Eurotrip - Featuring The Heff

‘Allo chumps!

Turkey is the new country. Getting across the border was a bit of a bitch as Turkey isn’t a part of the European union, despite their best efforts to get in. To get through, we were required to attain ourselves a Visa and had to present our passports at the border. About the only advantage to this somewhat tiresome crossing was the duty free shops, which are always great fun to have a squiz. We managed to find a 2lt bottle of Ouzo which would have worked out to be about $18 Aussie dollars. Such a deal is dangerous! Unfortunately, Ouzo isn’t one of my preferences. We had some bloody potent versions during our stay in Greece, enough to last me for the next couple months until I make a return trip to Greece.

Catching me off guard, we spent the entire afternoon around Gallipoli. I wasn’t aware of a trip being made to Anzac cove, but I’m very glad we got there. Before arriving, Tara had written a little speech with a general overview of the war. This general overview took a good 20 minutes to get through and proved to be very informative. She gave us so much to soak up. At the same time, I realised how much I don’t know about any of the wars, even the war against Iraq. During the overview, Tara took us through what could be described as a personal account as to what the Anzacs went through on the morning of the 25th April. Surprisingly, I became quite emotional about it all. Sitting on the bus, not talking and only hearing this account with nothing to distract me, I could focus on what she was saying.

Shortly after Tara finished reading her overview, everyone fell silent for quite some time. That quietness continued for the next couple hours. Stepping out of the coach onto the beach was also a big hit. Standing on the pebbles, overlooking the sea where so many men would have spent their last moments was surreal. Looking at it when I was there, all the rocks were grey, all the water was blue and there were lovely flowers (Mainly poppies) scattered everywhere. I could only imagine how different it would have been that morning, everything stained the colour red. Listening to the cove, I could only hear waves crashing and the quiet wind. Again, that morning, I don’t imagine anyone would have been listening to the waves. My experience in Anzac cove is difficult to put into words. I’ve never been through such a feeling before.

Throughout the rest of the day, we visited other sites around the area, including the Lonely Pine memorial site, and a Turkish memorial site to have a look at the war from the other perspective. Above everything, what made the day truly worthwhile and special, was a quote I saw on a plaque -
“Those heroes that 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 in peace. After having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well.” Ataturk 1934
I’m relatively sure this was the president to Turkey at the same who made this quote.

Our campsite went by the name of Hotel Kum, and was definitely one of the better - if not, the best - sites on the trip. Attached to the site was a cool beach. It was a mix of pebbles and sand, which meant we could run around like dicks, but we could skip stones. We’ve skipped stones in Italian, Greek, French, Australian and Turkish water. I managed to sniff out a little bar at the campsite, scored myself a beer and went to watch the sunset on the beach. The entire tour ended up on the beach, and we all enjoyed the sunset together, it was a rather beautiful moment. Because we were only spending one night and were waking up early in the morning, a lot of us decided to sleep under the stars. It was a great experience, and I had to stop and think to myself “I’m sleeping under the Turkish stars”.

The story of Troy always interested me, but not enough to actively seek out the finer details. Luckily, our bus happened to go through it, and so we all got out, and met the coolest guide we’ve had on the trip, and with a name like Mustafa, how could he not be cool? When we approach a large wooden horse that has been varnished, sanded, and has perfect symmetry with comfortable seats inside and some girl asks the guide “Is this the real horse that they used?”…I get scared. After listening to Mustafa for about 10 minutes, I realised that I have another thing on my ‘to do’ list. He explained how incorrect the story line was in the film, and that has sparked me to do some research on my own. I’m going to leave it until after the tour, seeing as we’re in a new country every couple days. I can’t leave myself stuck in Turkey. I’ve never considered myself interested in architecture, but because Mustafa was so excited about the city walls, I became excited, and although I had no idea what he was talking about concerning the walls, I loved it.

By the end of the day we were in Istanbul. Tara had been talking about Turkish baths since the day we all met, and we were finally here. After a quick dinner at the hotel, Tara, Jodie (Our mobile cook), Andy and myself made a quick getaway from the group, and before anyone could realise we were gone, I was being covered in soap from a big, fat, moustached, terrifying Turkish man, wearing very little. We’d been informed that you could go through the entire session naked, but unfortunately this has been changed, and so we spent the session in a very little towel. Basically, you walk in and you’re given tokens for the activities you’ve paid for. Feeling like shit after spending most of the day walking around in the blistering Turkish sun, and then sitting in a cramped position on the bus all day, I decided to lash out and go for everything. This included unlimited use of the marble room, a 15 minute soap massage (Which includes every bone in the body being cracked), a 30 minute oil massage and unlimited use of the showers.

First off, we had a chill, or rather a bake, in the marble room. Featuring a massive heated chunk of marble in the middle of the room that everyone lays on, the humidity soared, and felt a lot like a sauna. I saw a lot of man flesh and thick black hair in that room. Lying there, I was sweating like a champion, and at one stage I wiped my forehead, only to discover that half of this ‘sweat’ was a thick oil that was being drawn out from my body. I imagine it must be insanely good for you to get rid of this oil. I felt healthier I guess.

Soon after, some terrifying bastard who looked like a war veteran who’d killed many people, who almost happened to be my soap masseuse pushed me on to my back, crossed my arms over my body, and jumped on me. I felt every bubble of nitrogen in every vertebrae pop. After throwing water in my face a couple times, my old fat man covered me in soap and almost kneaded me into a pulp. Throughout the course of the soap massage, he never took his eyes away from mine, so I’d close my eyes. Every time I opened them, he was still staring right into me. After almost breaking my spine, neck and hands, I almost genuinely believed this man was trying to kill me. Instead of talking, he grunted, and if you didn’t understand quick enough that “Mergh” means rolls over, he would pick you up and slap you back down on the marble in the desired position. All that being said, it was one of the best experiences in my life, and it was so much fun.

My oil massage was nothing more than what I expected, but was still amazing. This was a different masseuse and he was bloody rough. After washing off some of the excess oil and fatty substance, I returned to the marble room and sweated it out for another 30 minutes or so. After dehydration set in and the ceiling started looking like a plate of wobbly jelly, Andy and I got out of there. Seeing a pile of dry towels, we picked one up and walked out of the marble area only to have another big fat moustached man yell “NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!”. This man took us back to the pile of towels, and apparently we picked up the wrong one. He ripped our towels off us, so we proceeded to stand there starkers, and he dressed us up in the proper traditional way with the towels. Combined with the rest of the session, I did feel violated, but in a respectable and hilarious way.

A block away from our hotel was the “Sheesha Bar” where we found our entire tour. I hate the word Sheesha, because I have no bloody idea how to spell it. When walking into the bar, the first thing I saw was Benjamin with a dirty big hose sticking out his mouth attached to the Sheesha and surrounded in strawberry smoke. I wish I’d have had my camera, it looked awesome. Everyone sat us down and they were so mellow. This Hookah stuff seemed to be chilling everyone right out. Already feeling relaxed from the bath, this bar is exactly what I needed. Our floor was a mattress with a slab of wood put on top, and everyone was sitting on pillows rather than chairs. Someone scored me a mouth piece, and before I knew it, strawberry smoke was billowing in a cloud around my head. I loved that thing. I think if I ever move out, I’ll buy one and stick in on the kitchen table. They look cool, and are an incredibly social device. By re-filling the Sheesha constantly, the chaps running the bar made a lot of money from alcohol out of our group that night. Again, I wish I’d had my camera, because I believe this will be a memory not easily forgotten.
Starting the next day early, we had a tour that lasted a couple hours. It was a pretty crappy Apart from the Blue Mosque, our guide was just trying to sell us shit all day. Our first stop was at a hotel that had just opened, and rather than talking about the insanely cool street we were on, or something about the city, he told us all about this hotel and how Contiki groups get 20% off drinks when they go there. Further on, he took us to the Turkish bath we’d visited the night before, and spent the entire time telling us about the pricing system and how good the sessions are. More further on, we found ourselves at a carpet shop. The man in the carpet shop pulled out all these carpets and told us about how long they take and how genuine they are and then asked us to have a look around and buy something. One of the cheaper one’s I saw which was about the size of a door mat and costed more than our entire tour. I wonder why they would take a Contiki tour, especially a camping Contiki tour to this place. Most people can’t even afford lunch let alone one of these bastards.

Another highlight for the day was the Turkish Shave. This was another activity that received a lot of hype. Despite being different and exciting and awesome, it was just a shave in the end. I’d have to say the most exciting part was the after shave, I’ve never had a proper after shave applied to my skin, and it actually burns! Some of the chaps, the one’s with particularly hairy ears, had ear burning. This involved the shaver dude holding a lighter up to someone’s ear and singeing the hairs covering the ears. I did get some massive black thing shoved up my nose. It vibrated and felt cool. Ben looks about 12 again.

A lot of the rest of the day involved getting lost in the Grand Bazaar, and haggling for a better price on something without actually buying anything. I find the idea of haggling great fun, and I played with a few techniques. Later, we all went out for dinner and had a five course meal with entertainment all night. This included belly dancing, knife throwing, singing, and just cool music in general. It was a fantastic night out, but the lighting didn’t allow photos. Turkey has a capsicum that resembles the jalapeno and throughout the evening there were various salads and every time I saw this mini capsicum, I asked Dave the Coach Driver if it was a chilli, and he would laugh at me and say it’s ok. By the end of the night, I’d given up asking, and the main dish consisted of mashed potato with a lovely braised diced steak. On the side were tomatoes and what I thought were these capsicums. With that, I halved one of them and chewed the bastard up and swallowed. Turns out it was a chilli. As any beer drinker will know, beer does nothing to soothe the harsh burn of half a chilli. After the beer, I stuffed a huge dollop of potato in my mouth in the hope that maybe it would soak up some of the heat, but the potato must have just come out of the pot, because it was boiling, which made it a lot worse. Dave saw what was happening from the start apparently. He watched me cut the chilli in half and shove it in my fatty McFat-tard of a gob, but decided on saying nothing. All he could do was laugh while my face was red and eyes watered. When the dinner and show finished, we managed to get up to the roof of our hotel where they store a heap of cushions, and so spent a large majority of our night up there.

Aaaaaanyway, my hands are sore, so I’ll leave you all with that.

BYE!

P.S My bus buddy Terri decided to write a funny, so I’ve decided to leave it:

So have managed to have the best bus buddy in the whole world. Although, she ditched me this morning and I wanted to crawl into a foetal position and cry.