Izmir, Turkey

The city of Izmir is, like Istanbul,  a wonderful blend of old and new. I really enjoyed Izmir. And also like Istanbul, it has a 'buzz';  you're never quite sure what's going to happen next. 

Here's a cafe in the bazaar. I love the riot of colours and textures. If this doesn't appeal to you, just go out to the main street and you'll find a Starbucks.

When you escape the temptations of the bazaar (and oh! what temptations there are! I could have shopped for Britain. Indeed, I tried), it's a short walk to the seafront.

You can sit and watch the ferries enter the harbour.

Sunset.

And back in the city, here come the cars.

Pergamon, Turkey.

The cable car.

Some of the group in the cable car, trying to appear nonchalant as we wobble up the side of the mountain in a pod that shook if you so much as blinked . Everyone looks really relaxed, but you should have heard the dialogue.
 "Nobody move til we reach the top."
 "But it's quite safe!"
 "Sit. Down."
Those aren't smiles. They are gritted teeth.

The view from the top.

It's a long way down!

The Acropolis, or rather, what's left of it.

The amphitheater. You can appreciate how big it is when you realise those ants climbing all over it are actually people.

Our group, with our guide Yaren telling us how Pegamon was built.
 I was too busy taking photos, but all I can say is, it's a good thing they had that cable car. Heaven knows how they would have got those stones up there otherwise.

Market in Turkey.

I haven't shown you half the places I saw in Turkey yet. Got to blame the 'Lazy Bone'. 

We stopped at this huge covered market on the way to Ayvalik. It was unseasonably chilly- in fact it was chuffing cold.

Underwear, anyone? In this weather?? Thought not!

The produce was wonderful, varied and fresh. Cheap, too. And there was lots of dried fruit and spices for sale.

This woman was selling a very thin dough, which she's making here; it's sold in big bagged bundles. It's a hard way to make a living I think.

Ephesus

What can you say about Ephesus? Only that you've been there. And that it's every bit as amazing as you've always heard it is. Oh, and get there early. Really early. Seriously. The crowds are huge.

 The library (above).

 This is what you see if you're standing in the library and look up. (Above) Beautiful, isn't it?

 This used to be the water's edge (above). Now it's miles inland.

 The huge ampitheater (above).

That's our own expert Dave! What he doesn't know about the area probably isn't worth bothering with. (Hope you're reading this Dave. A bit of flattery never goes amiss! And it's true)

Our shadows cast on the ancient stones in the early morning sun.

One of the residents!

Seen in Izmir.

Market vendors in Turkey

Olive oil.

On our way down the coast, we stopped at an olive oil factory. For me, it was to be an interesting visit because the production of olive oil seemed to reflect the story of Turkey, 2011. Just as the country is a fascinating mix of modern technology and old, traditional ways, so is the production of olive oil.

Luckily we arrived at the same time as a load of freshly harvested olives, picked by hand, as it has been for hundreds of years. The olives were packed in sacks and hauled to the factory by that old farm standby, the tractor. Here they are being unloaded (below).

Now the modern technology took over. The next thing that happens is they are weighed on a giant digital scale. I didn't take a photo. We all know what a scale looks like. For anyone on a diet (that's me), they're the stuff of nightmares. So; no scales.

After being weighed, the olives are washed and then crushed to produce the oil. Then the oil is filtered and then stored in massive stainless steel tanks. Working on the theory that we have all seen at least one tank of some sort or another, I didn't take any photos there either. Too boring.

Below- one of the filtering gadgets.

Then- the bottling (below).

After all the modern technology and shining stainless steel, the labelling dept was a bit of a surprise (below); just a solitary woman sitting in the middle of a sea of bottles, diligently affixing one label at a time- by hand. Not a conveyor belt or machine in sight.

And here's the finished article. We got the chance to try and buy. Lucky us! The oil was delicious and the bus weighed quite a bit more by the time we re boarded, having each bought at least one bottle. Lovely stuff!

Dress shop, Izmir Bazaar

Old and new.

As you can probably tell, I've developed quite an affection for the country of contradictions that is Turkey. It's an exciting place of contrasts and colour. Turkey has adopted new technology- and that technology often works side by side with the older ways: Wi-Fi is available almost everywhere, even as you walk the streets of a ruined city built in the time BC; switch on a TV in your modern hotel room and find CNN or BBC World news service- and step outside to find the Evil Eye embedded discreetly somewhere near the main door; and enjoy the superb Turkish olive oil, processed in a spotless factory, with sparklingly clean stainless steel equipment, only to learn that the olives were picked the hard way, by hand by someone who earns less than £5 ($7.50) a day.
Here's a few more examples I managed to photograph.

The Evil Eye

The Evil eye - it's everywhere in Turkey. But in Bodrum- I think we found the Mother Ship.

Anzac Cove, Gallipoli.

I joined a tour group in Istanbul and on our first day out of Istanbul and headed south, we visited Anzac Cove. It was very moving to be were so many lives were lost. And although it wasn't warm when we arrived, it wasn't difficult to imagine how dreadful it must have been for the men fighting on that exposed ridge, in the hot Turkish sun.

These are the actual trenches where the men fought (below). Apparently, at one stage, when the stench from rotting bodies became unbearable, the soldiers made a truce so each side could retrieve their dead and bury them. Then, when they realised that they were just the same as each other, and not the monsters their commanders had told them, they started trading cigarettes and other items, like canned meat; anything to make their miserable time better.
Can't help thinking that if the men who have to do the fighting were allowed to do the negotiating, instead of politicians and generals, there would be a lot fewer wars. I know that's not an original thought, but I think it bears saying more than once.

You'll probably have to double click on the photo (below) to read what Attaturk said, but I think it's worth it. One person in the group said that it was almost as if he was apologising to the fallen.