Africa Part 1: St Judes

About eight years ago I went along to the University of WA hear a talk by a young Australian woman named Gemma Sisia. With the mission of “Fighting Poverty through Education”, Gemma and her friends had founded a school for the poorest of Tanzania’s children, funded entirely by direct sponsorship – the School of St Jude in Arusha <www.schoolofstjude.org>. I was so inspired by what they were doing that I’ve been sponsoring a child and a teacher at the school ever since. So when the news came that some friends (including Leonie and Steve from last year’s Saronic cruise, and Andy and Cherry, owners of our ‘summer residence’) were organising a two week trip to Africa that included a stay at St Judes, it was impossible to resist. I could fly from Istanbul and join the safari in Nairobi. In reality it was even better as their Perth flight and mine from Turkey connected in Dubai - what a pleasure (and a relief) to meet all the crew in the airport!
 

For some reason I had imagined we’d be roughing it a bit, and was quite taken aback by the elegance of the Eka Hotel in Nairobi, where we enjoyed the first of many fine meals and very comfortable beds. I met those of the group who were friends of friends, including Hazel, a British New Zealander and Special Ed teacher who was a delightful room-mate for the rest of the trip. So now my worry was no longer surviving the dangerous streets of Nairobi, but salvaging something fit to wear from the shabby boat clothes that now comprise my wardrobe. Fortunately a solution soon presented itself in a local enterprise, Kazuri Beads, where a group of women craft and sell beautiful painted ceramic jewellery. A few gorgeous necklaces would distract from my faded T shirts and appalling footwear. The Eka Hotel also gave Steve, Neil and I the opportunity to sample a couple of African beers for Terry, in absentia.

Our first full day in Kenya was very full indeed. We started out at the Giraffe Centre, a refuge where we were able to interact with and learn about these extraordinary animals. By ‘interact’, I actually mean that we were encouraged to 'kiss' the giraffes by offering them food pellets from our mouths. This is nowhere near as revolting or unhygienic as it sounds – giraffes have antiseptic saliva as an adaptation to eating the viciously spiny acacia trees, and their tongues are fine-tuned to wrap delicately around a morsel of food. Giraffe-kissing was quite a sensual experience, and not one I’d ever really thought of adding to the bucket list!

Next up we caught the one hour daily window  of epic cuteness when the baby elephants are fed at  David Sheldrick Elephant Orphanage. Elephants that have lost their mothers through poaching, accident or disease are rescued and brought to the centre where they are treated, reared with one-to-one attention, then reintroduced to a wild herd. Hazel sponsored a baby named Sokotei who had just been brought in and was desperately trying to become part of the group.

Sokotei's first day

Finally we headed out to Karen Blixen House, the beautiful old homestead of the author of "Out of Africa", now a museum where it is quite easy to imagine Kenya's colonial past. The district is still named "Karen" in honour of a woman who had a much more enlightened and generous attitude to the African people than most, founding schools, hospitals and farming enterprises for the workers on her farm and the local people.

We concluded an amazing day with an equally amazing dinner at "Carnivore" restaurant, where meats of every kind are roasted over a huge fire-pit and served with delicious sauces and condiments to complement each type. I think each of us consumed his or her own weight in beef, pork, lamb, chicken and turkey, with the more adventurous trying crocodile, ostrich and certain choice body parts of other animals. Quantities of medicinal Dawa helped with the superhuman feats of digestion required throughout the evening and well into the night.

Bright and early next morning  (skipping the bacon at breakfast) we were packed up ready for the drive to St Judes, across the Tanzanian border in Arusha. Out of the rarefied atmosphere of hotels and restaurants, you start to feel you are really in Africa, with flat-topped acacia trees, patches of dense forest vegetation, ramshackle villages and especially people walking everywhere, even in the middle of nowhere. I only had a brief impression of Arusha itself, a confused mix of fine houses, rough shacks, modern offices, sprawling markets, mud-brick huts ..??? Then we were off down a muddy pot-holed road that led to ... a set of handsome buildings in beautiful garden surroundings, the School of St Jude!

  Gemma greeted us personally, and Nathan, a young Aussie volunteer on the Visitors' Team, helped us to settle in and introduced us to a group of Year 5 students who were our tour guides. And what impressive guides they were! Fluent in English, Swahili and often another language as well, the kids were bright, knowledgeable and extremely proud of their school. I had an opportunity to visit Mr Peter Manjalla, the Principal of the primary school, whom I have helped to sponsor for eight years. He is a warm and welcoming personality, obviously loved by the students; I was moved to see that he had a photo of me with one of my Year 12 classes, pinned on his noticeboard.

St Judes has been built and runs entirely on donations and sponsorship. It has grown to include primary and secondary campuses and facilities for boarding. Nearly 2000 children now attend the school, and as you might imagine, this has huge spin-offs for the local economy. St Judes tries to employ Tanzanians wherever possible, as teachers, house parents, gardeners, cooks, cleaners, security, health workers, maintenance staff, bus drivers, mechanics etc etc, and food and other products are sourced locally. It was awesome to see the place in action at last, and to get a sense of the ripple effect it has on the community. We enjoyed dinner in the dining hall with the students that evening - good nutrition and health have been a cornerstone of education at St Judes from the outset, and it was great to see kids full of energy and vigour, but restrained by good manners. We stayed in pleasant rooms in the visitors' quarters, with the one privilege the students don't have - hot showers!

An excellent breakfast was provided for us by Mr Peter, a cook who has been at St Judes from the very start, then we had a chance to talk with Gemma about some aspects of the school: the strong competition for places - children have to show academic potential but they also have to meet the criteria for extreme poverty; in an effort to spread the benefits to as many families as possible, no siblings are eligible. Gemma spoke of their policy of welcoming visitors and personally thanking all donors, and the way this has produced unexpected benefits; she told us about future projects, in particular a community service program for graduates of the school to give back to the community (for example, as maths, science and English teaching assistants at local government schools, or working in St Judes' visitors program) and the huge challenge of finding support for their graduates to attend college or university. We were in total awe at what this woman and her supporters have envisioned and achieved in ten years!

Our first stop was a Masai village to see the choir that they had established. After a traditional greeting and performance, we were invited to dress up in colourful cloths and beads to join in. We ladies learned the art of ululation and our senior traveller - Bibi (Grandmother)Ruth was the hit of the day: her eighty-six years didn't stop her from dancing or from catching the eye of the chief. More of the Masai in the next blog ...

Bibi Ruth with the oldest women of the tribe

Next we set off to the local government school, accompanied by one of the St Judes drivers who attended that school himself. He told us that when he was there they didn't even have a school building, but sat with their teacher and a single blackboard under a big tree. We met Mrs Anna, the school Principal, and learned about some of the challenges facing government schools. When asked what single thing would make the most difference to the school, she said, "Books, textbooks", and this was clearly in evidence when we visited a classroom. In a class of over fifty children, groups of four kids were sharing one well-worn, dated English comprehension text, the answers rubbed out and rewritten multiple times. All children are supposed to receive a primary education, though it is a challenge to convince some tribal people that kids should be in school rather than tending a valuable heard of cattle. There is a shortage of trained teachers, and a massive shortage of resources. The biggest disadvantage is that entry to secondary school is competitive as there are far fewer places than children. Furthermore, secondary education is conducted in English, and few children receive good enough training in English to pass the tests or to cope in secondary school. Our guide told us that he had studied desperately but had not gained entry into highschool; only one boy from his entire school managed to make it. 

Next up was St Judes secondary campus, another fine set of buildings in a beautiful setting - evidence of Gemma's belief that these children should have the best possible education. While the rest of the group attended a music lesson and toured the school, I finally got to meet my sponsored student,  Peris, and travelled on a school bus with her to her home in Arusha town to meet her family. Before we left, Nathan had told me a great story about the family. Peris had been helping her father to learn English, and he had bought himself a dictionary and a textbook to improve. This had enabled him to get a good job as a safari camp driver, and the family had been able to move to a better house - a two room concrete place instead of a mud brick hut. Peris was now helping her three young sisters with their studies, in particular with English which would give them a much better chance of getting into secondary school The ripple effect of St Judes - Fighting Poverty through Education - could not be more clearly illustrated.

The bus trip through the narrow, crowded streets of the township was an education in itself. Children and chickens in about equal numbers scrambled around a maze of gardens and makeshift homes. Tiny businesses were everywhere - shoe-makers, auto mechanics, sellers of everything . Peris' house was down a narrow potholed lane from which I thought the bus would never escape. Her beautiful mother welcomed us with spiced tea and donuts, and we had a very nice afternoon as I met her father and sisters and we chatted with the help of Peris and one of the teachers who accompanied us. I was quite overwhelmed to meet these lovely people and to hear about what a difference St Judes has made to their lives. Peris' goal is to study accounting and finance, as she has a talent in this field and believes she can make a difference to her community and her country by helping to foster business. Of course Terry approves strongly of goals like this and we are giving some thought to how we might help in the future.

Peris with her family

Next up we set off with Safaris-R-Us for the Serengeti - more soon, with amazing pictures!

Pamukkale

Never a dull moment in Finike Marina! Last week the marina staff organised a trip for a busload of us to the famous hot springs in Pamukkale, in the highland province of Denizli. Once again our tour guide was the delightful and knowledgeable Tyfun, a former Turkish Army colonel who is now enjoying his dream career showing tourists the highlights of his country.

Tyfun tells us about the history of Hieropolis

Finike mariners

The trip was fun from the outset, with great company comprising cruisers from a dozen countries and many lifetimes of experience. The drive to Pamukkale was splendid. As the altitude rose steadily, the orange groves of Finike gave way to apple and almond blossom, with small traditional villages nestled in the valleys. Most of the homes had great stacks of firewood  (fruit tree prunings?) beneath them, and pens for goats and sheep adjacent to the house. There was still plenty of snow on the mountain tops here, shimmering in the bright spring sunlight.

Just out of Pamukkale is the ancient site of Aphrodisias, dedicated, of course, to the goddess of love and beauty by the Greeks, but actually a site of human habitation for at least 5000 years. This area is famous for the quarrying of high quality white marble, so many of the city's statues and inscriptions have survived despite a devastating earthquake in the 7th Century that pretty much finished off Aphrodisias. Towns have sprung up since, and the last big earthquake hit the town of Geyre hard in 1956, so it was relocated to the west.

Ruins of the Temple of Aphrodite

The same series of earthquakes produced the ruins of Hieropolis, which we visited the next day. As always, the tombs seem to survive better than anything else, and there is a long front street of sarcophagi and funerary mounds - not my idea of a cheerful entry statement, but the ancient Greeks seem to have had a different perspective: a fine tomb was a mark of status and aesthetic pleasure. And of course, many of them would have been in the marble business.




Hieropolis is also the claimed site of the martyrdom of St Philip the Apostle, who was crucified with his seven sons. Eight individual chapels make up the spectacular church here - well worth the climb for the view alone. The trip to Hieropolis was made even more interesting by the company of Anne and Gordon, Scots friends from the neighbouring Warrior 40 Sarah Grace, who are keen birdwatchers and amateur botanists. Ruins are apparently ideal sites for both activities, and we thoroughly enjoyed finding and photographing some lovely birds and plants. My knowledge of European species is very limited, but its interesting to see the parallels with different niches in Australia, and to find what we think of as garden plants growing wild - especially the vivid red (and occasional purple) anemones. By the way, we would definitely recommend purchase of a Turkish Muzekart (Museum Card) for 50TL. It pays for itself very quickly if you like museums, galleries and ancient sites.

Anne and Gordon overlooking the ruins of Hieropolis

Anemones, dandelions and camomile

Despite all the fine artefacts in the museum at Hieropolis, my favourite piece was a double sarcophagus in the small folklore museum in the apple-growing town of Elmali. The departed couple, carved in relief on the lid, are clearly engaged in a tussle for the doona, and the woman (loser in the doona war) is wearing a nice pair of bed-socks!

We stayed two nights in the Colossae spa, which reflected its name by being enormous and catering to busloads of tourists, even in the quiet season. The hot mineral water is channelled into various pools for which many health and curative properties are claimed  - arthritis, rheumatism, high blood pressure and skin complaints amongst them. Donning our fetching bathing caps (5TL), Terry and I relaxed in the indoor pool for half an our or so - very soothing at about 35C. The next day I tried out the hotter and more mineralized outdoor pool where I almost boiled myself alive and had to adjourn for a cool shower to recover. However, my arthritic hands did feel much better.




The highlight of the trip was a visit to the famous travertine terraces of Pamukkale (which translates to 'cotton castle', referring to the cotton plantations there, but also, perhaps, to the pure white calcium deposits of the site). The whole area is a bit like a giant stalagmite, formed from calcified hot water seeping from the volcanic mountains surrounding it. Shallow, scallop-shaped pools have formed as the water has made its way down the slopes, creating natural baths. Only a few of these can be used, to protect the structures, but there are plenty of hot water canals for soothing your weary feet. Like the 'fairy chimneys' of Cappadocia, the blinding white travertines and blue water create a landscape that seems surreal and could almost be on a different planet.

 

 Travertines under a threatening sky

Back in the USA

It was another epic journey halfway round the world, but well worth it to catch up with my mum and stepfather again. Elizabeth and Kent live in Golden Valley in north-western Arizona, just across the Nevada border. It’s a spectacular but harsh environment of mountains, mesas and vast desert plains covered with cactus, stunted junipers and the occasional Joshua tree or cypress. Animals are surprisingly plentiful, with rabbits, wild burros, jackrabbits, ground squirrels, quail and other birds of all kinds very common, and coyotes, roadrunners, rattlesnakes and bighorn sheep often encountered as well. Even wolves and mountain lions have been seen from time to time. The Colorado River winds through the valleys like a vivid blue serpent, sustaining all this life in a dry land. And I mean seriously dry: your skin flakes, your nose bleeds, your hair goes electric and your eyes feel like dried apricots. The pharmacies do a brisk trade in various products to address these ailments and constant rehydrating drinks are vital if you don’t want your kidneys to shrivel to the size of dried beans and your pee to resemble black coffee.

Wild burros

Quail

Surprisingly, perhaps, a lot of people come here for their health. I’ve been told the clear dry air is great for asthma, bronchitis and similar complaints. Mum is doing well, still going for a good walk a couple of times a day and going down to the Tropicana in Laughlin for a game at the casino from time to time. Kent wasn’t in great shape when we arrived, but a new doctor, a course of Gatorade and some of our best healthy cooking saw him improve significantly over the fortnight. Watching him get a little better each day was the best thing about the whole trip.

 

 

Amidst the cooking and catching up, we managed to entertain ourselves in best western style as well. Championship Bull Riding at the new Laughlin Events Centre was a highlight, with some of the gamest young guys I’ve seen being flung around like rag dolls astride these wild thrashing bulls. I was interested to see that each bull has a rating, just as the riders do – obviously bulls are rated on how quickly they can get the guy off, while he is rated on how long he can stay on board. CBR was a fashion event as well, of course, and we felt a bit naked without our ten gallon hats and embossed boots. Denim and rhinestones were de rigeur for the gals, along with tats of roses, ropes, hearts and horses. A local DJ kept up a steady background of rock and country music throughout the evening, but when he played ‘Cotton-eye Joe’, the foot-tapping just about brought down the stands. It was great fun!

 

The next afternoon we headed down to the Colorado Belle casino to see Benny and the Swamp Gators play zydeco music against the backdrop of the Colorado River (cold and fast-flowing at the moment) and the mountains. Lots of cold beer contributed to a very laid-back and entertaining afternoon. We also took a drive out along old Route 66 to the small town of Hackberry, with its nostalgic General Store.
 

Benny and the Swamp Gators

 

 Hackberry Store

 



Before we knew it, it was time to bid farewell to the folks until next time. We spent a couple of days in Terry’s favourite town, Las Vegas Nevada, where we spent up big on boat stuff (particularly a new VHF radio and relay, of which I have high hopes) and managed to enjoy a couple of great meals and a performance of Jersey Boys, which was wonderful.

Many thanks to mum and Kent for a fortnight of great company, and for helping us to all sorts of cool stuff using their casino comp points! Thanks also to our lovely friends Jerry and Ellen, whom we met at Cooley’s Landing in Fort Lauderdale, aboard their boat Grace. They live in Vegas and had offered us a place to stay when we were in town. I wonder if they really believed we would appear on the doorstep?  Anyway, they collected us from the airport, put us up in their beautiful home (which is full of wonderful memorabilia from a lifetime of cruising!) and fed us right royally. I do hope that we can repay their hospitality some day.

 

So here we are back in beautiful Finike, where everything is green and blooming and the air smells of orange blossom. This is not how I ever imagined Turkey! Next up is a trip to the famous hot springs at Pamukkale for a little rejuvenation and recovery from sitting for hours in planes and buses.

 

On the Hard

For the last five days we have been living ‘on the hard’ while Common Sense has had her bottom scraped clean of algae, barnacles and other marine growth, followed by the application of a couple of coats of anti-foul paint. We contemplated doing this work ourselves, but the sight of several other cruisers spending weeks cursing, covered in grit and dust convinced us that it would be a fine thing to contribute a few hundred lira to the Turkish economy and get the local guys to do it.  900TL and it was done in one day (early start, late finish) by two painters.

 

 

 

 

Common Sense after her wash

 

Common Sense was in excellent shape after almost 3 seasons covering many thousands of miles – All the way down the US East Coast, a nip across the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas, a run through the Bermuda Triangle and a passage over the Atlantic.  Then it has been two seasons in the Med from Nth Africa and back.  Whatever Cap’n Dave put on it before he sold it to us was a very wise choice as almost all the growth came off in a pressure wash alone.

 

 

New paint and a shiny prop

 

We had other jobs to do: Terry installed a new speaker in the cockpit to replace one that died, and put in the fittings for our new Dyneema lifelines (we will buy the line itself when we go to the US in a couple of weeks) while I polished up the propeller, filled a few minor dents in our fibreglass and fixed the knotmetre. It was exciting going back across the marina when we got dropped in, seeing the speedo functioning again.  We can get the speed from the chartplotter but having 3 of 4 instruments working and 1 showing 0.00 used to bug Terry no end.

 

Dropping back in with Terry onboard for the ride

We still have a couple of things to do – our “Fremantle Australia” homeport lettering needs to be replaced, for example -  but Common Sense looked quite splendid on the outside as she hit the water yesterday morning . We are very glad be back in the slip with our friendly B Dock neighbours, the gentle rocking of the ocean and no great high ladder to climb up and down twenty times a day. The inside is quite another matter, and one of my goals for the year is to finally have a cabin that is comfortable, homely and where everything is STOWED.

Signs of Spring are all around us here in southern Turkey, in the mild weather, the snow melting from the mountaintops, flowers and green buds everywhere, new produce in the markets. It’s time to get out and about for some more hiking and sightseeing in this beautiful country.

Snow on the mountains

It’s off to the US for a couple of weeks on Sunday to visit my mum before we sail away northwards for the next season.  10 days in Arizona in the desert then 4 or 5 days in Terry's favourite city, Las Vegas Nevada.

 

Home ... and Home

Aries docks at the Dome

As many of you know, we spent much of December and all of January at home in Western Australia, in Perth and Bunbury.  It was so good to see all our friends again and to spend time with the kids and other family.  Heartfelt thanks yet again to the Cowans for the chance to house-sit our summer ‘home away from home’ and to dear Pauline for putting up with us for weeks on end – we hope we paid our way in gardening, cooking and odd jobs! Special thanks to Jo for the loan of her car – sorry about what all the berry-eating parrots inflicted on it!  As always there is a long list of people to thank for sleepovers, meals and a general good time: Leonie and Steve for great company and a way higher star rating than Noovoh;  Kathy and Pete for a great day on the water (with dolphins!) and gatherings with friends; Ann and Robin for a warm welcome complete with pizza oven;  Colin and Sol;  the South West Cruising  Club; all the crew at the NAB; Jenny and Robbie and the kids for fun times down on the farm; Lea; Pat and Julee, Jo and Bill and all the kids for a great family Christmas, Marg and Mike; Robyn, Christina and all my old friends from school; future cruisers Jeanette and Neil; Jan; Dawn; Pat and Terry; Sue, Olga and Sally; Penny; Pauline and Jerry; Melissa; Blin and Kim; Lisa and Aaron; Lizzy for chauffeuring us and Mart for a great evening at Green Street Bar – and everyone else along the way.  It wasn’t just the 26 hour journey back to Turkey that wore us out!
 

Lizzy, Keith and Martin, Christmas

Apart from the people, it was lovely to get back to the beach and the bush, especially down south.  Our beaches really are sensational – clean white sand, clear water, plenty of aquatic life, surf and no crowds.  The down side is hearing the theme music from “Jaws” every time you go in the water.  The other negative is the outrageous cost of everything – a meal out is at least five times the cost of something similar in Turkey, for example – which reflects high salaries and high property values of course, but was a bit of a shock still.

The beach goes forever

Before we knew it, it was time for the long trip back to Common Sense. 11 hours to Doha, six hours from Doha to Istanbul, an hour from Istanbul to Antalya, two hours on the bus from Antalya to Finike – 26 hours including layovers. And strangely enough, stepping aboard felt like we were coming home.

Robbie and Jenny at Lone Crow

 Martin stocks the beer at Green Street

Finike Life (Terry)

Well, we’ve settled in here in Finike with 290 other boats – the marina is pretty full for sure.  Lots of people we know from other places in the Med – some Australians we met back in Monastir last year, some French guys we met there also and some people we knew from Greece. Our friends from North Carolina who crossed the Atlantic with us are 3 boats away, and the other Catalina 42 Mk II who was with us is 30 miles away in Kas.

 

Finike Marina, Antalya, Turkey

 

For the moment, we are focused on settling in and getting BOAT jobs done. For those fortunate enough to NOT own a yacht, BOAT is “Break Out Another Thousand”. So far, so good. The Bow Thruster is finally fixed! Backing in anywhere was always a mystery – will it work or won’t it? Trying to tie up stern-to in Agios Nikolaos on Crete in 40 knot winds was a nightmare and it didn’t work. Now I know it will. The Hydrovane got itself bent in Kythnos when we were banging onto the dock wall. Straightened now. Works again. New anchor chain is in the locker, all 300ft of it. No more jiggling a shackle around the windlass when you get to 90’, then jiggling from chain to rode at 140’. If we want 300’ out, it’s going to be all chain. Auto bilge pump switch (somewhat important!) replaced and working. VHF still away with the repairer.

Just sourced a spinnaker pole that I’ve been chasing for a year.  Now we just have to match it to a mast track so it’s got somewhere to live and stay out of the way.  Lots of canvas work done to repair things that were worn through or ripped off in the winds.  Also getting a big “tent” made to go over the boom and out to the lifelines so we can spend more time out in the cockpit.  At the moment, we have a connecting piece between the Dodger and the Bimini but it slopes down and I have to bend to get under it so a tent that is boom-high will be good.
 

 

Common Sense's spinnaker

 

We have a full social calendar here – Monday evenings are Turkish classes and Monday afternoons are computer classes.  Yoga in the mornings.  Monday night is Film Night, Tuesday afternoon is Tech Talk where you get lectures and Q&A on Diesel Motors, electrics etc, Tuesday is Games Night (darts, cards etc)  Wednesday night is free, Thursday night is Quiz Night, Friday morning is walkies (we walked to a town called Turuncova a couple of weeks back, 8kms there and 8 back but some people cheated and caught the bus home),  Friday night is Happy Hour over in the closest bar, Saturday night is Pub Night and Sunday is the weekly BBQ. There are so many people at the Sunday BBQ that there is now also a 3pm Saturday one.  Sunday morning is a bike ride to somewhere.  Monday, Wednesday and Thursday mornings are Yoga mornings.  Friday once a month is a bus to Antalya, 100km away for the Symphony Orchestra concert.

 

2013 in summary

We started our year out of Tunisia headed for Lampedusa. Where we were last winter in Monastir is in a bit of an uproar at the moment.  12kms nth of there, in Sousse, some dude did the suicide bomb trick last week and the same day the coppers caught two more with explosives in the Bourghiba Mausoleum complex, which we walked past every day to go to town.  It’s about 500 metres from the marina. 

Our friends Olivier and Lauren were outside of us, as was another French guy, Eric, with our Belgian friend Laurent a couple of miles behind. We regularly catch up with Olivier and Lauren in all sorts of places. Laurent got himself dismasted off Malta, politely declined “extraction” by the Maltese Armed Forces, who, to their credit, let him continue. Anywhere else the jackboots would have come out and his forcible removal would have ensued. Laurent sailed his little “Caracal” back to the south of France with half a mast sticking up and a genoa poled out to replace his mast. He’s now headed across the Atlantic.

 

From Lampedusa, we headed for Malta and a rendezvous with our very old friend Avertano Role. Tano is one of life’s great characters, thoroughly committed to whatever he does. He is a lecturer at the University in Malta. It was great to catch up with him and spend a lot of time with him and his wife Sharon, who combines her job as a Chemistry teacher in high school with being a fantastic cook and generous hostess. It was one of our highlights of the year.

 

On to Sicily and the historic city of Syracuse. I could live there, easy. It is where our friend Guy on Skaf IV explained to me his theory that there exists a “Mediterranean Man”. He insists there is more to link a man from Syracuse to a man from Marseilles to a man from Tunisia than there is to link a Sicilian to a Venetian. There is a North/South divide Guy says that is not economic, it is a way of thinking about what you want out of life and I’m beginning to think he’s right.

 

Syracuse Harbour - anchored where boats have anchored for 3,000 years.

 

We spent some time in Calabria, in La Castella to be precise. This had some intrigue for me as my schooldays were spent in the company of people named Calabrese, Saraceni etc. Here, in Calabria, the first street up from the marina is Saraceni street! These are guys I spent 8 years of my young life with and I was excited to see where their roots are. After a week or so in La Castella, we were part of the furniture. We would take up position outside the Camel Bar on the main drag each night with a beer and a wine and watch the Passegiata. By the end of the week, we were being acknowledged. We sat across the road (all of 30’) from the old people’s flats, and everyone who passed stopped to pay their respects to them. On the other side of the road, we got a nod, which I felt was a damn good start.

 

 

Birreria di Camello

 

I have never been what you would call “emotional” in my whole life. Definitely “reserved” or maybe even a little stand-offish at times. Doesn’t wash here in the Mediterranean. The barman/owner of a pub is just as likely to hug you as is the local priest. I was in a post office in the town of Kefalos, on Kos. They had an old postal franking machine that businesses used probably 40 years ago when I worked for the State Electricity Commission (bet none of you remember that!) I went to look at it and the Post Master was excited that someone bothered to even acknowledge it was there. So I got a hug. Unheard of in Australia but I must admit that this idea of not being shy about being demonstrative is changing me. I think the Italians call it “Paesano”, but that’s limited to really close friends. I think the Greek equivalent is “patrioti”, as in “Yasu file, Patrioti”. I felt comfortable in Greece with my Greek Great-great-grandfather, and the Greeks I mentioned it to seemed to take just that little more interest in me when they knew that I was at least a little bit Greek.

 

This guy is a music producer on Crete - bought one of his CDs

Greece for us was a mixed bag. I was at ease in Piraeus with its dirt, graffiti and bustle. I just love places where people are working and making a living, like Cadiz etc. Life is tough enough in the Med at the moment, so a bit of grime is passable for mine. At night, Piraeus comes alive and you can’t see the dirt. I loved it. I also loved the Tour de Pelopponese that we did with our friends Kathy, Leonie and Steve. Nothing amazing happened – it was just a wonderful 10 days of cruising and friendship and I could do that again any time, same cast, maybe different location. New casts are welcome in the future if you can make the time. We were sad when it was over.

 

Piraeus and the Bay

 

For the rest of the Aegean, you can have it. You want to get a four-letter word out of me (and those I worked with know that’s easy) just say Kythnos to Santorini and you’ll get a firm “F… that” from me. Wind? I think that’s where they test 747’s to see if they can take it! After barreling down the entire chain, all we could do was hit Crete and that was mostly because it was in the way and it was too late to go around it. Our Bermuda Triangle storm was bad but seeing 55 knots over the deck three miles off Agios Nikolaos had me wondering if we were ever going to make land safely again. Tying up there was probably the greatest relief of the year. I didn’t know where I was until the next morning, and we ended up spending about 3 weeks on Crete. Of anywhere in Greece, this would suit me best of all. It is a rich, diverse island with enough going on to keep you interested in life. Rhodes is similar but has far more tourists.

 

 

"Prana" - flew past us doing 14.3 knots

 

From there, it was a little easier, though we were stuck by weather in a few places. It was no big deal, though, as they were nice enough to just hang out in anyways. A friend of ours in Bunbury has family roots in Astipalia and we went up there on an overnighter and ended up staying more than a week in a nice bay one east of the old pirate hangout of Maltezana (yep, they were Maltese pirates). From there, it was Kos, Rhodes and finally Kastellorizo, where so many Australian Greeks come from. Lots of them were back there, too, and Australian accents dominated the seafront.

 

The harbour in Kastellorizo

 

Turkey is wonderful – we were told by many that we would be amazed at how good it is and they were right. It is modern, civilised, hard-working and friendly. Where we are is a great location and the bigger cities are superb places to visit. Istanbul itself is amazing – our time was mostly on the European side and we enjoyed it immensely. It was about to snow as we flew out so we don't actually miss that bit. The walk down Istiklal street with a million others is a wonder of a weekend. It certainly is Istanbul's busiest street.

 

Istiklal Street, Istanbul

 

What did we learn? This is a lifestyle that has amazing rewards in the sights you see, the nights at sea, the people you meet and the time spent together. There is always the great sadness of cruisers when you have to say goodbye to those who are special, but you hope to see them again in ports or anchorages down the track.

 

 

Artur, Benoit, Florence, Charlotte and Thibault - on their way to Brazil

 

So far, we have been to very few places we thought we would definitely go to, and we have been to dozens of places we have never heard of before in our lives. We have sailed into harbours with tricky moorings, then anchored in wide open bays where the anchor bit first time and we didn’t move for days no matter what blew.

 

Common Sense - Astipalia

 

 

The boat is holding up well (marvelous what the application of $$$ can do! – they say there isn’t a cruising problem that can’t be fixed by throwing money at it). We are still comfortable in each other’s company, and rely on each other to do different things around the boat well.

We do miss our home turf but we’ll keep doing this until our health forces us to slow down. After this, perhaps a Canal Boat in France, then an RV in the USA. Then we’ll do the caravan around Australia. Life is too short to sit in front of the TV. (we gave ours away in Portugal last year).

When we get back from Oz, we think we can squeeze in a trip to Las Vegas again to see Carol’s mum in Arizona. Then Carol is off to Africa to visit her sponsored school girl, who is now almost ready to finish school. I have no interest in that entire blighted continent, apart from the Mediterranean bit in the West, so I’m not going. I’ll just hang around Istanbul perhaps or go over up into Romania for a little look.

Common Sense-wise, next year we will be headed up the coast of Turkey to the Dardanelles

From there, we haven’t decided. Probably the northern Aegean, then down past Athens again and around the Peloponnese, and up to Italy where we are hoping to spend some time if we can organise student visas and enroll in a language school.

I can’t see us getting out of the Med for a couple of years yet. It just grabs you and doesn’t let go.

 

Arriving in the Med - Padraig, Terry and Carol

 

Cappadocia

We are now the proud holders of Turkish Residency Permits for the next twelve months, which will enable us to take our time exploring this amazing country. If our recent trips to Cappadocia and Istanbul are any indication, it should be quite an adventure.

Cappadocia lies on a high plateau in the centre of Turkey, but the landscape makes you feel as though you have somehow landed on an alien planet. Its weird "fairy castles" and "chimneys" look like giant toadstools or conical hats, and some of them look more than a little phallic. But "fairy castles" they are, according to all the tourist literature. The formations are the result of volcanic activity: a thick layer of ash has been compressed into soft white stone, then a layer of lava has become a cap of hard grey basalt. Over time, gullies have formed through erosion, leaving these tower-like structures behind. The landscape is rendered stranger still by human activity over at least three thousand years. Dwellings, churches and storehouses have been hollowed into the rock and underground cities form a warren beneath the earth, some of them nine storeys down. It was fascinating to tour one of these cities: reservoirs, ventilation systems, stables, kitchens and food stores, waste management and places for worship were all carved into the stone, along with great stone disks which were rolled into place to cut off the tunnels, blocking the cities from enemies and trapping them within a section of tunnel, effectively burying them alive.

Balloon rides are a popular way to view the landscape, and these add to the spectacle: on a busy day, you can see a hundred or so multi-coloured balloons rising from the stark white peaks into the vivid blue of the sky. We went on a hike through one of the valleys, with the strange white and pinkish peaks rising on either side, a truly surreal experience.

                                                   Photo from Travelife because I forgot my camera!

The town of Konye lies close by, famous as a centre of Dervish worship, and home to the great Dervish poet Mevlana, also known as Rumi. Here we had the opportunity to see a Whirling Dervish devotion, a strange ceremony and not at all what I had imagined. It is definitely not a dance of rapture or celebration, but a sombre and intense analogy of death. The tall hat represents the tombstone and the white clothing, the shroud. The whirling and gradual raising of the arms signifies the soul leaving the body. The whole performance is a memento mori. Accompanied by rhythmic traditional drum and lute, the performance is mesmerising.

 

2013 is winding to a close. Next week we will head home via Istanbul.