant city that I would like to explore further at some stage.

On the negative side, I have been surprised at how few tourists there seem to be. The hostel where I am staying has been virtually empty. I really expected to be surrounded by other Aussie backpackers. While in a way this is good, on the other hand it's meant that I've been doing everything completely on my own, which (at least for me) can get a bit much. It's been a big change from the good fortune I had in Eastern Europe to meet people, and I'm hoping I can adjust to this change quickly.

Istanbul and Turkey itself have me intrigued... on the one hand it seems incredibly modern, always looking forward, ready to relegate the past to mere tourist attractions. And yet, it seems that the old, Islamic ways of the past are not completely forgotton. Every so often you see a woman on the street completely covered in black, with only her eyes visible... even her hands have black gloves. And then you see other Turkish women dressed as they would in the west. Turkey is supposedly secular, yet the call of the prayer booms through the city regularly. It's a strange place of contradictions. I didn't expect to see so many European buildings... I didn't expect to see so many churches. It's as if Istanbul is the exact spot where Asia and Europe collide (which geographically is true), where fundamentalism and modernism come head to head, where the past and the future tug in opposite directions. And at the centre of all this, on every banknote, he seems to be everywhere... Ataturk, the general who earlier this century dragged a moribund Turkey out of the Ottoman years and into the modern age. I can see myself wanting to delve deeper into Turkey's history.

Anyway, in the three days I've been here, I've seen Topkapi palace, Aya Sofia, the Blue Mosque, the Basilica Cistern (built in the Byzantine days, and overwhelming in its size) and the Grand Bazaar and some 19th century European passageways (very atmospheric for a meal or a drink). The fact that the city is on the water hasn't really occured to me, apart from the odd glimpse of the Bosphorus here and there. Could easily spend another few days here, but won't. Tomorrow I head to Safranbolou, a town where all the houses are in the wooden, Ottoman style. Should make a nice change of pace.

Not much else to say really... hope I meet some fellow travellers soon... don't know if I can do two weeks of this!

17 September 2003 – What are those dogs doing sniffing at my feet?
Turkey. The place is like one giant men's club.

Well, I missed that bus to Safranbolou, and instead took an overnight bus (!!) to Selcuk, where I planned on seeing the Roman ruins of Ephesus and hopefully meet some fellow travellers and escape the stormy weather in Istanbul. If my first bus ride was anything to go by, the Turks really know how to run buses. The buses themselves were new, clean, comfortable... there's a guy who brings you coffee and water while you're on the bus... even lemon scented cologne to freshen up! Nice. Needless to say I was a wreck upon arrival in Selcuk, and was met off the bus by a Turk who had a suspiciously Aussie accent offering me accommodation. After checking it out (and noticing two staff were women from the Antipodies....significance coming) I decided to stay.

Secluk was a pretty small and insignificant town on first appearance, but there was enough to fill my first afternoon there, the highlight being the ruins of St John's church, built on the Great Man's tomb by the Romans. Selcuk may have been several hours from Istanbul, but like it's much bigger brother further north, it was still filled to the brim with carpet shops and dodgy people asking where I'm from. Seems every Turk I meet has a girlfriend from Melbourne. Hmmm. "Australian? GiddaymatehowareyaShe'llBeRightNoWorries".

Day 2 in Selcuk and after a quiet day I was determined to push ahead (since I was already days behind in my schedule) and head to the ruins of Ephesus, the apparent highlight of the area. My run of solitude was broken when I was joined at breakfast by two rather attractive (significance coming) American girls. The three of us wandered around Ephesus, and as well as being attractive (significance coming) they were very pleasant company, and we had a long lunch back in Selcuk.

Accompanying two attractive women around Selcuk had surprising consequences. For a start, the local touts stopped asking me where I was from and started taking an interest in the fact that I "had" two women. Obviously if I am seen in their company I am sleeping with them, according to local views. This converted me to legend-stud status in Selcuk, something which, in all honesty, I didn't do too much to shake off. The girls told me their experiences as women travelling in Turkey, making the lines I'd recieved seem positively tame in comparison... "Hey lady, let me hassle you".... "Hey lady, I hope you're reaching for your credit card"... and my personal favourite "You have dangerous eyes". After a nice day, the girls were planning on going to the beach the following day, and I decided to extend my stay in Selcuk, partly curious to see how far I could push my "stud-legend" status, and partly due to my unwillingness to start travelling alone again.

So, next day, the beach. The two carpet shop salesmen, Marco and Max, seemed particularly friendly, and for a change in Turkey it seemed genuine. Marco expounded his theories on why, according to him, thousands of American women each year fall in love with Turkish men. According to Marco, men from the women are like women... they lack the Turkish manliness. American women, he stated convincingly, CLAIMED they wanted 50 percent, but in fact wanted 60 percent from their men. Marco also claimed that I was unworthy of two women such that I had, as being a Westerner, I had no charm. He was a good guy, so I didn't point out that they weren't exactly rushing from my side into his masculine, Turkish arms. But hey, they helped us out. After flirting furiously with one of my companions, he later pulled me aside, telling me not to get jealous, as he was helping me out... I needed to get one alone, so he was taking one off my hands for me!

Still, there was a charm to Selcuk. An immature, macho charm, but charm nonetheless. In three days everyone seemed to know us (for one reason or another), and it was quite nice wandering around town in the evening, eveyone saying hello, hand shaking, offerings of tea, etc etc. That evening we did join Marco and Max for tea and nargileh, but I found myself on the outer as the two boys pulled out all the stops to try and land my friends. Afterwards I discovered they weren't so successful... Nicole had been told she had "eyes like the Black Sea... I can lose myself in those eyes, sometimes I can see my future". Megan, on the other hand, had been craftily pulled away from the group by Max, and seemlessly offered a massage. I dips me lid to the boys... 0 out of 10 for reward, but 10 for effort. Was worth a good laugh after the three of us had a drink later.

Finally my stud status ended, although of course there were many handshakes and hugs and promises I would return to Selcuk to work in a carpet shop. It was a funny few days, I got to see a different side of Turkey, but in all honestly, regardless of what one may think of it, it seemed far more genuine than Istanbul. I was a bit sad to leave Selcuk, that congenial little town, and sad too to leave Megan and Nicole, who had been great company over those two days. My overall impression of Turkey had risen after Selcuk.

I'm now about to leave Pamukkale for Konya, a quick stopover between here and Cappadocia. Pamukkale will have to wait for the next email. Alone on the road again, I've much time to make up, so it will be a busy last week in Turkey.

18 September 2003 - So far in the unknown

The last few days would be called "power travelling" if in fact I were a ****er (no need to refer to this in your replies, please). Let's just say that I've gone from Selcuk to Pamukkale to Konya to Goreme in the space of four days and timing the whole thing in a way which would make a Contiki tour look like a lazy wander around a small town in the evening. Phwoar! Of course my emails will be written in the same rambling, navel gazing fashion...

Stop one: Pamukkale. Attractions: Those white travertine pools you see on tourist brochures of Turkey, and the "unmissable" Roman ruins of Heiropolous.

Well, Pammukale makes Selcuk look like a thriving metropolis. Calling it a village would be an understatement. Nevertheless, I was impressed with my cheapest accomodation... around AUD$7.50 for effectively my own room with bathroom. Arrived around lunch, then headed up this enormous slab of calcium to the pools and the ruins behind it.

I have to say, I didn't really get it. You get to the big slab of calcium and have to take your shoes off and climb up the thing to the pools. There isn't much room, so it's basically a long line of tourists ouching their way across the ridge, while occasionally wading in tepid, calcium filled water. A guy at the start of the line whistles furiously at those breaking the rules, which of course are not stated anyway, unless you count the english phrases at the entrance which would best be described as "cryptic". I found this rather annoying. So of course the pools themselves are roped off... all those splashing tourists in the 80s and 90s almost destoryed them, so now you can just look at them. Hmmm. Very impressive, but I still don't get it. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

Shoes back on, and exploration of the ruins of Heirpolous. Ruins aren't my favourite (as you may have guessed from the lack of comment in my last email about Ephesus) but hey, if Lonely Planet says it's "unmissable"... Well Lonely Planet is wrong. I missed them. Entirely. I found the big Roman theatre, but the map provided by good ol' LP was vague at best. Of course, nothing was marked at the site, there were no maps, and after following goat tracks up hills for 30 minutes and finding nothing but Turkish excavators and Roman bits and pieces that really didn't resemble anything. The whole site was scattered with bits and pieces of who knows what, looking more like a market for ancient stones than an archelogical site. I got frustrated and gave up.

Verdict : The most disappointing part of Turkey so far.

Stop two : Konya. Attractions : Melvana Museum, Seljuk architecture, off the beaten track.

Whew. Going to Konya was a big change. Loooong bus ride, but this one made more interesting by the fact that I was the only non-Turk on the thing. Sat next to a young Turkish guy named Murat, who spoke a smattering of English. I delved into the language section of LP (how can I stay mad at you?) and was actually communicating inTurkish, if you use the word "communicating" in it's broadest possible sense. Nice guy, and the guy who hands out instant coffee and cologne (not at the same time) took an interest in where I was from, as did a small child behind us. For once, noone really spoke English. Not coincidentally, noone was trying to sell me a carpet either. Murat helped me get into town and find a hotel. Again, nice guy, and I got that warm, fuzzy "I'm meeting locals" feeling.

Konya was a bit odd. It's in the middle of a vast, flat plateau. It's quite well maintained, and seems completely devoid of tourists. It is apparently devoutly muslim... the call of the prayer seemed to come from a million different points a few seconds apart, making it quite surreal at these times. Of course, it wasn't quite so alluring at 5am... Plenty of mosques, nice local food (tried the two local specialities for dinner... yum) and a museum devoted to the Melvana, a Muslim philosopher who founded the "Whirling Dervishes" amongst other things. With a tiny amount of time in Konya, I visited all the architectural highlights, did a quick tour of the museum, and was out at the bus station 15 minutes before my bus to Goreme left. The museum was quite odd... tombs of followers of the Melvana, with the Melvana's tomb itself topped by a huge turban in a niche in the museum. The people their were all muslim, and many were around his tomb, praying, all the while this spooky music playing. OK, admittedly my grasp on the whole thing is a bit shaky, but it was a glimpse into the more spiritual side of Turkey.

Stop Three : Goreme. Attractions : the otherworldly landscapes of Cappadocia.

The bus trip from Konya to Cappadocia was particularly beautiful. The land was flat and devoid of everything but scrub, and seemed to stretch out forever. In the distance, bald hills rose up, and the clouds cast giant shadows in strange shapes. The road in front was straight and seemed unending. It reminded me of how one feels as one drives across certain parts of Australia... alone and very small.

This is a big call, but the landscape of Cappadocia I think is the most bizarre thing I have ever seen. It is as if ants metre long have built ant-hills all over the landscape. It is truly bizarre, as people live in these ant-hills, and in fact I am staying in one. I visited the Goreme open-air museum this afternoon... truly amazing. In these tiny little nooks and crannies, dozens of Byzantine churches and chapels, all decorated... some very naively and simply, others with amazing amounts of colour and detail. I think there will be plenty to fill my few days here.

So from here I hope to reach Safranbolou before returning to Istanbul and flying out on Tuesday. I fly to Rome and then Florence, stay overnight with Andrew and Benedict, before flying out of Rome on Wednesday to Rio De Janiero. I find by pushing myself with my travel I think less about the fact that I am travelling alone. I can't help thinking about the fact that my time overseas is coming to an end... I have less than six weeks less now. I have conflicting thoughts about my return to Melbourne, but the challenge of travelling through these places, and the people I meet along the way, make sure I never think too hard about it.

I realise I am a bit behind with responding to emails, but some of you I've not heard from in a while... it would be nice to know you're reading these!

Until the next one,

Hosca Kalin ("stay healthy" in Turkish),

22 September 2003 - On the Page there is a detailed drawing
I am now back in Istanbul.

It's been a pretty full on few days. My remaining time in Goreme was spent doing a little bit of hiking, going on a tour around the area, and probably the highlight for me, combining "dolmushes" (minibuses), hiking, and for the first time in my life, hitchiking, around Cappadocia. It was an enjoyable few days, but three days was enough. There are only so many churches and houses cut into the rock formations you can look at.

So I decided to persist with my desire to see Safranbolou. It was well worth it... I would recommend it to anyone who goes to Turkey, although admittedly these are the kinds of places I love. Safranbolou is one of very few towns left in Turkey which have alot of the old Ottoman style houses. Set in a little valley, these striking white houses with dark brown timber frames clung to the sides of the hills. Cobbled streets were filled with little stores selling sweets, handicrafts, etc etc. It was all very quaint, without being contrived. Best of all, I decided to splash out on my second last night in Turkey and I stayed in a restored Ottoman house. The room I had was beautiful... it looked like something out of a history book, was huge, and only cost 18 Euro. I was very impressed. But in keeping with my rather severe travel schedule of late, I didn't have much time there until I was back on a bus to Istanbul.

Back in Istanbul, and immediately I see the things I both love and hate about this place... the energy that pulses through its streets, and the hard sell tactics of its inhabitants. Istanbul can be quite an intimidating place, even for a self confessed big city lover such as myself.

So tomorrow afternoon I leave Turkey. I have enjoyed myself here, but if I came back I think I would avoid the touristy parts. I found I enjoyed the experience much more when I was away from people who were constantly trying to sell me things. I guess this is a natural result of the environment here... much of Turkey seems to live on tourism. It's very easy to get around here, since the lack of tourists means there are far too many bus companies, hotels, etc etc. Having said that though, it isn't too difficult to get off the beaten track, and have contact with Turkish people, who are really wonderful. The last three buses I have caught, the bus attendants have shown alot of curiosity over where I come from, what I'm reading, what music I'm listening to. Although they don't speak any English, and I know very little Turkish, we manage to communicate something at least.

I was a little surprised as to how little "culture shock" there is coming to Turkey. I see this as a bit of a negative, but of course on the other hand my trip would have been much more difficult had it not been so. Again, next time I'll head to the eastern parts. It's a funny country... you notice people on buses reading newspapers, and on every page it seems there is a scantily clad girl. Yet in reality, the women here seem totally unaccessable... the bus company won't put a guy and a girl who don't know each other in adjacent seats. While I've met lots of Turkish guys, I've barely seen any girls. I'm not sure how deep this "traditional" view of a woman's place in society goes, but the lack of participation in society by women in Turkey is somewhat offputting for me.

Having just read what I wrote, it might sound like I have more criticisms rather than praises for Turkey. Perhaps the fact that I did most of my travelling alone, something I wasn't overly keen on doing, contributed to this. But I can say to anyone who is thinking of going to Turkey, it offers an enormous amount, is cheap, and easy to get around. And for those who make the effort to learn a few phrases in Turkish, the people will value your presence in this country.

So on Wednesday I depart for Brazil. I've been looking at my guidebook to South America alot more often now. After over a year in the Northern Hemisphere, I'm looking forward to going somewhere that promises to be completely different. Brazil sounds like exactly what I need... openness, liveliness, insanity. I keep looking at that funny shaped continent on the back of my book and wondering what it is that it will offer me. I'll find out in about 3 days.

The next one will be from Rio De Janiero, Brazil.

 

[sbagman]

29 September 2003 – All the pleasure that it brings
Leaving Florence for the absolute last time was a bit more emotional than I had anticipated. On my return from Istanbul, the boys (Andy and Benedict) had dinner ready for me, which was a nice thing to come back to. The final goodbyes were difficult, and I made my way to the station feeling some nostalgia over my time in Florence.

This feeling lasted exactly 22 minutes.

The flight to Rio was, unsurprisingly, hell. I barely slept. I was seated next to a Brazilian girl who spoke excellent English, and who taunted me at how much I would love Brazil... how I´d fall in love with a Brazilian girl, stay and teach English someplace on the beach, etc etc. Not sure if this was what I wanted to hear or not.

I arrived Thursday morning in Rio´s straight-out-of-the-60s airport. Woah. Struggled through customs, struggled to withdraw money and get a phone card, struggled to find accomodation, struggled to beat off the dodgy people offering me taxi rides and apartments on the beach... finally, exhausted, I decided I couldn´t be bothered with the bus, and took a taxi.

Naturally, I was overcharged alot. It´s almost obligatory for me when arriving by air in a large city.

The guy driving the "cab" deserves a mention as possibly the dodgiest human being I have ever met. The was a huge guy wearing a luminous green suit. His name was Claudio, and not being content with outrageously overcharging me for the cab, he turned on his "charm" (using the word loosely) to convince me to take one of his apartments in Copacabana. I told him my hotel was in Catete. "Catete? Catete???" he scoffed, and spent the whole trip making up stories about how dangerous and awful Catete was. About as subtle as a rhinoscerous horn up the backside.

I can´t say I was overly impressed by my first impressions of Rio. The weather was very grey, and the city seemed pretty damned average. Lots of ugly, 70´s buildings, and while Copacabana and Ipanema had gorgeous beaches, they were fronted with rows of highrises, but there didn´t seem anywhere to stop and have a drink. In fact, I couldn´t see any bars at all. Where was this famous Rio nightlife going to take place?

Spent a day applying for my teaching course next year. For those that are interested (and even those who aren´t), I´ve got Melbourne Uni down as my first choice... I could be back at my old stomping ground! Hoorah! Also spent loads of time trying to phone relatives and friends in Brazil so I could organise my time here. Still grey. Still unimpressed. In the evening, I headed to the Maracana, Rio´s famous football stadium, to see Flamengo play some non-descript team from the south. Sadly, there were only 3000 spectators in the 120,000 capacity stadium, so the atmosphere wasn´t so great. Although the away fans brought very large drums with them and pounded them the whole game, so at least I had the feeling I was in Brazil.

Things changed on Sunday. I woke up to blue sky, and decided to seriously start sightseeing. Went up the Sugarloaf, which gave great views of the bay and the city, but going up the Corcovado (where the giant Christ statue is) was less fruitful, as we were stuck in a cloud and could literally see nothing. With the day off and the sun out, Rio took on a whole different feel as it seemed the whole city was at the beach, playing football in the numerous football courts, or riding about on the main streets which had been blocked for the day.

That´s when Rio started to make sense to me. Here I was, looking for beautiful bars and beautiful squares and beautiful streets where "cariocas" hang out. But they don´t care about these things. They hang out at the beach, they socialise on the football courts, they hold impromptu parties on the street, and drink out on the pavements. It´s pointless applying European standards to Rio, and if you do, you miss the point of what Rio really is. As soon as I worked this out, Rio started to grow on me. And it´s been growing on me since.

Rio has an amazing setting. It makes Sydney look like it´s set in a boggy marsh. Rio is somehow sandwiched between a glorious ocean, superb, reasonably clean beaches (maybe beaches here are even better than in Australia? I can´t believe it....) and incredibly dramatic mountains which rise up steeply and decend into the sea just as steeply. The streets are dirty but full of life... juice bars are everywhere, name any fruit and they have it here, and will juice it for you for not much. The people are very spontaneous... I came back from the football to find an impromptu party two doors away out on the footpath. The food is great, cheap, and in huge quantities... it´s a pretty good city to hang out in. I´ve come across no safety concerns as yet, but I have noticed places where it would be inadvisable to hang about in. Use your head and there are no problems. I like this slightly dangerous aspect... keeps me on my toes.

I finally managed to contact my relatives in Sao Paolo, so after one last day of mucking about in Rio I´m off there, the biggest city in South America (20 million people!). From there, I´m hoping to go to the Pantanal to do some wildlife viewing (not that sort), then head south to meet up with a friend. How much of this I actually do in the ever-shrinking time I have left (four weeks!) I´m not sure, but I know I won´t see much of South America this trip, so I’m not going to push too hard.

30 September 2003 – The grooviest hemisphere in the whole wide world
.... the Southern Hemisphere! (apologies to the Simpsons. Thanks Chrisso, I almost forgot!).

Just waiting for my bus to Sao Paolo, and I have to say, after another day exploring the streets of Rio, it is an amazing city. I love it. Take the time to take a closer look, and Rio rewards. Lovely colonial architecture squeezed in among the skyscrapers, little neighbourhoods in the strangest places... I took a rickety old tram up into the hills to a suburb called Santa Teresa, really amazing little place. Grand views of the city below, and colourful houses and people. Discovered this amazing Art Neaveau bar and pastry shop, really grand, the type of thing you´d expect to see in Paris but never do. Also stumbled upon a shop with wines from every corner of the world stacked up to the ceilings on every wall, and imported liqueurs, chocolates, and everything else you can think of.

Wow! What a town.

Sorry for the two emails in succession... but Rio De Janiero deserves it.

6 October 2003 - Is what will make a square, a bed to build on, it's all there
Here I am in Sao Paolo, and once again I am fortunate enough to find myself the guest of relatives I have previously never met. I am staying with my aunt here (whom I have met in Australia previously), and have spent the last five days meeting my cousins and their families. The whole family seems to delight in feeding me copious amounts of (excellent) food, and seeing how much beer and exotic cocktails I can drink (I highly recommend the "mojito"!). My cousins are very hospitable and welcoming, particularly Mimmo, who has been taking me everywhere. On Saturday we went to the beach outside Sao Paolo, a seemingly endless expanse of perfect sand, little huts serving food and drink, and Brazilians soaking up the sun. Pretty much how you would imagine Brazil. I finally got to taste Brazilian nightlife, going out with the secretaries of Mimmo. Stumbled home at 7am, so as you can imagine, Brazil gets the thumbs up from me for nocturnal activity!

My cousins seem to be amazed at what I am able to do on my own... upon arrival in Sao Paolo, I found myself far from the centre at the bus station. So I hopped on the metro and arrived very close to where my aunt lives. Everyone was astounded that I was able to do this alone, and I get a similar reaction every time I go into the centre of SP and wander around alone.

While it's great being here with family and being shown around, I'm used to being able to wander at will, and the obvious downside to this is that my cousins work during the week and thus I have much less to do. I was planning on going to the Pantanal, a remote area of Brazil famed for its wildlife, but the distances in Brazil are enormous... Brazil is even larger than Australia, and to get to the Pantanal I would have to spend an entire day on the bus, and an entire day coming back. Flights within Brazil are prohibitively expensive, particularly considering my tenuous financial position. Thus I have decided that I'm not going to see very much of Brazil, and will stay in Sao Paolo another week. On the 13th I am going to Joinville in Southern Brazil to meet up with a friend, and I will spend a week exploring the South (beaches and an Oktoberfest, apparently!). On the 20th I am planning to somehow get to Buenos Aries, where I will spend four days. On the 24th I have my flight to Santiago (Chile), where I will spend 3 days, and I fly back to Melbourne on the 27th. The sheer size of South America makes the month that I'm staying here very restrictive, and I'm having to temper my desire to explore on my own. Everything I want to see, even in the part of Brazil, is far away. I feel rather stupid that I didn't consider how I was going to do everything I wanted to.

However, it must be said that I seem to be running out of steam, and taking it easy here for another week doesn't seem the worst thing in the world. I'm becoming increasingly aware of the fact that I have very little time left before returning home (three weeks), and to be honest, I'm starting to look forward to having something resembling a normal life back in Melbourne.

Sao Paolo itself seems very different to Rio. The most obvious difference is the lack of physical beauty. While SP certainly isn't an ugly place, there seems little to grab the attention physically. There are many reasonable looking buildings, but the seem to get lost in the sheer size of the city, which is home to an astonishing 17 million people. There doesn't seem to be any natural feature on which the city if built... no river of note, no bay, no mountain backdrop. Just an endless expanse of urbanity. But to dismiss SP as such would be to ignore the vitality of the place. It differs from Rio in that it has a seemingly infinte number of restaurants, bars, and cafes, rather than having the impromptu, in-the-street feel of Rio. It's also a modern, thriving metropolis, with a safe, clean and well run metro, and everything else a big city has. And yet, there is something that SP lacks that fails to fire my imagination in the way that Rio does.

It has to be said that the lack of safety in Brazil is highly exaggerated. Based on stories I had heard, I expected Brazil to be semi-lawless, with muggings a regular occurance, and extreme poverty visible on the streets. There is nothing of the sort. I'm somewhat ****ed off that my father had spent so much time trying to convince me not to come here, when there is nothing here to suggest that it is any less safe than any other big city in the world. The people here are, as one would expect, very friendly, and if you need to get somewhere, you only need to ask and they will probably take you there themselves. I see many similarities between Australia and Brazil... both new world, large countries, warm climate, lots of beaches... yet the Brazilians are infinitely more open. The way I've been treated here, by both family and complete strangers, has been amazing, and I simply couldn't imagine the same thing happening to a foriegner in Australia. I can't really figure out what the difference is, but whatever it is, I'm enjoying it.

But the thing I like most about Brazil is... well, to be honest, the women. Not that they are any more or less beautiful than anywhere else I've been, but I think in every other country in the world that I've been to, women interact with men they don't know in a guarded manner, trying to deny the sexual differences between them. In Brazil, in contrast, there is no such denial. As a guy, I notice a more flirtatious attitude of women in random encounters.... going to the travel agent, for example, the women there were very curious about where I was from, where I was going, what I had seen, and what I thought of their country. The men speak with an intense pride about Brazilian women, and I couldn't count the number of times I've been told that Brazilian women make the best wives. It's pretty easy to meet girls here, especially being a foriegner; I've been invited out several times by
girls I've just met.


My portuguese is coming along. Though the accent is quite different to that of Italian, the language itself is not, and so when written I find it pretty easy to understand, and if spoken slowly I can pick up the gist of it. Mimmo delights in teaching me portuguese, and slowly I'm picking it up. It's a beautiful language, and I'm enjoying the challenge of trying to speak it. The Brazilians seem to appreciate my rather clumsy attempts.

Anyway, hope you aren't all disappointed that I've slipped down a gear at the end of my travels. I hope you are all well and I look forward to hearing from you all soon.

16 October 2003 - And On the Drawing Is The Name I Took
I´m here in Joinville, in Southern Brazil, visiting my friend Andrea. It´s been a pretty cruisy week or so. Sao Paolo has been a series of lunches, dinners, and nights out which stretch into morning. Down here has been fairly similar. It isn´t really much like travelling at all... I´m just catching up with people and enjoying being here. I will have to come back, that much is obvious... when I have more time, money, and more motivation. But it has to be said... Sao Paolo must have the best nightlife of anywhere I´ve been. A whole suburb filled with clubs! And good ones, too!

As for my last two weeks... I return to Sao Paolo on the 19th, and fly out from there to Buenos Aries on the 20th. I fly from there to Santiago on the 24th, and on the 27th fly home.

While there are obvious advantages to staying with family and friends overseas, such as being able to see a more genuine side of the culture, and being able to do things which are normally difficult with ease, it also creates different problems. What I want to see and what my hosts think I should see are´sometimes quite different. I´m finding that both here and in Sao Paolo. Part of me feels like I should be making more of the time I have here, but with the end of my travels so close, and me being so close to financial and motivational exhaustion, I´m struggling to raise myself up for one last adventure. Hopefully when I leave Brazil I´ll have a last blast in Buenos Aries and Santiago.

Strange though that I´m already looking forward to the next adventure in a couple of years, but looking forward to this one ending.

24 October 2003 - A Knife, A Fork, A Bottle and a Cork...

.... that's the way you spell Buenos Aries (with apologies to the Cruel Sea and whoever else came up with that before them).

Well a very sophisticated few days was spent in the surprisingly sophisticated city of Buenos Aries. Really surprised at the place... reminded me strongly of both Paris and Melbourne, particularly Melbourne with it's different 'barrios' all with a different flavour. The centre has wide, pleasant tree-lined streets, and while hardly has anything of incredible architecture, the whole thing seems to fit together nicely. Along the river, a long stretch of waterside cafes and restaurants, all very nice and neat. My particular favourite was San Telmo, which had a beautiful central square which was more Parisian than Paris... while costing about a third of Paris to have a drink. The barrio of La Boca, with the famous bright correguated iron houses, was a riot of colour, with caricature houses of famous Argentines (basically the Perons and Diego Maradona) hanging from the balconies. As well as this, the place lived for its football team (Boca Juniors) like no other place I've been; houses painted blue and gold, flags hanging from the rooftops, and everyone seemed to be wearing a Boca shirt.

The evenings were spent with my friend Ariel and his girlfriend, as they took me out to some very traditional places serving traditional Argentine food, including obscenely large steaks. As well as this, we went to a few grrovy places, including a very trendy brew-pub. For food and drink, it's pretty damned hard to beat Buenos Aries, with incredibly amounts of meat of amazing quality, superb red wine, good coffee, and... well, rather average beer. Can't have everything, I suppose. I had a great if somewhat over-indulgent time in Buenos Aries, many thanks to Ariel!

My Spanish is pretty awful, a mishmash of Italian and Portuguese (my Portuguese is slightly less awful). The Argentineans seem less gregarious than the Brazilians (who wouldn't, though?) although they were friendly enough. And it deserves saying that Argentinean women are incredibly attractive. Argentina and Buenos Aries have really surprised me... clean, safe, well run... I don't have a bad word to say really. Another country has been added to my "must return to" list. That list is getting awfully large.

So here I am at my last stop before returning home, Santiago, the capital of Chile. No impressions yet. I have three days here before flying out to Melbourne on Monday.

Hope everyone is well and I hope to hear from you all soon.

27 October 2003 – Maybe Tomorrow
Two of the last three days have been spent in the somewhat uninspiring city of Santiago. After the sophistication of Buenos Aries, the raw beauty of Rio and the heaving urbanity of Sao Paolo, Santiago comes as a bit of a disappointment. Don't get me wrong, it's not unpleasant or anything (although parts are incredibly shabby and dirty)... just the bits that are interesting are only mildly interesting, and spread thinly through a city of mediocrity. It has a nice park, pleasant central square and great metro system, but somehow the city as a whole seems distinctly average. If Buenos Aries is the South American version of Melbourne, then Santiago is Brisbane (sorry Brisbanites!).

The other thing I haven't appreciated in Santiago is the presence of scam artists. One of them gave it a red hot go with me in the central square, but he simply wasn't very good at his job, and after my little experience in Istanbul, he had no hope. This guy was apparently asking for donations on behalf of a student artist group. After establishing I was from Australia and I had been to Brazil, he started telling me how he much he loved Brazil. Bear in mind, this conversation takes place, whispered, inside a cathedral.

Scam artist : "In Brazil... good weed.... too much weed. You like weed?"
Me : "No"
Scam artist : "And cocaine. You like cocaine? We have cocaine in Chile"
Me : "No"
Scam artist : "Not even tried it?"
Me : "No"
Scam artist : "Oh man, I thought you Australians are supposed to be modern...."
(awkward pause)
Scam artist : "So, you want to give me a donation?"
Me : "Ummmm..... no"
Scam artist : "So you don't want to help, huh."
Me : "No".
(awkward pause)
Scam artist : "Goodbye".


As a result of this disinterest in Santiago, and starting to get sentimental about finishing my travels, I spent yesterday in Valparaiso, 90 minutes from here. The reasons it was somewhat sentimental (for me, anyway) are a Sting song by the same name that is rather romantic and talks of crossing the sea to go back home. Secondly, I wanted to lay eyes on the Pacific again, and look across the vast expanse of water which now seperated me from Australia.

Things got off to an inauspicious start in Valparaiso. The area around the port is distinctly seedy and very ugly. I wandered around, wondering why anyone would even mention this town in any guidebook. Finally I discovered why, up in the hills overlooking the bay. Linked to ground level by elevators which date back from the early 20th and late 19th centuries, a number of little communities sat self-contented above the modern sprawl. Each of these neighbourhoods consisted of an eclectic collection of colonial architecture, ranging from extremely elegant to basic corregated iron constructions. The things which made these neighbourhoods so charming were, firstly, the fact that each house was painted in one or more bright colours, similar to what I have described in La Boca in Argentina or in Rio or Southern Brazil. Secondly, the cobbled streets gave magnificent views of the town sprawling up the surrounding hills, and down to the ocean. It seemed every street gave another picture-perfect scene, and as a result I went through two rolls of film in Valparaiso.

Chile itself seems quite scrubby and run-down when compared to Argentina and Brazil... like a ´poorer cousin´, to use a cliche. Still, I have enjoyed my time here.... the people are friendly, like all of South America, and very curious to know where I'm from. South America itself, even from the tiny amount I have seen, is a delight. I feel I have left Europe and Turkey having seen my fill, but of South America, I feel like I have only tasted it, and I would love to return and spend alot of time here, slowly travelling around. The architecture, though naive and not to everyone's taste, is to me a joy, making the most mudane buildings interesting and a valuable contribution to the city itself. The food is varied, interesting, cheap and plentiful. The people, as I've mentioned, are wonderful; beautiful both physically and culturally. The areas I've been to have had great infrastructure, it's easy to get around, decent accomodation is cheap as is practically everything else, and if you use commonsense it's pretty safe (I've had no problems in my month here). South America looks like being on of the first places I return to.

So this, as they say, is it. In a couple of hours I head to the airport and head back to Melbourne, after a 14 month absence. To describe this period as "fun", even just the last four months, wouldn't seem right... it has been incredibly challenging, sometimes difficult, but always rewarding. I have had the pleasure to meet some wonderful people, and I would like to thank them for the time they have spent with me, whether it has been days, weeks, or months (you know who you are!). Of course, you are all welcome in Melbourne anytime. Except those of you who are from Melbourne... err... that would be kind of silly for me to say that to you... umm.... (awkward pause) ... you know what I mean!

Now I return to my city of birth to live for the first time since 1998, to try and carve out a career outside of science, to find a life both new and old, to incorporate all that I have learned while travelling into my daily life. And to make travelling, both in a physical and a more intellectual sense, a way of life for me... hopefully as a teacher I will get sufficient time each year to go overseas. So this won't be the last adventure! I hope you've enjoyed reading my emails and keeping up with my travels, I've enjoyed writing them.

 

[lioness]

Thanks sbags for sharing your travels with us, not just in this thread but also over the last few months..........and welcome back to Melbourne!!!!!!

 

[sbagman]

Originally posted by lioness22
Thanks sbags for sharing your travels with us, not just in this thread but also over the last few months..........and welcome back to Melbourne!!!!!!

Thanks for the welcome back, and thanks for reading my tales... it's good to be back (sort of).