Advertisement
Published: September 16th 2010
Taksim Square Tavern St
The new backgammon converts compete in back street Istanbul. Our last days in Turkey roar up on us, like a Turkish minibus driver, and we fly back to Istanbul from Cappadocia. We never really had a plan on how to get from Turkey to Croatia, and Bernard’s options came down to a 2 hour flight, or a 36 hour train ride in a second hand Turkish train, now run by the Bulgarians. Despite the close contest, the expensive air option gets the green light, so we manage a few more days in Istanbul, curiously named “European Cultural capital 2010”.
Turkey has been incredibly engaging. We cannot begin to suggest that we understand this complex country at all, but many things have proved fascinating:
1. This is a big and proud country with feverish national pride. Flags are everywhere, on buildings, on cars, on factories and with flag sellers wandering the street daily selling any size flag you could imagine.
2. Everything is home-grown. Fonterra can forget about exporting to here. Industrial output, vehicles, dairy, plastics, food... the list goes on and is all domestic. I could count - figuratively please - on one hand, the number of items “Made in China.” Indeed there is a fierce parochialism here:
Post fasting - Ramadan
Each night, after sunset, it's party and feasting time Turkish style. on a number of occasions when shopping, we are told in no uncertain terms, “Made in Turkey, not China.”
Here is a country moving up the world rankings fast in GDP growth and wealth. And they are taking a vastly different approach from the one we have taken in NZ. I compare the country to my last visit and see the massive improvements and start to wonder again why a “developing world” country is being allowed to flog us to death in the race to rise in world rankings. Our lack of competitiveness cannot surely be hidden for too much longer?
3. There is a complete lack (resistance) of immigration from areas other than the nearby Middle East. One eats kebap or kebap, there is no ethnic diversity on display in the food outlets or on the streets. Even an Afro face would be a novelty in Istanbul, a Chinese face probably rejected at the border unless here under strict tourist rules.
4. Amazing infrastructure. The MetroBus “U-bus-way” line we saw carries 800,000 people per day. It was built in 2 years for US$200 million. Do the maths, at $1.35 per passenger. Every large project I saw and
Early start for a change
Hmmmmm..... amazing what a birthday will do for wake up times enquired about appeared to have been built quickly, efficiently and by locals.
5. Cost of living is interestingly high, for a population that appears to have quite low wages still. Certainly the change from Asia to here was a significant increase of daily costs for us.
6. There is a prominence of massive family run businesses and a seemingly low number of International corporates active here.
7. There is nothing as luxurious, for a man, as presenting himself at a Turkish Barber ever few days. Heaven!
8. Having tried for years to work out what the French were thinking with their “Bidet”, and experiencing some of the Asian versions of the same, it’s reassuring to know the Turks have made it easy and it works! Simple, functional and build into an existing pan!!
That’s just a random sample of a few thoughts, and while not as large as China, Turkey will figure more prominently in International relations in coming years. Like a few other countries, it feels like it is still emerging from the “bad dream” of the 1970s and 80s but at a pace we could only dream of. As long as politics, ethnic
OK this was amazing
A double articulated VDL bus from Holland capable of moving over 220 pax. Grossly underpowered and being replaced by Mercs! fighting and cross border tensions are well managed, the place will not mourn the rejection of the EU, but will find its own success outside that constricting Union.
It’s a Sunday, so Frances embarks on a “follow Bernard” day. He picks a destination - Taksim Square, and decides that today is spent exploring the area on foot. It’s slow progress without a map; a few wrong turns, some unexpected hills, trams that finish in the wrong place but it proves the essence of travelling. You only need a desire to explore and some audacity and days can unfold in magnificent ways. We enjoy the random sights, and decide at 4.00 pm to find refreshment. We have heard of a “tavern street” that provides easy drinking and snacking. It’s not too hard to find and we are soon relaxing with a 700 ml beer in the hand for $7 and a backgammon match in full swing. It’s magic, the temperatures have dropped, the beer is cool and promptly refilled, food readily available and the locals (men again) swoon all over Lauren and Molly. Eventually, it’s time to drag ourselves away and Bernard heads confidently off to find a bus, the others
Birthday girl
Heavenly indulgence at Aqua Dolphin happy in tow. If only it were that easy, particularly after a dozen beers ( - OK, maybe a slight exaggeration!). An hour later, we are nearly home. It’s taken about 400 buses to pass before one is heading remotely in our direction. Tired, late and crabby we all collapse after a fun day doing nothing!!
It’s Lauren’s birthday on 30 Aug and, following the earliest wake-up in months and some frenzied unwrapping of gifts we spend 2 hours on public transport (thanks Dad!) getting to Aqua Dolphin Park. $65 gets us entry into a complex with about 6 pools, a dolphin show, and some water slides. Another $50 on lunch and snacks prove it’s a park for the well off. The music is deafening, (think that Turkish National Anthem The Bom Bom Bom song by the Black Eyed Peas), the waistlines and midriffs all showing a major issue with obesity and the kids are overindulged and awaiting a multi lingual scolding as they push though queue lines. But for a newly crowned 4 year old, the day is a winner and topped off with dinner close to home, and a multi-cultural crowd all singing a muddled version of Happy
Her new Turkish dress
How a 4 year old loves a new party dress Birthday. The kitchen happily organises her BYO cake, and slice off a piece as “payment” before the bulk of it goes home with us in the evening.
While our planning has not been perfect, the cost of flights to Zagreb has hurt and we fret that this might not be the city to aim for, but true to form, we drop our concerns, agree to accept our fate and ready ourselves for Europe proper.
While in Istanbul, Bernard sneaks a peek at the weather in Zagreb, Croatia, on Google. It’s 14 deg. He cross the fingers and decides not to share this information; surely that’s an aberration to be rectified tomorrow? The pilot confirms the bad news with everyone, it’s lunchtime and yes, 14 deg is the forecast with showers and cloud. Zagreb, you are really going to have to turn it on.
After the Tourist Office shows significant commercial nous and only offers pension rooms for $320, Frances seeks respite in a cafe and Bernard wanders off, looking for a miracle (Croatia being a staunchly Catholic country). An hour later, thanks to a couple of Irishmen at a very rumpty looking backpacker’s hostel, we are puffing our way up
Lauren's 4th birthday cake
We did not eat too much; the kitchen staff however...... a hill to a 16th C Baroque mansion. Time and war has not been kind to either the owner or the building. We push the “Sobe” button, and are met with a sound of steel grill doors being unlocked and then reluctantly slid back. Two deadbolts are loosened, and a woman in her late 60’s, dressed to kill in a 1950’s style housecoat with teeth going in all directions, is all smiles. I wonder if she ever leaves the house and if in fact it’s her nightdress, but she happily accompanies me down the street 20 metres to the next fully dead-bolted door. Down a flight of stairs, among the relics of her tenancy, into a cellar-like stairwell, we get to a brown vinyl padded door. Double sided deadbolts again, and then into a 2 bedroom flat. It’s hardly luxury; the dishes from the last guests are still piled up; the furnishings appear to reflect a teenager’s living quarters (her son’s etched name on the back of the bathroom door confirming this), but it’s tolerable and offers space and quiet. Ultimately she looks trustworthy, even if later in the quiet night, visions of dastardly deeds fill my vacant head. The
Zagreb
These gas lamps are lit every night, by the city employed "gas lighter" woman has lived her whole life here, after her grand -father bought the place while he was the Minister of Culture. It strikes me how cash poor and asset rich she must be. Her price for the night must surely be only a pittance towards the cost of maintaining such a large and old crumbling building. Her son looks like a character from Dickens, hovering and sulking in the background, waiting until Mum dies and he transforms the place into cold hard cash.
It is hard to comprehend that only 19 years ago Croatia fought a brutal, 5 year conflict for its renewed and rightful full independence. Here in Zagreb and more so later in Zadar, the bullet and rocket scars are still evident. In 1990, the culmination of increasing Serbian domination in the Parliamentary Federation of Yugoslavia (it had commandeered the votes of Kosova and Vojvodina), triggered various states (Croatia, Slovenia, etc.) to conduct lawful internal referenda on independence. Although it passed easily in Croatia, the local Serbian minority took up arms and, with support from Serbia’s Belgrade, commenced an armed struggle to achieve an independent state in the new Croatia. However, the borders of Croatia had been agreed
St Mark's Church, Zagreb
A landmark of Zagreb, these church roof tiles create the coat of arms for Croatia and Zagreb. in the reconstruction of the Jugoslav Kingdom into the Tito led Federation in 1945 and later ratified in 1974. Croatia had the moral and legal high ground. Serbia maintained its opposition through the illegal support of local Serbs. 1991 saw heavy fighting in a number of cities, while ceasefires and UN blue helmets ensured the next few years were less destructive until the peace agreement of 1995. For the Croatians, it’s true independence, something they have rarely experienced in 4,000 years of history. Progressively on this part of the coast, Greeks, Illyrians, Romans, Turks, Slavs, Venetians, Hungarians, Bosnian, Austrians, Germans, various fiefdoms and kingdoms and finally a Serbian led Federation have held rule or influence for long periods of time. While not all repressive, and with the Catholic faith maintaining domination, it is not necessarily an oppressive history. Now 4.5 million people can call themselves Croatians and many more of the diasporas from around the world return each year, mainly to the province of Dalmatia, to marvel at the beautiful coast, pristine water, heavenly sunsets, 150 ways to cook pizza, and enjoy an exquisite Mediterranean climate and lifestyle.
What impact a war like this can have on the psyche
Zagreb street
No, it has not been raining of the people is equally hard to fathom. There don’t appear to be many victims, physically, but emotionally, I think about our landlady and the torment she must have experienced as the Serbs sought to punish a federation that they had come to treat as a fiefdom. Sitting in her crumbling mansion, empty and devoid of people, listening to rocket attacks and fighting in the streets, what could she do? The double bolts and grills are not for us, but are the legacy of a conflict less than 19 years old. I can’t even begin to work out how to engage anyone in conversation on this subject. Surely the scars are only just healing on the surface and my lack of language far too limiting to delve into such a difficult subject?
The city is warmer than 14 deg, the streets filled with gorgeous buildings, even more gorgeous women, cafes, restaurants and all the signs of freedom and prosperity; a far cry from the previous regime. On the most important measure of life, beer is back down to a highly affordable level. We can sit in a cafe, surrounded by beautiful women, with a freshly poured half litre for NZ$3.75.
Zadar Ice Cream
Hmmmm, the shadow spent minutes deciding, then chose "coke flavoured gelato!!" Europe it might be, but the prices I really like. Zagreb does itself proud in our short visit.
Dalmatia is the coastal strip of Croatia, origin of many of the immigrants to New Zealand, including both of Bernard’s grandfathers.
We have been kindly offered an apartment in Postira, on the Island of Brac, by a friend of a friend. Wow, set on the water’s edge, with the sound of the Adriatic lapping at the edge of the balcony, it provides for our longest stay in one place, a whole 7 nights.
The temperatures drop to a comfortable early autumn level, and while we swim, it’s no longer tepid. It’s a great little break to our routine, and well overdue. Next door is a kiwi couple from Auckland. We easily make numerous connections, as Kiwis are able to do, and it’s pleasant to chat over some familiar topics again. Funnily enough, we don’t do much and we don’t go far. Lauren is smart enough to have learnt to put her foot down and resists any attempt to abandon her colouring or maths for 4 year olds. She relishes in staying put. Frances quickly moves to her preferred late to bed, late
Beach Dalmatia style
Sand is not something the Euro's know much about. Rock and pebble on the other hand.... to rise routine, Bernard the opposite and Molly discovers boredom as the i-pod is confiscated for bad behaviour and WI-FI is unavailable at home.
The village, like so many European towns, is full of cafes and bars with over priced coke and pleasantly underpriced beer. Even a short coffee is only $1.50. Food however is depressingly formulaic: pizza, french fries, pasta, escalope/schnitzel and a million variations of the same thing and hardly a green vegetable to be seen. If you’re looking for takeout, forget it. Pizza reigns supreme. Oh what we would do for a decent curry, a nice Chow Mein or a Pad Thai. It’s another example of limited immigration and lack of exposure to “foreignness” at great variance to what we have willingly adopted in NZ.
So we rest for a week, become overly familiar with the cafe down the road, spend a night dancing in the street at a Sunday night “Jam session”, argue with each other as we have too much time on our hands, and generally behave like a family who see each other too much, watch the first rain in 4 months roll through, play crib over a few gins, wonder where the day
Apartment
We were on level 2, (US and Asian style) third waterfront building from the left has gone, and even cook a couple of meals.
Croatia is a delight. Gorgeous women (did I already mention that??), cheap beer (that also???), delectable weather, even when the sun disappears, and such relaxation. But like Turkey, I wonder how anything gets done. The rise of the cell phone clearly has allowed the self important to loaf all morning at their favourite cafe and issue instructions to the bookmaker, underlings, wife or plumber over the phone. It appears as though work is simply fitted in around other more essential aspects of life. But it’s not just the pompous - all walks of the local community jam the cafes each morning, not for 30 minutes, but for what seems half the day. Then they wander off to work, close the business for a few hours and disappear for the rest of the day.
I meet a man who opens up a public trampoline each evening at 7.00pm. It’s $2.50 for 10 minutes. Lauren and Molly get at least 40 minutes and we need to conspire with him to drag them away. He spent 20 years living in California. We talk and I explain my Dalmatian background. He is curious why we
Please can I have my i-pod back!!!!!
oh, and can I come in as well please? are here and what it’s like living in NZ. Soon, I ask him why he would come back to here, Postira, a town of 4,000 people with a sardine factory and a tourist trade. After all, surely the American dream is alive in Fresno? He looks at me strangely, considers the question and hesitates. I expect an easy and simplistic answer, but he shrugs his shoulders and simply dismisses America. “Work, that’s all they know” he replies. He turns the question back to me, “is NZ like America?” Sadly, I have to agree with him, it’s easy to see why he returned.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.171s; Tpl: 0.025s; cc: 13; qc: 62; dbt: 0.087s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.3mb
Jenny Lincoln
non-member comment
Hello from Jenny
Read your blog and thoroughly enjoyed your encounter of Croatia. Still can't believe you are on holiday and we are all back home and Turkey a distant memory! The boys started school last week so at least some normality is back in our lives! Greg had his 14th birthday party on our boat yesterday with a couple of his friends so it was great to be back on the water. Being on the water definitley does something to your soul - I think that is why I enjoyed the gulet so much! The boys really enjoyed the med cruise and if they had to choose, they certainly would have chosen the cruise over the gulet but they were such completely different holidays! Chris more because the food was so boring - he doesn't eat tomatoes and cucumbers and the whole green bean lunch menu which we all thought was so yummy! Anyway enjoy the rest of the trip you lucky things - I am quite envious! I'm looking forward to the next blog entry!