Hatred. Revenge. Envy. Prejudice. Belief. Greed. Power. Control . . . the list of man’s warmongering traits is endless. Ultimately useless.
The Southern Loop – We’re not quite done with Türkiye. A little matter of the Gallipoli peninsular has been on our radar since day one. Another piece in our ever increasing WWI jigsaw puzzle of events. Our exit route set to take in as many of the memorial sites as possible.
The Peninsular, a protected National Park and in itself a monument, pays tribute to those on both sides who fought and died. 300,000 Allied (Empire, France, Australia & New Zealand [ANZAC]). 255,000 Turks (then Ottoman Empire)
First stop just south of Kilidülbahir, at the Mecidiye Coastal Battery, brings us face to face with the most famous Turkish gunner. Now an iconic hero for his actions in defending the Mediterranean entrance to Canakkale from the Allied Naval Fleet. Churchill & Co’s superior notions of taking the peninsular, suffered a series of embarrassing setbacks on land and sea.
Although at great loss, this successful defense of one small, but important part of the Ottoman Empire, lead on to the foundation in 1923, of what we now know as the Republic of Türkiye. Something that the nation feels rightly proud of.
Planning styles for the Turkish Gallipoli cemeteries can be totally different to the fully regimented and formal structure adopted by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.
The cemetery is kept in immaculate order by a gang of women who work in pairs.
Do not ignore the ground on which you have walked,
It is not ordinary soil.
Reflect on the thousands of people, who lie beneath
Without a shroud.
You are the son of a martyr –
Do not hurt your ancestor,
Do not give away this beautiful motherland,
Even if you have the whole world.
The park is peppered with monuments, graves and cemeteries. All marking the death of those either found, or not found. Driving around within this beautiful landscape it’s impossible to imagine the tragedy of what a few ‘simple’ minds threw onto so many young innocents.
We overnight on a carpark in Gelibolu. There’s a nice looking restaurant opposite with a half decent menu. We tog up and step down. Order. In general, you don’t get much of a choice in what you can have ‘with’ in terms of vegetables. They like to serve bread (no butter option) and salad. The salad on a few previous occasions has arrived at the table cut so finely it was just shy of being liquidised. Other than that, they take one red onion. Slice it thickly. Layer it across one half of the plate. Add the fish, or meat and throw over three or four stalks of a herb we don’t recognise. With that in mind we order a plate of chips.
Eventually the bread arrives. Then sometime later the chips. Then we wait. And wait. With rumbling tums we reluctantly tuck into the chips, which are now getting cold. Mr S starts to simmer. Getting hotter than the chips were. Goes and enquires. Sometime later Mr S’s dish arrives. No sign of Mrs S’s. She encourages me to make a start. Ten minutes later a fresh plate of hot chips arrives – only. At this point Mr S confronts the manager, who’s excuse seems to rest on miscommunication, because he doesn’t speak English. Totally dissatisfied, we walk out. Without paying. An all time first. Fortunately we hadn’t drunk all of the wine . . .
Twenty-five minutes later and a little further up the street, we’re both tucking in to chicken curry and chips.
