Our hotel in Turkmenbashi, was an aging Soviet Gem- but anything was a relief after our Ferry experience. It was tatty, threadbare and the water was an extraordinary brown colour out of the taps - but I should have known to be grateful, as after a few hours - there was no water at all.
For me though- with its Babuskas peering at your every move and its gaudy gilted, relief ceilings, and having to dip into a 44 gallon drum of water for a shower-it had a certain quirky charm.
Another bus ride was needed to get to Ashgabat to keep on our schedule and I was very disappointed to miss the 3 days of HOT desert riding. A fascinating trip though, with the Balkan mountains to the North, a desert of bossies and then sandy dunes with camels and scraggly goats, then changing to massive irrigated fields of cotton.
Our lunch stop was a on shaded stoep reclining on a thick felt carpet , consuming grilled chicken washed down with chilled yougurt.
I wish I could write a full and detailed description of Ashgabat - but the computer here - is snail slow- and there are no internet cafes.
Just know that the late president of this country - which is a virtual police state and has the second worst press freedom record in the world- set about to build a shining white marble city with some soaring symbol of his magnificence at every turn. There are Ministerial buildings which seem uninhabited - but they are magnificent archiectural feats- created by the President's french architect. Larger than life billboards of Turkmenbashi - " Lord of Turkmenistan" as he chose to call himself - appear on nearly every street corner and there are Arches of Neutrality and Ministries of Fairness and tributes to a range of subjects - especially anything to do with him. He died suddenly in Dec 2006 and his successor has yet to show his colours.
I did smile at their Public holidays - they have more than we do in SA - even have a Cat Day and a Horse Day and a Melon Day!!
There is so much more I want to tell you - but there is a queue for this old steam driven computer - so hopefully in Uzbekistan I can tell you more. Will post photos - but as Internet is not readily available in Turkmenistan - it will be about i 6 days.
Know that I am well and happy and love sharing this with you.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
A Caspian Cruise- aka. A Diabolical delay
This was an experience never - hopefully -to be repeated.
I remained bouyant and positive after 2 nights of camping on the dock amidst the squalor and wild cats on Baku dock. The third day dawned and there simply as no action. Finally at midday a train and its wagons appeared and were loaded. Still no official word.
The sun started its downward track and suddenly we had to get everything on the ferry. Much exchange and scrutiny of passports and luggage - and then once on board a Russian woman from hell, kept up a tirade and again our passports disappeared from sight.
We were hearded into the cabins but soon realised that if we were to survive the night - sleeping on deck was the only option. My problem, was that in the scramble to board- I had only managed to extricate my sleeping sheet and Thermarest - so with the wind around my ears but the magnificent stars above my head, I spent a night to remember- slightly chilled but vey invigourating.
We awoke to a magnificent dawn - but no sound from the engine rooms. And there, anchored in the middle of the Caspian sea - we sat for another 24 hours.
There was almost no food or fresh water on board- and a few folks had major sense of humour failures. We managed to get the odd pot of tea and 2 glasses and lots of sugar lumps from the galley- so with playing Gin Rummy reading and sleeping - and not listening to our overactive stomaches- we made it to the night. Ater endless negotiations with obstuctionistic Russians we were allowed into the hold - so my second night was with a sleeping bag and I thrilled at the number of comets and sattelites and shooting stars visible in this unfamiliar Northern Hemishere sky.
And the engines were spewing black smoke as we awoke- so there was hope.
The proximity of land was no clue. We had seen it for the past day as we allowed at anchor.
What I did observe was the paucity of sea birds and the rather dead feeling of the ocean. It is heavily polluted and very shallow and soon the famous Sturgeon, which can grow to the size of a Tuna in its 50+ year life- will be extinct. It is on the endangered list - but Tukmenistan totally disregards this fact.
We docked at 8.00am.
We disembarked at 11.00am
We sat in the sun- attempting to duck under derelict railway carrriages- at the customs of Turkmenistan until 4.00pm when they took pity on us and allowed us to enter the building.
We were finally all processed by 6.00pm. - and all many dollars poorer.
Can you believe a worse waste of an entire day?
I remained bouyant and positive after 2 nights of camping on the dock amidst the squalor and wild cats on Baku dock. The third day dawned and there simply as no action. Finally at midday a train and its wagons appeared and were loaded. Still no official word.
The sun started its downward track and suddenly we had to get everything on the ferry. Much exchange and scrutiny of passports and luggage - and then once on board a Russian woman from hell, kept up a tirade and again our passports disappeared from sight.
We were hearded into the cabins but soon realised that if we were to survive the night - sleeping on deck was the only option. My problem, was that in the scramble to board- I had only managed to extricate my sleeping sheet and Thermarest - so with the wind around my ears but the magnificent stars above my head, I spent a night to remember- slightly chilled but vey invigourating.
We awoke to a magnificent dawn - but no sound from the engine rooms. And there, anchored in the middle of the Caspian sea - we sat for another 24 hours.
There was almost no food or fresh water on board- and a few folks had major sense of humour failures. We managed to get the odd pot of tea and 2 glasses and lots of sugar lumps from the galley- so with playing Gin Rummy reading and sleeping - and not listening to our overactive stomaches- we made it to the night. Ater endless negotiations with obstuctionistic Russians we were allowed into the hold - so my second night was with a sleeping bag and I thrilled at the number of comets and sattelites and shooting stars visible in this unfamiliar Northern Hemishere sky.
And the engines were spewing black smoke as we awoke- so there was hope.
The proximity of land was no clue. We had seen it for the past day as we allowed at anchor.
What I did observe was the paucity of sea birds and the rather dead feeling of the ocean. It is heavily polluted and very shallow and soon the famous Sturgeon, which can grow to the size of a Tuna in its 50+ year life- will be extinct. It is on the endangered list - but Tukmenistan totally disregards this fact.
We docked at 8.00am.
We disembarked at 11.00am
We sat in the sun- attempting to duck under derelict railway carrriages- at the customs of Turkmenistan until 4.00pm when they took pity on us and allowed us to enter the building.
We were finally all processed by 6.00pm. - and all many dollars poorer.
Can you believe a worse waste of an entire day?
Friday, August 22, 2008
Baku-still here----
Africa is a breeze to travel though compared to this Central Asia!
Not only is it entirely unpredictable - but any attempt at enquiry is met with a stern authoritarian face, a loud retort- and no worthwhile information at all. At least in Africa - there sems a greater capacity for joy and fun.
We are still stranded on at the dockside in Baku. Ferry is docked but not going anywhere fast.
Ferries at the Turkmenistan end are doing circles in the Caspian Sea - they are reluctant to dock as that costs money. Trains are backing up there also - but until the trains arrive from Georgia - nothing leaves this end.
This information has been gleaned by me over numerous cups of tea and tasty Baclava with the truckers who have also been lined up for days. Some of them have been lined up waiting to get OUT of the dock. They say - the authorities ALWAYS make it dificult and bribes are ALWAYS needed. Perhaps it is not a coincidence that all the Police and customs officers here at the dock drive Mercedes.
So - we wait- and fall behind schedule which may mean another bus trip when we finally make Turkmenistan!!! Miles( the tour leader) and the van is patiently waiting for us - he had to divert through Iran to get there.
But I did have a treat last night.
We went for a bite to eat at a nearby restuarant and were treated to being spectators of an engagement party - complete with traditional Azerbaijan live music and dancing. I even got serenanded by the saxaphone player! Then it was back to the dockside to our sleeping maps and a wash off under a convenient hose - if you could escape the eye of the ever present cops.
I never fail to be amazed by the contrasts that can be experienced in a mere 24 hours!
Not only is it entirely unpredictable - but any attempt at enquiry is met with a stern authoritarian face, a loud retort- and no worthwhile information at all. At least in Africa - there sems a greater capacity for joy and fun.
We are still stranded on at the dockside in Baku. Ferry is docked but not going anywhere fast.
Ferries at the Turkmenistan end are doing circles in the Caspian Sea - they are reluctant to dock as that costs money. Trains are backing up there also - but until the trains arrive from Georgia - nothing leaves this end.
This information has been gleaned by me over numerous cups of tea and tasty Baclava with the truckers who have also been lined up for days. Some of them have been lined up waiting to get OUT of the dock. They say - the authorities ALWAYS make it dificult and bribes are ALWAYS needed. Perhaps it is not a coincidence that all the Police and customs officers here at the dock drive Mercedes.
So - we wait- and fall behind schedule which may mean another bus trip when we finally make Turkmenistan!!! Miles( the tour leader) and the van is patiently waiting for us - he had to divert through Iran to get there.
But I did have a treat last night.
We went for a bite to eat at a nearby restuarant and were treated to being spectators of an engagement party - complete with traditional Azerbaijan live music and dancing. I even got serenanded by the saxaphone player! Then it was back to the dockside to our sleeping maps and a wash off under a convenient hose - if you could escape the eye of the ever present cops.
I never fail to be amazed by the contrasts that can be experienced in a mere 24 hours!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
The adventure rolls on-
Ok - for some this may not be considered an adventure. It could be cause for getting grumpy.
We waited all day yesterday in temperatures above 40 degrees C at the grubby dock side along with queues of unwashed truckers playing Backgammon.
The ferry was leaving at 1.00pm, 4.00pm or 6.00pm - and infact it never left at all. It seeems explanaitions are not really necessary - but a story drifted through that it was not full enough- the train cargo from Georgia had not got through because of the war - so they were waiting to fill the ferry.
It is leaving today - for sure- maybe, at a time not yet disclosed. Any attempt to get close and view loading operations are met with a stern face from a policeman and a gesture implying -
" Push off". It all feels rather Russian.
I will be sleeping on the dock tonight if we do not leave as we are taking turns to guard the luggage and bikes.
The best part of this is - if seen in a positive light- it is a gift of a day. No agenda, no commitments, just time to use reading, observing, snoozing- all in an environment of anomnity.
Naturally - I am itching to get going but I have done justice to the Azerbaijan guide book.
One fascinating snippet. It is these that for me makes travel so addictive and fills in gaps of knowlege.
The Nobel brothers - one of whom was the founder of the famous prize- came to Baku, Azerbaijan in search of Rifle butts. On arrival they saw the opportunity of establishing themselves in the oil business - in1910, Azerbaijan was producing more than 50% of the worlds oil. They prospered and much of the wealth needed for the Nobel prize originated from here. They also saw what a dismal desert dry place Baku was and they wished to have familiar trees of their Swedish homeland. So they persuaded the government of the time to impose a tax on all oil tankers returning empty - if they came back with topsoil, they were not taxed! This topsoil was then used to create the gracious gardens of Baku which still shade the streets today. The first irrigation system for these gardens was from the condenswed water emitting as steam from the oil plants. Later a canal was built from the high country in Russia.
When I read things like this I am overwhelmed at how truly remarkable the world and its peoples are!
Here's hoping that the next time I write - it will be from Turkmenistan.
Thanks for the emails and comments - please keep them rolling - it makes me feel closer to home
We waited all day yesterday in temperatures above 40 degrees C at the grubby dock side along with queues of unwashed truckers playing Backgammon.
The ferry was leaving at 1.00pm, 4.00pm or 6.00pm - and infact it never left at all. It seeems explanaitions are not really necessary - but a story drifted through that it was not full enough- the train cargo from Georgia had not got through because of the war - so they were waiting to fill the ferry.
It is leaving today - for sure- maybe, at a time not yet disclosed. Any attempt to get close and view loading operations are met with a stern face from a policeman and a gesture implying -
" Push off". It all feels rather Russian.
I will be sleeping on the dock tonight if we do not leave as we are taking turns to guard the luggage and bikes.
The best part of this is - if seen in a positive light- it is a gift of a day. No agenda, no commitments, just time to use reading, observing, snoozing- all in an environment of anomnity.
Naturally - I am itching to get going but I have done justice to the Azerbaijan guide book.
One fascinating snippet. It is these that for me makes travel so addictive and fills in gaps of knowlege.
The Nobel brothers - one of whom was the founder of the famous prize- came to Baku, Azerbaijan in search of Rifle butts. On arrival they saw the opportunity of establishing themselves in the oil business - in1910, Azerbaijan was producing more than 50% of the worlds oil. They prospered and much of the wealth needed for the Nobel prize originated from here. They also saw what a dismal desert dry place Baku was and they wished to have familiar trees of their Swedish homeland. So they persuaded the government of the time to impose a tax on all oil tankers returning empty - if they came back with topsoil, they were not taxed! This topsoil was then used to create the gracious gardens of Baku which still shade the streets today. The first irrigation system for these gardens was from the condenswed water emitting as steam from the oil plants. Later a canal was built from the high country in Russia.
When I read things like this I am overwhelmed at how truly remarkable the world and its peoples are!
Here's hoping that the next time I write - it will be from Turkmenistan.
Thanks for the emails and comments - please keep them rolling - it makes me feel closer to home
The Good , the Bad and the Ugly of Azerbaijan
Situation vacant
- experienced road engineers....
Sorry - this is too hard to do on the blog- will just post the pictures along the side as before - with captions
Joan
- experienced road engineers....
A magnificent caravanserai built 1600's in the hill town of Saki
Situation vacant -Meat inspectors....
Sorry - this is too hard to do on the blog- will just post the pictures along the side as before - with captions
Joan
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
A route map?
Many people have asked for a routemap of our wanderings.
Graeme - an English rider who now lives in Australia - and is a bit of a computer boff- has one on his blog site. I hope to do this too on mine- but in the meantime - take a look at his and hone in on the area which interests you. He has actually ridden from Paris - so part of it does not apply.
Thanks
Here is his blogsite address
http://whereisgraemescrivener/blogspot.com
Graeme - an English rider who now lives in Australia - and is a bit of a computer boff- has one on his blog site. I hope to do this too on mine- but in the meantime - take a look at his and hone in on the area which interests you. He has actually ridden from Paris - so part of it does not apply.
Thanks
Here is his blogsite address
http://whereisgraemescrivener/blogspot.com
Azerbaijan
It is an odd feeling to be cycling in a country which was previously part of the mighty USSR.
I am in Central Asia!
I have a little photo essay in my head which I will post on my blog as soon as I get more time on the internet - which is far from easily available here- and in the meantime , a few impressions.
This country does seem to be in need of a helping hand. It apparantly has massive deposits of oil and natural gas, but many of the rights have been sold to massive Western companies such as BP and the profits seem to have made the fat cats fatter and the poor folk remain eeking out a living.
We cycled on the main road from west to east and saw an amazing change of countryside.
It was a spectacular sight to have the Greater Caucasus mountains to the north and the Lessser Caucasus mountains to the south. The flat area between them seemed very fertile and well wooded with deciduous forests and every kind of nut tree. Animal husbadry is also a prevalent pastime and we shared the road with goats, cows. water buffalos, sheep horses and donkeys.
As we moved futher east the country became rather arid and desolate and very very hot.
The roads seem in a constant state of repair and the going was quite tough. The drivers are reckless and love their hooters, but generally folk are freindly and generous and I was often treated to a pear or an apple along the way. Cars are 90% the Russian made Ladas and they are used as bakkies- often loaded to the roof with melons, cabbages, lucerne - even sheep.
The approach to Baku is horrible.
Dry, dusty and dangerous and the last 20km we rode in a convoy. We are staying in an very ropey hotel far from the city centre- an aging, delapidated soviet' gem' Trash blows around continuously and I am so pleased that Louise and I made the effort to visit the Old City which is gracious, and elegant and being well restored ( partially I understand by UNESCO as it is a World Heritage site. ) So Baku did live have its heyday , and it was an important port along the Silk Route.
We hope to leave on a ferry tomorrow - but it seems that in this part of the world - even reservations do not secure your passage - and the ferry goes only when it is full. If there are storms at sea it is cancelled for days/
So we may have more days yet to enjoy Baku!
I am in Central Asia!
I have a little photo essay in my head which I will post on my blog as soon as I get more time on the internet - which is far from easily available here- and in the meantime , a few impressions.
This country does seem to be in need of a helping hand. It apparantly has massive deposits of oil and natural gas, but many of the rights have been sold to massive Western companies such as BP and the profits seem to have made the fat cats fatter and the poor folk remain eeking out a living.
We cycled on the main road from west to east and saw an amazing change of countryside.
It was a spectacular sight to have the Greater Caucasus mountains to the north and the Lessser Caucasus mountains to the south. The flat area between them seemed very fertile and well wooded with deciduous forests and every kind of nut tree. Animal husbadry is also a prevalent pastime and we shared the road with goats, cows. water buffalos, sheep horses and donkeys.
As we moved futher east the country became rather arid and desolate and very very hot.
The roads seem in a constant state of repair and the going was quite tough. The drivers are reckless and love their hooters, but generally folk are freindly and generous and I was often treated to a pear or an apple along the way. Cars are 90% the Russian made Ladas and they are used as bakkies- often loaded to the roof with melons, cabbages, lucerne - even sheep.
The approach to Baku is horrible.
Dry, dusty and dangerous and the last 20km we rode in a convoy. We are staying in an very ropey hotel far from the city centre- an aging, delapidated soviet' gem' Trash blows around continuously and I am so pleased that Louise and I made the effort to visit the Old City which is gracious, and elegant and being well restored ( partially I understand by UNESCO as it is a World Heritage site. ) So Baku did live have its heyday , and it was an important port along the Silk Route.
We hope to leave on a ferry tomorrow - but it seems that in this part of the world - even reservations do not secure your passage - and the ferry goes only when it is full. If there are storms at sea it is cancelled for days/
So we may have more days yet to enjoy Baku!
The week off the bike--
Give me my bike anyday in preference to busses - especially on Turkish or Azerbaijani roads!
I apologise for the rather long delay in news but we have survived a trying and exhausting week and have just traversed Azerbaijan and are in the steamy, rather grubby city of Baku on the Caspian sea.
After hoping anxiously that we may have the chance to bike across Georgia - it became obvious that it was not to be. The entire party complete with bikes and huge bags were bundled onto a small, rickety bus- and we headed south to Ankara. It was a 20 hour journey and to say that it was uncomfortable is a massive euphemism. The only good part was that it was like seeing the country again on' fast forward' and thereby make a more lasting impression.
We arrived exhausted and filthy at 1.00 am and fell into bed in a rather comfortable Ankara Hotel.
A days respite - and then the dismantling and re- packing of bikes into boxes and the chucking out of anything vaguely redundant, as we were then to board a plane and fly- via Istanbul to Baku. Shuttling of goods and people in a small van followed , and then lots of waiting to catch the 'red eye' to Baku.
Our arrival in Baku was unpleasant and unceremonious. We arrived at 4.30am/
A mob of drunken Georgians made immigration and customs more unpleasant than usual and for reasons quite beyond me - my visa was not recognised. So out with the cash and the docile attitude and I finally emerged a legal visitor.
The sun was just rising as we boarded yet another bus and as we drove through a sleepy Baku - the first impression was of a smelly garbage strewn, grey disorderly city cloaked in a grey mist of pollution. And all around, the small oil pumps moving in apparant perpetual motion.
In a semi coma - we were driven to the most westerly town in Azerbaijan - Saki- where we were to resume riding, and so get back on track.
Anything to just get off the bumpy bus struggling through road constructions and battling up steep inclines.
But there was a point of wonder. I was shaken awake at one point and under my nose was stuck a small basin of freshly picked, glistening blackberries. Our kind local contact had taken pity on his load of exhausted, hot hungry Westeners and stopped aloing the side of the road and purchased the blackberries form locals who earn a bit of extra cash picking the berries which grow in profusion along the side of the road. I enjoyed every juicy mpothful- andmomentarily forgave the fact that on my Harmony in Knysan - blacxkberries are noxious weeds which I spend time and money sparaying with herbicide!
I apologise for the rather long delay in news but we have survived a trying and exhausting week and have just traversed Azerbaijan and are in the steamy, rather grubby city of Baku on the Caspian sea.
After hoping anxiously that we may have the chance to bike across Georgia - it became obvious that it was not to be. The entire party complete with bikes and huge bags were bundled onto a small, rickety bus- and we headed south to Ankara. It was a 20 hour journey and to say that it was uncomfortable is a massive euphemism. The only good part was that it was like seeing the country again on' fast forward' and thereby make a more lasting impression.
We arrived exhausted and filthy at 1.00 am and fell into bed in a rather comfortable Ankara Hotel.
A days respite - and then the dismantling and re- packing of bikes into boxes and the chucking out of anything vaguely redundant, as we were then to board a plane and fly- via Istanbul to Baku. Shuttling of goods and people in a small van followed , and then lots of waiting to catch the 'red eye' to Baku.
Our arrival in Baku was unpleasant and unceremonious. We arrived at 4.30am/
A mob of drunken Georgians made immigration and customs more unpleasant than usual and for reasons quite beyond me - my visa was not recognised. So out with the cash and the docile attitude and I finally emerged a legal visitor.
The sun was just rising as we boarded yet another bus and as we drove through a sleepy Baku - the first impression was of a smelly garbage strewn, grey disorderly city cloaked in a grey mist of pollution. And all around, the small oil pumps moving in apparant perpetual motion.
In a semi coma - we were driven to the most westerly town in Azerbaijan - Saki- where we were to resume riding, and so get back on track.
Anything to just get off the bumpy bus struggling through road constructions and battling up steep inclines.
But there was a point of wonder. I was shaken awake at one point and under my nose was stuck a small basin of freshly picked, glistening blackberries. Our kind local contact had taken pity on his load of exhausted, hot hungry Westeners and stopped aloing the side of the road and purchased the blackberries form locals who earn a bit of extra cash picking the berries which grow in profusion along the side of the road. I enjoyed every juicy mpothful- andmomentarily forgave the fact that on my Harmony in Knysan - blacxkberries are noxious weeds which I spend time and money sparaying with herbicide!
Thursday, August 14, 2008
In my next lıfe.......
In my next lıfe - I am defınately coming back as a Turkısh male!
They lead a lıfe to be envıed. As we have been traversıng the Turkish country sıde - ıt ıs obvıous that the males take the limelight, and as a result seem confıdent, relaxed and frıendly .
In the course of a day - the male Turk wıll-
1. Drınk tea wıth hıs mates about 10 tımes
2. Play back gammon at a corner cafe, sıttıng on the stoep watchıng the world go by.
3. Fıll the ıntervenıng tıme chattıng on a cell phone
4. Eat grılled meat - usually done outsıde and ın the presence of more frıends - male only - so no need to restrıct topıcs of conversatıon. ( Turks may rıval South Afrıcan as the Braaı kıngs of the world - grıllıng meat ıs a natıonal pastıme and forms the basıs of thıer cuısıne)
5. Pıously pray 5 tımes a day to redeem all other daıly actıons
6. Return home at hıs leısure to the good wıfe or wıves and have a tasty evenıng meal ready on the table.
7. Never have to worry about hıs wıves strayıng out of wedlock - they never even have a chance to speak to other males - let alone flirt.
8. Go to bed wıth a clear concıence knowıng that he has been a good Muslım and adhered to the 5 pıllars of Islam.
What a lıfe !!!
They lead a lıfe to be envıed. As we have been traversıng the Turkish country sıde - ıt ıs obvıous that the males take the limelight, and as a result seem confıdent, relaxed and frıendly .
In the course of a day - the male Turk wıll-
1. Drınk tea wıth hıs mates about 10 tımes
2. Play back gammon at a corner cafe, sıttıng on the stoep watchıng the world go by.
3. Fıll the ıntervenıng tıme chattıng on a cell phone
4. Eat grılled meat - usually done outsıde and ın the presence of more frıends - male only - so no need to restrıct topıcs of conversatıon. ( Turks may rıval South Afrıcan as the Braaı kıngs of the world - grıllıng meat ıs a natıonal pastıme and forms the basıs of thıer cuısıne)
5. Pıously pray 5 tımes a day to redeem all other daıly actıons
6. Return home at hıs leısure to the good wıfe or wıves and have a tasty evenıng meal ready on the table.
7. Never have to worry about hıs wıves strayıng out of wedlock - they never even have a chance to speak to other males - let alone flirt.
8. Go to bed wıth a clear concıence knowıng that he has been a good Muslım and adhered to the 5 pıllars of Islam.
What a lıfe !!!
Monday, August 11, 2008
In limbo in Ani
Today I stood on a triangular windswept plateau and gazed across a deep gorge along the edge of which ran an ugly,vicious looking, towering barbed- wire fence. On the other side lay Armenia marked by two massive, sombre- grey manned sentry posts. I was standing in Ani, once a thriving city of 100,000 people and the capital of Armenia; now a rather vacant meloncholy set of ruins.
Armenia and Turkey have a long and painful history of conflict and to date there is no open border beween them. However, Ani has the remains some of the most amazingly beautiful ecclesiastical and military architecture of its time, but up until about 10 years ago it was a "no go" area, traversed only by military personel. Turkey has not been too interested in the ruins of its age old enemy- no matter how archeologically unique- but tourism is starting to change this. The Seljuk Palace has been meticulously rebuilt. It is the only indesputably Islamic building at Ani and is therefore an example of "ultranationalistic archeology"
I spent a wonderful few hours here gazing in wonder at the fine stone work, and detailed frescos and stone carving adorning the remains of churches, cathedrals, and also mosques, as this ancient city, established in 961 AD, has been resident to Armenians, Byzantines, Seljuks and other clans. At one point Ani even rivalled Baghdad and Constantinople, and it was a major trading point of the Silk Route The Mongols raided in the 13th century, causing great damage and then a major earthquake in 1319 struck the final blow.
The remains of the Kale or castle is perched at the highest point and there flies a massive Turkish flag - just to remind the Armenians who is in control..
I walked slowly back to the bus, quite moved by the magnificence of buildings, some constucted one thousand years ago, and how hostilities between nations have resulted in their neglect. I also paused to think of the bloodshed and violence erupting a mere 200km to the north in Georgia. I understand that 2000 folk have been killed and refugees trying to get back to Russia are the worst hit- and I find it very difficult to understand the real reasons for this new unleashing of military force. And life here in Northern Turkey is totally unperturbed.
So we head off on a 14 hour bus trip to Ankara tomorrow. It feels very odd not to be mounting my bike.
Pictures of Ani to follow soon
PS My jamfam@telkomsa.net email address seems to be having problems.
I can be contacted via blog or at jonoloza@yahoo.com
Thanks to you all who send comments on the blog - will try to answer soon. May have time on my hands in Ankara.
Stay well and take care in this crazy world.
Armenia and Turkey have a long and painful history of conflict and to date there is no open border beween them. However, Ani has the remains some of the most amazingly beautiful ecclesiastical and military architecture of its time, but up until about 10 years ago it was a "no go" area, traversed only by military personel. Turkey has not been too interested in the ruins of its age old enemy- no matter how archeologically unique- but tourism is starting to change this. The Seljuk Palace has been meticulously rebuilt. It is the only indesputably Islamic building at Ani and is therefore an example of "ultranationalistic archeology"
I spent a wonderful few hours here gazing in wonder at the fine stone work, and detailed frescos and stone carving adorning the remains of churches, cathedrals, and also mosques, as this ancient city, established in 961 AD, has been resident to Armenians, Byzantines, Seljuks and other clans. At one point Ani even rivalled Baghdad and Constantinople, and it was a major trading point of the Silk Route The Mongols raided in the 13th century, causing great damage and then a major earthquake in 1319 struck the final blow.
The remains of the Kale or castle is perched at the highest point and there flies a massive Turkish flag - just to remind the Armenians who is in control..
I walked slowly back to the bus, quite moved by the magnificence of buildings, some constucted one thousand years ago, and how hostilities between nations have resulted in their neglect. I also paused to think of the bloodshed and violence erupting a mere 200km to the north in Georgia. I understand that 2000 folk have been killed and refugees trying to get back to Russia are the worst hit- and I find it very difficult to understand the real reasons for this new unleashing of military force. And life here in Northern Turkey is totally unperturbed.
So we head off on a 14 hour bus trip to Ankara tomorrow. It feels very odd not to be mounting my bike.
Pictures of Ani to follow soon
PS My jamfam@telkomsa.net email address seems to be having problems.
I can be contacted via blog or at jonoloza@yahoo.com
Thanks to you all who send comments on the blog - will try to answer soon. May have time on my hands in Ankara.
Stay well and take care in this crazy world.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Back tracking.......
Modern communication can be a blessing - and a curse - but also a necessary tool .
While I am on cycling expeditions I rather revel in being on the fringe ofthe world- choosing to be immersed in the very here and now, and allowing the woes of the world to pass me by.
So - while we were hurtling on into North eastern Turkey, marvelling at the change of countryside to that of a pastoral people, admiring age old farming traditions -just a few hundred kilometres north of us, an old political grudge was flaring up into ugly open war fare. South Ossetia which is part of Georgia- somewhat reluctantly, was being subjected to the rumble of Russian tanks, and bombings in retaliation for an act of aggression by Georgia - the shooting down of 2 Russian Fighter jets. I am sure it has hit your papers and all the major players are now getting into the fray.
It seems that the situation is rapidly deteriorating to a point where a bunch of 16 cyclists would not be allowed passage through, or would be in possible grave danger from escalating violence. Refugees are also said to be pouring into Turkey and being on an adventure expedition amidst their anguish seems horribly wrong.
So - we are off on a new adventure. We made a south easterly turn and are now in Kars waiting to catch a bus to Ankara from where we will fly to Baku in Aberbijan - and hopefully continue from there. The truck will attempt to get to Turkmenistan via Iran, and after crossing the Caspian Sea - we will rendezvous. The logostics are a nightmare and the boss man from Tour dAfrique - Henry Gold- is flying out to assist. Travel insurance seems destined not to fork out for the new airfare and our bags and bikes will be overwight but we are determined to remain bouyant!
In a moment of reflection - it struck me that this is the second time in my life when a planned overland trip has been truncated by political upheaval. Pete and I in 1978 were stopped short at the Nicaraguan border on route to South America- and we had to do some really underhand moves to get back through Mexico. It seems that we dont learn from history.
But there are a few bonuses. Tomorrow sees us on an excursion to some ancient Armenian acheological sites, we will get to experience more of Turkey - and tonight I am sleeping in a bed!
While I am on cycling expeditions I rather revel in being on the fringe ofthe world- choosing to be immersed in the very here and now, and allowing the woes of the world to pass me by.
So - while we were hurtling on into North eastern Turkey, marvelling at the change of countryside to that of a pastoral people, admiring age old farming traditions -just a few hundred kilometres north of us, an old political grudge was flaring up into ugly open war fare. South Ossetia which is part of Georgia- somewhat reluctantly, was being subjected to the rumble of Russian tanks, and bombings in retaliation for an act of aggression by Georgia - the shooting down of 2 Russian Fighter jets. I am sure it has hit your papers and all the major players are now getting into the fray.
It seems that the situation is rapidly deteriorating to a point where a bunch of 16 cyclists would not be allowed passage through, or would be in possible grave danger from escalating violence. Refugees are also said to be pouring into Turkey and being on an adventure expedition amidst their anguish seems horribly wrong.
So - we are off on a new adventure. We made a south easterly turn and are now in Kars waiting to catch a bus to Ankara from where we will fly to Baku in Aberbijan - and hopefully continue from there. The truck will attempt to get to Turkmenistan via Iran, and after crossing the Caspian Sea - we will rendezvous. The logostics are a nightmare and the boss man from Tour dAfrique - Henry Gold- is flying out to assist. Travel insurance seems destined not to fork out for the new airfare and our bags and bikes will be overwight but we are determined to remain bouyant!
In a moment of reflection - it struck me that this is the second time in my life when a planned overland trip has been truncated by political upheaval. Pete and I in 1978 were stopped short at the Nicaraguan border on route to South America- and we had to do some really underhand moves to get back through Mexico. It seems that we dont learn from history.
But there are a few bonuses. Tomorrow sees us on an excursion to some ancient Armenian acheological sites, we will get to experience more of Turkey - and tonight I am sleeping in a bed!
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Backroad delights and other things
The last few days have found us very relieved to be off the main truck drags and onto little used country roads where my old Chariot of Fire Mountain bike really comes into its own.
Eastern Turkey feels much more desolate, poorer, more conservative but has the towering mountains, wide open spaces and big sky which delights my soul.
Along with increasing poverty comes a few negatives- folk begging from these strange white folk on bikes who just by virtue of being there must be very affluent. It is an experience I have had in any emerging country and when it is woman and children who are stretching out their hands - it saddens and discomforts me, and leaves me with a feeling of helplessness to reach a solution.
At a lunch stop we were approached by a young friendly man whose manner was a little disquieting - but I presumed it was just my being sensitive. His wife and a bunch of scraggly kids hovered in the background and on their departure- to our dismay, we discovered that Theresa- our driver- had her bag stolen from the seat of the van. Disaster as it contained money cards passorts and all those difficult to replace travel items. The police proved to be efficient and sympathetic but on showing them photos of the young man - they immediately identified him as a gypsy. " A good Turk would never do such a thing" they exclaimed.
But my moments of wonder continue. I have discovered White Mulberries which the locals dry to make a delightful snack. Beehives abound all over the countryside - and are ofcourse very necessary to supply enough of the golden stuff to drench all those Baclava. Breakfast also usually comes with a saucer of honey and piles of fresh crusty bread with which to mop it up.
Apricots also lie drying in the sun as the farmers harvest walnuts and almonds, apples and pears.
We have a bunch of very dedicated cyclists and although many days have been long and hard- only one rider so far has not completed the distance.
The oldest guy is a wonderful ornithologist Dutchman called Joost and he and I spend a lot otf time riding together as he is slow but very dogged and determined and amazing. Needless to say - I am the oldest woman.
We are at present on a well deserved rest day in an ancient town called Yusufeli which is situated deep in a valley where the river Coruh hurtles through. It is a stop off point for backpackers who wish to river raft. Only a few more days in Turkey until we cross the border to Georgia.
I think that communications may taper off a bit from here on - but please keep the comments rolling and I will reply as I can. I love the idea that I am able to share with you a little in all these wonderful thoughts and experiences.
Medically - so far so good...... ( that is apart from my old arthritic hip! Luckily no problem on a bike)
Eastern Turkey feels much more desolate, poorer, more conservative but has the towering mountains, wide open spaces and big sky which delights my soul.
Along with increasing poverty comes a few negatives- folk begging from these strange white folk on bikes who just by virtue of being there must be very affluent. It is an experience I have had in any emerging country and when it is woman and children who are stretching out their hands - it saddens and discomforts me, and leaves me with a feeling of helplessness to reach a solution.
At a lunch stop we were approached by a young friendly man whose manner was a little disquieting - but I presumed it was just my being sensitive. His wife and a bunch of scraggly kids hovered in the background and on their departure- to our dismay, we discovered that Theresa- our driver- had her bag stolen from the seat of the van. Disaster as it contained money cards passorts and all those difficult to replace travel items. The police proved to be efficient and sympathetic but on showing them photos of the young man - they immediately identified him as a gypsy. " A good Turk would never do such a thing" they exclaimed.
But my moments of wonder continue. I have discovered White Mulberries which the locals dry to make a delightful snack. Beehives abound all over the countryside - and are ofcourse very necessary to supply enough of the golden stuff to drench all those Baclava. Breakfast also usually comes with a saucer of honey and piles of fresh crusty bread with which to mop it up.
Apricots also lie drying in the sun as the farmers harvest walnuts and almonds, apples and pears.
We have a bunch of very dedicated cyclists and although many days have been long and hard- only one rider so far has not completed the distance.
The oldest guy is a wonderful ornithologist Dutchman called Joost and he and I spend a lot otf time riding together as he is slow but very dogged and determined and amazing. Needless to say - I am the oldest woman.
We are at present on a well deserved rest day in an ancient town called Yusufeli which is situated deep in a valley where the river Coruh hurtles through. It is a stop off point for backpackers who wish to river raft. Only a few more days in Turkey until we cross the border to Georgia.
I think that communications may taper off a bit from here on - but please keep the comments rolling and I will reply as I can. I love the idea that I am able to share with you a little in all these wonderful thoughts and experiences.
Medically - so far so good...... ( that is apart from my old arthritic hip! Luckily no problem on a bike)
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Travel Haiku
DUBAI AIRPORT
Moving mass of man
Money units- then divides
As we fly to dreams
ISTANBUL
Layers of history
Shimmer off ancient waters
As God gazes down
RURAL CYCLING
Wheels revolve,
thoughts spin.
Natures bounty rises up
Gratitude unfurls
Moving mass of man
Money units- then divides
As we fly to dreams
ISTANBUL
Layers of history
Shimmer off ancient waters
As God gazes down
RURAL CYCLING
Wheels revolve,
thoughts spin.
Natures bounty rises up
Gratitude unfurls
A day in rural Turkey
The road wound easily along a rapidly flowing river which in parts was being harnessed for hydroelectic power and also irrigation. Conifer covered hills rose loftily skywards. I sped down, wind whipping at my smiling face.
I was riding sweep - so plenty of time for educational stops. I could get used to this easy style of cycling.
Densely green leafy trees with a hard green fruit caught my eye. I plucked one, scraped off the hard green covering - and a perfect walnut was revealed!
I stopped on a bridge. Below me were 4 men using very large throw nets - to net trout - a practice I learned later is illegal.
I noticed a family with three beautiful, brightly clad women plucking plants in a field. I scrambled down to find that they were picking a yellow and dark red flower which, with smiles and sign language I was told, was an edible item. Memorising the Turkish word they used - I was able to confirm later that it was Okra- the very young and highly prized variety.
To the left a man hewing grave stones with the crescent moon in place of a cross; to the right tobacco drying on racks in the sun.
I came to a "Tomato stop" Truck after truck, carts and trailers, groaning under the weight of blood red, plump tomatoes, skins stretched tight over juicy innards. The road was almost awash with tomato pulp.
Fruit stalls beckon. The peaches are bigger than fist size and honeyed juice pours out at the first bite
Families eeking out a living selling home made brooms, clay pots, the inevitable tea, but all done with a smile and a friendly greeting.
Right here and now - all feels right with the world.
I was riding sweep - so plenty of time for educational stops. I could get used to this easy style of cycling.
Densely green leafy trees with a hard green fruit caught my eye. I plucked one, scraped off the hard green covering - and a perfect walnut was revealed!
I stopped on a bridge. Below me were 4 men using very large throw nets - to net trout - a practice I learned later is illegal.
I noticed a family with three beautiful, brightly clad women plucking plants in a field. I scrambled down to find that they were picking a yellow and dark red flower which, with smiles and sign language I was told, was an edible item. Memorising the Turkish word they used - I was able to confirm later that it was Okra- the very young and highly prized variety.
To the left a man hewing grave stones with the crescent moon in place of a cross; to the right tobacco drying on racks in the sun.
I came to a "Tomato stop" Truck after truck, carts and trailers, groaning under the weight of blood red, plump tomatoes, skins stretched tight over juicy innards. The road was almost awash with tomato pulp.
Fruit stalls beckon. The peaches are bigger than fist size and honeyed juice pours out at the first bite
Families eeking out a living selling home made brooms, clay pots, the inevitable tea, but all done with a smile and a friendly greeting.
Right here and now - all feels right with the world.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Scrubbed clean ın Amaysha
A rest day ıs also a clean up day and ı am cleaner now than I wıll ever be agaın ın my lıfe! We are ın a wonderful town called Amasya where the layers of hıstory abound ın graceful elegance.
We decıded that we needed to experıence the local custom of the hammanı - the Turkısh baths and how amazıng ıt was. It was a fırst for me but the Kumancık Mammanı we went to has been around sınce the 1400's. It ıs a rıtual whıch I now realıse ıs all ımportant to the maıntaınance of good mental health for the Turks. The procedure ıs that men and women are allocated separate tımes durıng the day. One enters- strıps completely and then enters the bath house whıch ıs hıgh domed and marble lıned. A thorough dousıng wıth water follows and then there ıs a sessıon ın the sauna where sweat flows freely. Then ıt ıs face down on the marble slab and a lady clad only ın underwear rubs you wıth a rough mıtt untıl the skın lıterally peels off ın dırty layers. Buckets of cold water over the head feel lıke shock therapy and then there ıs a short respıte outsde the steamy bath hall ın a cooler temperature. Thıs prepares you for the soapy massage all over- every ınch of the body. Achıng muscles are pummelled and kneaded and any groans of agony are totally ıgnored. Feelıng completly draıned but extraordınarıly mellow- the process ıs completed wıth a haır wash. Thıs epısode took about 3 hours - but there were four of us somewhat gıggly ladıes and only one stong armed masseuse. The grand fınale ıs copıoıus tea under the dappled shade of a grape vıne. Blıss!!
But on a more serıous reflectıon - I can only ımagıne that for the average Muslım woman - a vısıt to the baths must gıve such a sense of freedom and lıberatıon ın theır usually clossetted and guarded lıves- a tıme to sıt back- be nutured- be naked- and be ın the company of other woman enjoyıng the same prıvıleges.
I can only be thankful that I have enjoyed much greater freedom ın my lıfe but to spend tıme here ıs ındeed an educatıon and a humblıng experıence and one that has engendered a much greater respect for the lıves of my Muslım sısters.
I also had the opportunıty of enterıng an enormous mosque - barefoot and head covered and I felt rather lıke a trespasser-but the men prayıng and medıtatıng were totally oblıvıous to my presence. The muezın was then called and from every corner of the town men approached- washed theır feet and submıtted theır thoughts to Allah. And thıs ıs how ıt has been for centurıes. I am overwhelmed by the constancy of thıs relıgıon.
Tomorrow back on the bıke for 134 km as we head towards Georgıa.
Thanks for comments and encouragement. I love hearıng from you. Check out the web sıte for Tour dAfrıque - www.tourdafrique.com there are some great photos. I wıll send some more of mıne when computer facılıtıes allow.
We decıded that we needed to experıence the local custom of the hammanı - the Turkısh baths and how amazıng ıt was. It was a fırst for me but the Kumancık Mammanı we went to has been around sınce the 1400's. It ıs a rıtual whıch I now realıse ıs all ımportant to the maıntaınance of good mental health for the Turks. The procedure ıs that men and women are allocated separate tımes durıng the day. One enters- strıps completely and then enters the bath house whıch ıs hıgh domed and marble lıned. A thorough dousıng wıth water follows and then there ıs a sessıon ın the sauna where sweat flows freely. Then ıt ıs face down on the marble slab and a lady clad only ın underwear rubs you wıth a rough mıtt untıl the skın lıterally peels off ın dırty layers. Buckets of cold water over the head feel lıke shock therapy and then there ıs a short respıte outsde the steamy bath hall ın a cooler temperature. Thıs prepares you for the soapy massage all over- every ınch of the body. Achıng muscles are pummelled and kneaded and any groans of agony are totally ıgnored. Feelıng completly draıned but extraordınarıly mellow- the process ıs completed wıth a haır wash. Thıs epısode took about 3 hours - but there were four of us somewhat gıggly ladıes and only one stong armed masseuse. The grand fınale ıs copıoıus tea under the dappled shade of a grape vıne. Blıss!!
But on a more serıous reflectıon - I can only ımagıne that for the average Muslım woman - a vısıt to the baths must gıve such a sense of freedom and lıberatıon ın theır usually clossetted and guarded lıves- a tıme to sıt back- be nutured- be naked- and be ın the company of other woman enjoyıng the same prıvıleges.
I can only be thankful that I have enjoyed much greater freedom ın my lıfe but to spend tıme here ıs ındeed an educatıon and a humblıng experıence and one that has engendered a much greater respect for the lıves of my Muslım sısters.
I also had the opportunıty of enterıng an enormous mosque - barefoot and head covered and I felt rather lıke a trespasser-but the men prayıng and medıtatıng were totally oblıvıous to my presence. The muezın was then called and from every corner of the town men approached- washed theır feet and submıtted theır thoughts to Allah. And thıs ıs how ıt has been for centurıes. I am overwhelmed by the constancy of thıs relıgıon.
Tomorrow back on the bıke for 134 km as we head towards Georgıa.
Thanks for comments and encouragement. I love hearıng from you. Check out the web sıte for Tour dAfrıque - www.tourdafrique.com there are some great photos. I wıll send some more of mıne when computer facılıtıes allow.
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