A million years ago, when I was a young backpacker, I found myself in Turkey, in November. I visited Gallipoli, and more. Read the rest here: via One November in Turkey (part 2) or Remembering on Remembrance Day
Category: Backpacking
Travel theme: Frozen
Hold fast to dreams for when dreams go life is a barren field frozen with snow. (Langston Hughes) This week’s travel theme is Frozen. I was staying in London during the winter of 1986/87 and I was simply astounded at how ineffective this ancient but modern metropolis became – transport halted, water froze in the…
Time travel (how I wish I could)
“The bad news is time flies. The good news is you’re the pilot.” – Michael Althsuler This weekend marks the 30th anniversary of the start of my big overseas backpacking adventure. On September 9th 1986, at a very tender age, I set off alone into the wild blue yonder. I had lots of time, and…
The Luck of the Irish (and other quotes)
Bless your little Irish heart and every other Irish part. I boarded a Qantas jet in Sydney with a return ticket to London, a 3 month Eurail pass and my sister’s backpack. I wore my red Reeboks, a camel duffel coat with toggles and a dodgy haircut. It was the late 80s and I was…
One November in Turkey (part 3) – Gallipoli to Istanbul
Destination Istanbul was only two more smoke-filled bus trips away. The first stop on the way, a must-see for ancient history buffs, was Canakkale. Here we made a quick trip on the local dolmus out to Troy, with its 4000 years of history. Nice place, shame about the wooden horse. Then, on 15th November 1986, a small…
One November in Turkey (part 2) or Remembering on Remembrance Day
In early November 1986 I had arrived in Turkey on a whim, with no idea of what I would encounter. A handful of fellow backpackers had suggested it as the next stop east from Santorini, so I joined them on a ferry ride to Rhodes; a ferry ride that took about 22 hours instead of…
One November in Turkey (part 1)
His steely eyes surveyed me through a sea of stubble (his five o’clock shadow grew well past the usual demarcation lines), as he slung my overly heavy backpack into the deep hole beneath the bus, one November in Turkey. He grunted and jerked his head towards the door. I watched him watch me climb the…
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