Gallipoli

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Who spotted the spelling mistake in the last blog?

Today we set out for Gallipoli, a place to which many New Zealanders make their pilgrimage for the Anzac Day Memorial Service.
The afternoon we arrived was beautiful. There was blue sky, gentle lap of the tide, and birds singing. A far cry from what thousands of young New Zealanders and Australians experienced ninety-six years ago. To see the individual markers representing so many lives lost was a very moving experience.
From the incredibly large numbers of Turkish people visiting Chunuk Bair (site of the New Zealand memorial and that of Ataturk) it was obvious this place is special to them too. Friendly young Turks were anxious to practise English but it was hard to make much headway so the universal sign of hand on heart to show appreciation of NZ and Turkey was understood by both sides.
After leaving Gallipoli we headed for our next overnight destination, Canakkale, via a ferry across the Dardanelles. Numerous buses were loaded and we had a chance to stretch our legs and find a seat on the upper deck near the stern surrounded by a large number of women who seemed to belong to a group similar to our Country Women’s Institute. They appeared to be discussing the woes of the nation in loud voices. Perhaps they had been at Gallipoli as well and were actually talking about us.
After checking in we had a chance to wander through a large supermarket. The only thing that seemed different was the language. Milk seemed to be the same price at three liras per two litres.
For dinner we were offered a great selection of food and the chance to taste local dishes. The desserts were irresistible.

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