Sunday, June 30, 2013

ISRAEL, ASHDOD AND JERUSALEM Thur. June 20




            Jerusalem – one place in the world I never thought to be. Yet here I am in a bus travelling about in a modern city: sandstone buildings all about, apartments blocks mainly three storeys high, hills and valleys covered with buildings, good roads snaking around hills and patches of desert beside us some of the time.
            This is the new Jerusalem. Not in the biblical term of ‘New Jerusalem’ – just the Israeli new city.
            The Port was Ashdod on Israel’s West coast, an hour and a half by bus almost due west of Jerusalem. We had to get up just after 5. My willingness to get up, shower and breakfast at this hour is a significant proof of my desire to visit this new Jerusalem in Israel of today. There were security details to complete. Our tour was listed to leave at 8.25am, but we were advised to report to the lounge at 7am.
            Everybody on board was advised they had to report to Israel Immigration and Security in the cruise terminal before 8am, whether they were going ashore  or not, so when we went into the terminal at 7am there were already about twenty queues maybe 30 deep there. An official asked if were going on a tour and whisked us to the top of one of these queues. The examination of our passports and faces was quick and elementary, the trip out to the buses well organized and supervised, so I was surprised to find myself sitting on a bus number 27 ready to go at twenty past seven in the morning. Still fairly groggy, I admit – but ready for take-off.
            Our Israeli guide who introduced himself to us was an older Israeli, with a kind face and caring manner. He was very knowledgeable about Israel and the biblical Hebrew history. He was so full of the Hebrew history that it sounded like someone may sound if they were talking about battles of the first or second World Wars where they had a grandfather or uncle involved. We heard about battles with the Canaanites, Joshua conquering the land, and about the establishment of the state of Israel. He showed us the valley with its empty fields where the shepherd boy David fought a lion and a bear to protect his flock, and then fought and defeated Goliath. It all seemed so recent and embedded in his story of his land.
            It was interesting how he dropped into his commentary little pieces of Jewish (Israelite? Biblical? Or Torah?) wisdom such as you never go down. Any trip ‘down’ was really just getting ready to up. He suggested we should all look at life this way. I felt he was sincere in his beliefs and commitment, and he had a gentle way of sharing things important to him.
            We drove around the city of Jerusalem, viewing the Old Temple Wall, the distant views of the old city, sites such as the new large hospital –the most advanced in the Middle East – and the Military Cemetery where some thousands of young Israelis killed in the various wars were buried. We made our first stop of the day at the Yad Vashem Memorial for the six million Jews who were exterminated by the Nazis in the Second World War.
            Admission is free as the site is funded by donations from Jews around the world, in the hopes this disaster will be remembered and never repeated. So here I am –exploring. Hall after hall is packed with pictures, historical documents, memorabilia  and live videos of survivors describing some aspect of the Holocaust.
            I am riveted by the stories. There was a ship carrying refugees who all had visas for Cuba. When they arrived Cuba had changed its mind and the ship was refused entry. It went then to Florida in hopes the USA would accept these people, but was ordered out of American waters. With food and water running out the ship eventually headed back to Europe and the refugees disembarked in Belgium where they had to make their own way. Some managed to get to England, and some were eventually sent to death camps as the Nazis overran more and more of Europe.
            One statement in large writing on a wall tells me that the Australian representative at a conference about what was happening to the Jews said something like Australia had no racial problems and was not willing to import any.  I feel embarrassed. I wonder if I will feel embarrassed like this one day about our treatment of the current Asylum Seeker of today.
One survivor on a video is talking about going to school in Poland. Each morning the teacher would read out the roll call. When children didn’t answer their name, the teacher would stop and ask the class if anyone knew if they were sick, were there family problems, or had they been taken. The children all knew. If they had been taken she would take a ruler and pen and cross their names from the roll.
            There are photos from camps, train lines and mock stations surrounded by stories of what happened to the real people there. There’s a display under glass in the floor of hundreds of old shoes taken from an extermination camp.
            We have forty minutes to go through this large museum in an extraordinary building with section after section of horror stories. It did not take forty minutes for me to become depressed and guilty about the hatred, cruelty and what happened to these real people.
            In a separate building there’s the Children’s Memorial, where we go through a darkened place lit by a few lights and mirrors reflecting these lights while voices read out a list of one and a half million children who were killed in the Holocaust. Each child’s name and age is read solemnly. Like “Judah Solomon – six months old.” A slight pause, then the next name.
            There are six million trees planted around the Yad Vashem Memorial. One for each victim. There is also an avenue of trees for the gentiles who helped and sheltered Jewish refugees, and the last resting place of Oskar Schindler is nearby.
            I left Yad Vashem with a heavy heart.
Our next stop is the Museum of Israel, with a model of the historical city of Jerusalem out in a depression surrounded by high viewing walls. The guide points out all the salient buildings and historical significance. I’m afraid both Bruce and I withdraw to the shade and some tables outside a refreshment cafĂ© to reflect, sit and recover from the morning so far. It is very hot out in the open.
An excellent smorgasbord lunch in the cool of a very large hotel revives us. There is a huge room with tables and seating for all the busloads from the ship.
The afternoon programme consists of a visit to the old city, the Wailing Wall of old Jerusalem where pilgrims from all over the world come to pray and push written prayers into the cracks of the wall, King David’s Tomb and a trek up and down all the hills of the Old City. The guide tells me I will not be able to do this, so I wait in the bus, where the driver is resting as he has to drive to Turkey tonight.
Bruce arrives back exhausted from his trek through the Old City, as do most of the others. The bus is very quiet as we drive the one and half hours back to the Sea Princess for a late informal dinner and an early night- still full of my reflections on Yad Vashem Memorial.
Next day comments in the lift and dining areas are that it was ‘a good day’ whatever people did, and all are grateful for a quiet ‘sea day’ to recover.

ITALY Naples, Civitavecchia & Livorno, June 27-29




            In Naples we took a ship’s tour in the afternoon. It was the one recommended for the less able with the least amount of walking. It was almost a lost afternoon. The Italian young lady spoke reasonable English but had an accented, sing  song voice very hard to listen to. She told us the name of every street we turned into, and we seemed to turn in circles and she told us ‘this building we have seen before – from the front’.
            In the old part of the city there were Roman ruins and sad to see the graffiti everywhere on the very old and the not quite so old. There was no graffiti in Israel or Turkey, but it was bad in Greece and here again in Italy. What does that say about these nations?
            We stopped for refreshments of either icecream, a cool drink or coffee at a coffee shop on the heights overlooking the bay, with Capri and Mount Vesuvius in the distance. The apex of Vesuvius was covered with a cloud that I took to be caused by the steam from the volcano, which last erupted in the 1940s.  Ship’s tours today took in the remains of Pompeii desctroyed in 79AD by an eruption of Vesuvius which covered the city in a flood of hot ash and mud that hardened immediately and preserved the city and many of its 30,000 people killed in the eruption. It was only rediscovered 1500 years later.  Bruce and I visited Pompeii a few years ago and I still have vivid mental pictures of the place and even of plaster casts of some people frozen in time. 
            If Vesuvius erupts about once in every hundred years, why are there villages halfway up the slopes today? Perhaps modern monitoring gives more reliable warning of eruptions?
            Civitavecchia is the port for Rome, so there was a very busy harbour, and we did not go into Rome. We spent four days there a few years ago. Our big adventure for the day was to take my electric scooter off ship for the first time. It is too heavy to put under a bus or in a taxi. It doesn’t fold like my TravelScoot. The crew ‘boys’ with the wheelchair ensign on their blue vests helped get it down the gangway and we ‘walked’ along the wharf where three very big ships were lined up one behind the other. There was us –‘Sea Princess’ – and behind us was an MSC ship even bigger than the Sea Princess. Behind again was a Costa Ship nearly as big. The MSC and the Costa had their own  “Cruise Terminal” buildings where people were arriving by coach with large suitcases and checking-in for cruising, or going off in coaches to explore Rome.
            At the entrance to the Secure Area next to each ship was a Port Security Man complete with a gun in the holster on his hip to make sure only bona fide passengers entered. There was lovely sun warming us as we toured along beside the ships. The day was much cooler than it has been.  Probably about 24 degrees with a breeze.
            As the tours for Rome had set off very early and would only be back about 6pm, dinner tonight was “Open Sitting”. That means there are no set meal times, and restaurants are open from 5.30pm to 8.30pm. When you arrive at the restaurant you are seated at the nearest incomplete table. Not at your usual table. This is interesting as you meet and talk to new people.
            The third Italian City – Livorno – is the gateway for exploring Florence and Pisa. I have vivid memories of Florence from our visit a few years ago. Michelangelo’s David – only a replica – is huge and has so far avoided the attentions of the ‘modesty’ brigade and still has his private bits complete, with no plaster fig-leaves over the top. As someone once said, there must be a box of ‘interesting parts’ somewhere of bits removed from works of art in some parts of Italy. I loved the square and Cathedral there – but not today.
            We choose instead to take the local shuttle bus into town. We went early so Bruce could be back in time to watch the Rugby Test Match about noon between the Wallabies and the British/Irish Lions. We were in the Piazza Grande by 9.15am. The sun was lovely and warm. No wind. So we strolled along the main street. At least Bruce strolled and pushed and I sat in the wheelchair. At first we wondered why the shops – which looked well kept – were all closed. We thought about it. Was this Sunday? It was Saturday. So why?
            We passed a large MacDonalds all closed up. Maybe shops here didn’t open till 10am. But Macdonalds not open for breakfast? A closer look seemed to indicate that this MacDonalds was permanently closed. It had a run-down look about it, and when we peered through the not so clean glass windows, the inside looked abandoned. Bruce has an affinity with MacDonalds from home where he reads their Telegraph, so it was disappointing. No coffee there today. When in Rome years ago we learned they didn’t recognize Bruce’s “Long Black” and called it “Americano”. I think Bruce had been practicing his “Americano please”. Not to be.
            It struck us that we hadn’t seen the ‘golden Arches’ for a while. There was one in Jordan in the distance. None in Egypt. None in Israel or Turkey, and saw one somewhere in Naples on our big tour round the city.
            The shops did open at ten o’clock and more people appeared. I like to look in local shops to see what local people are buying and what they are paying for it. There were a couple of upmarket ‘dress’ shops with what I thought were very ‘upmaket’ prices, and I also explored one with much lower quality and prices -aimed at young people by the look of things.
            Apart from the couple of upmarket ladies clothing shops the town has an old and run-down look about it. Postcards outside shops and news stalls wanted me to believe the whole coast was full of beaches and resorts all along this coast. I can only say I haven’t got that impression.
            Then we looked down a side street and discovered the ‘Saturday Market’ in full swing. This was very alive with people and activity. Lots of fresh vegetables and fruit stalls. I thought the quality and prices were reasonable to good. There were lots of tomatoes everywhere. Different sizes and styles and cheap. I thought “Yes. Italians and tomatoes.” There were refrigerated butchers’ stalls. Small goods and delis. Shoes and handbags. ‘Everything’ stalls that said
‘1-2 Euros’. I thought ‘$2 shops’ from home. Above the markets loud Church bells tolled at 10.00 o’clock and at 10.30. Why? A service? It all added to the atmosphere. This is Italy – a Catholic Country.
            We set out back to the Shuttle Bus and were struck by the number of motor bikes and Vespa Scooters  parked in profusion along streets. We were back on the ship in plenty of time for the football. There is always some anxiety about the satellite reception but it came through loud and clear where it was shown on two small screens in Ship’s Casino with lots of men and few women gathered around on the Casino chairs pulled up together.
            A good game. Even better that the Wallabies won after the final whistle. Great cheers in the Casino!
            Ship’s Excursions to Pisa and Florence dribbled back late again, so dinner was ‘Open Seating’ again. 

TURKEY June 24-25




            Today I had breakfast at Anzac Cove. To be sure I was sitting on the top deck of Sea Princess and about three miles off shore. We were just drifting off this hallowed place. This was a privilege given to us because of the number of Australian and New Zealand passengers.
            At 8am there was an ANZAC Service conducted by the Captain on the open Deck 12, and it looked as if most of the passengers attended. At least most the Australian and New Zealand passengers. There were readings and special prayers for the departed and the bereaved, and for peace in the world.
            One of the passengers sang Eric Bogle’s moving “And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda” about the Aussie soldier who lost both legs, and asked himself ‘What are they marching for?’ on ANZAC Day.
            The Captain lead us solemnly in “The Lord’s Prayer”,  with prayers of thanksgiving for all the sailors, soldiers, airmen and nursing sisters of Australia and New Zealand who, on the first ANZAC day and throughout the Great War 1914-18, conferred a glory on Australia and New Zealand ‘that will never fade’.
There was a symbolic laying of the Wreath’.  Symbolic because the Turkish government had refused permission to put the wreath overboard in the traditional way. Why refused?  One of those political mysteries.
We also ‘averred the lofty ideals of service of the ANZACs in the 1939 to 1945 war. We ‘gave our assurance that those who have fallen shall be held in sacred memory’.
            Captain William Kent read the solemn Ode: “.  .  .  .   At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them.”  After the Last Post and two minutes silence the New Zealand and Australian National Anthems were sung. The Sea Princess Passengers’ Choir sang from their hot and lofty perch, just below the large TV screen (which was off), and the Captain prayed the Blessing, asking that all the “ same courage and resolution, the same comradeship and service – may now be offered in the greater task of making a true and lasting Peace.”
            All very sober and solemn, and we continued to drift off the Coast of ANZAC Cove for another hour or so.
            That’s enough now of all that solemn stuff.
            Today is a quiet ‘sea day’  as we sail along the coast of Turkey, and through Aegean Sea and the Greek Islands towards Southern Italy. And that’s just as well as yesterday in Istanbul was a very big day.
We were met by our guide from Viator private touring company soon after 9am when passengers were cleared to go ashore. Bruce had found this company on the internet and thought the tour they offered looked good and was not as expensive as the ship tours. It turned out we were a party of six in a very comfortable and modern minibus. We didn’t know the other four. In fact one man was a bit niggly, and seemed to think he had booked a personal private tour and those of us who couldn’t keep up should just not have come. He was actually quite rude to the older lady who has muscular dystrophy.  
The Turkish guide spoke really good English, was helpful, and explained everything very well. Our first stop was for an hour at the big underground bazaar. Let me say at this stage that we took the wheelchair and Bruce valiantly wheeled me about what seemed miles of Istanbul. This was very generous and wearing on him. Having him with me in the markets was both good and bad. He was happy to take me to see whatever I wanted, but was not an asset shopping. Bless him. Some readers may know I really like shopping and he hates it.
I wanted to buy a carry bag for sun glasses, hat, odds and ends and the things like a bottle of water I might like to take with me to go ashore. So we spent lots of time at one stall establishing what sort of bag I wanted and what size. Zip on top. Not too big, but not small either.  Soft. We arrived at one that I thought was just right. These are not the actual prices, but Bruce’s bargaining technique goes something like this:
Me: And how much is this bag?
Stall Holder: You want to pay Lire? American Dollar? Euro?
Bruce: American dollar.  (Entering the fray)
S.Holder: Ah - American dollar. For you madam - because you are my first customer today – I will say $100 American dollars.
Bruce: 30
S.Holder: You are my first customer of the day, so I say 20% discount off. $80 American.
Bruce: 30
S. Holder: Now this is fine soft leather, good brand, well made- I cannot let it go under $60.
Bruce: 30
S. Holder: OK. I will say $50. That is my best price.
Bruce: 30. - Too dear. (to me)Come on. We are going now - that’s too dear.

And I am wheeled away. Quite rebellious on the inside. We had taken so long of our limited time to find a ‘just right’ bag, and here we were leaving with no hope of finding that stall again in the 4,000 shops of the Bazaar, with narrow, winding alleyways in all directions.
            Bruce just said there were plenty more bag shops in the Bazaar and we’d find another one.
            We looked at belts, sunglasses, pashminas, Turkish embroidered tops and other bags. We did the same kind of haggle over the sunglasses.  This time we managed to reach a compromise price between Bruce’s set in concrete price and that stall holder’s best price, because I came in and entered the contest about price. I thought we were going to spend an hour in the biggest bazaar market in the world and come out with nothing to show for it. It was all so frustrating.
            That bag. On our way back to the minibus the stall holder and I recognized each other as we were speeding by. The exit road was uphill, so I managed to get Bruce to stop for a breather.
            I reopened the bidding, produced Australian Dollar notes from my meagre supply. The stall holder’s young assistant produced the Turkish newspaper of the day and presented us with the Exchange Rate for Turkish Lire and Australian Dollar. We reached what I thought was a satisfactory price and made the exchange.
            Bruce’s reaction? He thought I paid too much. He thought I should have left the bargaining to him. He said he was glad he didn’t shop with me too often.
I echoed that sentiment heartily – in silence.
            Our next three hours were spent in the Hippodrome Square, the Blue Mosque, and the Topkapi Palace.
            The Hippodrome Square was the long mall-type space that used to be the central diametre of a large Roman Circus complex that rivaled the Colosseum. Dating from 3rd Century AD, in it’s day it could hold more than 60,000 spectators, and race four horses abreast teams. On one side it had a ‘private box’ for the Emperor (Constantine) with a tunnel connecting it to the nearby palace. Near the entrance Constantine’s Pillar was a tall stone edifice, pitted with small indentations in the stone where there used to be copper decorations filched by the Crusaders in later centuries as souvenirs!
            The nearby Blue Mosque had been built in the early 1600s and its interior is magnificent with huge pillars and stained glass windows. It takes its name from the blue and green Isnik tiles that give the whole interior a soft blue light. It is still a functioning mosque, and our guide explained how the carpet mimics the prayer mats brought in and left in its early centuries. At the front door you were expected to take off your shoes and plastic bag dispensers similar to those at Woolworths were provided to carry around your shoes with you.
            Outside the mosque there were also provided copius blue cotton to act as scarves for ladies to wear to cover their heads, and green wraps for men/women to cover bare legs. No bare shoulders or knees please.
The tiles are of such high quality – 80% quartz – that they are now very valuable and sell for thousands of pounds each in London when they come on the market.
The day was hot and the Topkapi Palace was built around three open courtyards, as in the manner of the Chinese. Our guide told us that early Turkish people came from China and brought the custom. The courtyards are placed in order of importance. Just walking through these open courtyards was difficult because of the heat of the sun, the roughness of the paths and many steps from one place to the next.
This Cailiph’s Palace was not built to cater for elderly people pushing other elderly people in wheelchairs. There were people of all ages, colours and nationalities streaming through the courtyards. School excursions. Tour groups. Older couples. Couples with young children. Groups of two or three women all in black from head to toe –including all but eyes – chatting away, out for the day together. Brightly clad girls in summer shirts and shorts.
I had time to observe the passing parade as it got to be all too much for Bruce and we sat out lots of the time when we found seating in the shade. We weren’t the only ones.  There were plenty of seats lining the covered area outside the large buildings – including what was once the ‘Parliament’ building of the council advising the Cailiph.
One fact that struck me was that in its day this palace had 5,000 people living there, and all of them - from the Cailiph, the royal family and all down to the lowest servants - were fed each day by the huge kitchens that faced one whole side of the first courtyard. They needed 400 sheep every day!
Time for lunch. Except we had to do it all in reverse. Back out of courtyard three, steps, through courtyard two, steps, out through courtyard one and into the street. Not far and we went into a long covered area outside a row of coffee shops. At one we were expected, seated, and served salad while chicken and lamb ‘Kebabs’ were cooked. Drinks we had to buy – including water by the small bottle. There was a welcome breeze through here. A small sign proclaimed “Free wifi” and the young waiter was delighted to help me with my phone. Quick fingers and he had me connected. I used the mysterious ‘Viber’ phone connection family had insisted I download -for the first and only time so far.  We spoke to family in Melbourne.  All for free.
Toilets were a problem. The older ladies said they did 38 steps down in the third courtyard. Then up again. Clean when they got there. The same problem at the coffee shop. Toilets were up a winding stair on the third floor. Our next stop was a hotel, with lifts up to toilets on the first floor. I was very pleased to see them. The catch was that this was a carpet making demonstration, display and sale place. It was interesting enough but we had no intention of buying carpets. The small one she was working on was about a metre by eighty centimetres and would take 8 months in all to complete. It was silk and the cost was in hundreds of dollars. Which you could understand when it took one person all that time working full time to complete it.
We were offered refreshments and I chose Turkish Apple Tea. Bruce had a small strong Turkish coffee. Beer was also on offer. Was this a Muslim state? Meanwhile we were shown about ten types of Carpets: made of lamb’s wool, made of pure silk, made of mercerized cotton, made of various mixtures and we were offered the opportunity to purchase our selection, with free delivery to Australia.  They were certainly beautiful.
No one but Mr. Niggly (see above) was interested. For about 45 minutes, he and his wife viewed different colours and styles and sizes of carpets, while the rest of us sat and watched and waited. He haggled styles and prices – which we couldn’t really hear -  and eventually decided against purchase (maybe his bargaining style was similar to Bruce’s and he thought if he threatened to depart the price would come down).
We all trouped downstairs again into our little coach, and headed through Istanbul for the ship.  We haven’t met up with any of our Istanbul companions on the ship in the days since. Mr Niggly I don’t want to meet again.
It was still very hot and I know Bruce and I were both very tired when we got ‘home’ to our cool cabin. 

Sunday, June 23, 2013

GREECE - PIRAEUS, ATHENS, MYTILENE, June 22-23




            Piraeus – the port for Athens – is an old port which has served the whole area of Athens and inland Greece for many centuries, through many traders from different countries and cultures.  I’m afraid the cumulative impact of country after country in only a few days has left me reeling. And then there’s Istanbul to come so soon after.
            In Piraeus we saw the many churches , the ferries from the islands, the many privately owned yachts, simple fishing vessels, and dwellings of today and yesteryear. There were soccer stadiums of today, and then the old Olympic Stadium with foundations dating back to the 4th Century  and which hosted the first modern Olympic Games in 1896, and the Olympics of 2004 in Athens.
            In Athens the Ancient and the Modern sit side by side, and the graffiti artists respect neither. I find it quite impossible how there’s a modern city with its own shopping areas, office blocks and apartments with ancient columns and other bits and pieces just there in the midst.
            On the skyline between the modern buildings are the ruins of the Acropolis, the Parthenon, the Temple of Zeus, and Mount Olympus – the dwelling place of the Gods. It is the “Then” atop the “Now” of a modern city – clean, with modern amenities like the  trolley buses, the rail lines, and the highways with lanes of up to date cars whizzing by. The graffiti is the only evidence suggesting  the critical economic state of Greece as a country. The Greek Flag atop many buildings is always accompanied by the flag of the European Community and Euro is the currency.
            The ancient ruins are postcard scenes in real life, and it’s hard to believe I am here in the midst of the ‘postcards’. I am a tourist from the twenty first century viewing the remnants from the Third, Fourth and Fifth Centuries Before Christ, when Ancient Greece was at the peak of its civilization.
            The last stop on our City Sights Tour was at a welcoming modern restaurant/coffee shop for cold water, coffee and biscuits.
            The next day port of Mytilene, on the island of Lesvos (not Lesbos, as I mistakenly thought) was an insight into a much more traditional countryside of Greece. The ship anchored off shore and the ship’s tenders ran a shuttle service to the town. Tenders are a bit risky for people with bad legs. The crew always help you get on board at the ship’s side, but you just don’t know if there’s a wharf with manageable steps at the other end. So I stayed on board and made an appointment at the Lotus Spa and Salon for a manicure as it’s six weeks or so since my nails had any attention. It was a very satisfactory visit which cost me $50 Australian.
            Bruce caught the tender, walked fifteen minutes through the town to find a bank with a Cash Machine outside. This walk was past many coffee shops he  said,  and it was a successful quest for Euros as we will be in Euro territory for much of the next few weeks.