The Bus Rides the Ferry

From Gallipoli, we nosed downward to sea level. We were headed to the town of Cannakale, but there was a wide stretch of sea between it and us.

Jimmy expertly maneuvered us right onto a large ferry for the ride across the Dardanelles from Europe to Asia. With our bus safely secured, we left our seats and found places on the top deck of the ferry where we could watch our progress across the water.

These were the same waters where the last battles of the Peloponnesian War were staged in 400 B.C.E.

At the narrowest point of the straits sits the substantial town of Cannakale, where we landed. Back on terra firma at the harbor, we zoomed off towards our final destination of the day. We were actually just passing through Cannakale. Our long day would end at the town of Assos.

Gallipoli

As the miles clicked by, Alp fed us quirky Turkish tidbits of information, like the fact that the ship Queen Elizabeth was made in Turkey. He elaborated on the story our host of Melen Winery had told us about this area — how Greeks and Turks once lived here side by side, harmoniously. He stated these two countries are closely connected now, and that the Turks and the Greeks have put aside their age-old differences.

That may be true politically, but culturally, maybe not. Had I not been sitting so far back in the bus, I would have told him about my Greek friend and her adamant refusal to eat with us at a restaurant in Crete called the Well of the Turk. Don’t be fooled. There is still great resentment among the Greeks against Turkey as a country, if not against the Turks themselves.

The bus was headed to the Gallipoli peninsula, still in Thrace, which is the European part of Turkey. The Aegean Sea lies to the west and the Dardanelle straits to the east.

Climbing steeply away from the sea, we entered the Gallipoli National Historic Park. A breathtaking panoramic view of the Aegean stretched out towards the horizon.

Filled with cemeteries and monuments, this park memorializes the staggering loss of life during the Battle of Gallipoli that occurred here in 1915, during World War I.

The allies, consisting mostly of the British, French, Australians, and New Zealanders, tried to take this peninsula, a very important and strategic point in gaining control of Istanbul. They miscalculated their attack and after a nine-month siege and great loss of life, conceded victory to the Turks.

This was not only a turning point for Turkish independence, but the definitive battle that catapulted the formidable and heroic Mustafa Kemal (Ataturk) as a celebrated leader and, as you already know, his eventual place as the father of modern-day Turkey.

The huge monuments were impressive as was the gigantic statue of Ataturk.

Equally amazing were the trenches dug by the soldiers, still visible even after all these decades. It was eerie standing over these ditches, wondering what it must have been like to have been hunkered down in them for weeks at a time, in the dust and mud.

Walking along the rows and rows of grave markers, reading the inscriptions etched into them by far-away loved ones, made me sad. So many dead. So many young.

Mostly I found the whole park depressing despite its historic importance and incredible views. I was glad when we left.

Lunch and Wine Tasting: Melen Winery

It’s impossible to adequately describe the amazing meal our host and members of her family served us: heaping plates of delectable mezes, salads, and those curiously flattened Turkish meatballs. Each course was complemented by a different and delicious wine.

Jim samples one of the reds

We were all in great moods by the time lunch concluded. A dessert of grapes and baklava finished it off. Heaven!

After this unforgettable lunch, Jimmy drove us down along the Sea of Marmara to the small town of Hosköy where Melen Winery sells their wines to the public from a small seaside shop. We eagerly gathered around for more tastings.

 
The logo of Melen Winery is inspired by the seal found on ancient amphorae discovered in local excavations. These clay pots were used years ago in the export and transport of wine and olive oil to far-flung places. The bottle of red I bought that day at Melen Winery was itself in the shape of an amphora and came in a cute cloth bag with little handles.

After our wine purchase, we wandered around a bit along the shady area that edges the sea, taking in the sights.

An old fashioned wine press

Colorful wine crates

Near the water, tables were placed here and there where one could sit and have tea (or wine?) and chat with friends.

Alp and the group thanked our host. Then carefully clutching our bottles, we climbed back onto the bus and sat back for another stretch of driving.

Melen Winery

This first day on the bus would be one of our longest; we were scheduled to see several things along the way to our night’s destination. Our next stop, lunch at a mountain winery, would turn out to be one of the highlights of the tour.

As we drove through the undulating, vineyard-covered hills of Thrace, Alp explained that Anatolia and its surrounding area is the native land of grape growing.

“In fact,” he informed us, “Shiraz is actually Iranian, not Australian, as most people think.” No problem there, I thought, since the emphasis in Turkey is to co-exist.

Jimmy guided the bus along the narrow road that led directly to a historic local winery: Melen Winery.  One of the owners met us at the bus and led us through the vineyard to a large open are where we plunked down onto wooden picnic benches. There she explained the history of her land.

She spoke in Turkish and Alp translated for us. As I listened, I wondered if there was a significance to the butterfly-decorated t-shirt she wore. Our hostess explained that 5,500 years ago, river beds in this area were used for growing vines. The locals called these river beds melen, which eventually gave rise to naming the nearby village Melen.

That certainly explains the name of the winery. But the shirt? Later, I understood: melen also means “butterfly.”

Our hostess spoke to us in Turkish while Alp translated

Poking our heads over a wooden fence, we looked down at a crumbling stone structure that lay in the field a few feet below us. She told us this was the remains of the old Monastery of St. Ioannis.

In 1865, a Christian friar built this now-derelict monastery over an ancient Byzantine monastery, which in turn sat atop a 5th to 6th century cemetery. The third-generation owners of the winery are currently raising money to restore the historic structure and hope to someday turn it into a gathering and lodging center.

We were puzzled by what looked like the remains of a ship sticking out of the ground. Our hostess explained that this spot had recently been used as a filming location for a movie production.

After relating the fascinating history of the land, the winery itself, and the important ties her family had to all of it, she led us to a house with a spacious covered wooden deck overlooking the entire vineyard. The sea twinkled in the distance. It was time for lunch.

The Village of Uçmakdere

Back on the bus, we meandered along a high mountain road, the Marmara Sea far below. Marmara means double sea, which makes sense to me since mare means “sea” in Italian: marmara then would be “seasea”: double sea.

Alp pointed out the Island of Marmara in the distance. This island consists of great white marble deposits. Marble has been quarried here for 1,000 years and continues to this day in the numerous quarries that still exist. Although the marble found on the island is not good for carving statues, it is good for building; in fact, much of the marble used to build the Hagia Sofia came from these same quarries.

Alp shows us a linden tree

As we passed through a thickly forested area, Alp pointed out several linden trees, a major economy in Turkey. Turks drink lots of linden tea, believing it to have therapeutic properties. So that’s exactly what we did next: stopped for linden tea in the village of Uçmakdere.

A village home tucked into the hillside

Our big shiny bus looked out of place in this remote village tucked alongside the curving road high above the sea. We poured out, hovering near its incongruous hulk to wait for our leader to lead us. I glanced over at a café where a few local men sat outside on chairs.

Following Alp into a small courtyard of the café, we spread ourselves among the few tables and benches. One of the local men joined us, sipping linden tea and chatting as if we were old friends.

We all tried the linden tea.

A few old men sat nearby, playing dominoes and socializing.

These pretty gourds were hanging from a tree growing at the edge of the little cafe courtyard

After tea, I walked around a bit. Coming upon what appeared to be a fountain of some kind, I went up for a closer look. Two large metal jugs sat inside it, probably to keep them cool.

Opposite the fountain, two children were playing. A plump, kerchiefed woman stood nearby, keeping a watchful eye. One of the kids pretended to be singing into a microphone, giggling when I took a picture.

They had a little stand with packages of something they were selling, maybe dried herbs of some kind. Alp told us there are only 216 people in this small village, two of them in primary school. Undoubtedly, these were the two.

Every town and village has its mosque. I thought the minaret in Uçmakdere was particularly pretty.

Nearby, a bust of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk glinted in the bright sun. No Turkish town, large or small, is without its shrine to this beloved man who led the Turks in their war of independence. Ataturk literally means “father of the Turks,” but he is more conceptually considered the great leader or “grand Turk.”

Ataturk. He followed us all over Turkey. Or maybe we followed him...

From the ashes of the Ottoman Empire, he established the Turkish Republic, the modern country of today. His list of accomplishments is impressive: he separated religion and state to create a secular nation, abolished polygamy, emancipated women, and a litany of other progressive actions that ultimately aligned Turkey with the western world. The Turks revere him, almost as a god.

On our way back towards the bus, a man sitting side-saddle on a horse plodded past and grinned at us with a toothless smile, exactly what you’d imagine seeing in a remote Turkish village.

Later today, we’d be visiting a site that played prominently in Ataturk’s ascendancy. But first, it was time for wine!