Tag Archive for 'Turkey'

You need to be persistently adaptable

Tim Bull has recently written an interesting discussion point on when is the right time to innovate. In a post titled “Steam engine time“, he asks:

If innovation is a process of the right idea, in the right place and at the right time, how do we judge what the right time is and measure what is going on around us to hit the right spot?

Some would say luck has something to do with it, although I believe that is the perception from an outsiders point of view. In my eyes, a core set of attributes are required for innovation.

Consider this quote from Calvin Coolidge, 30th president of USA:

Nothing in the world can take the place of Persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan ‘Press On’ has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race.

I think Tim is wrong to ask when is the right time, because innovators understand their environment, adapt to it – and then push until they get there. Persistence and adaptability, in my eyes, are two crucial aspects needed in a person or even a country or company, for it to successfully move forward. However whilst persistence is key – you need determination to push forward despite the barriers you are going to encounter – adaptability is the real secret to successfully innovating.

A case-study: multiculturalism in a flat world
Although I was born and bred in Australia, I have been brought up under a very strong Greek influence. With an Australian-born father, and a fresh-off-the-boat Greek mother – I have lived a life straddled in two cultures. Going to an Anglo-Saxon school, yet at the same time doing Greek classes at 9am Saturday (but leaving early for my schools footy games) – I grew to resent Australia’s multiculturalism policy. Without going into too much detail because this will turn it into a political discussion and detract from the point I wish to make – I disliked the fact that Greeks in Australia refused to integrate into the local culture. The Australian government’s stance of officially supporting Multiculturalism, which does things like pay for that Saturday morning tuition, was to me a stupid policy.

Fast forward to 2005, when I visited the Balkans as part of my nine months traveling around Europe. Serbia’s story is one of the saddest stories in Europe. Walking around the city of Belgrade, interacting with its inhabitants, and just generally experiencing Serbia – you realise you have come across a hidden gem in Europe. Yet once you look at the statistics and talk to some of the educated, you understand otherwise: a basket case situation that has little hope.

Serbia, like a lot of other countries I discovered in my travels, have a cultural problem: they can’t let go of the past. Millions of people have died over differing interpretations of history. The Republic of Macedonia’s identity is entirely staked on the fact they are situated on the lands of Alexander the Great. Identity to the nation states of Europe, is in history. And challenges to that history, and their identity, has led to some stupid wars affecting millions of innocent lives.

So guess what? I now think multiculturalism is the best thing my country could ever do, for the simple fact we can never have a fixed identity – what it meant to be Australian 50 years ago looks very different from what it looks like now. In Europe, identity is based on ethnicity with a fixed identity tied to history, language and a religion. In Australia, our identity isn’t allowed to be based on a certain ethnicity, and forces us to find common ground on what really matters like our way of life. If it wasn’t for the policy of Multiculturalism, we would be turning into one of these static nation states within Europe who become fixed as a certain point of time. The Greeks are still mourning over the Turks capturing the Great City of Constantinople from them in 1453 (which is why Tuesday is the unlucky day of the week for them). Yet for the countries like Australia, who don’t have much of a history – they are not locked – and consequently look forward, rather than back. Multiculturalism is a crucial ingredient to our success, because with all that diversity, it means we are constantly evolving our culture to the times without any one group fixing it. And with a globalised word, Australia’s ability to adapt to circumstances will be a key competitive advantage we have over countries.

If you don’t agree with me, have a read of Thomas Friedman’s The World is Flat – a book a entrepreneur/intrapreneur suggested I read. This guy who told me about the book was a German from Argentina, working for an Indian company to set up the company’s presence in Turkey! He told me that after he read that book, he quit his job and got himself into his current role. He faced the facts, and adapted his career.

Adaptability as success
You’re probably wondering what I am trying to get at, but to tie it back to my point about adaptability, successfully innovators need to constantly adapt to their environment. What happens with people once they get an idea, is that they spend all their time trying to fit it into a world that once existed, only for the world to be a entirely new place. Successful innovators need to constantly evolve their ideas, to the changing circumstances.

In October last year, I made a proposal at my firm to implement a new technology. For the months leading up to that point, people had to some extent talked down my idea and some even flat out rejected it. October however had me find the right person to hear my idea. And yet if I look at what I originally had thought, and what it is now – it is almost a completely different thing. Because when I pitched my idea, I was asked “why” it works and “how” is it different from anything else. It was that ‘why’ question that had me spend countless hours researching and understanding – adapting – my idea to the scenario being presented to me. I successfully made my business case, because I was given the opportunity to reframe my idea and adapt it to the circumstrances I was presented. Had I not adapted my original idea and vision, I wouldn’t be doing what I am doing now.

Of course, I could have summed up the above by mentioning Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution. Survival of the fittest, right? Adapt to the Green forest like that Green lizard that looks like a leaf, and you’ll find some food (rather than being the food yourself). Adaptability in life is a key critical success factor; and with innovation, it is the hidden factor that on the outside and in retrospect by others, gets attributed as luck.

Update 20/6/07: Catching up on some reading, I just came across a great posting by Marc Andreessen, an internet pioneer, who talks about the four types of luck and which nicely complements my thoughts above.

Iran

Iran proved to be an interesting trip. I was invited one night to an Iranian house for tea; on a separate occasion I was invited for dinner with a family, and provided a bed to sleep in. One day I was there, a group of university girls approached me, took me for tea, and the next day took me shopping and sightseeing. They made sure I didn’t pay tourist prices for the things I bought, and they paid for pretty much everything that day. I kept thinking to myself the scenario – girls picked me up off the street, paid for everything, and insisted on carrying my bags. Where has Australia gone wrong?

However, my entry into Iran wasn’t as smooth as I had hoped. I had to put up with cab drivers and bus operators whose low level of intelligence was matched inversely by the high level of bacteria in their armpits. I discovered I was not able to get a flight out of the country to my next destination – a crucial assumption for my entire trip (although I did manage to get one later – double price however). And a little more problematic – having two of my $100 US bills being identified as counterfeit – a slight problem considering I had no access to any other means of money, as credit cards don’t work and international links to banks like mine in Australia, don’t exist.

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This money was meant to pay for my trip out of the country. And they say the mafia’s operations doesn’t affect the ordinary person.

My first few days in Iran were marked with me being in an absolutely negative mindset, and I was enjoying myself as much as one would when sharing a prison cell with a big fat sex-crazy cell mate called “bubba”. Fortunately, the moment I left Tehran, my trip changed. Negative experiences, turned into memorable ones. Though memorable does not necessarily mean fun at the time, as I experienced in Shiraz.

I flew into Shiraz from Tehran to save time (flights are cheap), and after finding a room, I started walking around the city. I didn’t go very far before I could sense someone behind me watching my movements. After a few minutes, an Iranian guy approaches me and starts a conversation: he was a little hard to understand (he sounded drunk) but I didn’t think much of it. He was extremely excited to meet me, to practice his English and to learn about Australia – a place he wants to migrate to. So I had myself a guide – Rezer starting showing me the sights as we talked, and after the bazaar, took me to a mosque which is one of the most important to the Shi’ite Muslims. We were inside, with me absolutely stunned by the beauty of the interior (the walls and roof were covered in crystals, and the strategic placing of the lighting gave the room an amazing glow). As I am looking, head up and stunned, Rezer pulls out his hand, and he says slowly: “These are my tablets. I have psychological problems”.

The dude with mental issues who would not leave me alone

The amusing thing about this picture, was that when he looked at the picture afterwards, he was scared of himself. I had to reassure him that his big eyes in the picture did not make him look freaky (when in fact, they were normally bigger, and he looked damned freaky when they were).

It is an interesting moment to be experiencing one of the most mesmerising shrines you have ever been to, and to find out your companion of the last hour is mentally unstable. As we left the mosque, I subtly asked why he needed the tablets. “It’s to calm me down.” I didn’t show any reaction, as if it is an every-day thing for me to find out I’ve got a wacko right next to me. He liked the way I reacted to the news, and declared how much he liked me now. Whoopee.

The tour continues, and en-route to the ‘final’ bit of sight seeing I had agreed to – where we would be overlooking the city – we walk by the local mental hospital. Speaking very softly, and in remarkable detail, he was able to tell me which sections of the hospital housed what type of ‘crazy’ person. “These are the people that are really, really crazy, and can’t live in society by themselves and need lots and lots of help”. A curtain is quickly drawn on the top left of the building. “See, that was a crazy person. In that section that is where the people who shit all over the floor stay and make a mess all over the place”. I was tempted to ask how he knew all this, but I didn’t want to provoke any negative reactions. I insisted we continue, so that I could end this tour as quick as possible. On the way to our final destination – he insists we call his sister so that I speak to her. She was nice, but quickly ended the call, as if this happens on a daily basis. The tour continues.

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The city of Shiraz at night, by the gateway of the city.

When we first met, he asked me about the differences between Australia and New Zealand. Half an hour later, he asked the same thing. After the fourth repeated question – where had I just come from – I noticed a pattern. He had completely forgotten what I had told him 10 minutes earlier.

We get to the top, had some tea, took some pictures, and I showed him my photos. He asked about the difference between Australia and New Zealand, and he asked to see my photos (again). He asked where had I just come from, and whether he could see my photos (for the third time). I told him I have already shown the photos to him. He insisted in taking me to my hotel. I said no thanks. We make it back to the spot where I met him in the centre of the city, and he said just quickly to show me the outside of the castle there. I agreed reluctantly, saw the very important picture he wanted to show me (the devil being defeated by someone) and then I said I really had to go now. He then began asking when I would leave, and if we could meet the next day. I said no. He asked if he could see me at the bus station to send me off. I said no, again. He asked at about what time will my bus leave. I said I didn’t know.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asked. “Excuse me!?” I exclaimed. He continued, “Can I kiss you and hug you?” I replied by saying I did not feel comfortable, because in my culture, men don’t show affection like that. He continued, “But I want to hug and kiss you because I really like you and I love Australia”. Time to leave I thought, and I started making my way, saying goodbye over my shoulder. He waved good-bye, and then he yelled “wait a second, I need to tell you something”. I stopped and listened. He then asked if he could see my pictures again. “You already saw them I cried out for the fifth time. “Can I please hug and kiss you?”, he asked again “No! Goodbye!” I shouted, and I started walking very fast. I could sense he was watching me, so when I made the corner, I bolted and got lost in the crowd.

The Iranian experience
Geographically, Iran is amazing. The locals are very proud of the fact that their country has four seasons. Apparently, at any time of the year, there is a place in Iran that is experiencing one of the four seasons. It quite literally is an all-round tourist destination, because it has amazing deserts, sensational mountains, beautiful forests and waterfalls, and so much more.

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The gutters in Iran fascinated me. This is in Tehran, where it was practically a waterfall.

Historically, Iran is as rich as they get, and it has the infrastructure for mass tourism (everything from cheap and plentiful accommodation to widespread use of English language (in signage and in understanding by the locals), and even tourist offices everywhere that matters. There is no country more suited for tourism, and despite having every reason to visit the country, there are practically no tourists. A lot of people there don’t quite understand how their civilisation – which stands with the greats of Ancient Greece and Ancient Rome – has been forgotten by the world. The Persian Empire started as one of the three Aryan tribes to inhabit Iran before it ruled the Ancient world (Iran in Farsi, means “Aryan”). Whilst the Arabs dominated the country for 600 years, something which a lot of proud Iranians resent because it ‘bastardised’ their country, their history stretches into the middle ages and this century – until the Revolution, where the Shah was forced to abdicate. There is absolutely no reason, in my mind, why you should not visit the country – and every kind of reason to visit (with the exception of maybe nightclubbing) .

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The Government-led propaganda effort is very over-the-top. This is at the former US embassy, now known as the Den of Espoinage. It has a set of murals on the southern wall depicting Iran as an American colony, and then images showing a war led by Ayatollah Khomeini, who saves the country

The people in Iran are the friendliest I have ever met. Practically all the people I met in the country approached me on the street for a chat (I stood out like a banana would in a green salad), and those that helped me went completely out of their way. My perception about Islam – now that I have seen it in practice – had made me realise how beautiful the religion is, and how misguided Western civilisation is in its perceptions, especially in the post 9/11 world. I think of the mass media in how it contantly asks questions along the lines of ‘Can Islam and democracy work?’ – I now realise how ridiculous that theme is, and depressing because it just proves how ignorant we are. (Although, why it doesn’t work in Iran is because the clerics are unaccountable – an Islamic democracy is different from an Islamic theocracy – the difference being elections and media scrutinty, both non-existant in Iran for the clerics).
More importantly, visiting the country has made me realise how amazing it is. As an Iranian told me: “We are not Afghanistan!”, which seems to be a good way to summarise how the world sees this country. Yet telling the locals this view, shocks them, and with good reason, as the country although a little rough around the edges, is just like a European country with an oriental flavouring – and at a fraction of the cost. There is nothing wild and adventurous about travelling in Iran – to tell you the truth, it was a little too easy. There is one thing however that made my blood freeze: crossing any road – you’ve just got to close your eyes and hope for the best.

Nomad

A nomadic couple in Southern Iran, near Firuz Ab?ɬ¢d. Couples like this herd their sheep from one green pasture to the other. I am not sure what the correct transliteration is, but it sounds something like Ashel-yer.

The Islamic Republic of Iran is about as Islamic as the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (North Korea) is a Democratic Peoples republic. Whilst the people are religious, the government in Iran, controlled by the clerics, is an authoritarian government thinly cloaked under the veil of Islam. The place is a police state – where military check-points between cities are frequent and security is tight. I went to visit a friend at a university, and was angrily denied entry. Although I later befriended the guards, the fear of my presence was amazing. (Although there apparently were some British students that broke into a university and created a fuss recently…it also didn’t help that I was in Kashan, which has a nuclear reactor neaby and the local authorities and population had been forbidden to admit it existed until it was found two years ago by international inspectors.) Being shown around the city of Tehran on my final night, with a guy who is an registered tourist operator – we were denied access to see the other side of the new Foreign Ministry building – a historic building (I thought it was fair enough, but he doesn’t understand why). Security is tight in the country, enforced by no fewer than three levels of enforcement.

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You don’t mess around in Iran.

As well as the police and the military, there are also the Revolutionary Guards, known as Sepah – a parallel secretive military outfit to the actual military, albeit with a different function. Sepah is the personal police unit of the authoritarian clerics ruling the country. They are the people that ensure there is no threat to the establishment. Apparently, you can do anything in Iran now, just as long as it does not threaten the establishment – that is why satellite TV is not a problem (as in it is technocally illegal, but not enforced), but journalism on the Internet in the form of blogs (like this) are heavily monitored. The abuse of power is disgusting: an example was with a friend, we saw about 40 men gathered around having a dispute. Apparently, these men wanted to build a Mosque in their local community. Right next to the proposed site, was Sepah’s local barracks – Sepah was not letting them. The barracks were huge as it was, and this patch of land was useless for military purposes. My friend told me that he believes Sepah was denying the request so that they could have a basketball court. Is this what an Islamic Republic is about? The themes of Orwell’s Animal Farm resonate strongly, the only difference is that the communist party is replaced by Islamic clerics.

Alcohol

Alcohol is not legal (although plenty of people do drink). Heroin is also very popular.

During the Iran-Iraq war – a war that has had a huge impact on the society – a friend tells me fifty percent of the budget was allocated to the military. Whilst the war has ended, I would not be surprised if the figure is higher than most countries during peace time in terms of military spending. It is interesting to see how the state can control the population, through the military, and this is how it was explained to me: A guy I met reckons 70% of the men pre-military service want change, as in another revolution. Another guy I met reckons the figure is 90% of the entire population, and a third person says 80%. Whatever the figure, I think you get the idea – people want another revolution. The thing is though, men can only get their passport after they have completed two years of military service. I was told though that whilst 70% want change, when they do their military service, that figure drops to 30%. Following military service, parents force their sons to get married. Actually, people want to get married because sex before marriage is a criminal act – and all the men I met claim how much it drives them crazy.

But when you have a family to support, revolutionary feelings die down. You just don’t care so much about the oppression, in so much as the welfare of your family. With apparently five million people working for the government (figure unverified), these people also don’t want to stir the pot, because finding a job is hard in the country, due to the weak economy. I short – everyone detests the government, personified by Sepah. But people can’t do anything about it. I find it ironic, that a half dozen separate people told me that they and everyone they know, believe and think the days when the Shah was in power were happier times. I met so many intelligent Iranian’s, both students and academics, who knew the visa regulations of all the countries in the West: Canada, Australia, USA and England. For those that can leave, they are voting with their feet -and figures run into millions of Iranians overseas.

Mosque

Iranians sure know how to build a shrine. Pictures will never do the mosques I saw any justice.

On two separate occasions, from two completely different groups of people, I was told that they believe Iran is a colony of England. The first time I heard this I was shocked – the second time stunned. A joke I heard, was how an Iranian made car, had it parts made in England, and was assembled in Iran, whilst the clerics have the parts made in Iran, whilst being assembled in England. Historically England has used the clerics in the country as a means of controlling the country, and that apparently is a fact, according to a friend who had done a lot of reading of history. A commonly held belief is that the US and English wanted the clerics to control the country (ie, supported the revolution), because with its natural wealth, it had the potential to be a world superpower – but by oppressing the population, the West controls the resources without an overly ambitious Shah challenging their power, which is what it was becoming to look like in the 1970s. Iranians feel betrayed by their government – what other explanation could there be why Iran is not living up to its full potential? I was told 60 per cent of the worlds oil supply has to pass through Iran in the south. (And looking into it, I think he was referring to the Strait of Hormuz, whereby 90% of the regions oil transits, which equates to 60% of the worlds seabourne oil, and an amazing 40% of the worlds total oil.). And it’s not just oil, it’s gas as well.

Esfahan

Esfahan is a relaxed city, and one of the most beautiful ones I have ever visited.

Iran accounts for ten percent of the worlds oil, as well as a large amount of natural gas – the energy of the future. However those are the figures of today; there are also the figures of tomorrow. The Caspian Basin, to the North of Iran, apparently holds 200 billion barrels of oil – second in size to Saudi Arabia – with the potential to increase global oil output by 25 per cent. And of the three proposed routes, Iran is the cheapest, and shortest. Iran is one of the most important countries for oil (and gas, they are second only to Russia) in the world – for actual oil, and its positioning for transport – both now and increasingly for the future. In the light of those facts, I think I understand what the Iranians mean.

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The Internet is censored. Search engine results of “hot sex porn”, “Salman Rushdie” and “How-do-I-get-out-of-this-bloody-country” were randomly blocked

The country receives five billion dollars of foreign investment a year – Iranian officials believe they need double that amount to have the country develop fully. But I wonder how much of that figure goes to the energy sector. Not only does the country need a hell of a lot more money, but it needs it to help invest in civilian industries, not just energy which benefits the regime. There are sanctions on the country, and it is the ordinary people that are hurt by them – not the ruling dictatorship.

People want a revolution. But will there ever be one? People, on the whole (as I am told by everyone), hope so. But it looks unlikely. Hope is in the actual democratic aspect of the government, whereby reformist representatives are battling an uphill fight. However with the recent election of the hard-line Mayor of Tehran as President, this will be a huge set back to the reforms by the previous President. More cynically, as I was told by one person, is that it won’t make any difference: whenever someone gets elected, they shave their beards (symbol of the establishment) and claim to change and improve things, when in reality they are just as bad as the previous people.

Blue Bridge

Iranians sure know how to use lighting to enhance their structures at night. Esfahan has a selection of bridges that look magnificent at night.

I really feel sorry for the Iranians. The world, due to the mass media, has got a completely wrong perception about the country – although a little rough around the edges, it is a safe and developed (but poor) country. The people are being oppressed by a power-hungry regime, that has interpreted the Koran to suit them (apparently, there is nothing in the Holy Book requiring women to cover their heads – all women have to wear headscarf’s, and not doing so is against Iranian law – although faces are allowed to be shown). The economy is crippled by the power games being played by their government, where the ordinary people pay for any hardship imposed by the international community, but the regime receive any benefits – especially in the wealth generated by the energy sector. (For example, if an Iranian finds oil on their property, the government owns it, giving nothing to the Iranian.)

Artist

One of many artists, who painstakingly hand-paint their creations, with small brush strokes

An interesting thing I noticed about the Iranian economy, is how it is growing. Whilst China, for example, is getting foreign investment to grow, Iran (like India) is growing internally – which in the long term, is a lot more powerful. The Iranians are developing industries, from automobiles to airplanes as well as tourism (arrivals by March 2006 will see 25% more tourists, according to officials). They are, for example, creating energy trading markets to compete with the US controlled exchanges in Europe – actions which give it global influence. The recent decision to value its oil in Euros, not only will change the dynamics of global oil but also global economics, by weakening the might of the US dollar. However, there still needs to be a lot of work to be done: the airline manufacturer complained in a newspaper report how Iranian airlines don’t want to use their planes, citing credibility and reputation with going with Airbus. However, when explaining why they should use the Iranian-made planes, the manager says that although the plane holds less passengers, and takes longer to fly – they state the benefit that “it takes seven minutes less time to load the plane” as a good reason to buy the plane. For some reason, I think there is another reason why the airlines don’t want the Iran-made planes (they suck). But I think it is still impressive, that there are even attempts to develop industries like this, which are dominated by the Americans, Europeans and Russians. If Iran grows its economy to the levels of the developed world, one thing we can be sure of is that it will be puling its own strings – and possibly of other countries as well.

Carpet

Carpet makers in Firuz. This carpet is three by six metres, and will sell to a carpet shop for 900 Euros. This is the final week of the three month project. How do they know when to put what coloured string to create the impressive design? It’s done by memory of an image, apparently.

How to overthrow the government
In Iran, it costs ten 800 Rial for a litre – that’s about ten US cents. In Australia, we pay at least 100 cents for one litre. Despite the fact that the cost-of-living is very low (a pricey meal for three in a classy hotel restaurant costs $15), even the Iranians admit that the price for petrol is dirt cheap. With petrol prices increasing, something needs to be done. I am really keen on buying a V8 sports car, which consumes a lot of petrol. And so in a bid to ensure I get cheaper petrol, I advocate we invade the country and open up the oil there, so that I can afford to run my car. I don’t really care who gets the honour – heck, I’ll even help the French have this one – but something needs to be done for my energy needs. And so, I present to you, my plan on making sure I get cheaper petrol.

It is simple, and it doesn’t require any invasions. Complicated diplomacy is unnecessary. And best of all, it’s guaranteed to work because it is based on history. The answer, my friends is tax.

The Persian wars started because of high taxation. The French revolution, started because of tax. American revolution? Tax. That’s right, it is all about tax, and there are plenty more examples. So for the next Iranian revolution, we need to make the clerics tax the bullshit out of the average Iranian – afterall, it was a rotten economy that ruined the Shah. The people will revolt, and I will get cheaper, western-controlled petrol.

So how do we do such a thing? Again, very simple. We need to make ordinary Iranians rich, and the government broke. Because when you are rich, you have wealth. And when you have wealth, you want to keep that wealth. Any attempts to tax it or take it away, is going to piss the Iranians off. Especially when it is going to fund something you don’t agree with.

Shiraz bazaar

Standard issue bazzar shot

How do you make the government broke? Through war. Iran is part of the unrecognised Kurdish region. If the Kurds in Iraq breakway to form a Kurdish country, and take a bit of Turkish Kurdishtan, they will also go for the rather large bit in Western Iran. Iran has a better-then-you-think military, so best not to get the overstretched Americans involved with this one. Europe will support the war, because a Kurdish country will weaken Turkey – making it less of a big, poor Muslim nation entering the EU. A smaller population will make the Turkish admission more bearable and less threatning. The Russians will also support the war privately because Iran is enegry competition. But also it will push up orders for Russia’s defence industry, as Russia and China supply Iranian military needs (funny how dictatorships around the world, no matter the ideology, can find friendship).

There is nothing like a good old border war to send the government broke, pressuring the governemnt to raise taxes to fund its activities. There is a 10% Sunni minority that are also a little pissed off – for example, they can’t hold government positions or even become university professors. A Kurdish war, and an internal war will do wonders. And what about those islands in the south that are disputed territory with the Gulf States? Back to history, empires always end when they can’t control their borders, and haven’t got the means to defend them (for lack of cash). Let’s get the boys in Bahrain and the UAE to stir the pot down south.

Now the harder bit, how do we make Iranians rich? Afterall, you can’t tax the poor.

Drop the sanctions – they are making the Iranians poor, and are not affecting the regime. Develop tourism, because it is a industry with huge potential, and will enrichen the people, not the regime. Tourism will also help what the US-government controlled Internet and world wide web will do: inject foreign influence. A B-Grade movie I saw on a bus, which was a prison version of fightclub, actually came from America. Although it was poorly dubbed in Farsi, there is one thing the propaganda office can’t control outside snipping sex scenes: the images themselves.

When an Iranian girl sees a western movie, with western women in their new fashions – or the women visiting the country – do you think it doesn’t have an impact? There already is a revolution in Iran – socially. Whilst the men don’t grow beards if they don’t support the regime, and sport short-sleeve shirts which were previously frowned on, women are being a lot more daring with their fashion. When the revolution first happened, all women were covered head-to-toe is this black garmet with only their faces showing – called the Chador. However not any more. Whilst that outfit is still popular, a good fifty percent of women are quietly non-conforming – and this isn’t restricted to any age either. I saw women wearing pink coats, that although fulfilled the modesty requirements, I can tell you now it was a very creative interpretation of the requirements. A modest fringle is allowed with the headscarf – however the definition of modest seems to mean half the head with most Iranian women! Sometimes the women were being so “extremist” I almost felt obliged to say something!

Social revolution

Times are changing. Whilst mosques and universities mandate women to cover up a bit (this girl is most likely on the way to uni, as her dressing is inconsistent), most when they can, shake off the bland black and satisfy the law with the absolute minimum. And it’s not just in fashion: vanity is also on the rise. The amount of women I saw who had just had a nose-job was ridiculous.

So there we go. For cheap oil and gas, the stage is set. People want a revolution – they just need some help. Whenever someone criticises the regime, they are pulled down for being “Anti-Islamic”. People need an excuse to revolt – high taxation is the answer. The current international policy of isolation suits the Mullahs, because it keeps the people poor and dependent. Let change it to suit the people – visit Iran as a tourist and encourage the revolution.

Hope

The long road to Iran via Turkey

Turkey. Was meant to be a transit destination, and this is now my 8th day! Three days in Istanbul, a day of travel to get to Trabzon where I spent two days, another day to get to Dogubayazit via Enzurum, and when I finish this post – a full day getting out of the country (even though l am right near the border – I was been roped into helping a local Kurd). The bus trips have been as fun as an adult circumcision, but despite being totally disengaged as a traveler, it still has been an interesting trip.

I arrived in Istanbul early Saturday morning, groaning that the ticket office I needed wouldn’t open until Monday. The hostel was literally a match box (how they fit the beds is beyond my comprehension) that had not been cleaned since, well, never. But despite this there was a hot but stupid Brazilian girl, and a German dude that I become friends with as we were entertained by the Brazilians stupidity, so that made it more bearable.

?Ѭ?stanbul

Istanbul. Damn big.

The German guy had just spent a year working for an NGO in Bangladesh. Yes he is also asking "why" as well now – He’s turned into an avowed capitalist after seeing what he saw. It turns out both our fathers have had former lifetimes as ladies men, but I think his dad takes the cake. His Romanian father is a musician that travels the world bonking women. My friend is son number 12. No one knows but the father how many sons he truly has. "Are you really son number 12?" I would ask for the fifth time. "You very amused by zis, eh?". God yeah.

I picked the hostel because it is in the heart of modern Istanbul near Taksim square, which was a good idea because it is totally different from Sultanahmet, the tourist area. The street is a pedestrian area, filled with shops and consulates dating back from the Ottoman Empire when these grand buildings where once embassies. Apart from walking up-down Istiklal street like a million times, I also got a taste of Istanbul nightlife with the German. Worst hangover ever.

Fishing in the Golden Horn

Having seen what travels on Istanbul’s waters, I don’t suggest seafood in the city.

Istanbul is grubby, congested, and disorderly. But I love it. I don’t know what it is, but it just stands out as one of the most amazing cities I have ever visited, a class I put alongside New York and London. There was a Turkish law that said that if you could build your house in 24 hours, you could claim the land. This resulted in a mass migration from heartland Anatolia, and today no one really knows how many people live in the city. To say 10 million is an understatement. Try 15-20 million.

Trabzon is a cool city as well, founded by Greeks thousands of years ago – the name is derived from the Greek word for "table", because the city sits on the mountain…like on a table. It has always been a historically important city as it lay on the Silk Road, as well as its impressive positioning protecting it from invaders. Today the focus has shifted from East to North, as it trades with Russia and the caucus region. You only need a glimpse of the port to know it is an important one.

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Along the Black Sea coast of Turkey, a mountain range follows it. This picture is on the far west of Trabzon – no wonder it resisted so many invaders.

Both cities are distinctively European in appearance, and spirit. It was only once I got lost in the suburbs of Trabzon that I saw women covering themselves head to toe and even then it was rare – only a few really old ladies. In Istanbul and in the centre of Trabzon it is very rare to see women cover themselves. People look European as well. It was not uncommon to see blue eyes. Actually I was shocked to see how European Turkish people looked. Coastal Anatolia is as European as they get.

Sumela Monastry

Sumela Monastry, which stands at the foot of a steep cliff, about 45 kms outside of Trabzon. Despite undergoing many changes since its founding, they say it first began during the reign of Theodosius I (AD 375-395). It took an hour to walk up the cliff. Monks are crazy people.

Heading inland, things are a bit different. The head to toe covering of women is a tad bit more common, but again, it mostly seems like the older generation. The head scarf is a lot more common, but it looks more like a fashion statement than a statement of fervent religious belief. The people look a bit more Arab as well, but as I found out last night, the Arab-Turkish look is because of the Kurds. One Kurd I met reckons there are 30-35 million of them, in a country with a population of 70 million. No wonder the Kurdish issue is so sensitive in Turkey.

On the bus from Trabzon to Enzurum, I was confirmed you don’t screw around in Turkey. Going on mountains so high up that there were cloud formations next to us, the bus suddenly made a sound like the bonnet had just been scrapped badly. I never found out what exactly happened apart from seeing some scrapings on the side, but what amused me was what happened after the scraping. First of all, all the men were outside, talking and looking very knowledgeable about what to do. Then, a passenger smacked the bus driver, and they got into a brawl. Then, the traffic police came. And another police car. And then a military van with five guys with big guns, four of which guarded the road. Another police car drove past but he was told to move on because they had enough support. Then, a shitty car with what appeared to be a high-ranking military officer, turned up. He poked around, walked around like he was important, and then had his door opened by one of his soldiers. He gave me a look as he was leaving that resembled like a "respect my authority!". I just gave him the kiss my arse look.

And the bus one and a half hours later left. All that for a traffic report? It reminded me of when I was in Trabzon, walking in the suburbs whereby a good 10-15 police cars one after the other came out of their car lot, presumably to deal with some important crime like a bank robbery or fetching a cat from a tree. Point being: Turkey has a lot of military and paramilitary with nothing to do not far from you – don’t test them! The amount of military bases in Eastern Turkey further proves this.

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Turkey has such a diverse and stunning geography, which bears similarities to all the countries I have seen so far combined.

Last night, tired like all buggery, I arrived in Dogubayazit. Some guy called Gerkum led me to a cheap hotel, and I was then passed on to Martin the hotel attendant. Martin than took me to a restaurant, and the staff there entertained themselves as I burnt my mouth with Kurdish food. Apparently, it’s called Kurdish viagra. I haven’t got a female companion to test it but God am I paying for it today – I don’t think a virus has the chance to exist in my body right now because of how strong the curry was (it was like packed curry with some flavouring).

Uploading my photos and writing this entry, Martin found out I had some basic internet knowledge. Two long hours later, we created a site with pictures. Wasted my day meaning I will get to Iran later rather than earlier, but if he gets at least one new customer I suppose it was worth it. Kurdish people are the friendliest people I have ever come cross as well. Maybe a bit too friendly – the 19 year old owner of this Internet cafe likes to talk and it is taking forever to write this entry.

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A proud nation, even though the issues of secularism and the Kurds, seem to challenge and bring conflicting views of what it means to be "Turkish"

Back in Trabzon, I was chatting with the hotel dude whilst eating breakfast. I don’t know whether it is the international male language, or if guys I meet are repeatedly testing my sexuality – because people always bring up the subject of women with me. He was telling me how Russian women are very beautiful. I said Turkish women were very beautiful as well, but he replied "Yes pretty, but only for marriage, not fun". Trying to make the conversation a little more meaningful I asked if people were religious in Turkey. He said they were, but not like how they were in Iran. "In Iran…make changes….like Christianity…you will see when you go". He then left the room with me trying to understanding what he meant by that. I didn’t have the chance to find out, but whatever his negative view of Iran is, I hope I can prove it wrong.

PS. On the toilet issue debate, the Muslim way is so much cleaner. Having said that though, I have completely redefined the relationship I have with my left hand.

Bulgaria

Having checked the map, I’ve realised that my trip-to-be isn’t really Eastern Europe in as much as it is Central Europe. And the term ex-Eastern Bloc is so passe. So let me start again: Greetings from the ex-commie bastard countries, before they turn into capitalist prick countries! Oh, I am excited!
The doctor ordered I stay in Greece another 10 days to recover, since my last blog posting. She could feel my anger, and did not charge for the session. The next visit, although better, she said I needed another month to fully recover – on top of the previous 25 days I had, locked up in Athens with rare glimpses with the outside world. Fearing for her life, she said it should be okay for me to leave. The next day, I was on a train north.

St Alexander Nevskis cathedral

Orthodox Christian iconography, at the big mother of a church in Sofia. Love them. And so does the Vatican, which sells them – the churches may disagree on doctrine, but they both know what sells well

So what to say about Bulgaria? The women are ridiculously hot (even the store mannequins looked good); the country is ridiculously cheap (and apparently, those two facts are not mutually exclusive, as I explain below). And I have never said the word “ridiculous” so many times, to describe a country.
I spent two days in Bulgaria’s capital – Sofia – and four in a former capital – Veliko Tarnovo. Sofia was pleasant; VT was great but could have been 10 times better if it wasn’t raining. We spent two nights hoping it would clear up, and I had to spend another night there because my bus to my next country broke down on the way. Unfortunately the day I left was also when it started clearing up, but I figure I will explore the country another time.

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Managed to get some pictures on my last day. The castle at Veliko is built on one of the three hills that the city sits on.

I enjoyed Sofia because it was bustling with people, had chic areas to hang out, and I had trouble trying to spend my money – always a good sign! In VT, despite the rain, I had some good company. I had met two British kids – Lydia and James – in Sofia, and said to meet them in VT. Although they left the day before me, they arrived at the same time and found me as I was walking to the hostel in VT, with a taxi driver that had no idea where they wanted to go. ?Ѭ? was wondering why it took them an entire day to get here, and they explained. In Bulgaria, like in Albania, they shake their heads sideways for ‘yes’ and up-down for ‘no’. Put simpler, the opposite to the rest of the world. So when on the bus the previous day, they asked the bus driver if the current stop was VT. He shook his head sideways, to indicate yes. The kids read it as a no. And so they spent the night on the Black Sea resort of Varna, a few hours from where they had originally planned to be.

Although it was raining, Lydia and James – who had met one week earlier but looked like a married couple together (something I think a lot of travelers can relate to when traveling alone) helped pass the rainy days with me. Lydia with her slapstick humour and James with his political incorrectness, wit, and political incorrectness. We found this amazing restaurant and we would eat there all day whilst laughing. On more serious discussions, James and I would reminisce the good old days of the British Empire, and how good the times were with slavery. James and I realised we are also a compatible writing team, as we discovered when writing an entry in the guest-book, and we are currently brainstorming a book we promise to write for the growing travel market. The book is called “Islamic Jihad on a shoe-string” or how to blow shit up on the cheap, for the budget traveler. I think we may have cornered a niche market here.

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The food was unbelievable. And ridiculously cheap: this dish cost about Five Lev or Three Euros. Also, they iron the tables with table-cloths when re-setting. Maybe that is what Sydney restaurants are missing?

Bulgarians look different from the rest of the people that inhabit the Balkan peninsula. Like the Serbs, there is a hint of Slavonic blood in them, but their unique look is obviously more dominated by other tribes. There is obviously some Thracian blood in them, but there is also a Turkic central-Asian look, from the Bulgar tribes that migrated in the 7th century AD. They have this characteristic round look, as in round face – like a teddy bear face. Having said that, there is also the sharp nose, sharp face look. Either way, they look different. And on the highly charged issue of Macedonia, I have to say the Macedonians do look a little different.

Sofia is located near the Republic of Macedonia’s border. It was picked as capital, because of the wishful thinking that one day Bulgaria would be reunited with “Western Bulgaria”, with Sofia as the capital in the middle of the country. Bulgarians claim the neighbouring Macedonians are actually Bulgarians, that speak a dialect of Bulgarian. I personaly find the Macedonians to be a little more Slavic in appearance. Either way, it’s a hotly contested issue. Maybe if the Bulgarians learnt how to move their heads for yes and no like the rest of the world, there wouldn’t be such a communication problem when discussing senstive issues like these? I was very confused when talking about the subject.

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Veliko is bu?Ѭ±lt on these hills. It was a strategic city, as it lay on the Rome-Constantinople road.

Bulgarians are very pro-Russia. In fact, when most of the commie bloc countries in the north where trying to get out of the Warshaw Pact, the Bulgarians voluntarily asked to be a part of the USSR in 1973. Whilst cheap Vodka may have something to do with it, the “we love Mother Russia” view is probably also due to the historic relationship with the Russians, where the Russians liberated the Bulgarians from the Ottoman Empire in 1878.

Russian church St Nikolay

Russian Church, built by the Russian Ambassador in the 1800s. They reckon he thought the Bulgarian Orthodox Churches spooked him, so he needed some Real McCoy Russian spritual protection

Squashed by the Byzantine Empire, supressed by the Ottoman Empire, and ‘liberated’ by the Russians – the Bulgarians are slated for joining the European Union in 2007. People don’t seem to understand why, nor care. The owner of the hostel at Sofia that I stayed at, reckons Bulgarians don’t have a deeply rooted culture of democracy. The concept of being an independent state isn’t a concept they understand. Whilst they are very proud of their culture, they are not so proud about their country. He reckons Bulgaria needs to be ruled by someone, because they don’t know better themselves.

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Sofia city centre.

Turbo folk music seems to be popular, music that has swept the Balkan states. I was told in Serbia, everyone hates it but it seems to be popular in Bulgaria. The girl at the VT hostel hates it as well, saying it is a bit like American R’n’B music with cars, naked girls, and sex. My Serbian friends claim it is nationalistic propaganda music. With short skirts and girls, I think I now understand how propaganda works.

And finally, a funny story. Was taking pictures.

St Alexander Nevskis cathedral

Actually, this picture to be exact

And a young man in a business suit asked me for the time. Then, he gave me his business card. It was too funny to refuse the card.

Medical control!

"non stop"

The card he gave me. Notice “non-stop”, ” medical control” and the generous discount.

Unfortunately, that is all I have to say. Blame the rain. Currently in Turkey and lovin’ it.

Macedonia

This is driving me nuts. I have just spent the last hour or two going through my e-mail, and my Internet-cafe neighbour is having cybersex with some Arab. Actually, I think he is in Turkey, but she has been showcasing some Arabic words. She started with teaching him Macedonian – yelling “da! da! da! (yes! yes yes!) – and now she has mellowed, calling him her ‘lotus’ and asking “why has this happened to us, I want to be near you. Honey” whilst smoking a cigarette. Think of a phone-sex line, where there is a fat woman on the other end moaning and groaning. Except this girl isn’t fat – just ugly. And really loud. Really fucking loud. Damn it, I did it. I tried to not swear in case any kiddies are reading this, but I feel some much better now. FUCKING SHUT UP.

Okay, much better.

Ohrid. Pictureresque.

Macedonia has been quite delightful (Greece get over it – I am not calling them Skopje, or the (Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia). I got in Friday night, and tomorrow morning (Wednesday) I will be leaving my temporary home for the last few days, in Ohrid. Ohrid is described as the tourist Mecca of Macedonia. Lots of Churches here as well, which goes back to Ohrid’s historical importance. It is right beside Lake Ohrid, which is approximately 2-3 million years old, and is one of the world’s oldest lakes and the Balkans biggest. Given its age, there are a lot of unique biological aspects, like that freakin’ animal that sounds like a baby laughing. It took me half an hour to work out it came from the lake.

“I love you honey. I. Love. You” Can someone please get this girl a vibrator?

Ohrid is a great tourist destination. The Old Town looks like any modern cosmopolitan city’s shopping arcade, with the latest fashion, jewellery stores, and cafes and restaurants abound (although funnily, about 90 per cent of these restaurants either have ‘Pizza’ in their name or make it a focal point of their menu). It is very scenic with the surrounding hills, and the lake. But the best thing is the cost of living: my first two nights were in a fully equipped private apartment, which cost the equivalent of 10 Euros a night. My remaining three nights were in a private room in the Old Town, for about six Euros.

And then there was the food. You could eat yourself silly and not want to think about food and drink for another 24 hours, with just 10 Euros. A main meal, like lets say – Pizza – costs about 100 Denars. My Hungarian Goulash tonight cost 150 Denars (60 Denars to the Euro). Add a few drinks, and a salad, and you could pay 300 Denars (five Euros) and be very satisfied. There are high-speed internet cafes all over the place, asking for one Euro an hour. Why I am so surprised, is that although the cost of living is comparable to Albania, the place looks every part like a modern European city (unlike Albania, which is a permanent pile of rubble and construction). And minus the foreign tourists; whilst plenty of Australians come, they are all ethnic Macedonians. I stood out like a sore thumb with the locals. I would like to think it’s because I am a good looking guy, but I think it’s just because I looked so different to everyone. Although I must admit, the women did tease a lot…

Yes, it is true. The women here are beautiful. And they definitely know how to shake that arse. Apologies to all you feminists out there, but if you are wondering why you are 35 and still can’t find a husband, maybe you should learn from your Slavic sisters when it comes to style. Unfortunately I have been told that I missed out this year – the fashion this year is tight jeans with stomach showing. Last year it was mini-skirts with g-strings showing. Just as well I came this year – I had enough trouble trying to conceal my grunting at the glamour?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s walking past me.

Chruches. Everywhere in Ohrid.

However for every positive, there is a downside: the men. Absolute scum bags. Not all, but a lot of con artists. I was seen as a walking money bag. You would as well, if you worked a minimum wage job in any developed country! The problem, as everyone would complain to me, was the economy – which I suppose is why Eastern European countries and the Balkans are famous for these con-artists, as their economies are still a mess. Half the people I spoke too dreamt of one day leaving – however the other half were very proud of the country. I think my second landlord, was the most eloquent in explaining this to me.

Nikola is a 38-year old university graduate (in economics), working for the police as an investigator. Actually, he was in a team of six that was selected by the US state Department for anti-terrorism training, so this guy is no monkey. He has three kids, and a modest house in the Old Town, where he rents the top rooms for some extra cash. He, like everyone else, said the economy was very weak, with no developed export markets and no opportunities for work. The wages are super low – Natasha, a girl from a tourist office, was telling me she gets paid 200 Euros a month. Eljah, a pimple-faced 18-year-old tax driver whom I used several times as my personal chauffeur, says 200 Euros is a lot – he said he averages about five Euros a day.

However unlike Natasha and Eljah, Nikola realises this is just temporary and is willing to sit it out. “Every country has problems at different stages. In this age for Macedonia, it is the economy”. He sees it as a temporary phase as the country develops itself. However what we both agreed on was that Macedonia desperately needed to be part of the European Union (EU) for that ‘phase’ to ever pass. However with the French and Dutch rejecting the new EU constitution these last few weeks, it might mean it will take longer than hoped. (It will happen – as Nikola said, the EU has become too strong to just disappear now.)

I become very fond of my afternoon chats with Nikola. Despite the fact he hasn’t used English since primary school, I could feel his English improving by the minute, as we used sign language to have conversations about global imperialism and the rise of India and China (and America?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s future), as well as what Macedonia needed to do to get ahead. If anyone was watching the time when I was saying Macedonia needed to look at emerging industries, not old economy industries such as biotechnology against agriculture – I think they would have died laughing. How do you explain biotechnology to someone who doesn’t speak English?

Macedonia is a fairly small country, with about two million inhabitants. The country gets bullied around by its neighbours because of its size, and its economic dependence on countries like Greece. However the economy is the only bad thing about this place, and it is only bad if you want to live here. If you want a holiday, I highly recommend Ohrid. It is four hours from Thessalonica in Greece.

As for my experience in the country, it has been okay. I went to a nightclub on Saturday on my own, which was a little weird, because I have never been to a nightclub on my own. I had to pay five times the normal cover charge (like I cared, it was only five euros). I met some girls there who were very playful until the drunk mafia guy came. He was a Melbourne-based Macedonian, and he had a gun on him. He got me free drinks, so I wasn’t complaining. However, I wasn’t arguing with him either.

Macedonian flag

But I have had enough being the rich tourist amongst all the other tourists, I have to get out of here. I better go and pack my bags – my bus to Nish in Serbia leaves in just over three hours!

Update:Who would have thought, that a 5am bus trip to Skopje (transit point for Nish), would have me sitting next to a tall, blue-eyed, blonde-haired, beautiful woman who was super intelligent and from a wealthy family (a rare thing in itself in Macedonia)? We got cosy on the bus and spent three hours talking non-stop! But the reason I am including this update is because she was able to explain something to me which finally helped me understand a major issue, and which I think deserves to be included on my posting about the country.

Macedonia is now being divided into two versions – traditional Macedonia, and the Albanian Macedonia, whom refuse to integrate into the local population, and adopt the country’s traditions and culture. There was a big war in North Macedonia in 2001, and a treaty was signed. We are not talking about some petty differences here. There are some huge tensions, which I sensed, but didn’t understand. The war is still recent memory, and it doesn’t seem like the issue is resolved. Something bad is brewing.

There is a a lot of racism in the country over Albanians. Why you may ask? Well it is not the Albanians that have settled and adopted Macedonian life, but the refugees and illegal immigrants that flooded the country during the Kosovo war. Ethnic Albanians now constitute about 20 per cent of the population, and have become such an influential group, that the country has to accommodate for them. The Albanian language just recently became an official language of the country, and various other measures have been put in place, which quite rightly, are making the population quite angry. As Karolina lamented, she feels like she doesn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t know what her identity is. To get a pubic sector job, she is required to learn an entirely new language! It is a bit like the Hispanic situation in America, where all these illegal immigrants that crossed the border from Mexico, have become such a powerful minority, that the politicians are scared of them. And like the Spanish kids, they refuse to speak Macedonian and speak only Albanian.

To cut a long story short: we haven’t seen the last of the Balkan wars. The South of Serbia, and the North of Macedonia will be on our television screens in the near future.

As for Macedonia’s economy, she was also able to explain a few things to me as she is an economics student. It appears the country is trying too hard to satisfy EU requirements to become a European Union member – rather than actually make any efforts to develop the country itself. It seems like pretty much all of Macedonia’s problems, stem from the former Yugoslavia. With respects to the economy, what she meant was that all the industries and factories were in other parts of Yugoslavia – not present-day Macedonia. The result was that the disunion left the country with an inheritance of nothing.

Istanbul

Sleep has been a very important concept for me in the last week. Very important. Just as my body had adjusted to American time, it then had to adjust for Greek time. And to make things more fun, I caught a 6pm bus from Athens that arrived 1.30pm the next day in Istanbul. The smelly illegal immigrant from a Black Sea state next to me, felt my pain, and spent 18 hours sleeping and hugging me whenever the bus turned. Four hours later in Istanbul, I was on another bus, to Gallipoli. At 12am I arrived, only to spend the next five hours trying to keep my body from freezing until the start of the Dawn Service (you can read a less whiny post on my Anzac experience here).

The bus trip back to Istanbul was the sweetest sleep ever. Somehow, I sleptwalked my way from the bus to a hostel. And then I was happy.

Istanbul is a great city, and it is completely over run by Aussies and the odd kiwi fruit. The Turks love Australians, and we are being treated like a bit of a novelty. I had a day in the city because the next 19 hour flight (bus drivers in this part of the world seem to think buses are a perfect way to practice for pilot school) doesn’t leave until tommorow, which was great: I finally had the chance to spit on Doge Enrico Dandolos grave (don’t worry, I did an extra one for you as well).

Next destination is the “village” in motherland Greece, deep in the footholds of the Peloponnese, to celebrate Greek Easter.

Athens to Istanbul

Amused myself by trying to throw things in this guy’s mouth

Athens to Istanbul

These guys did not know each other. I could not wait for when they woke up and found out they had been sleeping on each other.

Gallipoli

Humanity. Identity. And youth. Those were the three unspoken themes that permeated the atmosphere at Gallipoli, the site at which 90 years earlier, soldiers from Australia, New Zealand, France, Britain and Turkey fought in a battle that lasted nine months but would forever haunt the site. Militarily, this battle brought bloodshed on all sides. Culturally, however, it would come to define the modern Australian and Turkish states ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú creating a legend that would affect us to this day.

Background

Even in ancient times, Byzantium was a very influential city. It controlled trade and shipping that would pass from the Black Sea and Anatolia, to the Mediterranean ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú the junction that connected Europe to the Silk Road. So strategically important was its position, that the Roman emperor Constantine moved the capital of the Roman Empire there in 325 AD ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú where it ruled the world supreme for a thousand years. In 1453, the Ottoman?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s finally invaded the impregnable city with a new technology ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú canon fire ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú and made the since renamed city ?¢‚ǨÀúConstantinople?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ the capital of her vast empire.

In 1914, the Ottoman Empire ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú now on its last legs ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú had joined the Germans in the First World War. Constantinople, like it has always been, was a strategically important city. To capture it meant that the Allied armies could eliminate the Ottoman?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s from the war, as well as control the key black sea trading route ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú ensuring a starved Russia could get supplies and support, as the Western side of her belly was cut off by the Germans. The Gallipoli peninsula led into Constantinople, and if the Allies could capture the Peninsula, they could make their way up to Constantinople and achieve their objective. The outcome of this battle had huge ramifications for all the sides fighting, as it could have broken the stalemate on the western front.

Kamal Attaturk was the commander in charge of the Ottoman army at the Gallipoli peninsula. His success in defending his homeland, made him a national hero, and no doubt played an important factor in him becoming Turkey?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s first President in 1927 ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú whereby he oversaw the remnants of the Ottoman Empire in Anatolia modernised and completely revitalised into the powerful country we see today.

Of the Australian and New Zealand forces fighting there, the battle has became a symbol that defined two young nations, as up until then, their colonial past was the only identity that they had. They were known as the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, and the acronym to those words has come to represent a commemoration for fallen heroes; and for Australia, the uniqueness of her culture and people.

Ninety years later ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú the memorial ceremonies
The memorial consisted of three parts. The first part was the Dawn Service, which started at 4am. Later in the morning, the Lone Pine Service was held, to commemorate the Australian troops ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú as five of the seven Victorian crosses awarded were due to acts performed at this site. And afterwards, the New Zealander?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s held their service at Chanuuk Bar, which was the highest ground reached by the Anzac?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s.

The Dawn Service was held in an area called North Beach, which was just above Anzac cove. The area was held in a space the equivalent of a football field. The crude estimate that 14,000 people were there was based on the assumption two people could fit in each square metre. A lady who was handing out programmes, said that of the 19,000 printed, 17,000 had already been handed out at 12am ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú when not even three-quarters of the attendants had arrived. Add to the fact that there were literally thousands of young Turkish people swarming in the masses – it would not be unreasonable to say that 20-25,000 attended this year?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s service.

A local Turkish girl teased me, because she had one layer of clothing and was fine. I on the other hand had three layers, and was numb, shaking and could only concentrate on breathing and keeping warm from the winds, which made the five-degree Celsius climate feel like minus five. As someone who had only recently come from Australia?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s March climate, to experience Turkey?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s April chill, I stood perplexed at how men my age and younger – a military historian claims to have discovered a soldier aged 14 and nine-months – had to jump out of boats into the water and onto these fields. And then dig a hole, where they had to eat, shit and fight out of for the nine-months that followed.

The ceremony itself was nice. It probably would have been more enjoyable had we not been in the cold for so long. Nevertheless the light show, which was to simulate the sun-rise as the Anzac?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s landed on the shore, was quite spectacular. The rugged and steep hill behind us and which was 100 metres from the shore – simultaneously lit up in portions, as a flashing multi-coloured light projected from a corner near the water on our front left. It was dark, but there was also a full-moon which gave the shore an eerie feel. The lightshow against a backdrop of darkness was surreal; and the deathly quiet during the show, with the speaker system booming the voice of the narrator, definitely made an impression to those there.

After the Dawn Service, most people climbed the hills to Lone Pine. It was here that everyone who attended would agree was the highlight of the experience. Sitting in what was like a mini stadium ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú the 4,000 seats were full, and the ground was covered with people. John Howard, the Prime Minister, made an early arrival and did his rounds through the crowds. He was greeted with a standing ovation and cheering ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú which he lapped up every moment off. However when the same treatment was bestowed on Kim Beazley ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú the opposition leader ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú he may had realised that it was more larrikinism than respect when he heard those cheers.

After five false starts, a Mexican wave did a complete loop, including the armed service band, whom dropped there instruments to give a very precise and uniform wave. However what had me startled was that it would not stop. Every few minutes, I would notice the stand directly opposite me stand up, again, and after the wave had passed me six times, I started to wonder if it would ever end. It did, but that?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s only because we were busy asking all the dignitaries to give us a wave, which would have a stand erupt in cheering and laughter when they did

Dignitaries were plenty. From Australia, we had the Prime Minister, Opposition leader and quite a few members of the Federal Cabinet. Victoria?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s and Tasmania?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s premiers were present, and Prince ?¢‚Ǩ?ìChucky?¢‚Ǩ? Charles was in attendance (but no Camilla). Top military brass from Australia, New Zealand, Germany, the UK, Turkey, France and I am sure a few more filled the official chairs. In fact, some many ?¢‚ǨÀúdignitaries?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ came, that they ran out of official chairs ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú much like how the entire day panned out ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú a gross underestimation of the amount of people that would come.

An interesting observation was how Australian democracy was being represented overseas. When the Prime Minister gave the speech at the Dawn Service, it was the opposition leader that was to lay the wreath for Australia. Our ?¢‚ǨÀúhead of state?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢, represented by chucky, had no role of importance other than a token prayer (and only at the Dawn Service). The Australian head of state ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú the Governor-General, with the current holder of the office also a former military officer ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú was nowhere to be seen.

It became evident that the things Howard spoke about, and by the way the ceremony was organised, that he was doing more than just a memorial service ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú but was trying to shape an Australian psyche. He laboured to have us acknowledge sacrifice, mateship and courage as Australian virtues?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú but he had no trouble having us understand larrikinism, as was evident with the master of ceremonies repeatedly having trouble controlling the crowd.

The Service at Chanuuk Bar was a long walk up, which was a sobering experience to see how the New Zealand troops were able to get so far. Whilst I did not attend the service, people reflected that it was not as good. The noise generated by the Turkish children passing by to their buses, as nearby they were celebrating their own ?¢‚Ǩ?ìVictory?¢‚Ǩ? of the battle, made it apparently difficult to enjoy the moment

Overall Observations
The thing that struck everyone who attended, were the amount of young people present. Most of the crowds were Australians based in London on working holidays or GAP-year students working somewhere in Europe. An older contingent of retirees made their presence felt, and it seemed that for all except the tour-guides, it was a first-time experience. Nearly all that I spoke to wouldn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t have come to Turkey had it not been for the 90th celebration. Although everyone also said, they would definitely be back again.

Another thing that struck us as strange were the amount of Turkish people there. In recent years, the battle has raised in national importance in Turkey ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú and questions are being raised by the younger generation as to the amount that died (there is no Turkish burial site). There were boys and girls there from all over Turkey. Some where there just to see what the fuss was about. Pretty much all of the young Turkish men there, came because they think Australian women are easy to pick up. Whilst it annoyed me and I am sure other people how the Turks in attendance didn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t show much respect by keeping quiet and stationary during the Dawn Service, it was startling to see so many other young Turkish children on the walk up to Chanuuk Bar. Even nicer was the warmth both nations showed each other in their interactions, a thing confirmed to me in Istanbul where all the shopkeepers who realised I was Australian, would tell me how much they liked Australians. Sure they were trying to sell me something, but they seemed genuinely respectful.

Australian poets and songwriters have long lamented that when the last ANZAC would die, the importance of the day would be lost in history. The last Australian ANZAC has died, however I wish that some of those artists could have been there, as they would realise a fresh generation of young Australians would carry the tradition on ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú although for different reasons. Being surrounded by so many Australians, in a foreign continent where some had not heard an Aussie accent since they were in Australia, gave everyone a warmth. However being in a crowd of Aussies, laughing and cheering together, and nodding our heads at things that the Turkish tour guides didn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t understand, did something else. It made you feel like an Australian. And it made you feel glad you were one.