Back to Brussels, and off on our bikes!

Our sadness over leaving Turkey was made much easier by our family's happiness at being welcomed back to Emile Wittman Straat by Kate, Wim, Lyra and Theo. It was a special treat to stay at their house after having moved around so much the previous five weeks. Breakfast around the family table, dinner out on their backyard terrace and trips to the playground for the kids made us feel like we were home, though the incredible lushness of Josaphat park,

the unbelievable frites from the corner friterie, and freshly made waffles from a street stall reminded us we were in Brussels. We had all planned to immediately embark on a four day camping and cycling vacation, but the comfort of Kate and Wim's place, plus the dismal weather forecast (which turned out to be mostly wrong - though the one cold and rainy night experienced from under the cozy warmth of our duvet meant we didn't regret the decision!) made us decide to stay put for a few nights.

We used the time to relax (me) and reassemble and prep our bikes (Paul - creating an ingenious mechanic station out of bungee cords and rope). We were also able to do a couple of cycling day trips,  thanks to our incredible tour guides Kate and Wim (I'd give them a 10 out of 10 on trip advisor). The first was in and around Brussels, to a couple of amazing playgrounds the kids never wanted to leave, then to a forest where we rode through a hushed corridor of ancient beech trees.

While Kate and Wim say Brussels leaves a lot to be desired in the way of bike safety, the trails and routes they lead us on were terrific, with wide, protected and often landscaped paths, so much safer than what we have in Toronto (spoiler alert - descriptions of paradisical bike infrastructure coupled with laments over the dismal status of bicycles at home will pop up repeatedly in the posts to come...).

We also spent one lovely day on the Dutch peninsula. We took our bikes on the train to Knokke then biked from the station to Wim's parents' place in the seaside retreat of Cadzand, easily reached by a beautiful path.

We'd been there twice before and it was so much fun to return there, and also to visit with Lisse and Jan, as well as Wim's brother Jan and his partner Mich. Lisse prepared the thirteen of us a sumptuous mid-day meal of north sea shrimp, tomatoes, green beans, roast chicken and frites. We lingered over red wine and basked in the sun on the back patio, the kids playing happily in the yard below and then the nearby playground, before we all took off for the 20 km ride over fields and along the canal to Brugge.

We had visited the world famous canals and narrow streets on previous visits so just breezed through in time to catch the train back home, my apologies that I forgot to take pictures of this historic and beautiful town...

Back in Brussels we engaged a babysitter for our final night together and went out with Kate and Wim for ribs with Liege syrup, sole au beurre, and lapin with krieke (a tart cherry beer), accompanied by just in season asperagus and an appetizer of the North Sea shrimp. We topped it off with a walk through the just darkening skies - sunset comes late in Belgium in May- 

to the Biere Bibliotheque (sorry I can't figure out how to do accents on this keyboard), which I would summarize by paraphrasing the Eagles - you can check out any beer you like, but you never want to leave.

After five days together we said our farewells, and coasted on our fully loaded bikes downhill to the train station for the short trip into Holland, where our cycling network started. It had taken us awhile to pack our paniers properly and assemble our camping gear (especially since Paul and Wim had to make an emergency trip to the camping store when we discovered the day before leaving that someone (surely not me) had forgotten to pack the tent poles for one of our tents) but the result was worth it and we felt ready to go as we journeyed on the train.

As soon as we arrived in Roosendaal we knew we were in the Holland of our cycling dreams - able to bike straight off the platform and into the streets, with hundreds of bikes parked outside the station, and masses of cyclists converging on the path outside of the town. Our destination that night was Dordrecht, and the route there was a delight, no worries about the kids' safety on the dedicated paths so they could bike with us,

or race ahead.

We had planned to take a short ferry from the marina just before Dordrecht, but it had stopped running for the day. We found the Jacob M. boat instead, 

as well as an alternate route across the dike. Dordrecht itself was lovely, 

and we stayed with a family we met through a highly recommended website called (somewhat unfortunately) warmshowers.org, which hooks up touring cyclists with cycle-friendly hosts who offer free accommodation (Jacob remarked that all they learn in school and at home is to avoid strangers on the Internet, so why were we now going to stay with complete strangers we met online? good point!). Andrei and Klarina and their four sons do yearly cycle touring trips, so appreciated how welcome such hospitality would be for other cylists. We were so grateful for the delicious dinner and cozy beds  - and the fresh baked bread at breakfast! - and the kids had fun bouncing on the trampoline in the garden together.

That day's cycle started in the harbour, 

then took us across busy long spanning bridges,

where, in contrast to much of North America, where cyclists and pedestrians are either in peril or banned from crossing major bridges completely, we always had a dedicated pathway.

We loved the public art that greeted us at our mid-day stop in Rotterdam, 

but the weather turned cold and rainy, so we didn't linger outside, and with our bikes fully loaded we couldn't really lock them up and go into a cafe or to any of the museums (which at any rate were closed since it was a Monday). The kids and I did do some picnic shopping from the amazing indoor food market/condo complex while Paul watched the bikes outside. The building was nice enough from the outside, sitting across the street from the cathedral and with sculptures that doubled as climbing structures on the green out front.

It was spectacular on the inside, with the walls painted in collage from arched ceiling to floor, and the two massive side walls completely made up of windows, 

through which you could see a few of Rotterdam's architectural gems that we cycled past on our way out.

Our day's route finished with a trip through fields lined by small canals where waterfowl and their babies were hidden amongst the reeds. Cows and sheep grazed peacefully, completing the pastoral scene.

The weather turned even more rainy and by the time we reached our campsite we were all cold and wet, especially Tom who got spattered by mud from Paul's bike 

- we subsequently installed a more protective mudguard that we hope will perform better in the next rainstorm. 

In lieu of a tent we opted for a tiny cabin, unheated but cozy, with a table and four bunk beds.

We woke up the next morning and headed straight for Amsterdam, stopping in Gouda long enough for waffles for breakfast in the centre square, where large rounds of the eponymous cheese (or models thereof) hung from wires strung up above, then it was onwards to Amsterdam, the tiny country paths a contrast with the bustling metropolis we were about to experience.

Farewell Turkey, and teşekkür ederiz

Leaving Turkey was so much more difficult than I thought it would be. We expected it to be beautiful, and it was. The views along the coast,

 the ancient ruins,

twilight in cities like Selcuk,

 and the striking geography of Cappodacia.

What I didn't know was how emotionally attached I would become, despite having only skimmed the surface of all that is Turkey.

Geographically we saw a tiny fraction of the country, a tiny fraction even of Istanbul for that matter. What we saw though was amazing, and our last stops on our itinerary were no exception. 

For instance, the charming Selçuk. Our first morning there we visited the nearby ruins of Ephesus. The immense library had an ancient looking engraving, dated with the long ago year of 1978, naming the German philanthropist who paid for much of the extensive restoration of the site.

Archaeologists take exception to rebuilds that have been done over the years here and at many other ruins, but Tom had no problem with it, and upon seeing some workers on site exclaimed "look! they're building some new ruins!"

In the afternoon we asked the friendly guide at the Selçuk tourist office where the best place was to go swimming. He suggested we head to Hotel Tusan, as they a nice sandy beach that, though private, had free entry. So we hopped on the bus and got dropped off at the hotel gate, where the guard smiled and let us pass. As we walked through the manicured grounds and opulent hotel we felt increasingly uncomfortable, and by the time we got through to the beach (passing a private cinema, lounges and a glittering pool) we felt pretty sure that as non guests we weren't actually supposed to be there. But with nobody stopping us we nervously settled ourselves into sun loungers and passed a lovely few hours swimming and relaxing.

When we got up to go we must have looked a bit suspicious carrying our clothes and backpacks to the washroom, so the security guards converged and politely but firmly escorted us out, the manager acknowledging our explanation of the misinformation given by the tourist office with a tight smile and some finger wagging. 

Kyra and I - before we knew we'd be doing the walk of shame out of the beach.

We managed to avoid further brushes with the law during the rest of our time in Selçuk. We enjoyed our short time there, though we missed visiting the Virgin Mary's house, sponsored by McDonald's.

Then it was on to Çanakkale via a six hour long bus journey. Despite what I've said in past blogs about the uncertainty over schedule and fares, travelling by bus in Turkey is very civilized, and there is a lot to be said for the way they organize their system. Firstly, no matter how long or short the distance there are always two drivers, who spell each other off and divide fare collection from driving. Secondly, there are snacks, movies, games and often free wifi for passengers. Finally, instead of having bathrooms on the bus - never anyone's favourite place to go or sit near - they have regular (but short) pit stops at cafes where you can use the facilities and then have a çay or kahve or some fresh pomegranate juice.

We went to Çanakkale primarily to see Gallipoli and Troy, but the town itself was really lovely, with cobblestone streets closed to cars and a lengthy promenade along the harbour, lined with cafes and restaurants packed with people day and night. Lots of great food including jelly doughnuts from a bakery named called "Berliner".

The people we met there were friendly and helpful, especially the owners of our apartment. Şebnem and Onur had read our blog (my email signature is the blog address so they'd seen it when we corresponded about the apt) and Şebnem, who happens to be a reporter for a local online newspaper, was very excited about our journey. She interviewed and photographed us and published the story the next day which was kind of fun! (if you want to try reading Turkish it's here at http://www.canakkaleicinde.com/kitapla-baslayan-yolculuk-canakkaleyi-ve-turkiyeyi-cok-sevdik.html )

The kids also made friends with two 10 year old boys in the playground, starting with a frisbee lesson from Paul and Jacob,

then Turkish dancing lesson from the two boys, some tandem ziplining at the park, and a picnic at dusk.

They were really sweet and the kids were happy to have met them.

In Gallipoli we hiked 16 km in the hot sun through the valley and over the hills of the peninsula, something of an arduous journey to us,

but nothing compared to the travails of the ANZAC soldiers who fought in the trenches and climbed these same hills, laden in military gear, carrying injured and dead comrades, and being shot at by snipers only to ultimately suffer a resounding defeat. Blossoming trees had been planted in the gardens around the white markers engraved with the soldiers names. The beauty, peace and tranquility of the site belies its bloody past.

At the Australian War Memorial I found the Ataturk's words to the mothers of sons killed in the war profoundly moving.

The peaceful words contrasted with the sounds of fighter planes that raced through the skies above while we were there, a reminder of the conflicts far away from us in Turkey's eastern region.

Before going to Gallipoli Paul had listened to an audio tour on a website devoted to educating Australians about the doomed battle fought there in World War I. Apparently an intensive education effort was launched due to widespread national ignorance, evidenced when Australian Alan Bond's yacht won the America's Cup in 1983 and he erroneously exulted "This is Australia's greatest victory since Gallipoli". 

I was similarly uninformed about the city of Troy and its famed Trojan horse, not quite realizing it was a fiction of Homer's, which hadn't stopped the city of Çanakkale erecting a giant horse on the harbour, with an official looking plaque proclaiming its use by Brad Pitt in "Troy". The ruins at the town of Troy were smaller than we had been seeing elsewhere,

but curated well and the kids were really interested in the lessons from the audio tour. The winds were whipping in the trees that day, on cue as if to prove the truth of the motto that "the winds brought wealth to Troy", blowing so hard against ships that sailed into the harbour that they were forced to stay until the powerful Dardanelle winds turned in their favour, which could be days or longer.

Finally we returned by ferry and bus to Istanbul, where we got ready to leave Turkey by buying baklava, coffee and a few small souvenirs from the bustling markets. The city somehow seemed even more packed than when we'd been there in April, possibly because we had been in such quiet places that it a slight shock to return to such a densely populated city, but likely also busier in reality as May is prime tourist season in Istanbul. The high volume of the city soundscape, ordinarily made up of traffic noise, vendors shouting out to passersby, and calls of the muzeein, was now amplified with the addition of music and slogans from the campaigns for the upcoming June election. It blared from loudspeakers on moving vans plastered with images of candidates, and rallies where Turkish songs rang out and supporters danced in huge groups

- my kind of campaign - partying in the streets seems a lot more fun than knocking on doors! 

Despite the dancing, the political situation in Turkey concerns many, who feel the current authoritarian government is a threat to democracy. Headlines about the Armenian history, Syrian conflict (and the flood of suffering refugees into Turkey), and increasing religious extremism demonstrate that there are serious issues in the country. There is rampant poverty in the country, and our host in Selçuk told us "right now it is a struggle for us to live, but we are living, and that is something. We can share and still be happy, but it is hard, very hard". As tourists we seldom saw direct evidence of the dire poverty, except on our apartment's doorstep in a poorer area of Istanbul, where dirt smudged children not much older than toddlers ran barefoot through the cobbled streets, occasionally beseeching tourists for change but more distressingly stopping cars to beg at the busy highway. One evening we witnessed a group of men kick and punch another man on the ground in the street, before a bus stopped and a crowd of passerbys intervened to help (fortunately the man stood up and seemed relatively ok). We also crossed the highway with a tiny boy not older than four (and possibly younger) who was alone, navigating back and forth across four lanes of speeding traffic completely on his own (the children would sometimes venture out separately from their group, then return later). It was a haunting feeling we had going to sleep that night, knowing that a child younger than Tom was fending for himself like that. It's one thing to know about such inequity, and another to directly confront it - and know that we are doing nothing about it, save for charitable contributions that are a drop in the bucket of what is needed.  

Most of our encounters of course were illustrative of the positive side of Turkey. Our final day we went to the Prince's Islands for a picnic. These islands are retreats for wealthy Istanbullis, who come over to escape the heat and bustle of the city. A one hour ferry ride but a world away, with no cars allowed, leafy trees everywhere

and beautiful old wooden houses abutting the tree-lined boulevards. 

The islands can get quite busy, and the park we went to was over-run by kids on school field trips. All the chaos was a bit off-putting at first, and the kids complained that they wanted a quieter park. That changed when two boisterous and enthusiastic boys came over to our table to practice their English on us, calling Paul "brother", giving us their lunch (bread and kebabs their teacher cooked over a charcoal grill) and encouraging the rest of their schoolmates over to meet us, who took pictures with their selfie sticks,

enthused over Kyra's every word and hugged and patted Tom. They challenged the kids to a soccer match, and when Jacob scored on a penalty shot 

they hoisted him on their shoulders and chanted his name over and over.

We finished off our last night in Turkey by watching the sunset on the bridge over the Bosphorous. As the sun set and we turned to walk back to our hotel, two dolphins surfaced briefly directly below us, and did a flip in the air as if to say good-bye. Okay the flip in the air part isn't true, but I wouldn't have been surprised if they had, our time in Turkey was so magical. I left with tears in my eyes, and the whole family will always retain the enchanting impression Turkey left on our hearts.

Chickens and other Turkish wildlife

This is the first of my two final posts about Turkey, this one's for the kids because it is all pictures of animals :) Sadly no pictures of the more exotic species - dolphins frolicking from our ferry along the Bosphorous in Istanbul as well as off the coast of Çanakkale, or the sea turtle (caretta caretta) we saw from a winding path down the mountains by Kas, identifiable as a greenish gray blob with an occasionally protruding head, too distant to photograph. Much more common were the tortoises we heard rustling in the brush or came across on our path,

plodding along at a much slower pace than the lizards who darted quickly away when we startled them as they sunned themselves.

The kids loved to try and catch (and release!) the many frogs, big and tiny, who chirped loudly from the marshy canals and cool ponds.

Spring was very much in evidence, with goslings in the ponds of Pamukkale,

and tiny kittens everywhere. 

Kyra played with one while Jacob learned some Turkish dance from friends he met in the park in Çanakkale.

We saw lots of puppies too, some among the fishing boats of Phaselis,

others on the boardwalk around the ruins of Troy, so adorable that we all had to have a cuddle

until mom discovered a tick on one and it was "bye bye puppies".

Not a pig to be seen, which makes sense in a largely Muslim country. But all other farmyard animals were in evidence everywhere except farmyards. In Çirali baby chicks chased after their mother behind our table at breakfast

(that's our bread on the table sticking out in the foreground - great photographic composition I know), and we derived childish glee from seeing turkeys in Turkey.

Cows were spotted occasionally too, grazing in the ditches of Goreme,

along with horses, looking a little sad tethered to a tree all afternoon.

Goats were ubiquitous and would startle us on hikes up in the mountains

while herds of sheep forced us to make way as they travelled down our path in Faralya.

Dogs were the biggest puzzle for us. We are used to seeing feral dogs on our bikes, and are always wary of their growls or charges as we cycle through rural areas. But the vast majority of dogs we saw in Turkey seemed to pose no threat to anyone. From Istanbul (I swear we didn't just kill this

one)

and the Prince's Islands off Istanbul,

to Kas on the coast where they lay oblivious to everyone passing by them in the busy central square, they appeared to literally be sedated, lying comatose on the ground, many with chips embedded in their ears. We never figured out why.

Our lack of ornithological expertise meant we weren't able to identify the species of birds we came across, but we enjoyed watching the swallows flit across the evening sky, and hearing the coos of the morning doves. Our favourite were the giant storks, brilliant white with black tipped wings. Much bigger than the herons we see at home, they roosted atop tall trees in the gardens outside Toplakpi Palace in Istanbul, but loomed nearer and larger all over Selçuk, where the municipality had installed cages to support nests on the tops of ancient arches in the city centre.

The daily encounters we had with wild and not so wild life brought great joy to the kids, and will be a large part of what they remember about our time here.