Tuesday August 19th – Ephesus, Turkey

At 3.50am I am awoken, nearly falling out of bed as the ship takes dramatic avoiding action, turning first to port then to starboard.  I go out on the balcony – just open sea.  I turn on the TV to see the ‘Report from the Bridge’ where our location is charted – nothing out of the ordinary.  Over the following day or so, rumours circulate that we had a ‘near miss’ with another vessel that had turned into our path.  One account blamed a fishing boat, another a container carrier.  Crew members were reported never to have experienced anything like it in many years at sea.  Thankfully the outcome was safe – but probably not good for Cunard to announce it too publicly.

Kusadasi is one of Turkey’s more significant ports, though not on the scale of Istanbul.  It co-exists with the ancient site, or rather sites of Ephesus.  Settled from the neolithic period, the city has re-located several times as the sea retreated and the port had to move.  Once associated with the Oracle of Delphi, with Artemis myths and the many-breasted ‘Lady of Ephesus’, it is now a wonderful archaeological site in which to imagine what it was like when John (possibly) wrote his Gospel there and when addressed the Ephesians as one of the seven churches of Asia in the book of Revelation.  When Paul lived there for more than two years and preached to the Ephesians in the great Theatre.  And when (possibly) Mary, the mother of Jesus, lived out her latter years under the protection of John, to whom Jesus had left her protection as he hung on the cross.

We are travelling by bus to the ancient site of the basilica and tomb of John.  It was fairly unadorned with a stone plinth and some pillars, but it marked the (likely) burial of one of Jesus disciples, and seeing it causes me quite a shiver of emotion.  I think we were told he was the only disciple to die peacefully.  And of course Jesus had charged him with the protection of his mother, Mary.

Mary’s House is some way on, up in the hills where it is alleged she spent her last years.  Of course not everyone accepts this, and the site is associated with much Catholic dogma and is effectively of course a shrine to her.  For instance I was not aware that some Catholics believe she was resurrected, just as Jesus was.  Which is why there is no tomb associated with this place.  There had been chapels here since the 1st Century, but the John connection is fairly compelling, and apparently local tradition has it that Mary had actually lived here (compounded no doubt by the ancient ‘Lady of Ephesus’ legends perhaps).   Also, bizarrely, the exact place and its surroundings were very accurately described in a vision of a German nun in the 19th Century.

I would love to think this building is on the site of the actual house Mary lived in … but honestly does it really matter much if it isn’t?

Monday August 18th – Istanbul

How could anyone not be stirred with anticipation at the sight of the skyline of Istanbul?  Anyone can be stirred by the sheer extravagence and scale of modern cities like New York.  I prefer the tantalising promise of Istanbul.  On the Bosphorus, which is said to be where East meets West, Istanbul holds out many of its jewels to the visitor arriving by sea.  And the promise is more than fulfilled.

We drive into the city by bus and are dropped in a prosperous shopping street. Most of the Americans, wary of the undercurrent of Islam, stick with the shops.  But right there by a mosque lies the entrance to the magnificent Bazaar – 4000 stalls and workshops, filled with gorgeous fabrics, leather goods, carpets and jewellery go on for ever. 

Outside the Bazaar the sky darkens.  Above us what seemes like the whole of Europe’s population of storks heads south.  There must have been thousands.

We make our way on foot through the city towards the Blue Mosque.  The beautiful Hagia Sofya cathedral is closed to the public on Mondays except for organised parties (and we had been too mean (again!) to book a trip from Cunard!).  So we walked on by to the Blue Mosque and just gaped in awe at the majesty of the building, the dome, the carpet, the colour, the wonderful decoration and the surrounding gardens too. 

Next we headed for Hagia Eirene, the Christian Church of Divine Peace.  It was originally constructed by Constantine (the city was Constantinople of course!) in, wait for it, the fourth century, it was burnt down and re-built in 532!!!  It makes our cathedrals quite youthful by comparison.  To our deep regret, Hagia Eirene was also closed and only opens for concerts during the Istanbul festival.  Hey ho … time for coffee.

Coffee in Turkey can only mean one thing – a strong thick dark liquid in a tiny cup.  The Green Corner Cafe stood invitingly on a corner sheltered by cool greenery.  Beneath the branches were tables … and some truly enormous sofas where you can put your feet up (take off your shoes!) and take coffee in exotic luxury.  You can even order your hookah with a range of smoking materials on offer (no I didn’t, but I was tempted!)

Istanbul is hectic but never dull.  There seemed to be no graffiti – and that matters because most metropolitan cities are afflicted by a plague of it.   I adore Islamic art which we had first encoutered at the Alhambra in Granada, Spain, and it makes the beauty of Istanbul timeless and magical …

We leave Istanbul wanting more.  Next stop, Ephesus.

Sunday August 17th – Mykonos, Aegean Sea

Awoke looking out over what could only be a Greek landscape.  Funny how geology and vegetation, sun, rain and culture all conspire to identify an area.  The harbour contained QV and a Thompson vessel, so expect about three thousand additional population on the island this morning.  Bus to the town of Mykonos round the bay.  Walk along the waterfront, the bars and restaurants all have that ‘morning after’ feel – owners washing off the tiled ground with water washing into the sea, a few broken bottles, a dazed look to the few customers enjoying a coffee or an early beer.  The town is freshly coloured white and blue, very narrow streets just wide enough for those little motorised carts that chug about, a few pleasant green corners.  From the waterfront the island is crowned by the four skeletal windmills shown in all the postcards, and a few charming small white chapels stand open for visitors.  We loved the charm, the quaint streets and blue-and-white buildings, but didn’t care for evidence of the boozy night before.  Outside the harbour sits a grand four-masted sailing ship, and over there the Queen Vic.  How DO they manoeuvre that massive hull into such places? 

After taking in the town we go back to the ship.  Along the quay from QV, an inter-island ferry is disgorging cars and ruck-sack toting foot passengers by the score.  It had been my dream for my retirement to go island-hopping in the Greek Islands, to be one of them.  Not too sure now.  Sue says she’d refuse to live out of a ruck-sack nowadays, and I’m not convinced life would as idyllic in these quaint places as I imagined.  Maybe this taste of the Mediterranean has achieved its first goal.  I now know where we probably won’t be going again.

The ship sails away from Mykonos and turns north.  Runs past the coast of Turkey through what I’m told are the cleanest seas in the Mediterranean area. 

After dinner that night we have entered the Dardanelles, that narrow strait between Turkey to the South and the Gallipoli Peninsula to the north, which links the Aegean to the Sea of Marmara.  This is beginning to feel quite exotic.  The Greek name for the Dardanelles, Hellespont, echoes of classical history, of Troy located near the western end of the strait, of Hero and Leander, Xerxes, Alexander the Great, the Ottoman Empire, and of the Battle of Gallipoli, where more that 200,000 lost their lives in 1915, including countless New Zealand and Australian troops.

Over night we’ll sail across the Sea of Marmara and in the morning Istanbul, which it is my personal dream to visit.

Saturday 16th August – Olympia, Greece

The Peloponese, the southern part of Greece which dangles it’s fingers in the Mediterranean and gave rise to the warring Spartans, is also home to Olympia.  We were there during the Beijing Olympics, which added a certain intensity to the meaning of our visit.

The picture says as much as anything can say about an archaeological site.  This is the athletics stadium and the stone line at Sue’s feet were the starting blocks for athletes who came to Olympia as we did during the first full moon of August.  The athletes ran in the buff!

The spot where the ‘vestal virgins’ (actresses) light the Olympic flame looks like – well a pile of rocks, which it is.  They use the rays of the sun and a curved mirror to ignite a jet of gas.

Queen Victoria meanwhile is moored at Katakolon, about an hour away by road.

Friday August 15th – Dubrovnik, Croatia

With the monster ship parked in the smallish port of Dubrovnik we get shuttled by bus to the old town, which is a unique fortified town that has seen clashes with invaders over many centuries.  The single most spectacular thing about it (in my opinion) is that the main thoroughfare is white marble. 

You will have realised how stingy I am, which is why we avoided climbing up to the city walls at a cost of 15 euros, and instead we explored the city’s narrow back-streets which gave us shade from the searing sun and some interesting encounters with the local cat population.

Dubrovnik cathedral and at least three other churches were bright and airy, and the little harbour was picturesque.

Tomorrow will be a bigger day …

Venice – Thursday August 14th

Cunard in their kindness organised a shuttle round the waterfront to St Mark’s Square at some cost!  So I dragged poor Sue 1 km on foot out of the port to Piazza la Roma, a transport interchange where road meets canal.  For 6.5 Euros each way you can catch the public waterbus to St Mark’s, or for 14 Euros you can do it on a 24 hour tourist pass.  A no-brainer!

So here we are on the Grand Canal with dozens of tourists and locals, floating past markets and galleries, hotels and bridges, starting with the Bridge of Sighs.  At the Rialto Bridge we hopped off, took some pictures and walked through to St Mark’s Square.  Of course you don’t actually buy anything there because the price of everything doubles as you approach within 100 metres of the place.

We passed several tourists dragging cases up and over the little bridges.  Later we discovered that these poor people had booked into Venice’s hotels, and of course were unable to get within access of their destination – so they just had to struggle.  Note to self – never book into a hotel in old Venice!!

Walked round the waterfront to pick up the return waterbus. (You just hold your ticket in front of the little scanner things – tell that to an older American guy who couldn’t understand why nobody had checked his ticket! Modern technology – pah!)  Travelling the entire length of the Grand Canal was a rare privilege we were very grateful for, and which we wouldn’t have experienced had I not been so parsimonious!

I should add that one of the waterbuses we rode on had an all-woman crew – I called them Cagney and Lacey.  I’d really like to tell you about how great they were but I know I’ll be accused of something or other – so I’ll just leave it there!

Back on board Queen Victoria, it was time to ‘let go aft’ and set sail.  What a feeling as the massive ship manoeuvred unaided from her berth out into the lagoon.  I understand the ship has a modern electric propulsion system which makes a tug more or less redundant – but more of that later. 

We sailed very sedately along the waterfront heading for St Mark’s Square, with the best imaginable view of the low-rise city Venice from the deck ten storeys high.  It was breath-taking.  As we passed the Doges Palace the crowds lining the water watched us watching them.  Slowly out towards the Gulf of Venice and the Adriatic.

Next stop Dubrovnik.

How we celebrated forty years together!

Sue and I have been married for forty years.  Yes I know it’s unbelievable!  I find it incredible that she’s put up with me that long.  So anyway we decided to mark the occasion with a ‘once in a lifetime’ experience we will always associate with this anniversary.  Only problem of course was, as always, it was going to be expensive. 

But still we committed.  We booked a cruise around the Mediterranean on the new Cunarder ‘Queen Victoria’, as novices to cruising and certainly unused to receiving 5-star treatment.  Sue deserved it of course – I had never been good at red roses and champagne so this made up for forty years of neglectfulness.

The trip was always going to be breathtaking – and so it turned out.  On Wednesday August 13th we flew to Venice and with the absolute minimum of effort found ourselves stepping into the air-conditioned embrace of Cunard and the most beautiful ship I could have imagined.  Our cases arrived unobtrusively in our ‘Stateroom’, and from our private balcony we had a view over the city of Venice. 

That night we ate in the luxury of the ship’s sumptuous Britannia Restaurant and planned what we would do tomorrow.

Life after life

I was only thinking yesterday how easily and quickly life can change.  Two years ago a marriage in our family simply ended (not mine thankfully, and actually not too ’simply’ – divorce was never meant to be simple!).  And earlier this year a life simply ended (yes it was fairly simple – at 95, Dad’s passing was not complicated, not unexpected, but not welcome either).  And now it’s me who’s on the threshold of something very different, life after life, retirement.  Which is very complicated, long expected, and not altogether welcome!

As a self-employed person my work was my life.   I had trained a succession of younger people to carry it on after me.  ‘Very far-sighted’ I hear you say.  Indeed, and costly too – their salaries have reduced my own income for the last few years.  And unfortunately the business occupied the premises that was intended to be my pension, so taking that pension meant closing (or moving) the business and the people.  For the time being we’ll charge a rent and hope they run it successfully and keep up with the rent.

So here we are.  Time to get on with it.  Time to step back and let someone else do what I did with the same passion and flair I used to have.  Time to reshape my life around new priorities, new ‘interests’ (how on earth does one find new interests?), thankfully within the same family and with Sue.

But how hard it seemed and how long it has taken!  Nothing clicked into place.

Yet it is only now it is beginning that I feel it just might be possible.  Only now am I beginning to feel a gentle surge of excitement about what new horizons may open for me at the start of a new life.  I’m beginning to feel again that sense of anticipation I remember from my first day at Big School!  Maybe there is life after life.