Cesme
On Tuesday 1 .April we celebrated our 36th wedding anniversary by getting up at the crack of a very chilly dawn and heading out of the charming, rural harbour at Sigacik. Our aim was to travel 36 miles up the coast to the small resort town of Cesme (pronounced Cheshmeh) where we were told that there were many good restaurants and a safe harbour.


There was very little wind and, once the sun came up, it proved to be quite a comfortable day. Just as we had settled into the cruising routine (whingeing about the cold, drinking tea and playing spot the boat - there weren't many about that morning) suddenly a massive boy toy type of powerboat appeared about 10 metres away (great lookouts aren't we?). A second nervous glance showed it to be a coastguard with about 10 armed men all sitting in the warmth of the wheelhouse. They were shouting something totally incomprehensible at us on the loudspeakers. Oh shit, what have we done now!

Rob just shrugged his shoulders at them and shouted 'eengeeleeshez'! They then pulled dangerously alongside and, after much shuffling and muttering a handsome young officer in full camouflage gear popped out of the door, leaned over the rail and shouted 'Dangerous after five' then, after a polite nod and wave from Gina, shot off into the distance amid a cloud of spray and engine roar . The boat then followed him a couple of minutes later (no not really!).

Rob, who is getting a touch deaf (they always said he would), looked at Gina 'What the feck was all that about'. She smiled sweetly and said 'I think they have something happening after five o clock this evening'. It was currently seven thirty in the morning so what the hell were they doing scaring the shits out of innocent yotties nine and a half hours before the event!!


The rest of the journey was uneventful except for a blocked fuel filter caused by a recurrence of the diesel bug. However, Rob has found a new remedy for fuel bacteria. It has the unlikely name of Grotamar 71 and will hopefully, finally kill off all traces of the malevolent little sods.


We arrived in Cesme in the late lunchtime and were called over by a marinero who helped us tie up, plug in electricity etc . Rob trotted over to the office where he was told that the charges were 31lira (£13.00) a night but after 8 nights the rest of the month was free. There are no showers and the toilets are very basic. However, as we will be staying for a while in order to visit the Gallipoli peninsula, we are happy with this.


Apparently, next year, the British marina firm Camper and Nicholson are taking over the management here. In anticipation of this a number of chandleries and yacht service agents etc are opening up around the harbour. Let's hope they don't charge UK prices.

  Cesme is a small/medium sized resort about 90kms from Izmir (3rd largest city in Turkey). It features a large 16th century castle and some delightful restaurants.

  We chose one of these for our anniversary dinner, the Penguen (Turkish Penguin) Restaurant, it is on the seafront, has lovely views over the harbour and across to the island of Khios . The food was excellent, the best we have had since Lagos, and although a tad pricy (£40 for the two of us including a surprisingly good bottle of Turkish wine but our son was paying so what the heck) it was good value for money.


The next day we made the arrangements to head for Canakkale over the weekend in order to see Troy and Gallipoli. On our return, after doing some essential maintenance jobs on the boat, we decided to have a look at the castle. It is not that large but has about 4 small museums in its grounds. One of them commemorates the 1770 naval encounter nearby, where a Russian fleet along with a British squadron gave the Ottoman fleet a sound gubbing.


The castle is in the process of rapid expansion as a museum. One of the staff nodded at one of the buildings and said 'Last week this was soldiers sleeping place, next week new museum!'


The walk around the precipitous castle walls is not to be missed . The views across the town and sea are well worth the effort, even if the safety rails are a little bit dubious.


For the yottin' types amongst you there is a Brit/Pub/Bar called the No Problem Bar which has cheap beer, entertaining company (the owner is Turkish but has excellent English) and, most importantly, a substantial book swap library.


Canakkale (pronounced Chanackerleh)
On Thursday we caught the Metro bus to travel the 400+km to Canakkale where we would base ourselves to visit Troy and Gallipoli. We used the Metro bus company as they were the only one open in Cesme. The buses for the outward journey were OK but the seats were an arse-ache and the buses stopped whenever they were hailed. This is OK if you are travelling to the local supermarket but not so good on a 400km long haul. It also stopped once for fuel and again for a 50 minute meal break . Then, suddenly, the driver realised that he was running late, forgot to drop off a very irate woman at the correct place and hauled her further 50kms before she could escape. He then proceeded to have a ten minute row with her outside the bus. When he got back aboard he knew he was now outrageously late and started to drive as if all the fiends of hell, or even Anne Robinson, were after him.


We arrived at Canakkale harbour just as a ferry was leaving. The bus shot through the closing gates of the dock and was, thank goodness, halted by the harbour police before it boarded the ferry. We leapt off of the bus, grabbed our luggage and legged it into town. As we were passing the bus we realised why the driver was in such a hurry. The sign on the front had changed from' Canakkale' to 'Istanbul'. He needed to catch that ferry in order to be on time to become the next service to Istanbul. By the way, he did get the ferry - don't ya love a happy ending!


On arrival we hopped into Hassle Free Tours (recommended by The Rough Guide) and booked a tour of Troy and Gallipoli for the next day . Then, with relief, we headed to our hotel - The Kervansaray. It is an old Ottoman, family run, hotel right in the centre of town. Although furnished and decorated in traditional dark wood with deep rich red carpets and curtains it still has all the modern conveniences including multi weird channel TV and Wireless internet. The family who own it manage it with a charm and friendliness that is both endearing and effective. All this for €50.00 per night for a room and breakfast.


Canakkale is a bustling ferry port, a mix of commerce and tourism. The restaurants range from: basic eating houses with a host of multi coloured stews and casseroles bubbling away spicily in the display counters, to Turkish fast food cafes with their various kebabs and the unique Pides - elongated Turkish Pizzas, and modern, stylish restaurants offering a mix of up market Turkish dishes and the dreaded 'International Menu'. We can safely say that we tried them all (different types - not restaurants, there were hundreds) and found none of them wanting in flavour, hospitality or value for money .


Troy.
On Friday at 08.30 we arrived at Hassle Free Tours for our trip to Troy. After piling onto the minibus with a gaggle of Australians of all ages we set off. By the time we got half way to Troy we realised that we were amongst a bunch of like-minded, adventurous and gregarious souls. Most were doing 3 to 6 month trips to Europe and were travelling to some of the less well known parts such as Romania, Sicily, Calabria, Hungary, and Siros, Poland. These characters were not your standard tourists at all. They ranged from young twenty-somethings to ageing gnarled characters as old as ourselves. By the time we got back to Canakkale, via Gallipoli, that evening we knew an awful lot about one another and the various places we had visited in our travels.


Oh yes, Troy was rather good as well. The Rough Guide says not to have high expectations of the Troy site and you may be pleasantly surprised . The entrance to the site is dominated by the inevitable large wooden horse which the more immature can climb aboard if they wish. Gina was up there like a ferret up a drainpipe, along with most of the Aussies.


Although the rain was absolutely bucketing down, we had an enjoyable trip with our guide, Mustapha, who actually wrote the guide books for both Troy and Gallipoli. He had a wry sense of humour and an intense, if slightly illogical, dislike of the German, Hans Schliemann, who discovered the site and proved it was Troy. There were actually 9 Troys layered on top of one another and the ruins can be a touch confusing as a result. However, Mustafa made it all plain as day and many of us bought his Troy guide in order to get it signed by him. Without a guide the site would be pretty meaningless. Only about 10% of the area has been excavated and many of the best bits of archaeology were allegedly taken, by the 'evil' Schliemann, back to Germany where they were 'found', after the war, by the Russians who now absolutely deny that they have them . This is despite the fact that they are displayed in Russian museums. Greece, Turkey, Germany and others are taking all sorts of legal action to get them back. One day, when Troy is fully excavated and the Russian bits have been brought back, it will be a great place to visit.


A Brief Diversion
We got back to Canakkale at about 11.30 and had a wait for the ferry to take us to the Gallipoli peninsula. Also waiting on the quay were two 'battle buses' for a Turkish political party rally. The kind of rally where the cars have seven wheels the cars have no throttle, multi braking systems and a committee of drivers with white sticks (not really - drifting into fantasy land again).


It was a very noisy event with martial music, some Turkish pop music played at maximum distortion and then lots of people ambling around in groups wearing massive white and orange scarves (oh no, not an orange parade again!) . One of the Aussies wanted a scarf so joined the queue for the rally trying looking Turkish and political, was promptly issued with party neckwear and came back just in time to hop on the ferry to escape with his trophy.


Gallipoli.
On arrival at the Gallipoli peninsula we shed a few Aussies, who headed for Istanbul, and gained a few more who were doing Gallipoli and then heading the other way. We had an enjoyable lunch, provided by 'Hassle Free Tours' (this blog seems to be turning into a tourist brochure on behalf of the Greater Canakkale Appreciation Society but every word is true and, sadly, we were not paid a penny).


On crossing the peninsula to Anzac Bay our guide, Murat, explained that, on April 25th 1915, thousands of Aussie and Kiwi troops landed on a stretch of beach that would have difficulty accommodating a medium sized coachload . They were met by a small number of ill-equipped Turkish troops who held them in check until reinforcements arrived. Over the next 8 months around half a million British, Australian, New Zealand, Indian, Nepalese, Senegalese, French and Turkish troops were slaughtered. From this point on the vaguely party like atmosphere disappeared from our group.


We visited the trenches where the combatants, sometimes only 8 metres apart, lived and died. Frequently, in the quieter periods, the ANZACs would exchange milk powder with the Turkish troops who, in turn would supply them with Turkish tobacco. They would hear one another singing songs and join in. Then, when ordered, would proceed to kill and maim each other time and time again.


The ANZAC graveyards were beautifully kept. This was Spring and the flowers bloomed, almost ironically, in these very sad places. However, our everlasting memories will be of the poignant messages on the headstones. They were sent by the families back in New Zealand, Australia and the UK. As we read them we could imagine the widows, mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters composing them and sending them faithfully back to Turkey to be inscribed. Most of the families will never have seen their inscriptions but, take it from me, their messages are very effective in showing how loved these lads, some as young as 14, were.


The Turkish graveyards were also beautifully kept but were certainly not places of great sorrow. While we were there they were filled with busloads of Turkish school kids who were enjoying a day out. Some of them not much younger than some of the warriors who died here. These memorials to the fallen were filled with the noises of teenagers chatting, gossiping and generally enjoying themselves. One could not help but feel that in 1915 the young soldiers would not have been much different and, if they could see the crowds, would probably feel very at home here.


We really enjoyed, if that is the correct word, this trip and would thoroughly recommend it to anyone coming to Turkey. I will not dwell on it further, other than to leave you with the words of Mustapha Kemal Ataturk who was a Colonel in the Turkish Army at Gallipoli and later became the founder of modern Turkey. In 1934 he said of the dead Allied soldiers:-

'Those heroes who shed their blood
and lost their lives,
you are now lying in the soil of a friendly country.
Therefore, rest in peace.
There is no difference between the Johnnies
and the Mehmets to us,
where they lie side by side here in this country of ours.
You, the mothers
who sent their sons from far away countries,
wipe away your tears,
your sons are now lying in our bosom
and are at peace.
After having lost their lives on this land,
they have become our sons as well.'


Cesme Again
We left Canakkale at 13.30 on Sunday morning. We were ushered to our 'Metro' bus and on boarding realised that this was a totally different class of coach. It was very comfortable, not as luxurious as the bus we had taken to Istanbul, but a pleasant surprise nonetheless. Like all Turkish bus services one is given drinks (non-alcoholic) and the odd cake or two from time to time. The journey passed very quickly and at 19.00 hours we arrived in Izmir where we had to find a local service to get us to Cesme or find a hotel until the next day.


We got the local commuter bus which we caught with 10 minutes to spare. It was an older bus but comfy enough and was absolutely packed by the time we left Izmir. Even so, the steward came round with little bottles of water for everyone and then came back again and squirted our hands with some refreshing hand cream. London Transport could learn a thing or two from these Turks.


We arrived in Cesme at about 21.15 and, after a quick pizza, piled into the cosy cabin of Tiercel and were rapidly asleep.


We have decided to spend a little bit of time here doing some maintenance tasks on the boat so apart from a day trip to Izmir (of which more anon), we have been pottering around doing essential but boring stuff. We saw a good definition of cruising on the net recently 'boat maintenance in paradise'. Most yottie types will appreciate this.


However, our boredom was short lived when, on Wednesday at about 11p.mwe were woken by a roaring diesel engine and a scraping thumping noise. A large steel trip boat was squeezing into the space behind us, it' bow looming high over our stern. Some dipstick of a crew member had decided it would be clever to pull one of the mooring ropes over our stern and was in danger of ripping off all of our solar panels, aerials and wind generator. After a few, not very well chosen, phrases from Rob he saw the error of his ways and adjusted his mooring accordingly. Such are the pleasures of cruising.


Izmir
Last Friday we caught the Cesme Seyahat bus to Izmir to see the city. On arrival at the Otogar (pronounced bus station) we headed for the local bus area where we expected to catch a Dolmus (pronounced mini-bus) into town. However, the touts had other ideas and we caught a taxi, a small Skoda thing, into town. This wouldn't leave until the rather thuggish taxi supervisor decided it had enough people in it. In the end he seemed to think that 6 of us in a car designed for 5 was just about sufficient so, for 5 lira (£2) each we headed into town.


Once there we went to the Bazaar which, unlike Istanbul, doesn't get many tourists As a result the tout to tourist ratio is quite high. In the space of 6 minutes we had 6 different touts try to chat us up. The conversations are obviously taught at the Berlitz School of Touting and went as follows each time:-
Tout 'Hello'
Punter 'Hello'
Tout 'Where are you from?'
Punter 'Scotland'
Tout, affecting devil may care chuckle 'Ahaah, where Scotch Whisky comes from'
Punter, increasingly wearily 'Yes that's right'
Tout 'Is this your first time in Turkey?'
Punter 'Yes it is delightful'
Tout 'What are you looking for here in bazaar?'
Punter, trying to get rid of tout 'Bubble wrap and professional cookware'
Tout 'Would you like to see my leather/carpet/pashmina/ceramics/souvenir/clothes (delete as applicable) shop'
Punter 'No, we are only buying bubble wrap and professional cookware'.
Tout 'It is just round the corner and you don't have to buy anything'
Punter, sarcastically 'You mean you have a bubble wrap and professional cookware shop - ideal!'
Tout 'I give you special discount on my leather jackets/carpets etc, very cheap'
Punter fantasises Northbound tout meeting with a Southbound Custard Tart but, in the knowledge that it will make no difference, reverts to a polite 'No thank you.' and walks on. After a hundred metres or so the tout seems to give up and the next one takes over.


In Izmir they were undoubtedly a pest whereas their more experienced brethren in Istanbul made the trips into the bazaar a genuinely amusing and entertaining experience. Ah well, such is life.


Apart from the touts it is a great bazaar with lots of more day to day stuff at genuinely good prices. We actually bought a professional wok, a cooking knife, shoe polish, bubble wrap and some, possibly amber, worry beads. We also had a cracking Pide meal for the equivalent of a couple of quid each, in fact the eating houses in the bazaar were heavily crowded with local yuppies and seemed to serve excellent food. A genuinely interesting and practical market with great, cheap food but doesn't sell custard pies.


Our other disappointment was the Izmir ancient agora (2000 year old shopping mall ruins) which was closed. Through the gates it looked great - ah well, yer can't win 'em all!


To get back to the otogar we caught the genuine dolmus (another identical wee Skoda car) to the bus station, found it cost 40% of the taxi and had less people in it.


We boarded Tiercel that evening weary but satisfied with our 2 metres of bubble wrap.