At the mome...

At the moment I:-am back in my old room at uni.-have a cold.-don't give a damn about writing.-am obsessed with His Dark Materials.-want to garden & embroider till I die.-am a member of The National Trust.and you?

random;d...

random;does anyone play docking station & want to trade? my username is eurydike.(if you don't have it, download it, it's free!)

three of three

"Nightly she sings on yond Pomgranet tree,Beleeue me loue, it was the Nightingale."- Shakespearenightingales in the morning, while half-asleep i almost fancied they were speaking to me, hurriedly imparting of, their quick tawny lives. "I fully agree with Colonel Leake, that the ruins of Assos give the most perfect idea of a Greek city that we can now find anywhere."- Schliemannapparently aristotle founded a school of philosophy at assos, in exchange for the king's niece's hand in marriage.we visited the assos acropolis, the rest of the ruins being closed for excavation. walked quite a way up narrow cobbled streets, flanked by villagers wanting to sell us lemon thyme and hand-made laces and clothes and knick-knacks.the temple of athena was of course, the main attraction, at the highest point, with a wondrous view of the isle of lesbos and the lands around. it is the earliest example of doric architecture in anatolia! i am particularly fond of doric architecture; the grandeur & solidity of the doric order vie with the intricacy & beauty of the corinthian. i must admit assos does not possess quite the rugged beauty of segesta (which i have only seen in pictures); the columns are not particularly large, and their capitals are too flat to look very strong. still it was good to be near the ruins. i have recently felt happiest while clambering around ruins under the scorching sun.there are two cisterns on the acropolis, one beside the temple, and the other lower down. this latter is surprisingly deep, perhaps almost 8 metres? just opposite it is an ottoman mosque, making use of some columns found in the area, and a marble lintel. the floor inside was lined with many many kilims, and an ill-fitting chandelier dangled from the bare ceiling.*LXXVIIHigh barrows, without marble, or a name,A vast, untill'd and mountain-skirted plainAnd Ida in the distance, still the same,And old Scamander (if 'tis he) remain;The situation seems still form'd for fame--A hundred thousand men might fight again.With ease; but where I sought for Ilion's walls,The quiet sheep feeds, and the tortoise crawls.- Lord Byronan hour's drive later we reached troy. we were admitted through the newly installed turnpikes (something about bolting the barn door after the horse has fled) and started upon the path which every tourist must these days follow. the stupid horse & the "pithos garden" were the first things we saw. then one of schliemann's trenches, and then along the troia VI walls. probably the most remarkable sight to be found in troy is the view from the roman bastion, out onto the hellespont and the trojan plain. it is easy to make out the lighthouse, the english monument and the canakkale memorial.then another schliemann trench, then the temple of athena, of which very little remains. only part of a ceiling coffer, and some palmette designs, amongst other unornamented pieces. the troy II ramp, which is reconstructed, and some way ahead, the sanctuary of athena, perhaps the most important part of the site.there are also some walls from very ancient megarons that are now sheltered under a white roof (which is apparently meant to be reminiscent of a ship's sail), but they are simply walls...then the south gate, with a waste drainage channel down the middle of the street. a little way on is another temple, opposite that, the odeon, and then the bouleterion.there remains very little that is familiar to the untrained eye, and thus i can hardly comment in any detail. troy is a confusion of peoples and constructions, all juxtaposed senselessly and confounded further by the ravages of time; the average tourist cannot come here and leave with a clear picture of one city, it is practically impossible to separate the nine layers, even with guidance. >> also, flora and fauna of troy, & the trojan oak (Quercus trojana)."I've stood upon Achilles' tomb,And heard Troy doubted; time will doubt of Rome."- Lord Byron*canakkale, walking along the prom at night, watching fireworks in eceabat, and the bright ferry. a little girl walking between her mother and father who kept asking the words -line by line- to the canakkale song and singing it after, in a happy halting voice. i hadn't thought that saddest of songs could make me smile. sitting at the tea-houses and drinking strong turkish tea and eating sunflower seeds. people looking wonderingly at my wholesome volume of byron; saying, "i heard he was an enemy of the turks, is that true?" and my hesitancy and my mincing when i want to scream, "yes, yes, maybe he was and what do i care?" turkish people have narrow understandings of nationalism. there was also a strange old man who mumbled something about, "who have the british got, but shakespeare? and it isn't even certain he existed," to which all i could do was stare with a mixture of horror and confusion.on the last day we visited tenedos; the wine factory, i was sure, would make us drunk with just its scent! but it was cool and lovely and we learnt a little about wine-making. then ayazma beach, where it is thought the greeks hid, pretending to have given up their siege of troy. a ship lies grounded there, with its stern underwater, immovable.>> and as a final note, perseus has much better pictures of assos & troy.edit: added a few more photos.

port out, st...

port out, starboard home!

two of three

blustery ferry; giving my hair up. intent upon unwinding the ribbon of my dire straits tape off the spokes of my walkman. a knossos of parked cars!those monuments and graveyards i saw a few years ago: the english monument is still my favourite; grey monolith surrounded by grey wall, every inch carved with names which at first you do not notice. the ships at the centre with their bold nomenclature, agamemnon, goliath, inflexible. it is much like a dead lighthouse, one that has turned to stone from an excess of helplessness and grief. its live twin stands nearer the sea, in folds of sunflowers coming to seed. last time i visited they had been reaped, leaving an anonymous yellow stubble.the çanakkale monument is malum*. i think the original architects must have meant it as a collosal, stark symbol, something you couldn't elude or adorn, something that wouldn't go away. [it is visible from miles away, from the height of troy you can see it.] and yet, it succumbs to bad management, idiocy, incompetence. it succumbs to people who will make car-parks of cemetaries; people who can make the sinking british fleet look like a child's bath toys, and carve it upon the dead men's stones. at least two people died per square metre of this peninsula. every april when the fields are tilled people still find bones.the anzac cove was more beautiful than when i last visited. the grass was alive, clumps of lavender growing between the stones, a hedge of rosemary in bloom, an 'e' missing from Atatürk's speech.çimenlik castle is full of engines of war; they made me think of milton's lucifer [a triple-mounted row of pillars laid / on wheels (for like to pillars most they seemed, / or hollowed bodies made of oak or fir, / with branches lopped, in wood or mountain felled), / brass, iron, stony mould...]. there was one barrel at the entrance which had been ruined by the retreating foreign forces; it had folded into a metal flower at the end, like one sees in cartoons.our hotel in assos was among the olive groves. in the afternoon we walked through them to the sea and picked white sand lilies.*"To Ida's spring-abounding hill he came,And to the crest of Gargarus, wild nurseOf mountain beasts; a sacred plot was there,Whereon his incense-honour'd altar stood:There stay'd his steeds the Sire of Gods and menLoos'd from the car, and veil'd with clouds around.Then on the topmost ridge he sat, in prideOf conscious strength; and looking down, survey'dThe Trojan city, and the ships of Greece."- Homer."...the highest summit of Ida is Mount Gargarus, now called Kaz Dagh, 5750 ft. above the level of the sea. On Gargarus was 'a temenos sacred to Zeus, and a fragrant altar.'"-Schliemannnext morning we went up gargaros to the zeus altar! i realised how ridiculous i was to think that ida would be anything similar to the dry dusty shingle of lycia. the house which the sea nibbled looked upon the ida mountains; i spent so many summers drinking of their springs, but to me they were always the kaz mountains, the name which the turkmen gave them.gargaros was mostly covered in a lovely species of pine. very vivid in colour and various in form. the altar itself wasn't very interesting, built only for the use of local people; some steps led up to a terrace where the altar was built up of stone in a square shape, with a well in the middle. the view was magnificent, though: the bright blue aegean, the isle of lesbos, huge and looming, a little mistily as islands do upon the horizon. on the way down we stept off the path into the forest; (i must mention this especially for the benefit of Sarah) the fallen carpet of pine needles is soft and extremely slippery! we city dwellers were quite surprised.*the night was glorious; we went down to the old harbour of assos, which is lined with quaint cafes. a man was playing the guitar, exactly what aegean nights are about. we sat until midnight under the moonlight, singing out songs of love and heartbreak mostly. a german woman went up and asked the musician to play a zeki müren, and we all burst out laughing, i am sorry to say. some people lit a bonfire, and drew up chaise longues by its side, in the half-gloom the waiters walked by with deep red trays that looked quite like offerings of viscous blood. i watched the lights across the bay, in the shape of a great ship half sunk into the cliff-face. the fishing boats went out to sea like a row of ducklings. we kept singing. the waiters danced the misket to the beautiful "ah bir ataş ver". * here is the new ceiling; it is mosaic that has been painted over, rather patchily. i realise the old ceiling needed a bit of work, but i cannot imagine anything more ill-suited than a round patch of red in an otherwise angular and monotone monument.i am ever so sleepy now; i shall probably edit this post tomorrow

one of three

kalbim ege'de kaldı:imbros: swinging seats by the sea & forty-winks under straw parasols. stormy night; at 3 am waking, walking out onto the balcony half-clad, cold and hearing the aegean thunder, with implements of water against rock; a good deal more of the milky way above my head; the sea more darkness than i have ever met. the morning ferry got cancelled; no papers arrived until the afternoon. we visited some villages; sampled barba yorgo wine, standing around the tiny square, hoping for a cup of tea. a man shouted across the street for the proprietress to come open the cafe, and she came, unlocked the door and told him to go in and brew his own. at the next village we sat at quaint little cafes and bought pistachios and apples and walnuts.watching my aunt's interminable & complex rituals; of lotions and soaps and creams and tissues and cotton wool and cologne and seemingly many other obscure cleansing utensils. my other aunt out on the shallow salt lake, smearing black mud over her expansive thighs.windsurfers at aydıncık beach; there was such a very strong wind from the land out that i almost got hit by one of the huge plastic sails, but the man carrying it managed to hold on and i was showered only with sand.next morning we took the 7 ferry back to the mainland.

rathe...

rather late for me to be asking this, but if you would like a postcard from the gallipoli trip i am about to embark on (for a week!), do comment with your address! (especially you, Sarah, as I can't find your address anywhere, and you must have one from you know where!)i leave at 20:30 GMT! take care, everyone!

Alon...

Alone on my zazen matI forget the daysAs they passThe wisteria has grownThick over the eavesOf my hut. - Muso (1275-1351)from 1992 (bayram):from 1995 (new year):these days:

i've...

i've uploaded photos from my travels to göcek, letoon, xanthos, telmessos, tlos, and kaunos. more to come when i get them developed.