Sevastopol: We're not in Kansas,Toto!

In  Sevastopol, Ukraine, I knew how Dorothy felt after she and her dog, Toto, arrived in the Land of Oz. 

We generally consider cruise ports of call to be 'appetizers', giving us enough taste of a place to prompt a return someday. But, this stop -- of less than three hours, in our case -- took Sevastopol off our 'future's' list.

Admittedly, we had but a snapshot of a city on a  rainy, gray day; a setting that gave a spy-movie feel to the place, but that wasn't the only thing. . .  

First, on the positive side -- unlike the guarded welcome at Sochi, Russia --we were allowed off the ship here to wander the streets on our own. So we had a chance to explore the town - unlike fellow cruisers who saw  Romanov's Summer Palaces and the Best of the Crimean Riviera on ship-organized tours. 

                        Strolling through the park

Tourism websites describe a Sevastopol that is vastly different from our 'snapshots' which include:
* Sodden streets, empty, but for an occasional pedestrian or two.
* Empty parks - music playing from high mounted speakers in one gave a haunting feel to the empty surroundings.
* Closed stores.
* A handful of elderly women standing on a street corner near the padlocked sprawling market area selling produce from small plastic bags.

Weather conditions and timing of a visit can affect first impressions, but it is the interaction -- or lack of -- with people, that leave lasting impressions  Here, I wondered, were people's souls as empty as the streets? 
Although there were people, we had no verbal or non-verbal contact with them. It was if we were invisible. Or maybe they wanted to be invisible?

Our travel fall-back greeting, 'smile-and-nod-if-you-can't-speak-the-language' didn't work.  You have to have eye contact for that. There was no eye contact. There were no smiles.

I tested my invisible theory on those we did encounter:  a family at an espresso machine in the park, a few lone pedestrians, a trio outside a church, a clerk in a deli. . .each time their gaze -- (and in each case they had watched us approach) was quickly averted to someplace off in the horizon just beyond our shoulders. 

An elaborate fence reminds one of Sevastopol's history

  

A War Torn History
When one considers the history here, these folks, and generations before them, really haven't had much to smile about. The Crimean War and its Siege of Sevastopol in the mid-1800's and World War II are local history.  With all the memorials and monuments they've erected, those battles won't soon be forgotten. We saw war memorials (guns are prominent in the designs), statues of war hero's and Lenin, elaborate ironwork fences with designs incorporating the dates: 1941 - 1944. Even the facade of the stately Vladimirsky Cathedral was pockmarked with what appeared to be bullet holes.

 Gun Metal Gray
Even today there is a strong military presence. Our ship anchored in such a manner that our balcony was a viewing stand from which we could watch a passing gunmetal gray military ships . . .we weren't sure if they were Ukrainian or Russian ships.

With the dissolution of the USSR in 1991, both Russia and the Ukraine claimed the Black Sea fleet stationed there. By 1995 they had agreed to divide the fleet between the two countries.  The ownership of Sevastopol continued to be a point of contention and in 1997 Russia dropped any claim to Sevastopol but got 80% of the fleet.

A cruise stop is but a snap-shot of a place - the one we put in our memory book of Sevastopol is gray-toned, well, in fairness with just a splash of color:

Sochi Russia: A Narrow Welcome Mat

                                    My View of Russia

One of the reasons I liked the itinerary of our Black Sea cruise was that it would allow me to set foot in Russia, the land from where my mother's parents left in the early 1900's for America's promise. 

And because Sochi -- stretching along the Black Sea with a backdrop of the Caucasus Mountains, some 90 miles beyond it -- is the site of the 2014 Winter Olympic Games, it promised to be one of our most interesting ports of call.

                Our cruise routing took us to Russia 

Weeks before the cruise began we were notified of Russia's visa (and that's not the credit card)  requirements:  get one on your own, sign up for a group tour, or stay on the ship.  Visitors are not welcome to simply go explore the town as with the other ports of call on this trip. 

Using a link on HAL's website, we signed up for a tour before leaving home.  The response:  we were 'wait-listed' for the 4.5 hour highlights tour that we had selected ( $59USD per person). 

The night before arriving in Sochi, having heard nothing about our outing, I joined a line of fellow cruisers at the oft-crowded tour desk to check our status, only to be told, "Sorry, you don't show up on the waitlist. Hmmm," she added,  "we will have to make note of this."

It didn't matter really as others were told there was still a wait-list for two of the tours -including the one we had wanted.

We  opted not to take any of the three yet-to-be-filled remaining tours, priced at $89, $94, and $224, per person, with outings including tea at Dagomys tea plantation, visiting Sochi's Friendship Tree and seeing 'the best of Sochi'.

So we stayed on the ship. No visit to the 'homeland' for me this tme.

Using our binoculars, we admired the snow-topped mountain peaks that drew the Olympics here; without binoculars we watched the two boats (pictured above) that never left our side while we were anchored.   Their presence on the gray, dreary day, added to the mystique of the visit, but didn't give a particularly warm and fuzzy welcoming feel to it.

Those who did go ashore told tales of narrow roads, lack of tourist facilities (dirty bathrooms, no souvenirs) and a traffic jam that caused at least one bus to go no further than a mile in an hour's time (several buses were delayed in returning to the ship). 

"How will this place ever be ready for the crowds the Olympics generate?" was the common question they asked. 

One thing is for sure, they need to enlarge their welcome mat or they won't have crowds with which to deal.

Turkey: Bazaar, simply. . .Bazaar!

Bazaars for thousands of years have served as commercial hubs and meeting places in Turkish cities.  Some, such as Istanbul's Grand Bazaar, have become popular tourist destinations and others operate without fanfare, serving as both market and meeting place for locals - wonderful places to be 'discovered' by tourists such as ourselves.

Our HAL cruise allowed us 'snapshot stops' in Turkey's Istanbul, Kusadesi and Trabzon. And at each place we explored at least one bazaar. Each was a different size and shape; the common denominator being that they are refreshing alternatives to the uniformity of our U.S. 'big box' malls.

Istanbul
I must admit that we skipped, (for a second time), Istanbul's enormous Grand Bazaar, today a tourist shopping mecca of sorts, that got its start back in Byzantine times. The place grew to be the trade center for the entire Ottoman empire. This colorful, maize of a market place continues to be on our 'next time' list, but with limited on shore time and many other places to see, (not to mention four other cruise ships in town - each with bus loads of cruisers heading to the Bazaar) we decided to save that experience for a future trip. After all, with 4,000 vendors  I might need more time there than a cruise stop would allow.

           A Different  Spice at the Spice Bazaar

Instead, we headed over the Galata Bridge to Istanbul's mid-17th century Spice Bazaar.  After all, our Pacific Northwest travel guru Rick Steves' "Istanbul" guidebook had described it as a place where "the air is heavy with the aroma of exotic spices." 

Okay, so I did find some displays with small canisters of open spice and if I stood close and breathed deep, I could smell them, but this market, like the Grand Bazaar, has  'gone tourist.' The first two shops we passed sold knock-off designer sun-glasses and postcards . . .and little packets of spice  - convenient for tourists to tuck into a suitcase. There were samples of Turkish Delight candies and offers of all sorts of items, but we weren't enveloped in the exotic, heavy air ambiance for which I had hoped.

Of course, if adding spice to your life instead of your food was your goal, you could pick up a nice belly-dancing outfit.

Kusadesi
Just a short walk from where the ship docked, we made it through a gauntlet of vendors who lined a narrow passage way, once a cobbled street in the old city (now covered with green carpet to keep tourists focused on product and not footing).  Here, even the slightest pause to look at a display, resulted in vendors calling out,  “Hey, Lady! What you want?" “Hey Mister, from America? Come and write a check, I need money."  "May I ask you a question? Where you from?" They were a good-natured, but persistent, bunch. And, I might add, the shops were stocked with tourist items.

                  A street in Trabzon's bazaar district

Trabzon
We found our favorite bazaar here.  The bazaar (Carsi) district's streets were teeming with shoppers on the Saturday morning we visited. And real shops sold real things to real people: hardware, pottery, clothing, foods, dry goods and linens, scarves and (of course there were plenty of gold jewelry shop for the tourists who made it to the area, as well).  We would go back to Trabzon for many reasons and the town's bazaar area is definitely among them.

Turkish Tea and Toilets

We don't take the land tours offered by cruise lines because we prefer to explore on our own.  Sometimes we have a destination in mind and other times we don't. 

And often times the most ordinary of experiences make for our most memorable travel treasures.  Such was the case with the Turkish tea and toilets in Trabzon.

                                                      A Trabzon street scene

We realized that on this, our third stop in Turkey during our Black Sea cruise, we had not yet sipped Turkish tea from those fragile looking cups that look like miniature drinking glasses served on  tiny saucers with tiny spoons.  We chose a place that for decades had been selling tea and offering a vast array of those walnut-honey pastries, baklava.

The one thing it didn't offer was a toilet.

Toilets, our waiter said, were across the street about a half block away. And then he led us to them: Down a long hallway and some steps at the back of a banquet hall. He directed Joel to the "Bey" room and then ceremoniously opened and held the bead curtains at the entrance of the "Beyan" room for me.

What happened next makes me laugh now; but at the time it was quite perplexing: 
The ladies room was modern with motion-activated lighting in stalls equipped with an eastern-style toilet (think toilet in the floor, a 'squat-pot') which was fine until . . .
I squatted and the light went off. 
I stood up, the light came on.
I squatted and the light went off.
I did this three times thinking,"Is this "Candid Camera"?
Finally, I took aim and did what I had to do - in total darkness.

When I came out, our gracious waiter was still there  and again opened the curtains for me.  He escorted us back to the street, shook our hands, thanked us again for having tea. 

He returned to his shop while we tucked away another travel treasure.

Open. . .Sesame! Those Street Treats

The temptations, it seemed, were on every street corner, at every ferry dock, bus or tram stop in Turkey and Greece. They were stacked high on tables in the open air or in glass enclosed colorful carts.

                              Lunch in Sinop, Turkey

We called them, 'those sesame circles' but the proper name in Turkish is simit and in Greek koulouria. By whatever name, they are some of the tastiest, cheapest street food we have ever eaten. I sometimes ordered by smiling at the vendor then drawing a circle in the air, pointing to the stacks, holding up two fingers for the quantity - I call it the 'point-and-smile' method of ordering in a foreign language.

It took a bit of time to convince ourselves to try them as they looked somewhat plain. I mean, there was nothing fattening to add to them or dunk them in - a practice to which we Americans have become far too accustomed.  Think large bread stick or small loaf of bread twisted into a circle and topped with sesame seeds.

But once we did sample them, we were hooked.  Some were sweet and others more like a cracker with the sesame seed topping providing all the flavor needed.  They made for several inexpensive lunches as we never paid more than .75E or TL (that's euro or Turkish Lira), often paying much less than that. The one I am eating in the photo above was still warm from the oven, as we purchased it at a bakery in Sinop, Turkey during our cruise stop there.

We eat on shore every opportunity we get when on a cruise (we welcome a break from ship's cuisine no matter how good it is).  And half the fun of exploring a new city is trying the new flavors and foods it has to offer even if it means ordering by my 'point and smile' method.

October 28:: Oxi Day - Greek Parades and Pride

                               OXI Day - Poros

Oxi Day, October 28th, is a national holiday in Greece.  Throughout the country parades and celebrations are taking place and Poros is no exception.  Today's chilly temperatures, dark clouds and wind didn't keep residents from lining our main street and attending the ceremony at the war memorial in the heart of town.

Oxi Day commemorates the events that took place on Oct. 28,1940, when the Greek Prime Minister Ioannis Metaxes refused Benito Mussolini's demand to occupy certain portions of Greece that he considered strategic locations.  The story goes that with a single word, "Oxi" ('oh-hee') or "No" the request was denied by the PM marking Greece's entry into the war. 

Today's celebration, a rather simple affair compared to the descriptions of those that take place in the larger cities,  involved -- it appeared - every child on the island.  School children marched wearing white shirts and dark pants and skirts; their teachers - men in suits and ties, and women in dress coats and shoes marched to their side.  They were divided by grade with the youngest leading the parade.  Each group drew loud applause from the on-lookers.

A single, small uniformed marching band played.  The Greek Orthodox priest opened the ceremony at the War Memorial with prayers.  Pairs of school children, some wearing tradtional Greek clothing, placed wreaths at the war memorial.  We all observed a moment of silence.

Greek tourist guides say not to miss the observance festivities if you are in Greece - they are right.  We consider ourselves fortunate to have been able to share in the celebration.

Fall Harvest and Market Daydreams

Tourist season is coming to an end and harvest season is in full swing - it is a perfect time to be exploring the Peloponnese and the nearby Saronic Islands. 

One of the highlights of our trip is experiencing olive harvest.  Time and time again as we drove through the Peloponnese countryside Sunday we would come around a corner to find a mom-and-pop harvest underway. 

Large nets are draped beneath the trees to catch the olives. Branches were cut --  thus taking care of pruning and harvest at the same time, I guess -- and the branches shaken to release the olives onto the net.  The olives were then stuffed into gunny sacks.

We passed numerous old pickup trucks, laboring under the weight of stacks of sacked olives, as the harvest was taken to the cooperative processing plants that appear every so often in this area.

We opened the windows to inhale the pungent citrus air as we drove through miles of orange groves.

The abundant harvests of the area are reflected in the street markets held in towns and villages.

The street market held each Wednesday and Saturday in Nafplion stretches for blocks as vendors display their fruits and vegetables.  Zucchinis (courgettes) and aubergines (eggplants) carrots, cabbages and soft-ball-sized, vine-ripened red tomatoes are piled high. Leeks as long as yard sticks were piled like lumber next  next to mountains of fava and string beans. Huge bags of perfectly-shaped potatoes were offered for less than a euro.

In addition to oranges, pomegranites and figs, we were tempted by red- and green- grapes so vine-ripened they fell of their stems as I placed a large bunch into the bag the vendor held for me.  Liter and half-gallon sized plastic bottles are filled with home-made rose and white wines. (We tried the white in a liter bottle - we paid 2E - it was an excellent sipping wine).

Market prices are ridiculously low here; not like the prices we know at Farmer's Markets back home.  We strolled through the Nafplio market, restricting our purchases to an item or two that we would eat during our short time there. And then we begin daydreaming. . . if we were to live here a month or two each year, just think of the wonderful things we could cook at home  and how inexpensively we could eat. . .

It was an idea as tempting as the produce!

On Foot or Burro? That is the question.

On the island of Hydra (Greeks pronounce that, 'eee-dra') in the Saronic Islands off the Peloponesse coast, there are no motorized vehicles - except for two small garbage trucks.  So when you step off the ferry onto its near perfect crescent-shaped dock you have two choices for getting to your hotel: on foot or burro. 

              Burro loaded with rebar in Hydra

Unlike Santorini where the burro chain greets the cruise boats and photos are taken of passengers riding up the steep hillside, here the burro is serious business.  They haul produce and people, lumber, dirt, supplies and their handlers sit sidesaddle leading their pack-string along the waterfront loading the items in preparation of heading up the steep, narrow pathways to the town's interior.

Our mainland roadtrip took us to Hydra for a night's stay Sunday.  We had planned to stay in another town on the coast but as with our philosophy of travel, when the opportunity presents itself, take it.  We passed a sign pointing through an olive grove that read "Hydra".  We followed the roadway and found ourselves at a tiny taxi ferry dock, and thought,'why not?'

We parked near the olive grove, packed on overnight bag and hopped aboard the 16-passenger taxi that whisked us across the channel for a delightful evening and morning visit to an island we would otherwise have missed.

In case you are wondering, we walked to the pansion where we stayed for 35E a night. It was an easy walk, not far from the harbor.