The Detouring Doctor

Constitutionally the Commonwealth of Australia came into being in 1901 in a process devoid of any conflict. More often nations and their identity are forged in the crucible of war and Australia is no exception with the onset of the Great War in 1915 and the now legendary exploits of men and women who’s sacrifice we all as a nation celebrate on April 25 each year and collectively know as the ANZACs.

A young Australia in 1915 would have been a very insular society. Predominantly British descendents but geographically close to nowhere else on the planet. I can imagine at the onset of war and with the “motherland” calling for volunteers some of finest young people lured into an expectation of adventure and travel. The thought of death at that age would be furthest from their minds. 

First stop Egypt for basic military training and then the British Admiralty hatched up a plan to secure the sea route known as the Dardanelles through Turkey to enable onward navigation to war ally Russia. Their first attempt to sail through failed due to Turkish artillery bombarding the fleet sailing through the straits so the next plan was to take the Gallipoli peninsula with a poorly devised land invasion.

The iIl fated landing started disastrously as they landed in the wrong spot. All of the land force should have been on the beach by dawn. Three hours past dawn the last contingents landed, late. The chain of command lacked clear direction and worst of all the Turks were already present on the high ground firing at the landing party that took heavy losses right from the start. What followed was 8 months of bloody trench warfare a war of attrition where both sides sustained heavy losses but both also fought gallantly and with honour. The legend was born.

This has always been a “bucket list” destination for Suzanne and myself. The countryside could best be described as bucolic and outside the bigger towns nothing seems to have changed much in the last hundred years. Gentle rolling hills slope down to pretty little coves and sometimes sandy beaches. Across the Aegean sea the outline of the Greek Islands of Lemnos is visible. It is hard to imagine as we walk through much of the peninsula that we are walking over the graves and remains of hundreds and thousands of bodies, young men cut down in the prime of their lives.

As I look up from ANZAC beach I am taken by the distance to the nearby hills where the Turks had already positioned themselves. Similarly the height of these. Looking back from atop the hills at Lone Pine where the Australian memorial is and Chunuk Bair the site of the NZ memorial the allied forces dug in here and transiently took over these high points in August 1915. The amount of territory gained under extreme adversity is remarkable. This offensive was the last major advance by the ANZACs and by December 1915 remaining troops were evacuated back to Lemnos.

The futility of war is best summed by this true anecdote. During the trench warfare both sides would agree to temporary cease fires in order to bury their dead lying between the trenches. On one of these occasions a Turkish officer asked an ANZAC “Where are you from?” He replied “Australia”. The Turk came back with “Why have you come such a long distance to kill me?”

Both sides came to respect their enemy for their courage and resilience under extreme adversity. Unlike the ANZACs the Turks followed an inspirational leader who would subsequently become the first president of a newly independent Turkey. Mehmet Kamal later known as Ataturk was probably the difference between the two sides and the reason why Turkey prevailed in this campaign. Not just a master tactician his compassionate insight as reflected in these words at the Ari Burnu memorial always brings tears to my eyes.

Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives … You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side here in this country of ours … You, the mothers who sent their sons from faraway countries, wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well.

I turn the key and nothing apart from a cascade of warning lights on the dashboard happens. Again and again a strange sound comes from the engine that resembles what I have heard before when one has a flat battery. Deceptively, though, the electric windows and radio still came on. In Turkey, rented car, unable to communicate through the language barrier, what could be worse? Try this on for size. We are about to disembark from the car ferry between Canakkale and Eceabat and my car is stuck on the deck as the crew unload the cars and start the reload of vehicles heading back. As you could imagine I am losing it big time. Ultimately out of nowhere a taxi pulls up and successfully jump starts us. Thank god, we are back on track! Breakdown of both car and driver fixed!

Up until then the day had proceeded well. It is a long drive from Ephesus to Gallipoli and we broke it up with a visit to Troy. For me it was atmospheric to walk around the ruins of the city besieged by the Greeks for 10 long years. To walk where Achilles and Hector walked. Where Paris of Troy took the beautiful Helen to be his spouse. I read all of the Greek classics while in university and Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey were among my favourites. The mock up Trojan horse is not only at Troy but also reconstructed at the waterfront of nearby Canakkale.

Our destination is the bucolic village of Kucukanafarta, yes that’s its name. A tiny farming community largely unchanged for centuries.

Just as Catholic epistles heavily featured letters to the Corinthians so were letters to the Ephesians. Here we are in Ephesus but St Paul does not feature here rather it is St John the Baptist. As he was dying on the cross he entrusted the welfare of Mary to St John the Baptist. As the Roman and Jewish persecution of the fledgling Christian faith gathered pace the apostles and disciples of Jesus moved further afield. St John ended up here and there is powerful evidence that he brought Mary with him and she spent her last time on earth here in Ephesus. Her house here is apparently still intact and is now a shrine and pilgrimage site for Catholics and Muslims alike as Mary is recognised in the Muslim faith. There is a serene spirituality to this site.

Five kilometres down the road the ancient city of Ephesus is an archaeological stunner. Built in the 10th century BC by the Greeks it was dedicated to the goddess of nature and fertility, Artemis. The nearby temple of Artemis completed around 550 BC was also a wonder of the ancient world. Not dissimilar to the only other seven wonder site in Turkey this is unloved and poorly maintained but the one reconstructed column here gives one an appreciation of what was the massive size of the temple. It is also number six of my visits to the seven ancient wonders of the world. The final wonder for me is the Pharos lighthouse in Alexandria. That was destroyed by earthquake and now lies underwater in Alexandria’s harbour.

Ephesus came under control of the Roman Republic in 129 BC and most of what is on display here dates from Roman times. Ultimately the city was destroyed by the Goths in 263 AD. Subsequently the Catholic Church adopted this site holding its Third Ecumenical Council in 431 and building basilicas to both Mary and over the tomb of St John the Baptist.

Breaking up a long driving day is a visit to my fifth Seven Wonders of the Ancient world site. The Mausoleum at Halicarnassus was a tomb built in 351 BC for Mausolus from whom the word mausoleum derives. It was massive, 45 metres tall and ornate. The interior alone contained 400 freestanding sculptures. It was destroyed by successive earthquakes between the 12th and 15th century AD. It was the last of the 6 destroyed seven wonders to be destroyed.

Halicarnassus is now modern day Bodrum and it is a tricky run through narrow side streets to get us there. A grey stone wall surrounds the site and there is no signage at all. We have the place to ourselves but sadly this site needs a lot of love and attention.

I first saw pictures of Pamukkale 30 or so years ago and it immediately went on my “bucket list”. Pamukkale means “cotton castle” and refers to the unique calcium laden hot springs gushing out from the earth. These springs high up a mountain top have, over the millenia deposited limestone all down one face of the mountain forming limestone rivulets and a number of “baths” known as travertines. The dazzling white contrasted with the pale blue water is otherworldly.

The Romans also “discovered” this spot and set about building a spa city, Hieropolis, as the hot mineral rich water was believed to have healing properties. The result is the unique natural landscape combined with an impressive ancient Roman city with impressive ruins to visit.

As a postscript the grounds also include the site of St Phillip the apostle’s martyrdom. St Phillip is mentioned a number of times in the bible. He was present at Jesus’ baptism and the wedding feast at Canaa. After Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection he went to Greece, Syria and Asia Minor to preach. He arrived in Heiropolis and his teachings impressed the Roman proconsul’s wife. The result is a death penalty for him proclaimed by the proconsul. He was crucified upsidedown. He spoke from the cross and impressed the people and the proconsul to the point where they offered to spare him. He declined, opting for martyrdom. The site is marked by the pillars of an octagonal church and below that his tomb which became a pilgrimage destination.

Down at ground level is a different perspective with a reflective blue lake and a gaggle of boisterous honking geese.

The 2 hour ferry trip from Greek Rhodes to Turkiye’s Fethiye proceeds uneventfully. We find our hotel high on a fill overlooking the port. The night lights from our balcony are impressive and what I thought would be a quiet backwater is anything but.

Our car rental pickup is similarly uneventful apart from our upgrade. We are given a better car, medium sized and automatic. I had ordered a compact sized little Fiat and would have preferred that for its ease of driving on potential narrow congested roads. Having said that, subsequent driving is on spacious highways where the extra grunt is welcome.

Two hours south is the coastal city of Antalya. My plan is to use this as a stop off point to a Roman amphitheatre. We have booked a room within a 150 year old hotel in the heart of the old town. Our accommodation has lashings of historical character and our host gushes enthusiastically about the history of the hotel and Antalya itself. He was right and we spend a lovely afternoon exploring a compact old town which goes back 2000 years.

The next morning a short drive takes us to the beautifully preserved 2000 year old Roman amphitheatre at Aspendos. We basically have the place to ourselves and lap up the opportunity to wander through an amazing piece of history.

Not all Greek Islands are whitewashed with blue trimmings as per the Santorini/Mykonos stereotype. They all have their own unique character but none are as different nor as beautiful as Symi. It is an hour ferry from Rhodes and we have a beautiful day trip.

I decided to visit the castle, a steep 40 minute walk up a mountainside overlooking the harbour. My life partner ascends steadily and uncomplainingly to the very summit. The castle is underwhelming but the views of the harbour are stupendous.

Leaving Naxos I have a strong feeling that something will go wrong today. It is a full on day, check out, return rent a car, catch flight with a tight second connection. Will something go wrong with the car return will we or our luggage not arrive? Whenever I fly I always feel that I have forgotten something but today the sense of foreboding was stronger.

Rhodes has long captured my imagination. Of course it was where the famous Colossus was built in 280 BC. Subsequently this island became the headquarters for the knights of St John who built a walled fortress in 1310 to protect Christian pilgrims to the Holy Land. We arrive uneventfully and I am lulled into a false sense of security.

First item on the agenda is booking tickets for a day trip to the picturesque Symi Island. Online bookings finished 2 weeks ago and will restart in April next year. Wandering through the old town, travel agents are closed as it is low season now. The only solution was to head to the port and bingo! We have success with a booking for tomorrow. Next step is booking the ferry out of Greece to Turkey for 3 days time. My pre trip research stated that there are at least 2 ferry crossings daily between Rhodes and Fethiye. We are directed to another part of the port complex to book the tickets for Monday. Imagine my reaction when I am told that there are only two ferries weekly on Friday and Sunday! My premonitions have borne fruit. We have big decisions to make and quickly. Ultimately we decide to leave a day early losing the extra day driving around Rhodes and a prepaid night of accommodation. We do, though get most of a day to explore this magnificent old town and I get to see the site of my 4th of the seven wonders of the ancient world.

The largest of the Cyclades group is our next destination. Lord Byron described Naxos as a “dream island”. The ferry trip from Paros only takes 30 minutes but, unlike the trip to Paros, this was a frenetic affair with the staff barking out orders and hurrying and herding us on and off the boat as if we were cattle.

Our little apartment is in the heart of the Old market and turns out to be the pick of our Greek island accommodations. The main town of Hora is wrapped around the waterfront. A causeway links us to a second island with a marble gateway, the Portara visible as one arrives by boat. It was to be an entry to a Temple to Apollo built in 530 BC but it was never completed. It is now an emblem of Naxos.

Again we rented a car for the day to drive around the island. The countryside is quite hilly and has the highest mountain in the Cyclades. A mountain where legend has it that  young Zeus took the bolt of lightning from a young eagle and made himself the almighty father of all the gods of Olympus.

I have long thought of holidaying in the Greek Islands without an itinerary and just island hopping by ferry. In 1982 I did a day trip to the islands of Aegina, Poros and Hydra. I fell in love with the little island of Hydra with its enchanting harbour, cobblestoned streets and absence of motorised transport.

Over the decades Greek Islands have become trendy in particular Santorini and Mykonos and these more popular islands have become cruise ship magnets to the detriment of the locals. Unsurprisingly I choose the “roads less travelled” and start with Paros. Part of the Cyclades group which comprise 220 islands out of an overall total of 6000 islands. The ferry docks in Parikia and it is a short drive to the picture perfect town of Naousa where we are staying. The old town where we are is charming and we hire a buggy for a day to wander around the beaches and historic towns.

It is the end of October and we are restricted somewhat as a lot of the businesses close for the winter and the water is too cold to enjoy the beaches. Nonetheless the island has more than enough to keep us happy.