skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Izmir, Turkey.
Izmir is a major Turkish seaport, its harbour bristling with vessels. The city lurks in an impenetrable gloom of its own making, slowly coalescing out of the chemically poisonous murk as we draw closer to it. The toxicity of the atmosphere here became apparent within a few hours of disembarking - sore throats and eyes. By the end of the day I (and my sinuses) were very glad to get back to the ship.
Izmir. Population: zillions.
Introducing Heidi of Izmir! Rachel decided that her flowing green locks might attract unwanted attention amongst the local population so she wore it up in hausfrau style braids, which resulted in the local hawkers trying to get her attention in german. It's so much easier to ignore people when you don't have a clue what they're saying. She's posing here in the Izmir Agora, the ruins of an ancient marketplace.
Near the Agora is a modern marketplace - a huge maze-like bazaar with a mosque in the centre, winding street after street, and large enough to lose an army in. Kinda like Harrods but with the sound of the Muslim call to prayer wailing around the place - hmmm, maybe not so different to Harrods after all... Navigating one's way out of it is a matter of going in a straight line until you get out. Trying to retrace your steps to find the way you came in is next to impossible.
Rachel also made sure her arms were always covered and had a hood / wrap to cover her head with. In Izmir at least this was overdoing it - the rest of the tourists didn't even bother to do so and we even saw a local chap with a 'mohawk' hairdo. It's probably good practice for when we get to Egypt however. Here she is in front of a butchers shop in the bazaar. Mmmmm, sheeps heads. And other bits...
The fishmongers have an interesting marketing strategy: lay out the fish in an appealing pattern, put up signs showing the price of each species, and then make a hell of a racket trying to out-scream the bloke next to them. Imagine a TV commercial with the sound at full volume, and no television.
On our way home the sun was low in the sky and a young Turk urged us to have a seat at a table. Usually we ignore the constant stream of folks trying to sell us something but this guy had a point - this was a lovely place to sit and have a coffee. This was Turkey so of course I had to try a fiercely strong Turkish coffee, a drink so harsh it leaves a glutinous mud-like residue of grounds in the bottom quarter of the cup and a churning sensation in the depths of your bowels - a liquid version of the local atmosphere. Due to a communications breakdown we were served two of these near undrinkable concoctions. Rachel had the tinyest sip of hers, screwed up her face as if sprayed with Mace, and handed me the rest of her coffee.
Alex working his way through Turkish coffee number two, getting wired good and proper.
Undoubtedly the pollution does cause massive health problems amongst the local residents, but it's more than made up for that by creating beautiful sunsets...
Izmir is a major Turkish seaport, its harbour bristling with vessels. The city lurks in an impenetrable gloom of its own making, slowly coalescing out of the chemically poisonous murk as we draw closer to it. The toxicity of the atmosphere here became apparent within a few hours of disembarking - sore throats and eyes. By the end of the day I (and my sinuses) were very glad to get back to the ship.
Izmir. Population: zillions.
Introducing Heidi of Izmir! Rachel decided that her flowing green locks might attract unwanted attention amongst the local population so she wore it up in hausfrau style braids, which resulted in the local hawkers trying to get her attention in german. It's so much easier to ignore people when you don't have a clue what they're saying. She's posing here in the Izmir Agora, the ruins of an ancient marketplace.
Near the Agora is a modern marketplace - a huge maze-like bazaar with a mosque in the centre, winding street after street, and large enough to lose an army in. Kinda like Harrods but with the sound of the Muslim call to prayer wailing around the place - hmmm, maybe not so different to Harrods after all... Navigating one's way out of it is a matter of going in a straight line until you get out. Trying to retrace your steps to find the way you came in is next to impossible.
Rachel also made sure her arms were always covered and had a hood / wrap to cover her head with. In Izmir at least this was overdoing it - the rest of the tourists didn't even bother to do so and we even saw a local chap with a 'mohawk' hairdo. It's probably good practice for when we get to Egypt however. Here she is in front of a butchers shop in the bazaar. Mmmmm, sheeps heads. And other bits...
The fishmongers have an interesting marketing strategy: lay out the fish in an appealing pattern, put up signs showing the price of each species, and then make a hell of a racket trying to out-scream the bloke next to them. Imagine a TV commercial with the sound at full volume, and no television.
On our way home the sun was low in the sky and a young Turk urged us to have a seat at a table. Usually we ignore the constant stream of folks trying to sell us something but this guy had a point - this was a lovely place to sit and have a coffee. This was Turkey so of course I had to try a fiercely strong Turkish coffee, a drink so harsh it leaves a glutinous mud-like residue of grounds in the bottom quarter of the cup and a churning sensation in the depths of your bowels - a liquid version of the local atmosphere. Due to a communications breakdown we were served two of these near undrinkable concoctions. Rachel had the tinyest sip of hers, screwed up her face as if sprayed with Mace, and handed me the rest of her coffee.
Alex working his way through Turkish coffee number two, getting wired good and proper.
Undoubtedly the pollution does cause massive health problems amongst the local residents, but it's more than made up for that by creating beautiful sunsets...
No comments:
Post a Comment