Iceland Easter 2008

ICELAND
March 2008
Easter Weekend

Once landed, the shuttle bus from the airport took about 45 minutes to the Reykjavik central bus station. With everyone ushered off the bus we were left standing with about 40 other travellers in the freezing cold with no idea what was happening staring at each other totally exhausted and bewildered by why we were all dumped at 2am at a closed bus station. Eventually the bus driver and some smaller shuttle bus drivers popped out of the terminal and the drop off to the local hotels began. As we waited for our bus a guy who we guessed worked for the bus company decided to pick us out of the bunch and drive us to our hotel in his taxi. No money exchanged, it seemed our ticket from the bus was good enough, even though he didn’t want to see it.

Our hotel room over looked the city centre about a kilometre away giving a great view of the city surrounded in parts by snow caped mountains in the distance. Two thirds of the country lives in the capital with the countries population 310,000. So as a result there aren’t that many cars about, most are 4wd’s with one in three featuring massive fatty tyres the height of an adult. A few days later we went out in one with a local woman who took us for a drive through the south west part of the country which was amazing. We drove off road through the moss covered lava fields to a beach where seals were swimming just off the shoreline. Headed up and over any type of terrain to the ice covered Lake Kleifarvatn breaking up at the shoreline revealing iceberg like sheets of ice, surrounded by black mountains.

After a good kip in and massive buffet breakfast we headed out to the geo thermal pools at the Blue Lagoon. The drive out blew us away. Although we read a couple of guide books we weren’t prepared for the diverse landscape; razor like lava fields covered in green moss and snow, vast flat plains and rocky mountains. As we approached the Blue Lagoon the steam from the springs cast an eerie mist across the lava fields. Out of this amazing sight beside the lagoon we spotted an industrial factory, quite a strange site in such a landscape where they harvest the hot water and pipe it around the country to provide energy for the houses, industry and horticulture. The lagoon average temperature is 40 degrees but because it’s heated from the core of the earth there’s no thermostat to adjust the heat so occasionally a hotter wave of water passes over you like someone pouring a boiling kettle over your body. The temperature outside was about 5 degrees without a cloud in the sky and after a couple of hours we lay half in and out of the water eating ice creams as if it was a summers day on a beach. Walking through the water we could feel slimy mud squishing between our toes and scooped it up with our feet revealed it was white volcanic mud, which we guessed was the main ingredient for the facial and body masks box’s that were placed around the edge of the lagoon. After 5 hours we were well prunie and relaxed.



One clear but ear bitingly cold night we spent a couple of hours standing in a field beside a single lane highway searching for the northern lights, unfortunately, other than a cold we only caught a short glimpse of the phenomenon, seeing a moving white brush like stroke across the sky in contrast to the well documented green flowing glow from many of the photos for sale in the shops of Reykjavik.

The main Geyser fields in the country bubble and gurgle like a kettle before the steaming water expands at the surface like a pregnant ladies belly to send clouds of moisture twenty to thirty metres into the atmosphere. A flimsy rope at knee level is the only protection keeping people from the gapping hole and I’m certain a news story in the future will feature some sort of tragedy. A spectacularly enormous water fall not far from the geysers at Gullfoss looked a scene straight from the ice age and sliding in a rollerblading fashion over the frozen ground was the only way to make it to the lookout platform. The country is slowly tearing itself in half and long after humans have killed themselves off the planet will be divided in two, but with the constant magma flowing in three separate underground rivers under the earths surface its the most hostile geo thermal country in the world, but oh so beautiful.

In the deserted fields Icelandic horses roamed freely and are the only breed of there type in the world and once sold to foreign owners cannot return for fear a disease. The strangest site of all was in the rural areas where there were wood A framed, open aired constructions with mass numbers of dead fish drying in the cold brisk air for future smoking. We saw no sign of the artic foxes that inhabit the island but since we have left a polar bear was shot for illegally entering the country by hitching a ride on an iceberg that drifted across the Denmark Strait from Greenland. Not much immigration in Iceland!

Turkey

Turkey
February 15th -25th 2008

On our arrival to Istanbul we were greeted by snow. It was a surprise but shouldn’t have been considering its winter but did think it would be warmer than London. The drive from the airport took about an hour as we crossed from the Asian side of Istanbul to the European side. Every road toll or halt in traffic gave poor locals the chance to sell pastries, bananas, camel cigarettes and small packets of tissues to the cars passengers. At least it’s something you may actually want stuck in traffic, a kind of supermarket on legs.

The hotel was clean but the room stunk as if ten people were blowing smoke under the door. We have gotten used to no smoking in public places as it was introduced here in the middle of last year. So after a crap night’s sleep and enduring the freezing snow blizzard as we checked out the Blue Mosque and Grand Bazaar it was a relief to find a Turkish bath. The one we chose was the 300 years old Cagaloglu Hamami and was just an amazing experience.

Bryce’s Experience:
After stripping off in my personal change room with its own bed I wrapped my small towel around my waist and slipped on some uncomfortable wooden shoes I walked apprehensively into the drying area. Salih (my Turkish cleaner) settled my nerves instantly by introducing himself with a big hug. Walking me into the bath with his arm around my shoulder through the main cleaning area he led me to the sauna for a ten minute pre massage steam. There didn’t seem to be any tourist in there only fat old locals which made me happy about our choice of place. About two minutes into my massage the happiness was replaced with pain. I cant say that I’ve ever had a massage that involved being punch repeatedly in the back or had my bum cheeks squeezed at full strength, but I have now and Salih seemed to get happier with every outcry of pain. Staggering to my cleaning area Salih showed me how to place my towel modestly before he started to clean me. I sat with my back against the marble wall beside a large tap and marble basin, were he took a silver bowl and commenced to drown me with water, then put on a white glove and placed my right foot on his leg resting against his fat hairy stomach and scrubbed the dead skin off my body. Occasionally he stopped to have a chat about this and that which helped me relax a bit about getting cleaned by a fat, hairy Turkish man. After his glove work he got me to lay face up on the marble floor, and commenced to rub soapy water from a huge silver bowl full of about 10 bars of soap over my front with a large sharp ropey scrubber then flipped over and did my back by which time all modesty was out the window and all was on show. The area turned into a slip and slide and Salih laughing joyfully slapped me on the back and drowned me again to rid the soap. Thinking the job was done I relaxed but it was far from over, he got me to sit against the wall again to wash my head. I probably shouldn’t describe it as washed but assaulted my head. Eyes stinging and struggling to breath he poked my face violently with his fingers and palms, pulled my hair and ears cracked my neck and drowned me again. Although painful, stinging and in the end nude it was a once in a lifetime experience, and I mean once.

Caitlin’s Experience:
I was sent through a hallway to the woman’s section and like Bryce had a change room with a bed. I also stripped down and wrapped my tiny towel around me as best I could to show some modesty. I was let through to the large marble bath where several large local woman were sitting around, some in groups, some alone. I was told to sit next to a marble basin and given a metal bowl to wash myself with. After sneaking a peek at what the others were doing I began scooping the hot water out and pouring it over my head. 10 minutes later my masseuse returned. She led me to the large marble slab in the centre of the room where I lay down. Then with a dry loofah she proceeded to exfoliate and remove about 10 layers of skin, leaving my skin clean and smooth. Back to the basin where she rinsed me off (and the layers of skin). Now it was time for the first of massages. I definitely got the ‘ladies’ treatment. No bum squeezing or slapping. Just a normal, relaxing, soapy massage. Another rinse off and back to the slab for the finale (so I thought). However, it was back to the slab where my masseuse took a large bowl of soapy water and a brush which appeared to be made from soft vines. She used this to give me my final clean and returned me to the basin to rinse of the soap. To my surprise I then had my hair washed. It was an amazing, liberating experience. I don’t think I have ever been so clean in my life!


Once out of Istanbul we drove south out of the snow to Gallipoli. We visited Anzac Cove and viewed the (what seemed unscaliable) hills the Anzac’s fought over in 1915. We went to the Lone Pine cemetery where the battlefield was the size of two tennis courts (during the battle you could have walked the entire distance between both sets of trenches without touching the ground for dead bodies), Shrapnel Gully and walked beside the still intact but now shallow trenches of the kiwis at Chunk Bair, where the legend of Atuturk commenced. At the battle for the area Atuturk found his men retreating and ordered them to turn back and die for there country while reinforcements arrived. Our Turkish guide Gokhen, a humble guy who’s knowledge of the Gallipoli campaign and the vast history of his country was outstanding highlighted that the area is not just a sacred location for Australians and New Zealanders but Turks as well mainly because it was not just a victory but the turning point in there nation identity as well as ours. Atuturks heroics in the Gallipoli campaigned thrust him onto the political scene and as there first president modernised and westernised the country after the fall of the Ottoman Empire. Although he died in 1938 he is still viewed by people of all ages as there national hero and pictures and flags with his face are all over the country.

We crossed the Dardanelles to Canakkale, back into Asia, and headed down to the ruins of the sacked city of Troy. The ruins were discovered by Heinrich Schliemann in 1871 a German bloke who became recognised as the father of archaeology even though his efforts destroyed much of the site. The Germans have stitched the Turks up over history a bit, getting them to support them in the first world war and letting a large number of their historical sites all over the country be uncovered by German archaeological teams. A huge number of Turkish treasures and some complete temples were secretly sent to Berlin before the Second World War and the ones the Russians didn’t take after they captured Berlin are still in the cities museums, the Turkish government are still trying to get them back from both countries. When we were in Berlin last year we went to a Turkish bar and smoked shisha which at the time seemed a bit strange but now makes sense because they probably stole it. From Troy to Pergamum, Ephesus and Pamukkale we were a bit ruined out but the main reason to stop at Pamukkale was to see the calcium terraces where Bryce cut his big toe while climbing up an area we weren’t meet to be whilst escaping from the tourist police. The terraces were amazing but the best artsy photo we took unfortunately featured a plastic bottle in the middle of one of the pools of this natural wonder, which makes the photo a bit environmentally sad.

Out at Cappadocia in the middle of the country the snow was back again, a lot more than in Istanbul but for the couple of days we were there the sun was shinning thankfully. This gave our hot air balloon ride perfect conditions. The views of the rock formations where people used to live in houses dug straight into the rocks were amazing and unforgettable. At the end of the flight after the pilot had landed us skilfully on a trailer connected to a four wheel drive that then drove us all thirty metres with the balloon still fully inflated to their ideal packing up area. Caitlin was awarded the Golden Balloon Award (champagne cork) by the pilot for she had almost passed out mid flight overcome from the gas. We all drank champagne in the middle of snow covered Cappadocia, in the middle of nowhere. That night we went to a cultural show that was pretty crap but we saw the whirling dervishes and a belly dancer that was hairier than Salih.
The ten hour drive back to Istanbul was long, but the stop at one of Turkey’s best museums in the capital Ankara was worth the drive. Once back in Istanbul all the snow was gone and the city looked a lot different from the week before. We walked the streets and watched the men wash there feet outside one of the mosques before entering. Along the waterfront we got away from the touristy areas and found ourselves in the really poor slummy areas of the city where a lady was cleaning her rugs out on the street. People looked at us like we were from mars and when we went into a bakery and then a little café for lunch the shop people were as curious about us as we were of them even though we had no idea what they we saying. In the street two schoolboys came over for a chat to check us out, wanting us to pay them a non existent museum entry fee. The food everywhere we went was great even though the service was more relaxed than you’d expect in western countries. Too many kebab’s (both western and tradition), ayran (a salty cold yogurt drink, not the best), Gozleme (a type of crepe with cheese, spinach, and potato) and Turkish pizza left us feeling a few kg’s heavier. Around the country it looked pretty poor, a lot of concrete apartment housing on top of each other with all of the roofs lined with satellite dishes and solar power panels for there hot water services. Feral cats and dogs were everywhere but were all very friendly and wanted attention, not that we gave them any. But the strangest site we saw were two camels beings lead by two small boys up the main street of a small village on there way to the local camel wrestling.