Two Things I Didn't Know About Gallipoli

Tuesday April 17, 2012

ANZAC Cove, Turkey

In recent years there's been an explosion of Australian and Kiwi visitors to the Gallipoli Peninsula in Turkey. As such I won't go over the usual ground of how solemn and sad the place is. But there were two major points I learnt on my excursion there:

1. TRENCHES ARE STILL THERE
Before the trip, in Gallipoli I expected to see memorials, cemeteries, and the coastline of the landing. But I had no idea that the trenches from that horrendous World War I campaign still remain in full view. After almost 100 years of erosion they're not as deep as they originally were, but are still surprisingly distinct - you can't miss it.

ANZAC communication tunnel, in the trenches

Seeing the Allied and Turkish trenches within just metres of each other sent a chill down my spine. Both sides would shoot at each other, then would throw each other cigarettes and snacks during the quiet times. For all the visitors it was a vivid visual aid in imagining what the terrible battle conditions were like.

ANZAC trenches

2. IMPACT ON TURKEY 

Hill 971 (Kocaçimentepe) - the highest point on the
peninsula which the Turks crucially held for the
entire campaign except for two days, when Kiwi
troops temporarily intruded.
In the background is an Ataturk statue.

As a kid growing up in Australia we're taught thoroughly about the contribution of the Gallipoli campaign to our national consciousness. However I didn't realise that the defence of the peninsula had an even more profound impact on the identity of modern Turkey.

As the Ottoman Empire declined the British and French thought it would be just a matter of time before they could swoop in and conquer, like they had for the rest of the Middle East. The under-resourced Turks were the massive underdog when the Allies started their advance into Turkey.

The incredible defence of their homeland against all odds in the bloody Gallipoli Campaign impacted on the Turkish national psyche in an immeasurable way. It was a boost to its self esteem that allowed it to take on the modern world with its head held high.

The Gallipoli campaign made the Turkish commander Mustafa Kemal Ataturk a national hero. He eventually became the first President of Turkey, and set its course as a modern secular democracy. Airports, bridges, and streets are named Ataturk; his statues are everywhere; every Turkish banknote bears his portrait.

We should be taught this in Australian schools. The Turkish people shed just as many tears for Gallipoli as we do.

Ataturk quotation commemorating lost lives on the Allied side.

Statue depicting Turkish soldier carrying wounded Allied soldier across No Man's Land 

Aurora Anxiety

Thursday March 22, 2012

I was on a five-hour bus ride to the village of Inari. The sun had now well set so the rural forests that were so pretty in daylight now started looking dark and creepy. The windy roads cutting through the eerie landscape seemed too icy and snowy for a beastly coach to manoeuvre through. But Finnish drivers are skilled and the endless scenery of pine trees whizzed past in a manic blur. I kept looking out the window to check the night sky was clear. Yes, Venus was shining like a distant lighthouse.

I only had two nights remaining on my aurora chasing tour of Lapland; and with the weather forecast predicting snow for the next day I knew tonight was my last chance to see the Northern Lights.

A weak aurora similar in intensity to what I saw before arriving in Inari.
[photo courtesy of Yumiko]

Lapland is the remote region north of the Arctic Circle in Finland. I had come to the area a week earlier to fulfil a lifelong ambition: View the aurora borealis in all its glory. I did see a weak version of the lights on the fourth night. But rather than satisfy my craving the entrée only whet the appetite for a more spectacular main course.

The aurora (solar activity) forecast was “moderate” for the evening. There was not a single cloud in the sky. All the favourable conditions were coming together. As I sat on the bus staring at Venus my heart was beating out of my chest at the prospect of a wonderful display.

Finally we arrived in Inari just after 10pm and the bus growled to a stop right in front of my hotel. There were just two passengers alighting – a female Japanese tourist and me. She looked in a particular hurry to get off the bus. “Thank you, kiitos!” she yelped as she ran off into the hotel like her life depended on it. “The poor woman, she must be desperate to go to the bathroom”, I thought.

I checked into the hotel and settled in my room. A refreshing shower was just what I needed after the long bus ride. Afterwards I opened my computer to check the aurora forecast web page, and saw that solar activity had picked up substantially. “This is my night!” I excitedly exclaimed to myself.

Trembling with anticipation I dressed to go outside – no trivial procedure for a walk in subzero temperatures. At 11:10pm I made it out to the balcony of the hotel. It was in a marvellous location facing northwards, where there was just the vast Lake Inari providing a thick blanket of nothingness all the way to the horizon: The perfect setting to spot aurora activity without the distraction of street and building lights.

On the freezing balcony a different Japanese woman, Yumiko, was already enjoying the crisp night air. She asked me “Did you see the aurora tonight?”

I thought that perhaps her English was less than perfect and she meant to ask whether I had come out to see the aurora. “I’ve just come out to see it. Was there something earlier?” I enquired innocently.

“There was a very bright show that finished just a few minutes ago. You didn’t see it? When did you get to Inari?” Yumiko replied, without realising her words were like daggers to me.

“I arrived an hour ago and have been busy checking in and looking at the aurora forecasts in my room” I said, thinking at the same time “This is not happening”.

Then our conversation was interrupted – the Japanese woman from the bus entered the balcony. Yumiko pointed, “She was on the same bus as you but ran off to catch the aurora. It was so bright she could see it from the bus.”

My heart sank. I had come all the way round the world from Australia and missed the bright Northern Lights by just minutes. No – not just minutes but by circumstance. I felt let down, and had no one to blame but myself. All I had to do was simply look north after getting off the bus.

The bright aurora that I missed. You can see the red fringe.
[photo courtesy of Yumiko]

Yumiko informed me that the eruption began at about 9pm and was in full swing by 10pm, when the bus arrived. I had apparently been in my room while one of the greatest natural phenomena on earth was unfolding outside. She showed me photographs she had taken that night and they were just like the awe-inspiring ones you see in books. The aurora was so bright and dynamic that there were flashes of neon red mixed in with the usual green – a highly unusual and prized sight.

Yumiko had come to Inari five years earlier for her first aurora-spotting trip, and enjoyed it so much that she returned to the same hotel in 2012. Even with all her aurora experience Yumiko rated that night as the second best Northern Lights display that she had seen. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with her English, as that is what she teaches to high school students in Osaka.

More of the bright aurora that I missed in Inari. Yay!
[photo courtesy of Yumiko] 

Hoping for a second show I stayed up until the early morning. But there would be no encore. Mother Nature had taught me a stern lesson that she will not be tamed to fit anyone’s schedule. As I shivered in the dark wilderness of Finland kicking myself over my awful luck, I felt humbly small in a very large universe. Life is short – don’t spend it in your hotel room.

Shut up, there are South Koreans in the room!

Saturday February 18, 2012

Paul, Jim and I are geeks. Specifically we are North Korea geeks. We're fascinated by everything about the most reclusive country in the world. We read voraciously about it, we dine at North Korean restaurants, we speak the language - the more they try to keep us out the more we crave her.

In fact we all met in North Korea. Paul, who is Canadian; Jim, an American; and I were all on the same tour on a visit in 2010 and have kept in touch since then.

Paul and Jim are westerners-living-in-Beijing so they kept abreast of my whereabouts in China and eventually joined me for a weekender in the north-eastern Chinese city of Shenyang. And it was only natural that we headed to a North Korean restaurant for dinner on our first night together.

Rainbow Restaurant - Shenyang, China

As the three of us entered Rainbow Restaurant we were amazed to find that it was packed with North Koreans. This may not sound like an extraordinary observation at first, but consider that the North Korean government does not allow freedom of movement for its citizens within the country, let alone allowing them an overseas holiday. Jim and Paul are veterans of the DPRK eateries in Beijing but even they were awestruck by this unusual sight.

And of course all eyes were on us too. It is very rare for westerners to be walking into a North Korean restaurant in Shenyang. They had one eye on us and we had one eye on them - it was just like visiting the DPRK all over again.

Kim Il Sung badge

We knew that the customers were North Koreans as they all wore the red Kim Il Sung badge. In North Korea all citizens receive this badge upon turning eighteen and adults wear it on a daily basis, at least in public, lest they be perceived as disloyal to the country.

We sat at a back table mesmerised by this sight of North Koreans outside of North Korea. It was just us ("the foreigners"), one table of three South Koreans next to us, and the rest were Badge Wearers. We guessed that they were one big tour group, all members of the very elite - how else could they afford an overseas trip from a starving country, let alone be allowed out?

All three of us ordered in Korean as the waitress stood in amazement. She wasn't expecting that out of the foreigners (well at least not from the white fellas sitting next to me)! And the staff were now curious about what we were about. They were delighted to hear that we had all visited North Korea and that Jim and I could speak Korean fluently. Paul's Korean is more basic, although he now holds the distinction that he has been to North Korea TWICE (lucky man!).

The band at the Rainbow, all North Korean staff.

In North Korean restaurants in China there is usually a musical show put on by the staff. It must be a requirement from the DPRK government when it licenses these venues that they show off North Korean talent to the outside world. The Rainbow was no different, as the live band and the singers started their set of Korean and foreign songs.

The show was very well appreciated by the "home crowd": There was much clapping along and appreciative applause after every number. Throughout the performance one North Korean man was particularly enthusiastic. I'm not sure if it was inebriation or nationalistic zeal (perhaps both?) but he was standing out front with the singers at every opportunity singing and dancing along with them. He was having a terrific vacation, good for him!

But when the set ended controversy reigned. The final song was a gentle number on how lovely "our home" North Korea is. After getting caught up in the emotion of that, upon its conclusion our Enthusiastic Man spontaneously started a rendition of a more brash nationalistic anthem (i.e. praising the Dear Leader and all that). He began inciting the North Koreans to stand and sing with their hands on their hearts. And the crowd obliged - it was an extraordinary scene as almost the entire restaurant began to rise in unison.

Singers at the Rainbow;
Audience in foreground are all North Korean customers

The staff realised what was happening and decided diplomacy was more important in the outside world than blind patriotism. They quickly stopped the Enthusiastic Man, and quietly advised that this was inappropriate. The restaurant management obviously did not want to offend or make anyone uncomfortable.

But the trouble didn't end there! As the North Korean diners had the wind taken out of their sails and began to sit down, another man took the microphone and started speaking in broken English. He too was immediately stopped by the staff, but from what we could gather he was trying to welcome the foreigners and perhaps explain the song that they wanted to sing.

From the to-ing and fro-ing between the customers and the staff we surmised that the restaurant management were not worried about our "foreigners" table, but the restraint was exercised for the sake of the table of three South Koreans. They understood it would be inappropriate to sing patriotic North Korean songs in front of the Southerners. Fair enough.

As Jim, Paul and I finished our meals we shared our mutual delight at witnessing what we had that evening. Sitting alongside North Koreans outside of their country is wild enough, but to have micro-diplomacy played out before us was even more extraordinary. It was an excellent night out for the North Korea geeks.