Where are all the women? And other Eastern Turkey horrors.

Greetings from Tatvan on Turkey's Republic Day!

Tatvan is a city of 100, 000 people on the West coast of Turkey's biggest lake, Van Golu. There isn't too much international tourism in this city. We have been here for two days and I think we are celebrities of sorts. Plenty of people (mostly children) have been running up to us to practice their English, which consists or "Hello", "where are you from?", "my name is....." Each statement is then repeated with little or no pause for us to answer. We woke up this morning to the sound of a marching band, having a last minute practice before their big Republic Day Parade. The parade was essentially all school children wearing their respective school uniforms. A few teachers looked annoyed that their students were more interested in posing for the city's two tourists (us) than practising their songs and maintaining their formation.

Eastern Turkey has been a stark contrast to Western Turkey: Minimal tourism. Maximum misogyny. It has become pretty commonplace for men to just ignore me and look directly to Zack for a conversation or information. Also, where are all the women? The streets of Eastern cities are pretty bustling, with lots of outdoor cafe space to drink cay and socialize, but you can't help but wonder, where are all the women? It's like a an episode of the Twilight Zone where women are kept in jars or something. There are groups of men everywhere, of all ages - young boys playing soccer, teenage boys up to "no good", and endless clusters of older men chain smoking and drinking tea, but very few women. I like to hope they are having a blast chatting with one another in their homes, doing really fulfilling work that brings them joy and challenges them. I have my doubts. 

I've developed a highly scientific strategy for assessing a region's level of women's liberation. Knitting stores. 

A city with none or minimal knitting stores = liberal. City with a knitting store on every corner = oppression, minimal rights, child brides. See how this works?  

Women's oppression and religiousity aside, Eastern Turkey has been pretty wonderful. Van Golu, Mount Ararat, Mount Nemrud (really a volcano) are each enough to take your breath away. In Van Golu there is an Island that has a 1200 year old Armenian church on it. We headed out (on a boat full of men) to the Island. Imagine our giddy excitement when we found out that the church is called Zacharias and is covered in etchings and paintings of wildlife. I'm not one to get excited about churches, but this was a beauty. 

A palace dining room. 

Sunset at Van castle, some hooligans showed us a hole in the fence so we didn't have to pay to get in.  

Ferry ride Akdamar Island. 

Zachary in front of Zacharias church

The view from the church. Lake Van is gorgeous and one of it's claims to fame is  a special cat breed that has different coloured eyes and loves swimming. Also in Van lake you can do you laundry without soap because of high chemical content. 

Wildlife pictures on the church. 

Another interesting thing about our time in Eastern Turkey is that it happened to fall on Bayram, the four-day holiday surrounding Eid. On the first day of Bayram, families slaughter either a sheep or a cow. We knew this was the practice but were not at all prepared to see what we saw that morning in Erzurum (a very religious city.) We woke up on the morning of day one and wanted to go shopping to buy me some new pants (I lost the only pair I had on the trip.) Not only were all the stores closed (rookie mistake) but the city was a complete ghost town. Nobody was out on the usually busy streets and instead, there were cow and sheep parts everywhere! Every dumpster was full of innards and dogs were munching on legs and ears. The streets were literally running with blood (see photo.) We even came across a group of men (obviously) hosing down a severed cow head. 

Burger King was giving out flags to children to celebrate Bayram. Irony not lost on us. 

I'll spare you the picture of intestines and severed heads. 

Mostar

Mostar is another beautiful Bosnian city we visited after Sarajevo. The bridge, simply called "The Old Bridge" (or Stari Most) is the focal point of the city. It was destroyed during the Bosnian war of the 1990's and then rebuilt as a symbol of post-conflict Bosnian unity. Our Mostar friend (and amazing hostel owner), Taso, told us stories of growing up in the war and seeing the entire city cry the day the bridge came down. Mostar is (apparently) the hottest city in Eastern Europe, and when we were there in September is was still 40+ degrees. Interestingly, the winter is harsh - very harsh - reaching minus thirty degrees with five feet of snow. I didn't believe the snow stories but then saw pictures, trust me they get A LOT of snow, like 'dig a tunnel from your front door to the market' kind of snow. A harsh summer followed by a harsh winter, the Balkans are a land of extremes.

Like Sarajevo, Mostar still has many reminders of the war. The tiny little tourist strip next to the Old Bridge has been restored but if you turn off any side street you will see most homes still have bullet holes. There is one street that served as the "meeting point" of Serb and Bosnian troops. This street still looks like a war zone, buildings have been blown up and the rubble just abandoned. I took a long walk down this street one afternoon but didn't bring my camera (it was threatening rain and I just wasn't in a picture mood.) So unfortunately, I have no pictures to show you of the destruction. I have only pictures of the pretty stuff (isn't that telling of tourism). Pretty or not pretty, I'm so thankful for my time in all parts of Mostar and now I'm thankful that you've read about it.

Here is a picture Zack checking out the bridge.

When I stood and got a good look at the bridge, a gust of wind blew my skirt up. I grabbed it just in time to avoid a bum show, now this is one of my favourite photos from the trip. 

Old Ottoman tombstones, they are meant to represent turbans. Mostar has some amazing history, the entire town is a UNESCO world heritage site. I always thought it was cool to declare an entire town a world heritage site, but then I realised it means people can't renovate their homes (including ancient/inefficient plumbing) without jumping through a mountain of red tape. Our hostel didn't have a sign because they were waiting on UNESCO approval, which meant Taso picked us up at the train station. A win for us.

I'm not sure why the "don't forget" signs are in English. Perhaps because the Bosnians could never possibly forget and some might say the international community barely even noticed. 

The view from the Old Bridge. The water below is only 12 degrees, recall that the air is 40+. It's a rite of passage for all the boys in the town (and some silly backpackers) to jump off the bridge. Taso jumped when he was thirteen and tells the story with a huge grin on his face. I think it's interesting that only five woman have ever jumped, it's interesting but not interesting enough for me to jump. The only death this year was an Aussie who had a heart attack because of the cold water. His family is now suing the city, grief clearly compromises judgement. Now because of this all potential jumpers need to "do a test run" on a rock down the river from the bridge and sign a waiver.

Another view from the bridge at sunset.

I loved the side of this building, vines had just been pulled off and they left this beautiful stamp. So many possible metaphors come to mind about Mostar and the war....imprinted, etched, left behind....you get the idea.

Sarajevo

Sarajevo was one of my favourite stops, thus far, on our trip. Since Sarajevo was a major site of urban warfare during the war, there are still many reminders of the war, both in the city's structure and in conversations. It's estimated that on an average day more then 300 shell rounds were fired into the city for the duration of the four year siege (the longest siege of a capital city in the history of modern warfare.) It's been 16 years since the siege ended but still there are bullet holes in most buildings. Sad to think they didn't actually want to occupy the city, they wanted to just terrorise people and beat down their spirit. It's kind of amazing to think there were any civilians left in Sarajevo after a siege that long and intense. While in Sarajevo we did a walking tour with a wonderful guide who shared with us stories of growing up in during the war (he was 9 when it started and 14 when it ended.) He showed red cross telegraphs (the only form of communicating with people outside the city during the war) that were sent to his family by relatives in Mostar. 

Photos from the old town market. The market is segregated into sections based on trades and sales. So one street will be designated for shoes, another (and my personal favourite) for tinware, mostly for hukkahs and turkish coffee pots.  

Sultans from Ottoman times (not actually from ottoman times.) 

Imagine trying to fit a gramophone into your suitcase? Not the best souvenir. 

Bosnia is a Cevapi crazed country. We had only one serving (purchased for us as a gift from  a truck driver kind enough to give us a ride.) 

More tin and souvenir goodies!

I've never heard people refer to communist times as "the good old days" and  as "times of plenty." Tito is still very popular (which is an understatement, Tito is very popular.) 

Sarajevo Academy of Fine Arts, originally an Austo Hungarian church that now has  an Apple store on the main floor.  In front of the academy there is  Sarajevo's newest bridge, the Ada Bridge, a very modern looking "looped" bridge. The bridge opened only two weeks before we visited Sarajevo. It was a very controversial decision because the bridge costed 140, 000, 000 Euros. Understandably people thought this was a bad way to spend 140, 000, 000 Euros when the country's unemployment rate among young people is 46%. Here is a video of the new Ada Bridge opening ceremony, you can see the Academy of Fine Arts in the background. ada bridge opening

Communist looking buildings

Scars in the city made by mortar shells during the war, now filled with red resin to serve as a reminder. They only make a Sarajevo Rose when there were three or more civilians killed in that spot. 

Bullet holes.

The BiH flag designed for them by the UN since they couldn't agree on a design after the war. 

The view from our train leaving Sarajevo, such a beautiful country!