tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5836317082656200402024-03-14T09:16:03.208+00:00Adam & Michelle go to EnglandAdamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.comBlogger100125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-44671704589974480612019-09-08T10:57:00.000+01:002019-09-09T09:45:36.622+01:00Entry to the Lord's Enclosure<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01588590445127913647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-34652763958762196672014-03-13T08:26:00.000+00:002014-03-13T08:26:00.136+00:00Part Six - La Targette and Notre DameThe other things I wanted to mention were the two other cemeteries we visited while in the north. In visiting the area, our goal was to pay our respects to New Zealand memorials, monuments, and cemeteries - to visit places that have special significance to the New Zealand war effort. I guess I had not previously devoted much time to thinking about France during the First World War, but when travelling across northern France we could not help but be touched by the impact of the war on the French countryside and its towns and villages. As I mentioned in my post on the Somme, there are cemeteries and memorials in nearly every settlement, no matter how small. The real scale of the Great War begins to sink in, but also you realise just how little you can truly comprehend about its far-reaching impacts.<br />
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The first time we properly came face-to-face with French war graves was at La Targette, a hamlet near the town of Neuville-Saint-Vaast. The Necropole Military, or French National Cemetery, at La Targette was created in 1919. It covers 44,000 square metres and contains the graves of 11,400 known and 3,800 unknown French soldiers.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHQ4mRo1YZkyBVzQpN8j1nu3LBxQhIhTZN6Fl1rVtoEudlzJQC5cfKsvOqL1STj_XG5JZ1FwYVpjZecgkbJzchnGngF7Rdn5SZ3YSPL3ttsgngrbYM4OecXzWmfci_Arfa-02U1Rim2j4/s1600/La+Targette+Neuville+St+Vaast.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHQ4mRo1YZkyBVzQpN8j1nu3LBxQhIhTZN6Fl1rVtoEudlzJQC5cfKsvOqL1STj_XG5JZ1FwYVpjZecgkbJzchnGngF7Rdn5SZ3YSPL3ttsgngrbYM4OecXzWmfci_Arfa-02U1Rim2j4/s1600/La+Targette+Neuville+St+Vaast.JPG" height="171" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Targette cemetery from the air, Google Satellite image</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The British cemetery at La Targette</td></tr>
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The wider region saw heavy action in 1915, 1916 and 1917, and as a result there is a Canadian memorial in Vimy, which commemorates over 11,000 unknown soldiers; a British cemetery at La Targette, with over 630 burials; the largest German war memorial in France at Neuville-Saint-Vaast, containing over 44,800 graves; and the French National Cemetery at La Targette, which has over 15,000 burials. Nearby is the vast French National Cemetery at Ablain-Saint-Nazaire - the Notre Dame de Lorette which has over 44,000 burials. In an area with a radius of around 10 kilometres, there are over 115,000 soldiers buried. Some estimate the number to be closer to 200,000. Either way, that gives you an idea of the barely comprehensible scale of loss during the First World War. Everywhere you walk, you have the feeling that blood was spilled beneath your feet, and you realise that the towns you visit were shelled to bits and have had to rebuild. Spend five minutes googling images of Arras or Artois during WWI and you will see the scale of devastation these areas faced.<br />
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When we were at the Arras tunnels, Adam saw a postcard featuring a beautiful white church. We tracked down the church, finding it high on a hill near the town of Ablain-Saint-Nazaire. It is the Notre Dame de Lorette, the French National Cemetery where over 40,000 soldiers are buried. The site stretches as far as the eye can see in each direction, covering the entire hilltop. It was the most shocking cemetery we saw while in Europe - just rows and rows of beautiful white crosses. So poignant.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0wm6eQii38lnNLzFGFZE6tFCsAw1JeT1_6iFVGvBJoVNReSXMqpeIiqTPUIEkAb5G8Ojx1a_JdhAl-SfUQALN1xeNsHbEfcLnomabJVWab_OtoTNwYT_XJrDp47Eg0UPniap9vfG_QdU/s1600/2013-09-10+13.49.54-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0wm6eQii38lnNLzFGFZE6tFCsAw1JeT1_6iFVGvBJoVNReSXMqpeIiqTPUIEkAb5G8Ojx1a_JdhAl-SfUQALN1xeNsHbEfcLnomabJVWab_OtoTNwYT_XJrDp47Eg0UPniap9vfG_QdU/s1600/2013-09-10+13.49.54-2.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The basilica, Notre Dame de Lorette</td></tr>
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Also on the site is the Lantern Tower, which stands 52 metres tall and has 200 steps. At night, it shines a Beacon of Light that is visible over 70 kilometres of the surrounding countryside.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The stunning Lantern Tower.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mass grave in which the bodies of over 5,000 unknown soldiers are buried</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv1hGWkZFSNFiRrirAtNBHI3-9M5NfnuP_V7n8g19iUfRnBmFfFAa7FGUdgbV0LgBjcL7ZGiwBKlv83JIdRuGYwJNE0bYpjDJzK8O0O8Vi0_uU-zrNGXzh7pRl726crEulbcT5Uz66iJs/s1600/Notre+Dame+de+Lorette+and+Ablain+Saint+Nazaire.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv1hGWkZFSNFiRrirAtNBHI3-9M5NfnuP_V7n8g19iUfRnBmFfFAa7FGUdgbV0LgBjcL7ZGiwBKlv83JIdRuGYwJNE0bYpjDJzK8O0O8Vi0_uU-zrNGXzh7pRl726crEulbcT5Uz66iJs/s1600/Notre+Dame+de+Lorette+and+Ablain+Saint+Nazaire.JPG" height="156" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cemetery from the air. Note how large it is compared to the nearby town of Ablain-Saint-Nazaire.</td></tr>
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(Unfortunately we couldn't see inside the basilica or the tower as it was lunch time. Yes, the precious French lunchtime! It caught us out many a time during our holiday.)<br />
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I love how beautiful the memorials and cemeteries are in these places that saw such destruction. Oases of calm and peace that are a contrast to the noise and chaos experienced by the men when they fought here. Not happy places to visit, but beautiful, haunting places. Memories of them will stick with us forever.Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-78469545759821085432014-03-03T00:14:00.001+00:002014-03-03T00:14:21.814+00:00Part Five - Saint Saens and the NorthYou may be getting the impression that our holiday was somewhat muddled - it was! We jumped from World War Two to World War One and back to World War Two; from France to Belgium then back to France and back to Belgium; from sun to rain to sun to rain and more rain, then finally back to sun. In seventeen days we covered over 5500 kilometres and visited seven countries! I am trying to simplify things and make them a bit more cohesive, even if it means changing around the order in which we visited a place. On that note, let me tell you about a couple of adventures we had in the north of France - some time in between all the other places we visited up there.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNxZqPpDETnpSAK1m7qMloZlF6AMFZzKWpxG-N_wKmW6u_1trTM11ZQQQdpMnScILIMEoPyd4RxoAXwY93Iv_jMXDokixvIUQJ9H6PbXOvvXAMX2yJuN822QPZ8NmjsfgrCTvA90WDaTk/s1600/2013-09-08+12.27.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNxZqPpDETnpSAK1m7qMloZlF6AMFZzKWpxG-N_wKmW6u_1trTM11ZQQQdpMnScILIMEoPyd4RxoAXwY93Iv_jMXDokixvIUQJ9H6PbXOvvXAMX2yJuN822QPZ8NmjsfgrCTvA90WDaTk/s1600/2013-09-08+12.27.42.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me tucking in to some good French <i>mille-feuille</i>, <br />
like custard square but with more pastry</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeUAFsPuORvwdQ0LfJmABaDVIk_QrzM1xHY6IyMcvXM3OgPyrGlFVp24G9_fyK8keyPuxMFY9Qsb2E6RDjIOd6CS7atsQG6e_OOHc0ZNpb1Fvxvmd_FFk7KEZ3zlD6KqmXA7GzKJbeYmY/s1600/2013-09-08+19.05.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeUAFsPuORvwdQ0LfJmABaDVIk_QrzM1xHY6IyMcvXM3OgPyrGlFVp24G9_fyK8keyPuxMFY9Qsb2E6RDjIOd6CS7atsQG6e_OOHc0ZNpb1Fvxvmd_FFk7KEZ3zlD6KqmXA7GzKJbeYmY/s1600/2013-09-08+19.05.17.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our <i>camping-car </i>negotiates some narrow French country roads.<br />
Yes, our van is nearly as wide as the entire road. Oncoming traffic be damned!</td></tr>
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The first place I want to tell you about is the little town of Saint-<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sa<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">ëns. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">Saint</span>-Sa<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">ëns is now a farming town, though it has previously been known for its monastery, convent, castle, tannery, and glass-making industry. Nowadays, about 2500 people live in the picturesque town. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">We called there one morning when it was time for croissants and baguette. It was also time to stop and phone our motorhome rental agency and ask about a fault with our </span><i style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">camping-car. </i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">Their solution was to pull on the handbrake, while driving, and keep it on for about 50 metres. We then had to do this about once every ten minutes for the remaining fifteen days of our holiday, and wasted half a day in Amiens trying to get Peugeot mechanics to look at the van. We had no luck with this, and it was our first experience of how frustrating it can be to get help in a foreign country. Even when you're doing your best to speak French to the staff at the garages, or when you've hired a motorhome from an English-speaking company. Needless to say, we won't be recommending that company - or having to deal with French mechanics - in the future!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">On a brighter note, the town of </span></span>Saint-Sa<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">ëns was gorgeous! The first house we came across was this one:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">And got in trouble with the half-naked (or fully, we didn't look too hard) owner, who shouted from the top window to us - demanding I tell him why we were taking photographs of his house. Perhaps he thought we were taking pictures of him as he opened his shutters, nude?!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">The walk into the town was so pretty, and the pastries were just what we needed. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXOiwVPlljEU9Opb3eo_XKWxezdn9lt1m5rHxAGXjCaD5KG87tIRV4MjsKnEBKwCYLORCTL6sERsSE-hbCaI_Xp6lfou5FizrWy9Lckacwpg2G9Z1Wz55GunSKtzF2c2pYRknehF3aHzk/s1600/2013-09-09+09.05.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXOiwVPlljEU9Opb3eo_XKWxezdn9lt1m5rHxAGXjCaD5KG87tIRV4MjsKnEBKwCYLORCTL6sERsSE-hbCaI_Xp6lfou5FizrWy9Lckacwpg2G9Z1Wz55GunSKtzF2c2pYRknehF3aHzk/s1600/2013-09-09+09.05.34.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The former railway station</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDr0Xh1doA3CfogbcXoYweuoLUQkheikL-EHM8wJxPlxfUkuazaau0gW9GaCIhGaluJ4untF8aQ6F-ibNIxwvHqAU2DzoyCW6OZevw0i66hfk05p-YXy8nvB9YjVxI4BMw6J3bizZ4CGk/s1600/2013-09-09+09.20.56-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDr0Xh1doA3CfogbcXoYweuoLUQkheikL-EHM8wJxPlxfUkuazaau0gW9GaCIhGaluJ4untF8aQ6F-ibNIxwvHqAU2DzoyCW6OZevw0i66hfk05p-YXy8nvB9YjVxI4BMw6J3bizZ4CGk/s1600/2013-09-09+09.20.56-2.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me being very French - baguette, pastries, and a Rue 11 November 1918<br />
- there is one of these in every town!</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">Here are a couple of other photos from our time in northern France. The other two places I wanted to talk about I shall leave until the next blog post as they need to be treated with a bit more gravitas. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMuR4EuYcIuyc4JDIuETM-EDPVBeWLLZz-3rMoP_ktlm_PEFg9GkYy1GmncYa7j9_oa6KcWZrCjFXdNXO7kRUG6ZLw-VO9egg9-HnZU9pRId_PqfFGWuti_Bc0nt_S69CM1v2qMLlFuF4/s1600/2013-09-07+17.05.00.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMuR4EuYcIuyc4JDIuETM-EDPVBeWLLZz-3rMoP_ktlm_PEFg9GkYy1GmncYa7j9_oa6KcWZrCjFXdNXO7kRUG6ZLw-VO9egg9-HnZU9pRId_PqfFGWuti_Bc0nt_S69CM1v2qMLlFuF4/s1600/2013-09-07+17.05.00.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before the cold front arrived....</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRcHs7Yp7MHjRDw_9Yw-KdXFr3gpbldAxCqm0c7T7SeKkwJ46s8q4z3t1lbc7tWvN-TSkP_qpa61zeTUyWZAJlCBA2P56lavtto4GErhaOoBSPf5TD7tlTzjqx95mdDiXw6onhQl7T5Zk/s1600/2013-09-09+15.48.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRcHs7Yp7MHjRDw_9Yw-KdXFr3gpbldAxCqm0c7T7SeKkwJ46s8q4z3t1lbc7tWvN-TSkP_qpa61zeTUyWZAJlCBA2P56lavtto4GErhaOoBSPf5TD7tlTzjqx95mdDiXw6onhQl7T5Zk/s1600/2013-09-09+15.48.19.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somme mud on the floor of the van</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJzvVsVTNonMXcWnoSewf6OCqcw_1Q1qHuMt71NpvigLAT6ROW6Ig7_3nTxnEkRyuCr9fITQv6hYRZapHfqf2OpficDwucSwjkJrTxSwby-mbupakx8v7T4_BNkNqq6Zf-REqOcdtIXk/s1600/2013-09-09+18.40.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJzvVsVTNonMXcWnoSewf6OCqcw_1Q1qHuMt71NpvigLAT6ROW6Ig7_3nTxnEkRyuCr9fITQv6hYRZapHfqf2OpficDwucSwjkJrTxSwby-mbupakx8v7T4_BNkNqq6Zf-REqOcdtIXk/s1600/2013-09-09+18.40.16.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cooking, <i>camping-car </i>style</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6UpOLHVcEFVIoJcLy9ubFymSKbM2aJoGTt5WaN4c93l2IEgul-QZHvTb7sDBKYW94YU2hKUFoLpnwIfeTXIxsslJwoXiN4OXTIbrv1vzfDx3iOFr_av9yqybySTRkNDd8-LkpTF1hbS0/s1600/2013-09-10+09.03.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6UpOLHVcEFVIoJcLy9ubFymSKbM2aJoGTt5WaN4c93l2IEgul-QZHvTb7sDBKYW94YU2hKUFoLpnwIfeTXIxsslJwoXiN4OXTIbrv1vzfDx3iOFr_av9yqybySTRkNDd8-LkpTF1hbS0/s1600/2013-09-10+09.03.31.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I want this courtyard.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr4ODZpIt87NFwvm0B64t4rrMC8zk8Bo1Nn5ifX97guWvnJbMFpZaRnb-Lh6e4neDgoD9zgYv__tAeQNmwp68we0n43OxMBDjSApn1Qj1vnkdRUCY25hQOO-quvtBBFOdEPZwtbIF5sHY/s1600/2013-09-10+14.07.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr4ODZpIt87NFwvm0B64t4rrMC8zk8Bo1Nn5ifX97guWvnJbMFpZaRnb-Lh6e4neDgoD9zgYv__tAeQNmwp68we0n43OxMBDjSApn1Qj1vnkdRUCY25hQOO-quvtBBFOdEPZwtbIF5sHY/s1600/2013-09-10+14.07.44.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A typical French lunch, overlooking the Pas-de-Calais countryside.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8JtaOuptuz7UQL8Wv0mK5WmF0_glHVreMueVJFQ51ghsNPtj4WvbecGY54GSrxElpmmK2LXBaKswfe5JBjRr5KF7mQa8SLEemBZjGhkShgk2e-2r1LKj6x6yw6s4nhRiqn1H5fTPsDU/s1600/2013-09-10+14.08.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8JtaOuptuz7UQL8Wv0mK5WmF0_glHVreMueVJFQ51ghsNPtj4WvbecGY54GSrxElpmmK2LXBaKswfe5JBjRr5KF7mQa8SLEemBZjGhkShgk2e-2r1LKj6x6yw6s4nhRiqn1H5fTPsDU/s1600/2013-09-10+14.08.25.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first time we were able to use our outdoor lunch set<br />
(Five minutes later it started hosing down)</td></tr>
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Mmm... now I feel like <i>mille feuille </i>and baguette... and a holiday in France!Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-91969823341070256372014-02-27T05:14:00.002+00:002014-02-27T05:14:26.050+00:00Part Four - Le Quesnoy<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Le Quesnoy.<br />Falls to New Zealanders. Surrender of Garrison.<br />Malcolm Ross, Correspondent with the NZ Forces.</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>November 5th, 10 a.m. [1918]</i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>When tales of fiercer fights have almost been forgotten, the storming and capture of Le Quesnoy by the New Zealand Rifle Brigade will be remembered as one of the most picturesque and romantic incidents of the war. The old fortress, which has stood many sieges, is still wonderfully strong, with precipitous ramparts of well-preserved brick bastions crowned with tall trees and a dry moat fronting the inner rampart. Many besiegers have had a tilt at it in olden times. In 1793 the Austrians stormed it after ten days' bombardment that laid the town in ruins. In 1918 troops from the farthest British Dominion have captured it from what was the world's greatest military power in as many hours.<br />...<br />Then a memorable scene occurred. The inhabitants, realising that at last deliverance had come, rushed from cellars and houses, and soon from every building the tricolour was flying in the breeze. Along a street lined with an excited, cheering throng, the "diggers" marched, embraced and kissed and showered with autumn flowers. ... The Battalion Commander marched with revolver in one hand and garlands in the other. </i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
<br />
From The Press, volume LIV, Issue 16377, 23 November 1918, Page 7.<br />
Courtesy of the National Library's Papers Past.</blockquote>
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In late 1918, with victory in their sights, the Allies continued their advance, pushing the Germans back behind the Hindenburg Line. (You will learn more about this in the next two posts.) In November, the 3rd New Zealand Rifle Brigade was ordered to neutralise German forces in the small town of Le Quesnoy, located in forest near the Belgian border. The town was fortified in Medieval times, and featured thick brick inner and outer walls each of around 12 metres in height, separated by a moat and occasional bastions. The New Zealanders decided to launch an assault on the town but chose not to annihilate it, even if this would have been the easiest way to flush the German soldiers out. At 5:30am on November 4th, an artillery bombardment began. Next, two battalions from the 3rd New Zealand Rifle Brigade marched towards the town in order to encircle it. The 4th Battalion reached the ramparts first, and scaled these with a narrow, thirty-foot ladder, while aeroplanes dropped propaganda messages to the Germans inside the town, urging them to give up. Still the Germans did not surrender. Soon, the Battalion decided to climb the inner walls and go in to catch their men. In single file, they forged a path across the (dry) moat and came to the base of the inner wall. They placed the thin ladder on a narrow ledge at the top of the wall and sent a couple of men up. It was a success, and the entire battalion followed, streaming up the ladder, over the wall, and taking the Germans by surprise. Some ran away, some stayed on to fight, and others were captured as prisoners of war. Late in the afternoon, the remaining German soldiers finally surrendered. After four long years of occupation, the remaining townspeople came out to celebrate. They offered kisses, flowers, food, and beds to the Kiwis, and the following day soldiers and civilians paraded down the main street, accompanied by a band playing the national anthems.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Memorial on the town cenotaph</td></tr>
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The Kiwi liberation had, understandably, a huge impact on the town's inhabitants. A memorial plaque was unveiled in July 1923, featuring an image of the Kiwis ascending the wall; the town has many streets with special New Zealand names; and there is a Giant Maori.<br />
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When we arrived in Le Quesnoy, we went straight to the wall to see the spot from which the 4th Battalion had climbed. It was amazing to think we were standing in (almost) the very location the men had been in 1918. Today, there is a walkway through the moat, so we were not right at its base, but the walls remain in pretty good condition and they still looked a challenge for men on a narrow ladder!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This memorial plaque is in the exact place the wall was scaled</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NZ Garden of Remembrance</td></tr>
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That night, we stayed in the nearby campsite, just ten minutes walk outside the town walls. In the morning we walked along the walls until we came to an entry port, and went to look around the cute township. We loved seeing the great names!!<br />
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We also loved seeing the Giant Maori! In the Nord<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <em style="background-color: white; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; line-height: 18.98714256286621px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">département</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18.98714256286621px;"> </span>o</span>f France there is a tradition of holding annual parades in which effigies are carried by locals. In Le Quesnoy, one of the two giants is a Maori, showing the town's strong links to NZ. (Men from the Pioneer Battalion had an important role in the story of Le Quesnoy - helping to clear rubble and bomb damage from around the town. Also, a member of the Battalion is said to have been among the first men up the ladder and over the inner wall on November 4th.)<br />
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I'll leave you with some final pictures of this beautiful town, and some notes.<br />
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<ul>
<li>Le Quesnoy, along with the town of Longueval, hold ANZAC services each year. Worth attending if you're in the region.</li>
<li>The website of the Cambridge (NZ)/Le Quesnoy Friendship Foundation has some beaut photographs of Le Quesnoy and the Kiwi soldiers. <a href="http://www.cambridgelequesnoy.co.nz/Battle_Photos.html">Click here to view.</a> Do it!</li>
<li>Thanks to the <a href="http://www.cambridgelequesnoy.co.nz/index.html">Cambridge Le Quesnoy Friendship Foundation</a>, <a href="http://natlib.govt.nz/%E2%80%8E">the National Library</a>, <a href="http://nzhistory.net.nz/">NZHistory.net.nz</a>, and the <a href="http://www.ambafrance-nz.org/">French Embassy in NZ</a> for information on the New Zealand liberation of Le Quesnoy.</li>
<li>Finalement, <span style="font-family: inherit;">merci <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 16.1200008392334px;">à</span> </span><a href="http://www.campingdulacvaubanlequesnoy.com/">Camping du Lac Vauban</a> pour votre hospitalit<span style="background-color: white; border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; line-height: 18.98714256286621px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">é.</span></li>
</ul>
Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-40130652017765457192014-01-13T22:06:00.001+00:002014-01-13T22:06:35.912+00:00Part Three - Amiens and Arras<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our camping halt (or <i>aire</i>) in Bapaume, near Arras</td></tr>
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In late 1916, French and British Army heads decided on their
plans for the new year. The war had reached a stalemate, with developments in
armaments and defensive techniques (such as guns that could fire longer
distances, and the heavy use of trenches) favouring the sort of war where heavy
losses and hard fighting brought only small territorial gains. In essence, it
had become a war of attrition. Something needed to be done to move things
forward. The French General Nivelle came up with a plan for an attack in the
Artois Region. After much discussion, the plan was adopted and D-day was set
for April 9, 1917. A key part of this plan would be to use the quarries beneath
Arras as a troop holding-point, from which the men could advance close to
German front lines and spring out, taking the enemy with the element of
surprise. It was a gamble, but the risk proved to be one worth taking. At least, in the short-term.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The town of Arras is built on chalk. Chalk that was heavily
mined between the 16<sup>th</sup> -19<sup>th</sup> centuries to provide a material
from which to construct the town buildings. As a result of the mining, huge caverns
were left in the sub-stratum beneath the town. It was these caverns that would
be used in the Spring Offensive to take the Germans by surprise, and who would
extend them? The New Zealand Tunnelling Company, of course.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The men from the Tunnelling Company were rough, tough, and
very hard workers. Some were recruited from the gold mines in places like
Waihi, occasionally from the coal mines (though these workers were generally
encouraged to stay in New Zealand as their work was valuable), and the majority
were labourers from the railways and Public Works departments. <span style="line-height: 115%;">The tunnellers were hard men, used to rough
lifestyles, and were known for having strong political opinions, often members
of labour unions. It was said that they were hard to lead, that the men
struggled with drill and regulations of soldiering. In March 1916, the New Zealand
Tunnelling Company arrived in France. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">At first, the men were involved in counter-mining, which involved
digging close to German lines and trying to destroy German tunnels and trenches.
In late 1916, they were sent a few miles south-west, to the town of Arras. There,
the men undertook reconnaissance missions, which soon revealed that tunnels
could be dug to link up the huge caverns. Over the next five months, they linked
the existing systems and also created new tunnels. The new tunnels extended
under no man’s land, close to German front lines, and the plan was to pack them
full of men, who would race up to the surface, spill out through exits and take
the Germans by surprise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">The Kiwis worked around the clock in long shifts, using mainly
pickaxes as it was thought the noise of using explosives to break through the
chalk would alert the Germans to the heavy activity. The strong New Zealand men
tunnelled up to 100m per day, and in less than six months they had created two
large tunnel networks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnEC7KHlHXgZGl09q-8rNY_7MDxI2DghDZeHRC40qMr7baP3fvkLXy-xlpQJMIRX9PsWdJkeEG6ybd9-cdBd1TZagcekhjL3UFCasa9aJWZFUKPceqpDnXMnlRxGLDlfciZuHikjYTvvE/s1600/IMG_6151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnEC7KHlHXgZGl09q-8rNY_7MDxI2DghDZeHRC40qMr7baP3fvkLXy-xlpQJMIRX9PsWdJkeEG6ybd9-cdBd1TZagcekhjL3UFCasa9aJWZFUKPceqpDnXMnlRxGLDlfciZuHikjYTvvE/s1600/IMG_6151.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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They excavated galleries, foot subways, tramways for pulling
trolleys (that usually carried ammunition or casualties), light railways,
kitchens, hospitals, and even an operating theatre. The caves were given
electricity within six weeks, and over time gas doors, an electrical
ventilating plant, and running water were added. The eventual network was 20
kilometres long and was capable of housing 20,000 men.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The tunnel network was so extensive that one was able to
become lost in it, and the tunnel systems were given place names so that the
men could find their way around. One of the systems was given New Zealand
names, from Russell at one end to Bluff at the other. To this day, Kiwi
graffiti remains on the walls of the network, including a sign pointing to a
small cave, ironically named Waitomo, sketches of women, and a ‘kia ora’
surrounded by ferns.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was to the Wellington cavern (<i>La carrière Wellingon</i>) that we descended in September. We spent nearly half an hour walking a route through the quarry, looking at the very stone the Kiwi tunnellers had spent months living in. </div>
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Archaeologists have recovered some of the equipment, clothing, and supplies that the men had down in the quarries. We could also see where the men had slept, and where they had performed their ablutions. It was an amazing experience to be able to walk through the very tunnels excavated by the Kiwis (with help from the British), and that had played such a key role in the Spring Offensive, otherwise known as The Battle of Arras. But, I hear you ask, how did it all end?<br />
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Early in April, the preliminary bombardment began. 24,000 men were packed into the caverns, and could hear the roar of artillery overhead. For eight days they waited. The night before D-Day was Easter Sunday. Deep in Wellington quarry, an altar was created, candles lit, and a chaplain led an Easter service. </div>
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The next morning, at 5:30am, dynamite at the far ends of the tunnels was detonated. Thousands of men rushed down the tunnels, up the stairs, and through the newly created exits to the German front lines.<br />
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The first three days of the battle were an overwhelming success. The German frontline was pushed back 11km, and the Canadians seized the key point of Vimy Ridge. As usual, casualties were high and the initial gains turned to stalemate, so the operation was called off in May. Even though the operation did not achieve the desired breakthrough, new equipment was used and valuable techniques discovered that would come in handy for later battles.<br />
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The New Zealand Tunnelling Company moved on to general engineering tasks around the Arras region, including erecting the longest self-supporting bridge of the First World War. The Kiwi company was the first to arrive on the Western Front, and the last to leave, departing Arras in July 1918, and arriving in NZ in April 1919. Of the 446-strong company, 41 lost their lives. A remembrance plaque dedicated to the NZ tunnellers is erected at the <i>Carrière Wellington </i>(the museum above the tunnels), and a monument to the Kiwis was erected in 2007, on the site of the passive defence in Arras.<br />
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If you want to know more about the efforts of the New Zealand Engineers Tunnelling Company, <a href="http://www.nztunnellers.com/">this website is lovely</a>. It also has some great pictures.</div>
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(The title promises Amiens - we planned to visit this city, as it was the site of a battle in 1918 that helped bring an end to the war, but alas our <i>camping-car</i> was too big to fit down the city's historic streets. Also, we were very behind schedule, so we had to press on towards our next destination. Next time we're in France we promise to visit you, Amiens!)</div>
Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-31161110639934700012013-12-04T23:40:00.000+00:002014-01-03T00:38:49.312+00:00Part Two - The Somme<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Dulce et Decorum est</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And towards our distant rest began to trudge.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! -- An
ecstasy of fumbling</span></span></div>
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</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But someone still was yelling out and stumbling</span></div>
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime. --</span><br />
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,<br />
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.<br />
<br />
In all my dreams before my helpless sight<br />
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.<br />
<br />
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace</div>
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Behind the wagon that we flung him in,</span></div>
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,</span></div>
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,</span></div>
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood</span></div>
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs</span></div>
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Bitter as the cud</span></div>
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, --</span></div>
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My friend, you would not tell with such high zest</span></div>
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">To children ardent for some desperate glory,</span></div>
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est</span></div>
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Pro patria mori.</span></div>
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;">
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-Wilfred Owen<br />
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<i>Dulce et Decorum est</i> was written in 1917 after heavy fighting in the Somme region. The shock of this was too great for Owen and he was soon sent back to the UK for medical and psychiatric treatment. He was killed in the Somme in November 1918, two months after returning to the Western Front. <span style="font-family: inherit;">It was Wilfred Owen's poetry, the</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> juxtaposition of beautiful lyrics with the ugliness of their content,</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> that first sparked my interest in World War One. The horrors and futility of war; the hardship of life in the trenches; the fresh faces of the young men who went to their deaths or returned, maimed for life. The Great War tugged at my emotions, fostering a passion for history, a fanaticism that has stayed with me and shaped almost every holiday we took over the last two years. Our trip through Europe was, essentially, a war tour. Our photos consist mainly of white sandstone memorials, of marble headstones, of sombre and sacred ground. It was not so much a holiday as a pilgrimage. And the second step of that journey led us to the ground of the Somme.</span></div>
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The phrase 'The Somme' is usually used in reference to the Battle of the Somme, which took place from July to November 1916, and saw the heaviest casualties of the war up to that point. Four in ten New Zealand soldiers were injured, and one in seven killed during the Battle of the Somme. Over half of the New Zealanders who died at the Somme have no known grave. These men are commemorated at the New Zealand Memorial to the Missing, at Caterpillar Valley near Longueval. We visited the memorial in heavy rain, on a cold September morning, the second morning of our trip.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7r2uepIx-G9ICZIDjNyXnhr071CuEhsUcQaA6at1F9WNUtTCqk8CdTfFy383WiLXei4LOrEDgF3giPUfqNPOZvB6ptBaAMFQJk9ut0PpR69n6wQ2EKGd5R7Xj6pO3ffGDZ-o7Ukxfqf8/s1600/IMG_6032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7r2uepIx-G9ICZIDjNyXnhr071CuEhsUcQaA6at1F9WNUtTCqk8CdTfFy383WiLXei4LOrEDgF3giPUfqNPOZvB6ptBaAMFQJk9ut0PpR69n6wQ2EKGd5R7Xj6pO3ffGDZ-o7Ukxfqf8/s320/IMG_6032.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3aFvJwbc-ur-wb5UfRA-0BQtV4PYAHp_DXHF_Lpp-yJ74t4jEODeykKbEGu0DzP1UYAmu-8hkFW7PE98hXSmk073sjdyNb12hwzSfExv-ThU6dIaIa_WvICewEJplxYr7FsV3kyuj8cQ/s1600/panorama+caterpillar+valley+memorial+longueval.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3aFvJwbc-ur-wb5UfRA-0BQtV4PYAHp_DXHF_Lpp-yJ74t4jEODeykKbEGu0DzP1UYAmu-8hkFW7PE98hXSmk073sjdyNb12hwzSfExv-ThU6dIaIa_WvICewEJplxYr7FsV3kyuj8cQ/s640/panorama+caterpillar+valley+memorial+longueval.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The New Zealand Memorial is on the wall to the left of the picture</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking out of the memorial, over the fields of Caterpillar Valley</td></tr>
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There are many cemeteries and memorials dotted around this part of the French <i>paysage </i>(countryside), and we needed only to drive ten minutes to reach another New Zealand memorial, this time to the north of Longueval. <span style="font-family: inherit;">This memorial commemorates the taking of this point, from where the New Zealanders launched their successful attack on Flers. </span></div>
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This high-ground enabled us to look over the landscape of the Somme, full of cornfields and rolling hills. And yes, <i>that </i>mud. My shoe can verify that it is, indeed, very sticky and very red. It must have been hell to live in. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYlp0h5OEznDYUhsp__Mmrpst5cOR0Pyd0sGA3M9uNz2E_jU7SE0Mo3ZIMnDDb_IF-khLw0isl5gRFcRNfsAmfq6uleTf0KSl4uttuVyQh0upXRnhmOG474wk1VKnYfU4uDVccCe8AP10/s1600/panorama+nz+memorial+longueval.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="108" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYlp0h5OEznDYUhsp__Mmrpst5cOR0Pyd0sGA3M9uNz2E_jU7SE0Mo3ZIMnDDb_IF-khLw0isl5gRFcRNfsAmfq6uleTf0KSl4uttuVyQh0upXRnhmOG474wk1VKnYfU4uDVccCe8AP10/s640/panorama+nz+memorial+longueval.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The Somme region (and surrounding <i>d</i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>é</i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>partments </i>Pas-de-Calais, Aisne, and Nord) continued to see heavy action from late 1916 to 1918. The area was right at the heart of the Western Front, especially so when the Germans created the Hindenburg Line, which was a series of heavily-fortified defences running from Arras to Reims. The ground around which it was located was the site of crucial battles in 1917 and 1918, and saw the deaths of tens of thousands of both Allied and German soldiers. For four years, the fields of Northern France were subjected to heavy fighting, and the number of memorials is staggering. For this day, we limited ourselves to three. Our next stop was just outside the town of Bapaume.</span></div>
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Here, we visited the town of Gr<span style="font-family: inherit;">é</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">villers. In March 1917, the town was occupied by Allied troops, who created a cemetery for their casualties. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">A year later, the town was briefly lost to the Germans, but the New Zealand Division recaptured it in August 1918. At the end of the war, graves from around the region were brought to the cemetery, and there are over 2000 Commonwealth soldiers buried there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There is also a memorial dedicated to those men of the New Zealand Division who died in defensive fighting from March - August 1918, and those who died in the Advance to Victory, from August - November 1918.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This landscape is shaped by memorials, there are cemeteries in nearly every town. You soon come to</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">realise just how much of an impact the Great War had not only on those who fought, but on France. The Somme, Nord, Pas-de-Calais, Aisne, and Oisne areas were decimated by four years of fighting; the French people scarred by the experience of living through a war; and over 1.3 million men had been killed, another 4.2 million wounded. It is hard to comprehend the ways in which this must have affected the nation, and it felt very bittersweet to travel around the north of France, exploring this beautiful country but dwelling on its tragic past. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">The landscape is rich with history, its fields still bearing the weight of those who lost their lives there.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSEFAvUPKq5Kf699In35YI4lexAz7lku5NvEL_9lMIdQYtxpozhQN0z5IHtsTdjau1dDVyQUrgWXOiBlIt7SdZEyeTEwleSGWj9H07d41OMqAT7VbyAXXEZ0175Xk4RbEJYS8NxxgRh8M/s1600/somme+battlefield.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSEFAvUPKq5Kf699In35YI4lexAz7lku5NvEL_9lMIdQYtxpozhQN0z5IHtsTdjau1dDVyQUrgWXOiBlIt7SdZEyeTEwleSGWj9H07d41OMqAT7VbyAXXEZ0175Xk4RbEJYS8NxxgRh8M/s320/somme+battlefield.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">French First Aid Station, Somme, 1916.<br />
Photo property of the National Army Museum, UK<br />
(http://www.nam.ac.uk/online-collection/detail.php?acc=1988-07-20-2)</td></tr>
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</span>Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-35568483361539609672013-11-21T04:10:00.000+00:002013-11-21T04:10:24.013+00:00Part One - Normandy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
And so, in September, we began our Grand (War) Tour. We hired <i>un camping-car </i>(motorhome) from an English-speaking company based two hours south of Paris, and set out on our seventeen-day holiday around Europe. Our first destinations were Normandy and the D-Day beaches. </div>
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Our <i>camping-car </i>was a European van (i.e. left-hand drive) that had been converted to fit in a double bed, kitchenette, and minuscule shower/toilet cubicle. After a few hours of driving on narrow country roads in the dim evening light, we were exhausted and so we pulled into the town of Chandai, and found the town <i>aire</i>. <i>Aire </i>is the French word for a motorhome stop (or rest area), and many municipal authorities provide these for free, hoping that tourists will stop the night and support the local businesses by buying meals, petrol, etc, during their stay. The best sites are flat, have facilities for emptying grey water and porta-potty, and have a tap for topping up the drinking water tank in your <i>camping-car. </i>As I said, frequently these great sites are FREE, or if there is a cost it is €1 for water. <i>Vive la France! </i>Thank you, French Authorities for providing these facilities!</div>
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The site at Chandai was good, and we slept well. A few hours later, our alarm chimed loudly (as did the village clock tower just metres away) and we eagerly leapt out of bed and got on the road. Before long, the need arose (as, we all know, it often does) for French pastries. So we stopped at the next town, the picturesque <span style="font-family: inherit;">Gac<span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b21;">é</span></span>. Our <i>croissant, pain au chocolat, </i>and<i> baguette </i>were the best we tasted in our entire 17 day holiday!! Almost a shame that we had to start on such a high note!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Municipal buildings in Gac<span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b21;">é</span> </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adam with the <i>pain au chocolat </i>and (<i>demi-)baguette</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The town's pretty lake. A signboard beside it advised that in the surrounding woods you could see red squirrels and foxes! I tried to convince Adam to abandon our holiday and spend the rest of the time here...</td></tr>
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Soon we stopped to eat our treasures and to make a coffee in our aeropress (a contraption that expresses coffee using air pressure). The sun was beating down and we were in another picturesque village - it was bliss, and felt like such a fortuitous start to the holiday.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our <i>camping-car</i> and a <i>jolie </i>(pretty) French village</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">The obligatory <span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b21; text-align: left;"><i>église </i>(church)<i> </i>and cenotaph</span></span></td></tr>
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We then stumbled upon the stunning village of Vieux-Port - a whole town of pretty, historic houses, many built in the traditional Normandy style (similar to an English thatched cottage). One of the houses was even called '<i>La Renardière' </i>- the fox lair! Aah, France!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">La <i style="text-align: start;">Renardière</i></span></td></tr>
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After driving another couple of hours, we arrived at Omaha Beach, in Normandy, on the north coast of France. As we pulled into the parking lot, it began to rain. It then continued raining every day for the next week... Perhaps somewhat appropriate seeing as our next stop was the Somme? For now, we were here to see the site of World War II's D-Day landings.<br />
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On the evening of June 4, 1944, it was time. Time to embark on arguably the greatest Allied moment of World War Two (other than the end of the war, of course). This was a plan that had been conceived over a year before; a plan to launch a surprise attack on the coast of France and regain a valuable foothold in Europe. Months of planning had seen the development of specially designed amphibious craft that would sail close to shore, open a door in the bow and put down a long ramp over which tanks or other military vehicles could disembark and roll down onto the beach. There were also versions that had an opening bow door through which troops could exit and wade to shore. These were a breakthrough development that greatly assisted wartime amphibious assaults. See the exciting pictures, below:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiddZr1Fhuk-GU7sIgwiPH4OG-bXu7cCIBOuziA9NQCABMXbtZUGTpOK17JQ1ZgPMIdjWp-JsgIK_MSgU6Bv5RDY_VGWIIpp46zaNErUxSRDp3XhaT4MotbwaclavbnOihpFpDGSggtL4s/s1600/d+day+landing+craft.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiddZr1Fhuk-GU7sIgwiPH4OG-bXu7cCIBOuziA9NQCABMXbtZUGTpOK17JQ1ZgPMIdjWp-JsgIK_MSgU6Bv5RDY_VGWIIpp46zaNErUxSRDp3XhaT4MotbwaclavbnOihpFpDGSggtL4s/s320/d+day+landing+craft.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Troops disembarking at Omaha Beach<br />Photo from the Naval History and Heritage website (www.history.navy.mil)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Landing Craft, Tank, 1942<br />From the Wikipedia article by the same name</td></tr>
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The plan was for an airborne assault, followed by a naval bombardment of German coastal fortifications, and finally the landing of over 132,000 troops. In conjunction with this, members of the French resistance would carry out campaigns to sabotage rail, electric and telephone systems, as well as attempts to delay German reinforcements from reaching the Normandy region. Late that evening, thousands of troops set off in their boats, heading for the shores of Normandy in northern France. Unfortunately, strong winds and high seas meant that the operation was postponed and troops were sent back to shelter in bays around the coast of Britain.<br />
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The next evening, the window of opportunity again opened. The weather was still less-than-perfect, but it was now or never. Just after midnight on June 6, 1944, Operation Neptune, or 'D-Day', was launched. Under a full moon, over 23,000 Allied troops launched an airborne assault on Normandy, the Royal Navy began a bombardment of German defences around the Normandy coastline, and at dawn that morning 132,000 troops followed in an amphibious assault. The Germans were somewhat taken by surprise and the Allies managed to gain a foothold on French shores, something they had not possessed in over four years. The battle was hard-fought and casualties were high. Two difficult months later, Normandy was won, Paris liberated, and the Germans had been pushed back across the Seine river. It was a resounding success for the Allies. And we were here to see the ground on which the landings had taken place.<br />
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Omaha Beach is an 8km long stretch of coastline on the northern coast of France. It was one of five beaches landed on by Allied forces on D-Day, the others being Utah, Juno, Sword, and Gold. Predominantly American, British, and Canadian troops took part in the assaults, and today the American landing beaches, Omaha and Utah, are a site of pilgrimage for American war tourists.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Map of the Normandy Landings and Battles, June 1944.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Memorial at Bayeux</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking across the sculpture (which represents chaos) towards Britain</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Because of the rain and our tight schedule, we did not stop long. Our next stop was the Bayeux War Museum, which has a fantastic reputation. Unfortunately, we were already behind by half a day and so we paid our respects at the war cemetery then headed for the </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">d<span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b21; text-align: center;">épartement de </span></i><i style="font-family: inherit;">Seine-Maritime<span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b21; text-align: center;">.</span></i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In front of the Bayeux Museum</td></tr>
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Our final stop was the village of Saint-Maclou-la-Brière. It was here, on August 19, 1944, that New Zealand pilot, James Stellin was killed in action. Stellin was part of RAF squadron 609, flying over Normandy and supporting the D-Day action by targeting German tanks, radar stations, and means of transport. On August 18, Stellin's squadron destroyed a number of German tanks and vehicles, and on the morning of the 19th they did the same. While returning to base, Stellin asked for permission to attack a vehicle, but later radioed to ask for directions and report that he was short of fuel. At 10am, a teacher in the small village of Saint-Maclou-la-Brière saw Stellin's plane in difficulty, rapidly falling towards the village. According to the report, Stellin fought to direct his plane away from the village and it crash-landed in a nearby field. Sadly, the 22 year old pilot was unable to open his parachute and was killed. The villagers held a funeral for Stellin, and more than 1200 people are said to have attended. Stellin's name is now inscribed on the town cenotaph, alongside the village war-dead; his CWGC grave lies within the local cemetery; the square has been re-named '<i>Place Stellin';</i> and a marble memorial has been erected in the square. Pilot Officer James Stellin was posthumously awarded the <i>Croix de Guerre avec Palme </i>for his bravery. It is an heroic story, and we felt privileged to visit the grave of this brave Kiwi man. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in <i>Place Stellin, </i>beside the memorial. Just over my shoulder is James Stellin's grave. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The town of Saint-Maclou-la-Briere, looking towards the <i>Place </i>and church</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stellin's Commonwealth War Graves Commission grave</td></tr>
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<br />We wanted to stay the night in Saint-Maclou, but alas there was not a site for <i>camping-car, </i>so we travelled to a nearby town, found a parking lot ('free camping' is legal in France if you are self-contained) and ravished some dinner. Then we went to sleep in France, beneath a viaduct. Bliss for the francophile, and for the engineer!!</div>
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Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-87067765704847184212013-09-30T14:33:00.000+01:002013-09-30T14:33:57.769+01:00Changing the Guard<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Sorry for the lack of blog entries lately! We have been busy clearing out our house in Kent, packing our things to be shipped back to NZ, travelling around Europe for three weeks, and now we're en route to NZ. </div>
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We had a fabulous time in Europe, but before we tell you about that, here is a post on our final adventure on London. Last week we finally got to Changing the Guard, at Buckingham Palace. </div>
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Changing the Guard is a British ceremony in which guards at royal residences in London are relieved by a new batch of guards. The old guard, troops from St James' Palace, and the new guard, those from the Wellington Barracks, march to the grounds of Buckingham Palace accompanied by their bands. The old guard hands over the relevant keys to the new guard, the bands play music to accompany this ritual, and then the new guard marches to St James' Palace. The old marches to the Wellington Barracks, where they will have a rest from sentry duties.</div>
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The ceremony is attended by many tourists each day it is held (usually odd or even days of the month, depending on the schedule), and in front of Buckingham Palace the crowd was 5-6 people deep! We managed to get a spot at the front of the footpath, so had a good view for the troops marching to the Palace, though we couldn't see any of the ceremony that took place inside the grounds. </div>
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So very British! We shall miss wonderful British rituals (such as this and the Queen's jubilee) and their atmosphere. Goodbye, London!Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-21481816481809477622013-08-30T15:45:00.000+01:002013-08-30T15:47:25.702+01:00A Squirrelific Birthday Present<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The Northumberland Sunday dawned crisp and clear. Our alarm went off at 6.30am and we left our B&B at 8am. It was time for my birthday surprise.</div>
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Adam had booked us into a session with a local wildlife photographer, <a href="http://www.willnicholls.co.uk/">Will Nicholls</a>, who loves to photograph red squirrels! Woo hoo!! Adam was hoping that we could take some photos that would be good enough to stick up on the wall when we get back home to New Zealand, thus being able to gaze at those squirrelly visages FOREVER. </div>
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We had a whole three hours with Will, out in his camouflaged hide in woods on the edge of the Northumberland National Park. Only one squirrel came to visit, but got some great shots of her, and there were also plenty of birds to see. </div>
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We had a great morning and were thrilled with the performance of our camera (bought before our Gallipoli trip) and new 70-300mm lens. We got some great pictures and I can't wait to display them on the walls of my house, one day! Thanks Adam (and Will)!! What an awesome birthday present!!! </div>
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It feels so good to know that we have taken these pictures, not just bought some lovely pictures that someone else has taken. Such a feeling of satisfaction and pride in our work! I love photography!</div>
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And squirrels. Bring on the squirrels:</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Not a squirrel. Possibly a chaffinch.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Also not a squirrel. A cute, fluffy young robin.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiR4TzP8sQUdXM9SqYDoupkZ_VLbb8aSh8HZdzcg_pjlrSn3fU3pMGsS2vnJTd05gcXGXS3pdZ054RNelsAdFwhhLa34nN6a5gA1S3St1_uuYj2OWV1NS0vwQus3hoOzPClxZ4o8HQPBwP/s1600/DSC06583-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiR4TzP8sQUdXM9SqYDoupkZ_VLbb8aSh8HZdzcg_pjlrSn3fU3pMGsS2vnJTd05gcXGXS3pdZ054RNelsAdFwhhLa34nN6a5gA1S3St1_uuYj2OWV1NS0vwQus3hoOzPClxZ4o8HQPBwP/s320/DSC06583-001.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A warbler or tit? Either way, still not a squirrel. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Squirrel!!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzqTEHIs07FcZykMhw3r6qFQh8SiRDXBMiikeMdHZnbSPpBdZW0VGfw89SlLQ61_ZogErr_F62Twx7H29PnJMuA_YvcBeVoKpU34blc6L2MI9C_FsQ1ECJxkdpfmtm6Ax5Yxg6lFNaUf2O/s1600/DSC06502-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzqTEHIs07FcZykMhw3r6qFQh8SiRDXBMiikeMdHZnbSPpBdZW0VGfw89SlLQ61_ZogErr_F62Twx7H29PnJMuA_YvcBeVoKpU34blc6L2MI9C_FsQ1ECJxkdpfmtm6Ax5Yxg6lFNaUf2O/s320/DSC06502-001.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Click to enlarge. You know you want to.</span></td></tr>
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*sigh* Aren't red squirrels just perfect?!?! My husband shall be in the good books for a very long time yet! Happy Birthday, Me!</div>
Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-54753248364453392022013-08-28T19:16:00.000+01:002013-08-28T19:17:47.861+01:00Northumberland and another visit to Hadrian's Wall<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Steel Rigg, Hadrian's Wall </span></td></tr>
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Our next stop was Northumberland, where Adam had a surprise birthday present in store for me. Northumberland is in the north-east of England, on the border with Scotland, and has historically been the site of many conflicts between north and south. Northumberland was a key part of the industrial revolution, with many coal mines, and today many of the county's towns and cities remain largely working-class. Despite this, Northumberland is still quite rural, and is the most sparsely populated county in England, with "only" 62 people per square kilometre.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hadrian's Wall comes equipped with midget-size doors</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yeah.</span></td></tr>
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About one quarter of the county is designated a national park, and a large percentage of the UK's red squirrels live in this park (squirrel away that information for later...). The area also contains much of Hadrian's Wall, which, you may remember, we last visited on our way to Scotland for Christmas.<br />
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In case you can't remember, Hadrian's Wall was a defensive fortification, built in Roman Britain under Empire Hadrian. The wall was 117.5 km long, 3-6 m wide, and 3-6 m high, depending on which side of the Cumbria/Northumberland border you were on. It was built as a show of power, and to repel any potential attacks from the barbarians of the north. Gates may also have provided a way of keeping track of entering or exiting persons, as well as allowing the Empire to charge customs taxes. Over the years, much of the wall was removed and the stone used for building other fences or for roads.<br />
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When we visited at Christmas, we came across the Birdoswald Roman Fort, but this time we were a bit further east, at a place called Steel Rigg. We did two separate walks, one to the east and one to the west - well-fuelled by a lovely roast dinner in the nearby town of Haydon Bridge.<br />
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We walked about 2.5 hours in total, walking beside the wall almost the whole way. Towards Crags Loch (the lake in the pictures below) there were some very steep sections, with smooth, well-worn stone steps to climb up or down the hills. My thigh and calf muscles were screaming that evening!<br />
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Adam also got a stunning picture of the famous Sycamore Gap.<br />
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What an exciting (and picturesque) part of England! We had such a lovely day exploring the countryside and working our muscles - but the following day would be much better....(still got that information squirreled away?? It may give you a clue as to what the birthday present would involve...)<br />
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<br />Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-5318587682881119072013-08-22T08:09:00.002+01:002013-08-22T08:30:35.967+01:00Ambleside, Windermere, and Beatrix Potter's Hill Top Farm<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On our final day in the Lake District, we left Keswick and headed up the hill towards Watendlath. Along the way, we passed the famous Ashness Bridge, which was built for packhorses to get across the beck, or mountain stream. I assume this means that goods were regularly transported over this high mountain range.<br />
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The view shown in our picture below looks towards Derwentwater and is one of the most famous views in the Lake District.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ashness Bridge </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cottage beside the beck</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ashness Bridge from the other side</td></tr>
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We continued up the steep hill that was barely wide enough for a car, and parked beside a spot known as Surprise View. From this viewpoint, you can see the whole of Derwentwater, as well as Bassenthwaite in the north and Borrowdale to the south. It truly is a stunning view, and according to our tour guide from our cruise on Derwentwater, it has been voted one of the best views in the UK. I couldn't find anything about this on the internet, but I can see how it might be true!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our tripod earns its worth!</td></tr>
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Next was a whistle-stop visit to Windermere, where we had a tasty lunch from the 'Apple Pie Bakery'. The best part was CUSTARD-SQUARE!!! Yummo. Over here they call it Vanilla Slice, and sometimes it is just whipped cream between the pastry. But this was the real deal.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">(This particular custard square is actually from Bristol, eaten in October 2011. The only other proper one we've had in the UK - though the Bristol specimen did have a layer of jam beside the pastry.)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Windermere</span></td></tr>
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After lunch, we drove to a lovely homestead garden rated the number one attraction in Windermere (on Trip Advisor). I'm not big on fancy, manicured gardens, but Holehird Gardens were gorgeous. There were lots of secluded pathways and hidden bench-seats, and it was all very lovely. The gardens reminded me of "professional" botanic gardens (such as in Christchurch) but Holehird is entirely tended by volunteers. Well done, those people!<br />
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There was also a short walk to the top of a hill in the neighbouring farmer's paddock, and the view from there was wonderful.<br />
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After we left Holehird, we had to wait one hour for the next ferry to take our car back across Windermere Lake so that we could visit Hill Top. Luckily there was an icecream stall beside the ferry queue...<br />
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In 1906, Beatrix Potter purchased a home and 34 acre working farm near Hawkshead, in the small village of Near Sawrey. This was to be her artist's retreat, and somewhere she could go to have a break from London. Miss Potter learned farming techniques and soon purchased additional properties in the area, and in the wider Lake District. Her solicitor, William Heelis, assisted in making these purchases, and the two became firm friends. In 1913, they married, and Hill Top Farm became their main home.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hill Top Farm House</td></tr>
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Beatrix Potter was very interested in the breeding and raising of sheep, and, over time, she was to win many prizes in local agricultural shows for her Herdwick sheep. (Sheep are a big thing in the lake district, and there were sheep things galore in the tourist and gift shops!)<br />
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Another thing that Potter was known for was her desire to conserve the Lake District. She restored and preserved the farms she purchased, keeping them running and applying new techniques to look after the health of the sheep. Potter also partnered with the National Trust, buying and managing a number of farms in Lancashire. Some of these farms, she sold back to the National Trust, and the rest she bequeathed in her will. Over 4,000 acres of land, sixteen farms and cottages, and all her sheep and cattle were given to the Trust (as well as most of the original drawings to her books).<br />
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Beatrix Potter died in 1943 (and her husband in 1945), having made a huge contribution to the preservation of the Lake District.<br />
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As we entered the gardens at Hill Top, I was thrilled to see an enclosed paddock full of plump rabbits. There were also lovely vegetable gardens, and in general the gardens were a lovely oasis - I can imagine feeling inspired to write children's books there!<br />
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You are not allowed to take any pictures inside the farm house, as flash photography can damage fabrics and paper. The house is very dark, as there is no lighting and the windows are small, and they do warn that if you go in winter you may not be able to see very much of the house!<br />
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The house is set up with Potter's furniture, and it feels as if she has just popped out and will be back at any moment. Several of her books were directly inspired by Hill Top Farm and the house, and the National Trust have set up books around the house showing that many of Potter's illustrations mirror her furniture, house, or gardens. In particular, The Tale of Samuel Whiskers or The Roly Poly Pudding is set inside Hill Top Farm, and was penned after an invasion of rats at the property. This is one of my favourite Potter stories, as I like the idea of the rats baking the naughty Tom Kitten inside a pudding!! Although I wouldn't be lining up to eat a piece of that pie...<br />
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The village of Near Sawrey really is very pretty, with most of the houses being built from slate, which is typical in the Lake District. We loved the area, and decided that if we ever come back to the UK (and win lotto) it would be wonderful to own a pretty cottage in a sweet village like this one - <i>so</i> deliciously English!<br />
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Well, all too soon it was time to say goodbye to the Lake District. We were pleased to have finally got a trip there, as it really was as picturesque as we had heard. For comparison purposes, it was similar to Queenstown (in NZ) though on a bigger scale, and with buildings that were so much more beautiful. We are going to miss that when we're home in NZ - the houses in Somerset/Wiltshire (around Bath) and in the Lake District are so pretty, and we have nothing like that in NZ. We will really miss the UK when we leave in a month's time!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ambleside's pink sheep say farewell!</span></td></tr>
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Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-42123434675328024972013-08-18T20:57:00.000+01:002013-08-18T20:57:39.850+01:00Buttermere and Mirehouse<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
On our second day in the Lake District, we took a pretty drive to Lake Buttermere. Lots of green mountains, stony rivers, and waterfalls. Simply gorgeous!</div>
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We stopped briefly at the slate mine at the top of the mountain range, but we had just missed the tour by ten minutes. So we drove on.</div>
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And saw this dude.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is Lake Buttermere, by which we saw the oddly-shaven sheep. </span></td></tr>
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We followed the loop-road up past Buttermere, north to Cockermouth, and back around Bassenthwaite Lake. On the far side of the Lake, which is about 15 minutes drive from Keswick, we stopped at the Mirehouse.<br />
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Mirehouse is a pretty homestead that was built in 1666. In the 1800s, the house passed to the Spedding family, who had links to some of the great poets, including Lord Tennyson, who visited or stayed at the house.<br />
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From the grounds of the house you can take a 'romantic walk' (inspired by the romantic poets who visited the area) through the woods to a little Saxon church beside Lake Bassenthwaite. St Bega's Church dates to around AD950 and was dedicated to the Celtic Saint, Bega. The current frontage of the church dates to 1300, and it underwent further restoration in 1874. Lord Alfred Tennyson based the opening lines of his poem, 'Morte d'Artur', on this church. </div>
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We then walked a loop track back to the homestead, I got stung viciously by stinging nettle, we passed some vintage farm machinery, and we walked the (newly-planted and thus not very challenging) maze in the grounds of Mirehouse. But, on to more important things.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This one's for you, Father Moffat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adam, mastering the maze.</td></tr>
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Across the road from Mirehouse is a forest. A forest from which you can spy on nesting ospreys, a whole valley away. So we began the climb. And climbed some more, and some more, and - after a few more puffs on the ventolin - climbed some more. Finally we reached the osprey viewing point.</div>
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We only arrived five minutes before the volunteers who manned the binoculars were due to leave, so there was no time to take pictures. However we were very lucky and were able to catch a glimpse of the whole family - mum, dad, and two chicks, far across the valley. </div>
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To give you an idea of how large ospreys are, this is a replica of a nest - complete with handsome osprey chick!</div>
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After the volunteers took their binoculars away, we walked back down the mountain, this time we used a different path, and found it was a bit less steep than the first. Though that may have been the illusion of travelling downhill...</div>
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Halfway, we came across a squirrel feeding box - empty - and some birds, a rabbit, and this colourful fellow.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A woodpecker gets some afternoon tea</td></tr>
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Oh! Did I mention why we were nearly too late to view the ospreys? On our way up the mountain we came across a feeding box, and two cameras trained on it. We stopped and watched to see which creature was being streamed live to the internet. (Technophobes - this means that on some website on the internet, you could watch live as the cameras filmed the feeding box. It's a wonderful world.)<br />
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You guessed it - squirrels!!<br />
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In the next blog post, a visit to Beatrix Potter's house and, in the one after that, more squirrels!!</div>
Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-75109149610605072542013-08-15T20:04:00.000+01:002013-08-15T20:04:46.246+01:00The Lake District - Keswick<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On the first weekend in August, we took off for another holiday. This time to the Lake District and Northumberland - in the North-West and North-East of England. </div>
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The Lake District is probably the most picturesque part of England, and features many mountains (here, known mostly as 'fells'), lakes, and forests. The area has been popular for a long time, particularly with poets, and at the end of the 1800s, numerous well-known poets such as William Wordsworth lived in the Lake District, taking inspiration from the beautiful landscape. </div>
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Much like Bath, the Lake District was a particular favourite of the Georgians, and it became the next best thing to taking the Grand Tour. As a result of the Napoleonic Wars and other conflicts in Europe, travel to the Continent was restricted, so tourism increasingly turned to the Lakes. Today, the area is still popular and has around 12 million visitors each year. I suspect most of this 12 million were there when we visited, but we did manage to avoid the crowds by staying away from the two biggest towns of Ambleside and Windermere. </div>
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Once we got close to Keswick, the base for our visit, we came across Castlerigg, an ancient stone circle dating to around 3200 BC. Yes, that's right, a Neolithic/Bronze-Age meeting place or ceremonial site. Don't get many of those in New Zealand now, do ye?</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Neolithic circle. Note the people just lounging around on the 5,000 year old stones...</span></td></tr>
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Britain is so cool!!!<br />
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After leaving Castlerigg, we made our way to Keswick and established ourselves at our B&B. This was the view from the window, plus friendly local jackdaw (which totally made me think of the Famous Five, as they always seemed to encounter jackdaws). </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Looking almost due-East from our window.<br />Look at those houses and slate roofs!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our friend, Jacky.</td></tr>
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We then had pizza by Derwentwater, the lake beside Keswick, and the following night we took an evening cruise there (Hence the differing levels of sunlight in the pictures!).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrzfT8Zz8xlvVjfX7KDH3dcRLUvEznRQ_618qAvtxvWzfI4gK3cCS7JDaXcNpH08As5MJCDJmPVZNPCLmCpRaS1q9MENC7C_XUxn_2xVtscco4rZSKdhN8iRgQjZxxATgtsiIwRzgDofo/s1600/IMG_4468.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrzfT8Zz8xlvVjfX7KDH3dcRLUvEznRQ_618qAvtxvWzfI4gK3cCS7JDaXcNpH08As5MJCDJmPVZNPCLmCpRaS1q9MENC7C_XUxn_2xVtscco4rZSKdhN8iRgQjZxxATgtsiIwRzgDofo/s320/IMG_4468.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The bigger of the two islands (the one on the right) is the island that Owl lived on, and the one to which Squirrel Nutkin and his fellow squirrels paddled out!! <br />(Fangirl squee! I looked very hard, and was pretty sure I saw at least one little red squirrel on its little bark raft)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAcjnjXVt7_nf22xRbtdSs0jmVUv7cIARy0aaFU4k-v5CEq-SdOHrmk-SsPfunvQ4VnaFRF3fEsORd94VDnfKuAup5MryjmpfwzcUtmTeZPLVAZIRmVc7WXQ1vG5MjH8MxapN4kxt9s0t/s1600/IMG_4839.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAcjnjXVt7_nf22xRbtdSs0jmVUv7cIARy0aaFU4k-v5CEq-SdOHrmk-SsPfunvQ4VnaFRF3fEsORd94VDnfKuAup5MryjmpfwzcUtmTeZPLVAZIRmVc7WXQ1vG5MjH8MxapN4kxt9s0t/s320/IMG_4839.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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What a great place! And as I said to Adam many times, I can see why Elizabeth Bennet was so disappointed not to get there with her Aunt and Uncle. Stay tuned, as more stunning pictures of the Lake District will feature in our next post!</div>
</div>
Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-1812116630767653612013-08-14T10:36:00.000+01:002013-08-14T10:36:10.317+01:00Bath, Lacock, and Devizes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Last month, we finally managed to visit Bath. It was full to the brim with tourists, but it was such a beautiful city that we could understand why the whole of Europe wanted to visit! On Friday afternoon, Adam played a cricket game with a team from his London workplace vs a team from the Bath office. The Bath team play quite regularly, so I won't tell you the score, but I will show you a picture of Adam with his teammates. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_aYIyAokFAjLkZFpzmKZTLNRJxogPGouxTeqQWN7WH18bD9KJavGKxgDH1eF1MI51V9eaZ0FQe_unQoQ6XCjZrdhS9W5SZP9CBWV-NSS47I8X9VptYTkfecUUGrMkN5_rbBBM2q0yLQ/s1600/BH+London.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_aYIyAokFAjLkZFpzmKZTLNRJxogPGouxTeqQWN7WH18bD9KJavGKxgDH1eF1MI51V9eaZ0FQe_unQoQ6XCjZrdhS9W5SZP9CBWV-NSS47I8X9VptYTkfecUUGrMkN5_rbBBM2q0yLQ/s320/BH+London.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Handsome devils, aren't they?!</span></td></tr>
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The main attraction in Bath is the Roman Baths, which we visited early on Sunday morning. Bath was founded by the Romans in AD60, when they discovered
a hot spring. In those times, hot springs were beyond understanding and were
considered to be the work of the gods. Beside the spring, the Romans built a
temple to the goddess Sulis Minerva, who was supposed to have healing powers. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The
ornamental pediment (which is a sort of gable at the front of a temple) has
survived and has been reconstructed and displayed in the museum at the Roman
Baths. The temple was a focal point until late in the 4<sup>th</sup> century
AD, when the dominance of Christianity caused the closure of pagan temples
throughout the Empire. The temple at Aquae Sulis (what we now know as Bath)
eventually collapsed. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhylzFxr6xyf1Z9ljC3vktUftgKkr12e2bLsCJhXY7Xnz4xJeMxng47z9UoCLp05hb-essQCYWLy1eTdi4DI1OMJ8lAD8zxBrjqo-m73ihoyVMpgAI_Zag70RBA0TYQ5NToC2Cd57G8a-YH/s1600/IMG_3908-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhylzFxr6xyf1Z9ljC3vktUftgKkr12e2bLsCJhXY7Xnz4xJeMxng47z9UoCLp05hb-essQCYWLy1eTdi4DI1OMJ8lAD8zxBrjqo-m73ihoyVMpgAI_Zag70RBA0TYQ5NToC2Cd57G8a-YH/s320/IMG_3908-001.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">In Roman times the Great Pool was enclosed with a vaulted ceiling, not open to the weather as it is today.</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4zj0NfGHTXMguRvve1h6hQwcOr3bGInVuU0s_bbSpnMIWAQzIiSEkZ379KtrxTtiAET93IFytKbMsYWjX8c3-1XIfgdIjJJta9cF509n7M8ok2SswQbA-ePK8Mpp6l3N7yqy6Q7bprCZA/s1600/IMG_3916-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4zj0NfGHTXMguRvve1h6hQwcOr3bGInVuU0s_bbSpnMIWAQzIiSEkZ379KtrxTtiAET93IFytKbMsYWjX8c3-1XIfgdIjJJta9cF509n7M8ok2SswQbA-ePK8Mpp6l3N7yqy6Q7bprCZA/s320/IMG_3916-001.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The terrace features statues of Roman Governors, Emperors, and military leaders. <br />These were carved for the grand opening in 1897.</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYB7EwQd1eScOVvBYDEMEdAOZ5S8IMrTynpTsDyUAeOerpcTPD8vJ3DA-dfaVe3r9SlX7NYmni4iGwRzfi9Z5V4HhFEhyB1psdJDXIaqYrMyoJp-aWIc7jJY__9juh2hXwOOqDUljAbI_L/s1600/IMG_3909-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYB7EwQd1eScOVvBYDEMEdAOZ5S8IMrTynpTsDyUAeOerpcTPD8vJ3DA-dfaVe3r9SlX7NYmni4iGwRzfi9Z5V4HhFEhyB1psdJDXIaqYrMyoJp-aWIc7jJY__9juh2hXwOOqDUljAbI_L/s320/IMG_3909-001.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Bath Cathedral, beside the Roman Bath complex.</span></td></tr>
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At the site of the ‘sacred spring’, 46°C water rises at a
rate of 1,170,000 litres per day! The Romans surrounded the hot spring with a
large complex of baths, and would visit the complex to bathe in the
mineral-rich waters. At that time,
engineers channelled water from the spring into a main large pool and enclosed
the area with a 40 metre high vaulted ceiling, held up by stone columns. This helped
to enhance the pool’s air of mystery. The vaulted roof eventually collapsed (estimated
to have been in the 6<sup>th</sup> or 7<sup>th</sup> century) but the oak piles
that supported the pool still stand strong today. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXtRbHnTIFeJjAec-i2pCqa-ZaRcXl5XQtfWYbp_StA_z3OHoUM4PzfNGCvD2PN9VJwLEYYDQz-Lofddv2vafnkygtz51RtcvpdZvVucNGxQW8VWEuc30rrzyrP18EmCgKnKGj2qZMzX-x/s1600/IMG_3980-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXtRbHnTIFeJjAec-i2pCqa-ZaRcXl5XQtfWYbp_StA_z3OHoUM4PzfNGCvD2PN9VJwLEYYDQz-Lofddv2vafnkygtz51RtcvpdZvVucNGxQW8VWEuc30rrzyrP18EmCgKnKGj2qZMzX-x/s320/IMG_3980-001.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Me beside the Great Pool.</span></td></tr>
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In the remainder of the complex, a network of steam rooms
and plunge pools were created. There were both East and West pools and saunas,
and these provided separate facilities for men and women. The steam rooms were
heated with a sophisticated underfloor heating system, whereby the floors were
raised on ceramic tiles, and heated water circulated around the columns of
tiles. In Roman times, the floors were so hot that you had to use special
footwear to walk on them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMS3ktdDdFWF-y4bWJTpmhjyFIbzcuhTsp5B0mvVMA2NXMOggpV-a5iZqCxRenLe3hJYLkgQd1lR1Y_Nj_MGZ2Z-M4JOuFBgbp1IZv__RqoCKm963JmBHeqHa1ElT-_NKCZJGKygJkQ7OL/s1600/IMG_3948-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMS3ktdDdFWF-y4bWJTpmhjyFIbzcuhTsp5B0mvVMA2NXMOggpV-a5iZqCxRenLe3hJYLkgQd1lR1Y_Nj_MGZ2Z-M4JOuFBgbp1IZv__RqoCKm963JmBHeqHa1ElT-_NKCZJGKygJkQ7OL/s320/IMG_3948-001.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The tiles used to raise the floors for the underfloor heating system.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht8YMCoySsCsbvgkbCXWZc1kZONH4KT88Ch_l5lIf9qSdeyHfibvBS76w-1j4uvJa9F5S0MSGwQahU5Db1HoFpmu2yMxbU0jYn4NkxxqS7kxc2aYXMcIvitp68PNo1UIHNaKO5f0QfV14F/s1600/IMG_3967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht8YMCoySsCsbvgkbCXWZc1kZONH4KT88Ch_l5lIf9qSdeyHfibvBS76w-1j4uvJa9F5S0MSGwQahU5Db1HoFpmu2yMxbU0jYn4NkxxqS7kxc2aYXMcIvitp68PNo1UIHNaKO5f0QfV14F/s320/IMG_3967.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">One of the circular plunge pools (or 'frigidariums').<br />Even today, coins are still thrown into the pool for good luck.</span></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Roman engineering was very advanced, and the complex
featured a network of lead piping that uses gravity to carry water around the
complex, as well as an overflow drain that helps to channel surplus water away from
the baths. This water is expelled through a drain that carries the water 400
metres to the Avon River.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQkX_sj-NdADQ6AlU5msoPtkmeRylphjBkpc6ARi0wf7GDqcdX4-3NWInXlp9DTD4RdVXrkuS68WUl68Ym7RfBsvY1hhqG0gdJJNa_KTywl_gE4StUDscxfYHkQ7HxMMq3CpdNV1qdck5q/s1600/IMG_3936-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQkX_sj-NdADQ6AlU5msoPtkmeRylphjBkpc6ARi0wf7GDqcdX4-3NWInXlp9DTD4RdVXrkuS68WUl68Ym7RfBsvY1hhqG0gdJJNa_KTywl_gE4StUDscxfYHkQ7HxMMq3CpdNV1qdck5q/s320/IMG_3936-001.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The overflow drain, still in good working order 2000 years after construction.</span></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Over time, parts of the Baths collapsed, and the complex was
flooded. It underwent some restoration in the 1200s, but was mainly expanded in
the Georgian and Victorian periods. In the late 1700s, Bath became Britain’s
premier spa destination; a place to relax, to be entertained, and to meet with
others. The city underwent large expansion, and population rose almost 1200% in
a century. Construction utilised the local sandstone and the popular
architecture of the time – neo-classical style (based on the buildings of ancient Rome and
Greece). Today, Bath is still very architecturally uniform, with all buildings
in a central zone all built from what is now known as ‘Bath stone’, and all keeping
to a similar style. As a result, the city is very pretty, and even the less
desirable parts of town look lovely!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguXzxQdGcR67gsBU5pAzyhflluJl7yIjKBhEk5KxqHre46NRWbvQgnR4NxkRYpxhmcyURw5EU2NEfPpTUX_VkM5BvRzFnZpMmX6BNYRllinujpKp8U__oVjsbYWwVNM4Oudt4eXZvkLcwV/s1600/IMG_4014-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguXzxQdGcR67gsBU5pAzyhflluJl7yIjKBhEk5KxqHre46NRWbvQgnR4NxkRYpxhmcyURw5EU2NEfPpTUX_VkM5BvRzFnZpMmX6BNYRllinujpKp8U__oVjsbYWwVNM4Oudt4eXZvkLcwV/s320/IMG_4014-001.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Pump Rooms, beside the Roman Bath complex. First opened in 1706, though redeveloped later in the century. They were a place for the wealthy to meet and take the waters of the Bath spring, which were thought to have healing properties. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5POOHc7nGX0C-Er34iHCZbyr0jvMM1keVdcCJN4jLfXUF3xbE9Rhec2PtguwBmkis_EsU3PfykTfuFrZt3NdOKxIpquFqvXutagStZIUP6ghQ9ZYlEHs7ZrznLfQY_HTEBYWbSXbHOiwg/s1600/IMG_3773.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5POOHc7nGX0C-Er34iHCZbyr0jvMM1keVdcCJN4jLfXUF3xbE9Rhec2PtguwBmkis_EsU3PfykTfuFrZt3NdOKxIpquFqvXutagStZIUP6ghQ9ZYlEHs7ZrznLfQY_HTEBYWbSXbHOiwg/s320/IMG_3773.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The (King's) Circle, designed by John Wood in the style of the Colosseum and completed 1768. <br />In 1942 a Luftwaffe bomb destroyed some of the houses, though these have since been recreated to match the rest of the Circus.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieMIixkhHoZ7O4NNj-Jy8T7a0bdntQsZjvPh_-F8GVbrgFXmiDs2mPq3b_UWVkoCiPfRroDpQ4TbOILyhTPvbHZEg0Szqnn0FO9_lCj9YEatLM10EJkdjn72giGJWNjTMIUJ9UUfy77YEe/s1600/IMG_3790.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieMIixkhHoZ7O4NNj-Jy8T7a0bdntQsZjvPh_-F8GVbrgFXmiDs2mPq3b_UWVkoCiPfRroDpQ4TbOILyhTPvbHZEg0Szqnn0FO9_lCj9YEatLM10EJkdjn72giGJWNjTMIUJ9UUfy77YEe/s320/IMG_3790.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Royal Crescent, also designed by John Wood. The 30 houses were built between 1767 and 1774.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDJkuExq95qF325m-kkKmyhcZJKAfUUHs8Pp50XM4lhPYFUjA96Cz7aKCLQxzy2Zi1cfKjnGVfMAQz7wwnPUSpDNOEaFgHvnE-7A2u5Sejwk47A6lZpQNgGnrRy22uRGkwsZ_hAKhsg6Q4/s1600/IMG_3804-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="108" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDJkuExq95qF325m-kkKmyhcZJKAfUUHs8Pp50XM4lhPYFUjA96Cz7aKCLQxzy2Zi1cfKjnGVfMAQz7wwnPUSpDNOEaFgHvnE-7A2u5Sejwk47A6lZpQNgGnrRy22uRGkwsZ_hAKhsg6Q4/s400/IMG_3804-001.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A lower and upper lawn, separated by a ha-ha, lie beneath the Crescent.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXL6MAhZi9lcrgjamMW3_PVt4TVnW4Z4abUyycNqHQinrVH2wQwCVJsksZnl7JnYtWvTs6lsxSfssbPdKKe3DECWck7pwM-0dxlbsS-fNcoyeMNGjrsQRuO6ixlRL3nG5o9zOZh4YIm9Oa/s1600/IMG_3836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXL6MAhZi9lcrgjamMW3_PVt4TVnW4Z4abUyycNqHQinrVH2wQwCVJsksZnl7JnYtWvTs6lsxSfssbPdKKe3DECWck7pwM-0dxlbsS-fNcoyeMNGjrsQRuO6ixlRL3nG5o9zOZh4YIm9Oa/s320/IMG_3836.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The River Avon and Pulteney Weir</span></td></tr>
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After leaving Bath, we travelled to the small village of Lacock. Much of the village, the Abbey, and 284 acres of land were given to the National Trust in 1944. The Trust is a conservation organisation that protects historic places and sites throughout England, Wales, and Northern Ireland.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFGDqUnMIzlp8vD8SFAc_55sy_syx4Vh4kBUN72ghEEMPARdGNFPdPkXlcPFeWhYCQJWGkDhZPEylakMAQgjENlEkNPqwAMyQqIZ1Q-gphiU8MmjWrzoMeUTVdqa-_yqo5kHNVfQz0o9IS/s1600/IMG_4018-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFGDqUnMIzlp8vD8SFAc_55sy_syx4Vh4kBUN72ghEEMPARdGNFPdPkXlcPFeWhYCQJWGkDhZPEylakMAQgjENlEkNPqwAMyQqIZ1Q-gphiU8MmjWrzoMeUTVdqa-_yqo5kHNVfQz0o9IS/s320/IMG_4018-001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Lacock looks like the perfect English village, with its mostly pre-18th century houses that are all in very good condition. These days, it is often used as a set for period programmes or films, including the 1995 BBC Pride and Prejudice, and Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWJ98ZOJUrGwEmvY16I-8_lvyWe7fDyZtaYYzWIcY5G0WwPi_He8XkliVCEicyT6S9aSZm63KXemVNknIDEBcODXIjKiBx_vT-ItnVAgv0g7RLbxfgx2PXhCQX-EaDcsD5Y7eE1PdaPBAF/s1600/IMG_4029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWJ98ZOJUrGwEmvY16I-8_lvyWe7fDyZtaYYzWIcY5G0WwPi_He8XkliVCEicyT6S9aSZm63KXemVNknIDEBcODXIjKiBx_vT-ItnVAgv0g7RLbxfgx2PXhCQX-EaDcsD5Y7eE1PdaPBAF/s320/IMG_4029.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We bought an ice-cream at this pretty general store and bakery</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The stunning Abbey</span></td></tr>
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After leaving Lacock, we visited the Caen Hill Locks near Devizes. The locks are on the Kennet and Avon Canal, which links waterways leading from Bristol (on the West Coast) to the River Thames. On the 140 km long waterway there are 105 locks, and 29 of these are situated in one section of the canal, at Caen Hill. 16 of the locks are in one small section, and there is a lovely walkway beside the towpath.<br />
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We walked about halfway along the locks, and watched two long boats make their way down the canal together. It looked like hard work for the two women (!) who were operating the locks while their partners steered the boats, as it was a lovely hot day of around 27°C. Adam tried his hand at assisting with the locks, but we quickly decided that a boat ride along a stretch of water with 16 locks would not be on the cards anytime soon for us!!</div>
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Afterwards, we had a cool drink at the cafe beside the canal, and piled back into the car for a long, hot ride back to Kent.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Beautiful!</span></td></tr>
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Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-44845950408287324722013-07-16T13:45:00.000+01:002013-07-16T13:45:35.930+01:00An Expotition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
On the second weekend in June, Adam and I set out on an expotition to Ashdown Forest, or Pooh Country. On the outskirts of a little East Sussex village called Hartfield, sits Cotchford Farm, the home where Christopher Milne grew up. (Cotchford Farm was also the place where a Rolling Stones guitarist drowned in the swimming pool, and last year the home was put on the market for a mere £2 million (($4 million NZD)) - you can <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/property/9258085/The-rock-n-roll-house-at-Pooh-corner.html">read the details here</a>). </div>
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The surrounding area is Ashdown Forest, where a young Christopher Robin played with his toys, and the inspiration for his father's Winnie-the-Pooh stories. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwglBa0elGxXTlPpO0mQE5EuYnr6B2gZnHORH5RJD17ApbA6jJjyRTioZs4g-N44k8B3-GzT2UU-73yqlOI4f4hoGOyuohOUXj_urKgUys9V06Tq2B5rxhVDN6JeidzfirUP5HOoWCYvoP/s1600/pooh+piglit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwglBa0elGxXTlPpO0mQE5EuYnr6B2gZnHORH5RJD17ApbA6jJjyRTioZs4g-N44k8B3-GzT2UU-73yqlOI4f4hoGOyuohOUXj_urKgUys9V06Tq2B5rxhVDN6JeidzfirUP5HOoWCYvoP/s320/pooh+piglit.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christopher Robin's toys, now in the New York public library.</td></tr>
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It was interesting to see an area that you have only previously seen in your mind's eye. I had pictured the area to be very green and woody, but it was a relatively open hilltop, mainly covered in low scrub and occasional clumps of trees. It wasn't until we crossed the road, towards the Hundred Acre Wood, that it began to feel more like Pooh Country.</div>
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We began our walk at Gills Lap - Galleons Lap in the Pooh stories - and soon came across The Enchanted Place. Named thus by Christopher Robin, as nobody had been able to count if there were sixty-three or sixty-four trees on the hilltop... </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Iys1KTcu6wcpW5OVXUZ-vER9Gdsj2s1NAmDSKqD8fZnMMFMpF1n3PqZe2z6JDPWv5jnfXlvIPJLKBSqLKui2oXuZMPRYuo5BNWjgh-4EhG06KZFhmTpIwvCJ6ZEGXmh8MGpQ805xqJtl/s1600/IMG_2654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Iys1KTcu6wcpW5OVXUZ-vER9Gdsj2s1NAmDSKqD8fZnMMFMpF1n3PqZe2z6JDPWv5jnfXlvIPJLKBSqLKui2oXuZMPRYuo5BNWjgh-4EhG06KZFhmTpIwvCJ6ZEGXmh8MGpQ805xqJtl/s320/IMG_2654.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I tried to count them, but counting has never been my strong point</td></tr>
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From there, it was only a short walk to the Heffalump Trap. It lies beneath this lone tree:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWLgP1YiGGrv6bexF_iVwub8oQMuaLkBvaRrSp8FvsfTbtIS61kD3XRHAELX_DJG2uw3fKaGbaHIPWo-dx9EVaz4WOwKto02b9MwZbIWT1CbTGMpUK0PmucfIoed3n8klqx8qo8xiOy3YI/s1600/IMG_2657.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWLgP1YiGGrv6bexF_iVwub8oQMuaLkBvaRrSp8FvsfTbtIS61kD3XRHAELX_DJG2uw3fKaGbaHIPWo-dx9EVaz4WOwKto02b9MwZbIWT1CbTGMpUK0PmucfIoed3n8klqx8qo8xiOy3YI/s320/IMG_2657.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
And indeed, there was a heffalump caught in the trap. Though it had managed to escape by the time we left.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM4tUM21CBqus8Z-7qiX2bK0ToOfjyNwqnc-_ividRNFu3ja1VznYWW5FgZd13xJTw6wzk_uOJZScRCk-BAiqOW1peIv5BepW1gyGOC9ErusgsYq6kj2Omc2emMrM7jEfBnCtFSh71GUZ8/s1600/IMG_2669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM4tUM21CBqus8Z-7qiX2bK0ToOfjyNwqnc-_ividRNFu3ja1VznYWW5FgZd13xJTw6wzk_uOJZScRCk-BAiqOW1peIv5BepW1gyGOC9ErusgsYq6kj2Omc2emMrM7jEfBnCtFSh71GUZ8/s320/IMG_2669.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3f2rr2cRGwGfAaSdljjZqzYZwzU6UsjLaL04_tm70HseRHoK89Dq90RCTU6bB2zP-fi9g3cI8q0hkSV2f8wzgpDTQIA3vCbjQSDXeg5gtUEYJB5oubo1Pk9ZxguljjeXYIrgVY-IHTx3G/s1600/IMG_2678.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3f2rr2cRGwGfAaSdljjZqzYZwzU6UsjLaL04_tm70HseRHoK89Dq90RCTU6bB2zP-fi9g3cI8q0hkSV2f8wzgpDTQIA3vCbjQSDXeg5gtUEYJB5oubo1Pk9ZxguljjeXYIrgVY-IHTx3G/s320/IMG_2678.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
Did you know that the real Christopher Robin tried to dig a heffalump trap in his own garden? Unfortunately, the gardener's wife tripped over the hole and Christopher Robin got into a spot of trouble...<br />
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After our exciting heffalump sighting, it was time to trek to the Milne and Shepard memorial, which has a fabulous view over the countryside. Unfortunately the grey weather wasn't showing East Sussex to its best advantage, but we could still see its charm. Apparently this is the spot where Milne used to do his thinking when writing the Pooh stories.<br />
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Then we saw Roo's Sandy Pit, which is supposedly a disused quarry, but mainly looked like a hole with scrub and water in it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqPohuxaO5pmSjIbxIoTF7uF2pQaJeRIq_sGMPISJYYMjY_4y56Le7ff7F9d4FlI_Tv3vJGo0ZVpJ68BwVT-8kbulCFqe5Rr0RXAnsUrAArwBrlvgLJG8957Pth7K39HlL9sab8DOCp3Qp/s1600/IMG_2687.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqPohuxaO5pmSjIbxIoTF7uF2pQaJeRIq_sGMPISJYYMjY_4y56Le7ff7F9d4FlI_Tv3vJGo0ZVpJ68BwVT-8kbulCFqe5Rr0RXAnsUrAArwBrlvgLJG8957Pth7K39HlL9sab8DOCp3Qp/s320/IMG_2687.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My, how you've grown, Roo!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I don't know if Roo would want to play there now</span></td></tr>
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And then it was time to set out on a real expotition, an expotition to the North Pole. The walk was easy at first, through lovely woods, and across the stream - the one Roo fell into and was rescued by Pooh and Kanga, who found the North Pole and held it across the river for Roo to grab on to.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTkgCYGYfPbCVVeRM-KT8f7kF5V3wBNOKu19uY7kBfTF08OO8GFyGbQQINdBfmjFV8r8e5G7jaoGaH7ECODRrA4QYonQbRKdvH8PChDMa0PJzlTwyyM9gkFeFdQOHmBHXOwQxgV_6lj_41/s1600/IMG_2695.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTkgCYGYfPbCVVeRM-KT8f7kF5V3wBNOKu19uY7kBfTF08OO8GFyGbQQINdBfmjFV8r8e5G7jaoGaH7ECODRrA4QYonQbRKdvH8PChDMa0PJzlTwyyM9gkFeFdQOHmBHXOwQxgV_6lj_41/s320/IMG_2695.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktHpujKEV0dYuCPKEap24MexSMyMwbdCWb_mHj1XQUEOWMCqO9BPVoVBob0rf168MHwBmOuRTrRKR1zZ2PFEI553fhFbO_qRElUv3ofIf_8kMcIYS9PeFJ3lx87ddv7uSDK8ThVBE-PVZ/s1600/IMG_2700.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktHpujKEV0dYuCPKEap24MexSMyMwbdCWb_mHj1XQUEOWMCqO9BPVoVBob0rf168MHwBmOuRTrRKR1zZ2PFEI553fhFbO_qRElUv3ofIf_8kMcIYS9PeFJ3lx87ddv7uSDK8ThVBE-PVZ/s320/IMG_2700.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I couldn't find any suitable North Poles to hold</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Then it was time to climb back up the other side, towards the Hundred Acre Wood (500 Acre Wood in reality). It was a steep path, and we were well due for a breather by the time we reached the top, near the edge of the Wood. The path then looped back around the rim of the valley, and beside us, at the bottom of the valley, was Eeyore's Gloomy Place.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZEBJIN3pmYwjk9ivpazqmjFw9y02zOivS7IeQRkRHrJs04ATcTBsYpTkU3gpG5P6vfFH-nv4JsuVAeZ4uf7ee7iVkuliaY6wBZu0nPi5dBnNH4cBSWHFQr8dIhm2eTbaj1fkUcyEbJOK/s1600/Pano+Eeyore+Gloomy+Place-002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="107" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZEBJIN3pmYwjk9ivpazqmjFw9y02zOivS7IeQRkRHrJs04ATcTBsYpTkU3gpG5P6vfFH-nv4JsuVAeZ4uf7ee7iVkuliaY6wBZu0nPi5dBnNH4cBSWHFQr8dIhm2eTbaj1fkUcyEbJOK/s400/Pano+Eeyore+Gloomy+Place-002.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking out across Eeyore's Gloomy Place</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVAs43Tv6rDY5ueGCm0zgHdOoHf-BHCv2fs3zxoUaPAV4IATMI1STxmKjBsJWHlSunxFMAwkJvKE4L-wU8w-NOBP0FaU0LhyphenhyphenG_HVLm-TXxcyvOmL4z-bf2d89i_J78yKACdw4GKnUG_kpK/s1600/IMG_2712.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVAs43Tv6rDY5ueGCm0zgHdOoHf-BHCv2fs3zxoUaPAV4IATMI1STxmKjBsJWHlSunxFMAwkJvKE4L-wU8w-NOBP0FaU0LhyphenhyphenG_HVLm-TXxcyvOmL4z-bf2d89i_J78yKACdw4GKnUG_kpK/s320/IMG_2712.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">It <i>does </i>look rather gloomy, doesn't it?</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And then, it was time for a visit to the shop at Pooh Corner, where Christopher Robin used to go with his nanny to buy sweets. It is now a tearoom and gift shop, though the items are mainly Disney-style - I wonder if this is to do with copyrights? Personally I prefer the EH Shepard line drawings from the original books, and I would have loved to buy a couple of prints of these. Perhaps I shall have to trawl the internet!<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After purchasing some honeycomb and a pretty Pooh mug, we went to play Pooh Sticks. The original bridge was built in 1907 as a means to transport timber. In the 1970s, it was restored, and in 1999 it was rebuilt as it was no longer safe. It cost £46,000 to rebuild in the original style. Imagine how much hunny Pooh could have acquired with that kind of cash!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoAIKijzuHwb4558SstrNVzEiaz_Lg-b4dECQX1P4ElE-DmW01U8GW9vYT93VM_c5NR30stfeZERAKC_o5wbxyMQ77GaymF4ahLtwigg22EXrHGotGpA2ISaaIfj3UlgYKhxLATifpo4gC/s1600/IMG_2733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoAIKijzuHwb4558SstrNVzEiaz_Lg-b4dECQX1P4ElE-DmW01U8GW9vYT93VM_c5NR30stfeZERAKC_o5wbxyMQ77GaymF4ahLtwigg22EXrHGotGpA2ISaaIfj3UlgYKhxLATifpo4gC/s320/IMG_2733.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<div>
Unfortunately, there was not much water in the stream, nor was the available water flowing very fast. Our sticks frequently became tangled, but on the two occasions when they managed to float separately, Adam won.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_uicWM42uBkNoaFwBlaNXzMW9DVT7wGCrWVLh4jD1rqNeFb3x-xldDsYjrTjMrUqrWpPt2vT_7AEA9cLqaTuUvzamDtACyMHNEZYFhN3v4FXTEXajmhjQUTfJoV_xt_HAvd8I8ti8U5aJ/s1600/IMG_2719.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_uicWM42uBkNoaFwBlaNXzMW9DVT7wGCrWVLh4jD1rqNeFb3x-xldDsYjrTjMrUqrWpPt2vT_7AEA9cLqaTuUvzamDtACyMHNEZYFhN3v4FXTEXajmhjQUTfJoV_xt_HAvd8I8ti8U5aJ/s320/IMG_2719.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_FJ5spDt0M5RPcoL-haz2EEEiQO4CyKljA_8MI1gSoNB8A91fU-aSeO1DdrWfcsmdfwb6p-j8U0TiwH7rYiBb8h-ju0yNzN2IriGE0y3jaACaniy893wnp-BhDeRsX7wOBSvM_FPS26a/s1600/IMG_2741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_FJ5spDt0M5RPcoL-haz2EEEiQO4CyKljA_8MI1gSoNB8A91fU-aSeO1DdrWfcsmdfwb6p-j8U0TiwH7rYiBb8h-ju0yNzN2IriGE0y3jaACaniy893wnp-BhDeRsX7wOBSvM_FPS26a/s320/IMG_2741.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adam-the-Pooh on the bridge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLbc1G-MZzbe3FlIFDuuDwCWIjoT2NPJ3wVOyERsoTguwGyO04OFEmwTpKHp9y3n2qY4eouy4W3QBjMB9ptr8ri_Ff8HR-PoyBMQlNigjlFbUR481hGYDYzSPPVJ7ffhQ7zuT5rku6AS5n/s1600/IMG_2744.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLbc1G-MZzbe3FlIFDuuDwCWIjoT2NPJ3wVOyERsoTguwGyO04OFEmwTpKHp9y3n2qY4eouy4W3QBjMB9ptr8ri_Ff8HR-PoyBMQlNigjlFbUR481hGYDYzSPPVJ7ffhQ7zuT5rku6AS5n/s320/IMG_2744.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The stream is quite overgrown now<br />
(And full up with sticks from other visitors' games!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvxeK3W76XOLby91Q3kOH-SQjg_FLkb8IyKvKTnKn-sF80sk8wWhOapyo-k3Y2-R0LgALBGARHQk5hCp1lPMZ6QktgJCcgi3BSWCMMqY5w1o9ZoJjDYlpAtMBF_KPTCDFkVBdUDJcnVC-6/s1600/IMG_2747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvxeK3W76XOLby91Q3kOH-SQjg_FLkb8IyKvKTnKn-sF80sk8wWhOapyo-k3Y2-R0LgALBGARHQk5hCp1lPMZ6QktgJCcgi3BSWCMMqY5w1o9ZoJjDYlpAtMBF_KPTCDFkVBdUDJcnVC-6/s320/IMG_2747.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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After our lovely visit to Pooh Country, we went home for a coffee and a piece of honeycomb. Mmm, hunny.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAfGri3pV1_BpuLTC31Xj3SwgF-7mi9VyuT7svJTUTLVGvWtYzyJyK4r_8Rd4hMr6IMIOXtfWdpWhuic0tszCEquKA9NAAYp8-OJB44cjZbwTiMcJXXgiMSzxc3gmDL0llts0k2kmNaAc_/s1600/IMG_2764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAfGri3pV1_BpuLTC31Xj3SwgF-7mi9VyuT7svJTUTLVGvWtYzyJyK4r_8Rd4hMr6IMIOXtfWdpWhuic0tszCEquKA9NAAYp8-OJB44cjZbwTiMcJXXgiMSzxc3gmDL0llts0k2kmNaAc_/s320/IMG_2764.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">"A bear, however hard he tries, grows tubby without exercise"</span></td></tr>
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</div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01588590445127913647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-45728842048282610252013-07-12T15:39:00.000+01:002014-02-24T21:41:39.500+00:00...and Never Cackled<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The work carried
out at Bletchley Park was of immense importance to the war effort and, as such,
was extremely top-secret. It seems that none of those involved squealed about
the important breakthroughs, and the Germans remained unaware that every message
they transmitted via the Enigma was being deciphered and read by the British.
Towards the end of the war, a common joke among top-level intelligence staff
was that if Hitler wanted any information about the movements of his admiralty,
he need only ask the British, who knew more about German naval movements than
the Germans themselves!<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Winston Churchill
famously referred to the workers at Bletchley Park as “my geese that laid the
golden egg and never cackled”. The work at Bletchley Park was so secretive that
details of the important codebreaking carried out there were not made public until
the 1970s. And important it was: the intelligence produced at BP was so crucial
to the Allied war effort it has been said that without this, the war may have
been up to two years longer (some believe it may have been up to 4 years
longer).<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b>Enigma</b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO19LXycBieMaIDzKI2gY9XCD1pp7oHkP6-V1KEKJmkuGAdl5g21AVeCotzX10nru-_N4nEGHBOHaMicwIrCBRTwEE-I5NTTqqDQhSEbpV-fqE8EqVnbTFWMNWufbtN1fkbMdjn6XYTneQ/s1600/DSC06219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO19LXycBieMaIDzKI2gY9XCD1pp7oHkP6-V1KEKJmkuGAdl5g21AVeCotzX10nru-_N4nEGHBOHaMicwIrCBRTwEE-I5NTTqqDQhSEbpV-fqE8EqVnbTFWMNWufbtN1fkbMdjn6XYTneQ/s320/DSC06219.JPG" height="214" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">We saw these Enigma machines in the Science Museum in London.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">It was an exhibit on Alan Turing, one of the brains at BP.</span></td></tr>
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In the early 1920s,
a German engineer was having much success with his machine that could code and
transmit secure information, the Enigma machine. Enigma used electrical
connections to encrypt messages, and so the process was much quicker than it
had been when an operator had needed to perform encryption by hand, using a
table of codes. Most importantly, the resulting encrypted messages were
considered impossible to crack. For this reason, by 1933, all of the German
armed forces were using their own variants of the Enigma.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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An Enigma machine
looks like a typewriter, but with some extra features. The operator types in
their message, then the machine uses three to five rotors (depending on the
version of the machine) to scramble the text and produce different letters of
the alphabet. This is known as a substitution cypher, as one letter is
substituted for another. The receiver of the message needs to know the exact
settings of the rotors in order to reconstitute the text. Over the years the
basic machine became more complicated as more rotors were added and as German
code experts added plugs with electronic circuits.<br />
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One key point of
difference with the Enigma is that when an operator inputs a letter, that
letter will never be enciphered as itself. That is the weakness that
eventually enabled the machine’s codes to be ‘cracked’. There were certain
words that would generally appear in a message, for example ‘to’ at the start,
and yet the letters from those words never appeared in the encrypted
messages. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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By 1932, the
Polish had managed to decipher Enigma messages. At that stage, the cypher was
only altered every few months, but as the 1930s rolled on and German military
operations began to increase in frequency, so did the number of messages being
transmitted. It wasn’t long before the cypher was being changed at least once
per day. This gave 159 million million million possible settings to choose
from! It is no wonder the Germans considered the machine to be
unbreakable. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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As the
encryption became more complicated, the Poles were unable to continue
deciphering the messages. In 1939, they handed their data to the British, and
Bletchley Park became the new centre for efforts to decrypt the Enigma. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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The first
break into Enigma came in January 1940, when a team worked out the key used by
the German Army. Soon after, they also unravelled the key used by Luftwaffe
officers who coordinated air support for army units. BP staff based in a
neighbouring hut turned the deciphered messages – known as Ultra - into
intelligence reports. As the cracking of Enigma was extremely top-secret, the
resulting reports were made to look like they had been produced by an MI6 spy,
codenamed Boniface, with a network of imaginary agents inside Germany.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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At this
stage, there were some amazing minds working at BP. Dilly Knox, Alan Turing,
Gordan Welchman, and Max Newman knew that deciphering Enigma messages by hand
was taking too much time. By the time the messages were unravelled, the
intelligence was of little operational use. Alan Turing, with the support of
the others, created a device that would run through all possible Enigma wheel
configurations, in order to reduce the possible number of settings that could
have been used to encrypt the message. This reduced the amount of codebreaking
work that had to be done by hand. The machines were known as Bombes, and were
generally operated by Wrens, members of the Women’s Royal Naval Service. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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(Unfortunately we
couldn't get any pictures of a Bombe, as that part of BP was closed for
renovations. You can find a picture of it here: http://www.theregister.co.uk/2009/03/23/bletchley_bombe/)<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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The resulting
intelligence – Ultra – was extremely valuable to the Allies. Throughout
the First Battle of the Atlantic, Ultra gave the navy vital information about
the positions of German submarine packs (‘wolfpacks’) and the Admiralty was
able to fight off the U-Boats which attacked merchant ships bringing supplies
to Britain from North America. Ultra also enabled the Allies to discover if the
Germans had swallowed deception plans they had planted, such as those for the
invasion of Sicily in July 1943. Before the operation, secret agents planted
false intelligence suggesting that plans to attack Sicily were only a ruse, and
that real landings would take place elsewhere. Ultra revealed that
the Germans had fallen for the false intelligence and believed an Allied
operation in Sicily would only be a ruse for real attacks elsewhere. The
resulting invasion of Sicily was a success, and was one of the main turning
points in the war. Ultra also played a key role in the success of the D-Day
landings in June 1944. Ultra intercepts showed that the Germans had believed
the deception campaigns, and were convinced a landing was to be made in the Pas
de Calais. This meant that when the eventual landings took place in Normandy,
and over 150,000 Allied troops arrived by air and sea, German resistance was
low and the Allies were able to finally re-gain a foothold in
Europe. Right to the end of the war, the Germans did not believe that the
Enigma had been broken and they continued to send sensitive information which
was promptly deciphered by a select few at BP.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Lorenz</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Another triumph of Bletchley Park was the
deciphering of messages sent using a Lorenz cypher. Before the war, the High
Command of the Germany Army had requested the construction of a teleprinter
cypher machine that would enable them to send secret messages via radio. The
Lorenz Company designed a machine that featured up to twelve wheels all with a
different number of cams, or pins, in them. From here, it all gets a bit
complicated for me, but I understand that this means the possible encoding
options are <i>huge</i>. (Wikipedia it or use Tony Sale’s amazing website - </span></span><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">http://www.codesandciphers.org.uk/index.htm</span><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"> - if you want to
know more: )</span></div>
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The Lorenz machine
used a combination of dots and crosses and Boolean 0s and 1s to print a
message. It then used the Vernam system of adding a random set of obscuring
characters before transmitting the message. At the receiving end, the random
set of obscuring characters would be added back on to the message, they would
cancel themselves out, and the original message characters could then be
printed. This cypher system, which uses one-time purely random obscuring
characters, is unbreakable. Until you factor in human error.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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On August 30, 1941,
the Germans made a terrible mistake. An operator had a long message of
nearly 4,000 characters to be sent from one part of the German Army High
command to another. He set up his Lorenz machine, sent a twelve letter indicator
to the receiving operator – this would tell the receiver which settings to put
onto his Lorenz machine - and keyed in his long message. The receiving operator
then signalled that he had not received the message and to send it again. Both
operators then put their Lorenz machines <i>in the same start position
they had used for the original message </i>– even though this was
forbidden. The second time around, the sending operator made some abbreviations
and mistakes. The interceptors at Knockholt realised that the same message was
coming through, as it was using the same one-time obscuring sequence. However,
the message was slightly different and this set off alarm bells. The incoming
text was quickly sent to Bletchley Park, where one of the top codebreakers, John
Tiltman began to study it.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Eventually
Tiltman was able to work out a chunk of the obscuring character sequence that
the cipher machine generated. After three months, his team had failed to make
any further headway, and 24 year old mathematician Bill Tutte was brought in.
In two months, Tutte worked out the complete logical structure of the cypher
machine. Without ever seeing a Lorenz machine (in fact, the British would not
come face-to-face with one until 1945), Tutte managed to reverse engineer the cypher
machine. This was a huge breakthrough, possibly one of the greatest
intellectual feats of the War.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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Soon, the team had
constructed a machine, known as the Tunny, using Tutte’s calculations. Further
developments produced a family of machines known as the Robinsons, though these
were still too slow to be of much use to the war effort. It was time to call in the
big(ger) guns.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Above,
Tunny and Heath Robinson machines<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Max Newman, a
mathematician, and his engineer sidekick Tommy Flowers soon designed and
constructed THE COLOSSUS. (*Cue dramatic music*) The Germans enciphered a
message with the Lorenz, transmitted it by radio, when it was intercepted and
recorded on to paper tape at BP. The tape was joined into a loop with special
punched holes at the beginning and end of the text. Colossus was able to read
the tape at 5,000 characters per second. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">(For computer geeks, “At 5,000 cps the interval
between sprocket holes is 200 microseconds. In this time Colossus will do up to
100 Boolean calculations simultaneously on each of the five tape channels and
across a five character matrix. The gate delay time is 1.2 microseconds. Colossus
is so fast and parallel that a modern PC programmed to do the same
code-breaking task takes as long as Colossus to achieve a result.” According to
Tony Sale, the former curator at BP.)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">By Christmas 1943,
a Mark 1 Colossus was assembled at Bletchley. The machine could
break Lorenz messages in hours, which was a huge advance. It was just in
time to decipher messages related to D-Day, and the resulting deciphered
messages revealed that Hitler had fallen for the deception campaigns (such as
the phantom army in the south of England, phantom convoys moving across the
Channel – look it up, it’s very exciting stuff!) and was convinced that an
attack would be launched on the Calais area of northern France, rather than at the correct location of Normandy. This was
extremely valuable knowledge to possess, and it was all thanks to the
hardworking teams at Bletchley Park. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">By the end of the war, nine more
Colossuses (Colossi?) had been built, and 63 million characters of German
messages had been decrypted.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"></span>Knockholt</b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"></span></span><br />
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While we were in
the Computing Museum, we were excited to come across some information about
Knockholt. Knockholt is our neighbouring village, and in it sits a large
farm house called Ivy Farm. This house was recently for sale at £1.25 million,
and it hides an exciting past. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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During WW2, Ivy
Farm was requisitioned by GC&CS and was used as a wireless intercept
station. There was a wireless room at BP, but concerns around German detection
of the site soon dictated that other stations should be created in numerous
locations throughout the United Kingdom. One of the most important of these was
at Ivy Farm in Knockholt. The Farm served as a Radio Intercept Station for
messages transmitted by means other than Morse Code, e.g. such as those that
had been enciphered using the Lorenz.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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The 815 workers
were either billeted to families in surrounding villages, or accommodated in
huts built on the land around Ivy Farm. From November 1942 to May 1945,
the Knockholt staff worked tirelessly, collecting 167,727 messages, of which
27,631 were sent to Bletchly Park where 13,508 were successfully
deciphered. </div>
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Isn't that
exciting?! Living just minutes from one of Britain's most important
intelligence locations of WW2?</div>
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Well that concludes
the story of our trip to Bletchley Park - a place I've wanted to visit for many
years. It was wonderful to walk on the ground where such exciting history
unfolded, and to picture the many Wrens and genius codebreaking minds engaged
in their valuable work. Sometimes I feel like I was born in the wrong era, as
the excitement and mystery of the 1930s and 1940s appeals to something deep
inside of me. Being at Bletchley Park for the 1940s festival with so many
remnants of the war, and so many people dressed in costume was an amazing
experience. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Of course, we know
how truly lucky we are not to have to experience the fear, death, and dishonour
that was the reality of life in war-torn Europe. As we stood on that ground,
rich with history, we also said thanks to the men and women who served their
country with their valuable intelligence work and helped secure a better future
for all of us.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">(For the information about Enigma and Lorenz
machines, I have relied heavily on the website of Tony Sale, who was the
original curator at the Bletchley Park Museum. Thank you to Mr Sale for his
interesting website and the informative reports on codebreaking at Bletchley
Park. He describes the mechanisms of Enigma and Lorenz in depth on the website,
so if you want to know more, go to Mr Sale's website - </span></span><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">http://www.codesandciphers.org.uk/index.htm</span><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">.</span><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">)</span></div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01588590445127913647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-31927605090720816902013-07-04T19:10:00.000+01:002013-07-04T22:52:33.589+01:00An English Summer's DayWell, Bletchley Park Part 2 is coming along, though I still have a bit more editing to do. In the meantime, here are a few pictures to keep you going.<br />
<br />
Last weekend we visited Haysden Park, a lovely place with a lake, numerous walking and cycling tracks, a cafe, and a boating lake near Tonbridge. Unfortunately, pollen levels here for the past two months have been at 'very high' and our hayfever is at record levels. We managed to enjoy a picnic lunch beside the boating lake but then had to come home and recover beside the box of tissues!<br />
<br />
Before going to Turkey, we upgraded to a Canon camera, and many of these pictures are testing our lovely new 40mm lens. Thanks Adam for taking so many great pictures!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boating lake, <i>sans bateaux</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adam beside the wildlife and angling lake</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anyone else see anything wrong with this picture?!?!</td></tr>
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Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-3287682448561831162013-06-20T09:03:00.000+01:002013-06-20T11:56:44.939+01:00The Geese that Laid the Golden Egg...<div class="MsoNormal">
In August 1938, Captain Ridley's shooting party arrived at a country mansion in Buckinghamshire, England. The group, accompanied by one of the best chefs at the Savoy Hotel, appeared to have come for a weekend of hunting and good food. In reality, the group were members of MI6 (The secret foreign intelligence agency) and the Government Code and Cypher School (GC&CS), who were interested in purchasing a country house that could be used in case London was bombed and their staff needed to be evacuated. The house was duly acquired, though after the Munich Crisis the following month it was instead fitted out with communications equipment and numerous huts were built around the grounds. The country house was Bletchley Park, and in August 1939, 180 GC&CS personnel moved to the site to begin work as codebreakers.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">The mansion at Bletchley Park</span></td></tr>
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The mansion was located near the town of Milton Keynes, about halfway between Oxford and Cambridge Universities. Cryptologists were selected both by personal ties, and from the nearby Universities: professors; mathematicians; linguists; those who were meticulous; crossword-lovers; chess champions. Most importantly, the 'chosen ones' were trustworthy and hard-working. Most worked in eight hour shifts, rotating through the day and night-time shifts, for six days of the week. Up to 80% of the workers were women, and the staff were either billeted at local homes, or lived camp-style in the huts, subject to relatively strict military-like conditions. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Typists (with bad wigs) working hard</span></td></tr>
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Bletchley Park (BP) was the main decryption station in the UK, and teams worked on cracking encrypted cyphers and codes used by the Axis countries in their communications. The main reason BP was so successful was that genius minds managed to mechanise the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>decryption<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>process, which meant the ability to keep pace with the rapidly changing<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>encryption<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>process. During WW2, BP cryptologists were able to 'crack' the famous Enigma machine, decrypt German Luftwaffe hand cyphers, and develop the world's first computer that could solve German teleciphers. When the war finished, over 9,000 people were working at BP, and three thousand more had spent time there during the previous six years. The actions of these hardworking cryptologists had a sigificant impact on Allied operations, and may have helped bring an early end to the war.</div>
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The mansion and grounds then spent the next 50 years in the hands of British Telecom, before parts of the site were sold off in the early 1990s. The remainder of the site, with the exception of the homestead, gradually fell into rack and ruin, though work over the past few years has helped to preserve this important estate. It is hoped that future donations will continue to enable the Bletchley Park Trust to further restore the site. (In case you're a wealthy reader of the blog,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://www.bletchleypark.org.uk/content/support/donate.rhtm">here is an online donation form</a> at the Bletchley Park website, so you can donate your millions!)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">The mansion ballroom</span></td></tr>
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Last month, we finally got to visit Bletchley Park. We were thrilled (well I was, anyway) to discover that a 'Forties Festival' was also on that weekend.... </div>
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<br />We arrived just as everyone had finished setting up, so it was nice and quiet, and we were able to roam around without having to fight through crowds. There was a section for re-enactment groups, a hall with vintage concert artists, a tearooms, and a large selection of stalls selling vintage goods. It was VERY EXCITING. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">The American camp on the re-enactment alley</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">A vintage hairdresser, second-hand stalls, and the concert tent in the distance</span><br style="font-size: medium; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">(I am to the left of the picture, in the blue top with a trilby on. Adam soon came to drag me away so I couldn't spend any of his hard-earned money!)</span></td></tr>
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Re-enactment groups look like such fun - collectors amass, over time, a personal collection of WW2 items and then go to various fairs, rallies, and festivals and show off their equipment. They are also occasionally asked to re-enact famous battles from the war. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif6_YM0nsbVRMz2prcFhOeqnogNUNuE6D2GuHhH2bwmbaoxQ-1R4hxf8kTAtUvfbZy0A8ZDiRgw_RGyT9EkszBjEIu9bVTb4jh_CdfPkahyphenhypheneW56ZzEHg4hBi1ptY8Tnm4kmuTDgevgYKRm/s1600/IMG_2410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif6_YM0nsbVRMz2prcFhOeqnogNUNuE6D2GuHhH2bwmbaoxQ-1R4hxf8kTAtUvfbZy0A8ZDiRgw_RGyT9EkszBjEIu9bVTb4jh_CdfPkahyphenhypheneW56ZzEHg4hBi1ptY8Tnm4kmuTDgevgYKRm/s320/IMG_2410.JPG" width="227" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKxOcfBuEtZlbJ8N-FFU2h-DkXJ69nteBu7ieeNOc972S2hW-EZ1RdN0QsD05XQphEPFS4e1jc_fYx67lsisKtqxBCxmcklJIq0r3kcXib0kbIPw45tQs2kuhGGXrnJe4I_ZK76Bq50Hi_/s1600/IMG_2412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKxOcfBuEtZlbJ8N-FFU2h-DkXJ69nteBu7ieeNOc972S2hW-EZ1RdN0QsD05XQphEPFS4e1jc_fYx67lsisKtqxBCxmcklJIq0r3kcXib0kbIPw45tQs2kuhGGXrnJe4I_ZK76Bq50Hi_/s320/IMG_2412.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNqI19NZEDWDBHgw0Y0IsPUjG3vIiYZzkp_iqHXsz26HT7bgyZtlkAof70snELZSEKwIr1YfwZWHCtNq6P8qnW9ETL_1bg4hU_RPn1XbaBzMNv2-m0l9Dml-chmhIuSo-M7HQnQ8j-5InP/s1600/IMG_2414-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNqI19NZEDWDBHgw0Y0IsPUjG3vIiYZzkp_iqHXsz26HT7bgyZtlkAof70snELZSEKwIr1YfwZWHCtNq6P8qnW9ETL_1bg4hU_RPn1XbaBzMNv2-m0l9Dml-chmhIuSo-M7HQnQ8j-5InP/s320/IMG_2414-001.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Men from the Home Guard</span><br style="font-size: medium; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">(Men who were unsuitable for service were required to defend the home country in case of invasion.</span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="font-size: small; text-align: start;"> </span><br style="font-size: medium; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">They were trained in various para-military techniques)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb-0xOp2uYog1fhuc3F_mTMZPl-BEIlK8Tm55RynoCgLZOiP_Z2dQD6cvsbZ1tKq0jBHzrFZAv_uttJ-zLOA9sU8d8tCfLZvqcxBjKEYuOKsLsXQS56It1JnKSaVCkyYFvrpu_fqGL0ESq/s1600/IMG_2413-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb-0xOp2uYog1fhuc3F_mTMZPl-BEIlK8Tm55RynoCgLZOiP_Z2dQD6cvsbZ1tKq0jBHzrFZAv_uttJ-zLOA9sU8d8tCfLZvqcxBjKEYuOKsLsXQS56It1JnKSaVCkyYFvrpu_fqGL0ESq/s320/IMG_2413-001.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">This Home Guard re-enactor is demonstrating the type of gun commonly carried by troops from Australia and New Zealand. It was very heavy, but he told me that the Aussies were known to charge the enemy, holding the gun low and firing from the hip as they went. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh27lgRpTWim3nB62T4q77_p7QOV7oNR9ZIpEQ2D0PQS3i3zHyrm3KjgNfeBfn1unsGuxJctka9ta1pBB6L2qdT5nkpMNlkvx3Gbkhdb9maYPOPPEoAMlzLif2E7BUIZfNA62VYDFMrNRy7/s1600/IMG_2420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh27lgRpTWim3nB62T4q77_p7QOV7oNR9ZIpEQ2D0PQS3i3zHyrm3KjgNfeBfn1unsGuxJctka9ta1pBB6L2qdT5nkpMNlkvx3Gbkhdb9maYPOPPEoAMlzLif2E7BUIZfNA62VYDFMrNRy7/s320/IMG_2420.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Do you recognise this uniform?</span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="font-size: small; text-align: start;"> </span><br style="font-size: medium; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">There were only two representatives from this camp.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqJ44y_X4l13OCCKiltXl3_nCWSQxwShS5_5fiodSe_LcwJ5uLhYDGo_MG7GsNt8gmYke2VeCmUsbul1MS5j2y04Grf8RClFo3RniqEWb1UhlJlugiBrXm330pdf0ncSiEuggzngzI-fo_/s1600/IMG_2422.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqJ44y_X4l13OCCKiltXl3_nCWSQxwShS5_5fiodSe_LcwJ5uLhYDGo_MG7GsNt8gmYke2VeCmUsbul1MS5j2y04Grf8RClFo3RniqEWb1UhlJlugiBrXm330pdf0ncSiEuggzngzI-fo_/s320/IMG_2422.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">During the War, there were food shortages as food had to be sent abroad to troops, plus ships transporting food by sea were frequently bombed by German submarines. The Government launched a propaganda campaign to turn all available green space into vegetable gardens, and to encourage people to keep chickens and other animals. Many women joined the Land Army and went to work on farms, assisting famers in their valuable work of feeding the nation. (Look up Land Army or Dig for Victory to see some lovely propaganda posters)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOcwsNd-8Tb219ISlny2ArHi3NaGLxBwYeQ6pKyB7FZFAXLPFfH3eecwzfI-Qw0a_2adSY5Uh48mVZCHn-T4Bm8ZF244gqSWhZ-pBc2a437uw21D2TcWHaf6KtXHaFJvFnRk5Zo8eoDSu4/s1600/IMG_2441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOcwsNd-8Tb219ISlny2ArHi3NaGLxBwYeQ6pKyB7FZFAXLPFfH3eecwzfI-Qw0a_2adSY5Uh48mVZCHn-T4Bm8ZF244gqSWhZ-pBc2a437uw21D2TcWHaf6KtXHaFJvFnRk5Zo8eoDSu4/s320/IMG_2441.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">I would have fallen victim to this sniper, as I didn't notice him until I was a foot away.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhslq1Si2TCAcx8QwGJ0yuh_1S0PV7WIpa6ssqy9Cbd_cPwhJ6GsNMlV4gOMNMwnJO9UdQOOLoH_xaNYP8Q2sAbearmXdy1PmHH4AkdkLnLetIQA5O50D7GQ69YFq7L9BizEewVKaIbBWsC/s1600/IMG_2446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhslq1Si2TCAcx8QwGJ0yuh_1S0PV7WIpa6ssqy9Cbd_cPwhJ6GsNMlV4gOMNMwnJO9UdQOOLoH_xaNYP8Q2sAbearmXdy1PmHH4AkdkLnLetIQA5O50D7GQ69YFq7L9BizEewVKaIbBWsC/s320/IMG_2446.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Churchill even made an appearance!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvkAvC-Y6rCMopiiGy3JVxP2Cc4d_awVSHRwVGTFE1NJmfE3Lwwtyo0Vydz4ce0Jl9A4vDXV8h0uCa7CHlwit5QEdjG1-6w7rQOs5rEuYYeRiYy93kfSJIdizDOxEx8vW4OIjOUEMk19ry/s1600/IMG_2448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvkAvC-Y6rCMopiiGy3JVxP2Cc4d_awVSHRwVGTFE1NJmfE3Lwwtyo0Vydz4ce0Jl9A4vDXV8h0uCa7CHlwit5QEdjG1-6w7rQOs5rEuYYeRiYy93kfSJIdizDOxEx8vW4OIjOUEMk19ry/s320/IMG_2448.JPG" width="305" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">These are uniforms from troops who were in North Africa.</span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="font-size: small; text-align: start;"> </span><br style="font-size: medium; text-align: start;" /><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Many antipodeans fought on this dusty stage, including my Grandfather, who drove a water tanker that accompanied the ambulance.</span></td></tr>
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After lunch, we had an explosives demonstration with the Resistance Archive. A secret corps of men were chosen as Auxiliary Units, which came under the authority of the Home Guard. The men were given extensive training in guerrilla warfare- occasionally by Spanish resistance fighters - in hand-to-hand fighting, use of Molotov cocktails, assassination, and general sabotage techniques. The Auxiliary Units were to spring into action once Germany invaded Britain, and defend her shores by whatever means necessary. </div>
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The Resistance Archive team showed us some of the explosives used by the Auxiliary Units, and demonstrated them to us - I assume the explosives were at a much lower charge, but the 'BOOM's reverberating around Bletchley Park were fantastically loud.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Following this excitement, we visited an exhibit on Homing Pigeons. Yes! They were of extreme importance to the war, and were seen as one of the only reliable ways to transport messages. There were about 250,000 pigeons in use during WW2, and birds of prey were killed off around coastlines to ensure the pigeons could safely deliver their messages. All RAF bombers and reconnaissance aircraft carried pigeons, and pigeons were dropped in crates to French Resistance operatives. After the war, over 30 pigeons won medals for their valuable service. You can read about these heroic pigeons at the website of <a href="http://www.rpra.org/pigeon-history/pigeons-in-war/">The Royal Pigeon Racing Association</a>...<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5ubTjGQlr6cRmyermZKPZlmIQEpxbkTJTER8ncrFnbgO9-m3o4FJvwfcdxJDsOdOk8EPd95deQWi0xu3DBH04nmLdmyKtqz2nLViK0qEF70nfA4xqazWHkJyfIIlqVmA3enx7DqV051x/s1600/IMG_2462.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5ubTjGQlr6cRmyermZKPZlmIQEpxbkTJTER8ncrFnbgO9-m3o4FJvwfcdxJDsOdOk8EPd95deQWi0xu3DBH04nmLdmyKtqz2nLViK0qEF70nfA4xqazWHkJyfIIlqVmA3enx7DqV051x/s320/IMG_2462.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Pigeon-tastic!<o:p></o:p></div>
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We finished our day at Bletchley Park with a plotting demonstration, an homage to September 15, the worst day of the Battle of Britain.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In part two of this post, I will tell you more about the codebreaking work at Bletchley Park, but for now I shall leave you with some more pictures of our day at the Forties Festival:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0qM8Du0FxCosym8LYN24PO7XklefB012eB7bZYEh2H7eXxsIM0zKSwf24u9ci5WsZNN8qO3tezG9w7WhyphenhyphenPheEhklXFZmdWwi6g89zpaH5ozkLKvw2RkB8wZsyduECNTW24cJfXZwRIckh/s1600/IMG_2423.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0qM8Du0FxCosym8LYN24PO7XklefB012eB7bZYEh2H7eXxsIM0zKSwf24u9ci5WsZNN8qO3tezG9w7WhyphenhyphenPheEhklXFZmdWwi6g89zpaH5ozkLKvw2RkB8wZsyduECNTW24cJfXZwRIckh/s320/IMG_2423.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Vintage tearooms</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Eh8NGO_CAXNvtylWXDiwh6UgHNNvFIDV05F5mMFXRKSNB8EQ3QqPq-04JNS600LyGJBawRa8Z_5xJAlQoi-xwFdBZvdPfX-V2uBEKizhOLhDsdJk_PtGBOxmkOkHDJVJigcwhgHTN-7Q/s1600/IMG_2424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Eh8NGO_CAXNvtylWXDiwh6UgHNNvFIDV05F5mMFXRKSNB8EQ3QqPq-04JNS600LyGJBawRa8Z_5xJAlQoi-xwFdBZvdPfX-V2uBEKizhOLhDsdJk_PtGBOxmkOkHDJVJigcwhgHTN-7Q/s320/IMG_2424.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">A perfectly vintage picnic</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYrdxSyyfsnZZkMz_bMOD9XvoUOyBqsubzr4-rTpGJA1zfA8VMf16bOjBjuf2AZ4qeDW0n7yN5hdrpggkZ60r52r-0qgsATuJjR_wBJglqvPo4jFc-xj56wh4uWE5dr91L8PSb_16pqhme/s1600/IMG_2453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYrdxSyyfsnZZkMz_bMOD9XvoUOyBqsubzr4-rTpGJA1zfA8VMf16bOjBjuf2AZ4qeDW0n7yN5hdrpggkZ60r52r-0qgsATuJjR_wBJglqvPo4jFc-xj56wh4uWE5dr91L8PSb_16pqhme/s320/IMG_2453.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Look at that fox!</span></td></tr>
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Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-422514825789812952013-06-03T20:25:00.000+01:002013-06-21T08:22:04.476+01:00Return to Greenwich<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The weekend after we returned from Turkey was a bank holiday. On the Monday, we met friends Luuk and Amy at Greenwich, as they were in London for the weekend (their usual base is in France), and offered to be their tour guides for the day. First we showed them around the Naval College, and we finally got to see inside the Painted Hall.</div>
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The Naval College stands on the site of the former Palace of Placentia, more commonly known as Greenwich Palace. Built in 1447, the Palace was the birthplace of Henry VIII, Mary I, and Elizabeth I, among others. It fell into ruin during the English Civil War, and in 1660 Charles II ordered the architect John Webb to remodel parts of it, while the remainder was demolished.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Also the site of the barricade scenes in the most recent adaptation of <i>Les Miserables</i></td></tr>
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In 1694, the Greenwich Hospital was built on the site. This was known as the Royal Hospital for Seamen, and was based on the French <i>Les Invalides. </i>Greenwich Hospital closed in 1869, and the buildings were turned into training grounds for the Royal Navy. During World War Two, approximately 35,000 personnel graduated from the College.</div>
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The Painted Hall was designed by Sir Christopher Wren (of St Paul's Cathedral fame) and Nicholas Hawksmoor as a dining space for veterans at the Naval Hospital. James Thornhill was commissioned to paint the interior, and he was asked to include in his designs as many references as possible to the role of the navy in the success of the British Empire. It took Thornhill 19 years to complete the work, and he was paid only £3 per square yard for the ceiling, and just £1 per square yard for the walls. According to legend, Thornhill was upset at the pittance he was paid, and painted himself at the bottom right corner of the following wall, with one hand held out behind his back, waiting for money to be put into it:</div>
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Even though he did not get paid handsomely, Thornhill <i>was </i>made a Knight for his efforts. </div>
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In 1806, the body of Horatio Nelson was brought to lie in state in the Painted Hall (after which it was buried at St Paul's Cathedral). Over the next 100 years, the Hall was used as an Art Gallery. It was once again used as a dining hall by students at the Naval College during World War Two. </div>
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We also visited the chapel, which was also designed by Sir Christopher Wren. It was badly affected by fire in 1779 and was redecorated in the Greek revival style. It was restored in 1950, and we were really impressed by it. The roof decorations are especially amazing. </div>
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Following that, we showed Amy and Luuk (and children) the Naval Museum - which is well worth a visit if you're in London - before moving on to explore the Cutty Sark. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Louis and Luuk trying out the new kids' exhibition at the Naval Museum</td></tr>
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The Cutty Sark is a clipper that was built for a British shipping company in order to take part in the tea race. Clippers were well-known for their speed, which would be an important advantage in the competitive race to bring tea from China to London.When constructed, the Cutty Sark was one of the fastest clippers on the water. Unfortunately for the future of clippers, the opening of the Suez Canal meant that trade soon turned to using steamships. </div>
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In the late 1870s, the Cutty Sark was used to take tea and castor oil to Australia. It was soon realised that the ship would be of more use to the wool trade, so from 1883-1895, the Cutty Sark regularly travelled to Australia as a wool ship. On her first journey, the Cutty Sark was 25 days faster than her closest rival, and at her quickest, she could make the journey from Britain to Australia in 77 days. For ten years she remained the fastest wool ship on the sea.</div>
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In 1895, the Cutty Sark was sold to a Portugese firm for<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 16px;">£</span></span>2,100. She spent the next thirty years carrying goods across the world. After that, she was purchased by a Briton who restored the ship and opened her to the public. After his death, the ship spent some time as a training boat for naval cadets, then in 1954, she was towed to dry docks at Greenwich, and the Duke of Edinburgh became a patron for her restoration. It was open to the public until the late 1990s, when a programme of extensive conservation work was begun. In 2007, disaster struck when the ship caught alight. The large fire, fortunately, did not do as much damage as feared as much of the mast and planking had been removed for the conservation work. </div>
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Finally, the <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 15.994318008422852px;">£</span>35million restoration was finished, and the ship was reopened to the public in April 2012. She now sits in a dry dock, suspended three metres above the ground, and encased in glass. There was some controversy about the design, as it is quite an 'interesting' look. What do you think?</div>
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(Adam would like to point out that his company, Buro Happold, was involved in the restoration work.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaMKfMgKo__yEskhsm5GExoAPf9dv7IX8kaAVaNhgtCmCChBGiU-1JpL4LrMzsFkqudmmQB_ttxhnaBoMp58FTvijdyVi_tAcJjxKOMrKCUU7nnJu9M2CY2d8iJ_7IuGIkERDh4npMc5pf/s1600/IMG_1832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaMKfMgKo__yEskhsm5GExoAPf9dv7IX8kaAVaNhgtCmCChBGiU-1JpL4LrMzsFkqudmmQB_ttxhnaBoMp58FTvijdyVi_tAcJjxKOMrKCUU7nnJu9M2CY2d8iJ_7IuGIkERDh4npMc5pf/s320/IMG_1832.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD5Sb6Ur_PuUAMcVNeWWqMvuhrm0Dd6jdAirKHIq2O7Ia1Y5Z-y-n3OxXkGFzyWxhjAaJ3c52ZLCZbnUDhPYoJZRjxO7lxQgQyGAMJKwSA2SJISGelbpsk2inKTnafA0cKVWmE_I6Oj997/s1600/IMG_1835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD5Sb6Ur_PuUAMcVNeWWqMvuhrm0Dd6jdAirKHIq2O7Ia1Y5Z-y-n3OxXkGFzyWxhjAaJ3c52ZLCZbnUDhPYoJZRjxO7lxQgQyGAMJKwSA2SJISGelbpsk2inKTnafA0cKVWmE_I6Oj997/s320/IMG_1835.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Captain's Quarters</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKIPLIdGlkBUtV69_15N7MvSvoljt_tYc-CEcZZPSAvmXNUsMt_bqfmdffd-jc477QEXnt8KCcKwmLQRnqCbg4trAnjkV7nSZdhHG7lqg2V8VjmVf9j3BBK6FhGmDU5d6yfcx5FboBRKjY/s1600/IMG_1850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKIPLIdGlkBUtV69_15N7MvSvoljt_tYc-CEcZZPSAvmXNUsMt_bqfmdffd-jc477QEXnt8KCcKwmLQRnqCbg4trAnjkV7nSZdhHG7lqg2V8VjmVf9j3BBK6FhGmDU5d6yfcx5FboBRKjY/s320/IMG_1850.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The masthead gallery</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbRYltVrXLOIaCfkC0d1uVweG9_chc9jx9zaXjfUOWgLaZS5jaOn3-RCtqFwxKJ1EXCO2ZJANV7XbE3aBYWFJqhkduSUX-3A0fvkqkT_QedNFDQ8lxzyIaOogx_qp9mU8r-8HjCy0UR2Ka/s1600/IMG_1852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbRYltVrXLOIaCfkC0d1uVweG9_chc9jx9zaXjfUOWgLaZS5jaOn3-RCtqFwxKJ1EXCO2ZJANV7XbE3aBYWFJqhkduSUX-3A0fvkqkT_QedNFDQ8lxzyIaOogx_qp9mU8r-8HjCy0UR2Ka/s320/IMG_1852.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Cutty Sark from beneath</td></tr>
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After finishing with the Cutty Sark, we walked through Greenwich Park and up to the Royal Observatory. It was a fabulous day and the locals were also making the most of the great weather.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmVCa0ecD9nnwv57hE5CDq06OFysZbIT18Y9D6HPLLwPza0IySuFv63cKo30z4-4rbc6RbeXeX0Wox6L8enSJoXyd8TqHlmatF9A7OE-bX3c6B0iG7NACAquOVoLCqejhnHavDg1DCyz-/s1600/IMG_1892.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmVCa0ecD9nnwv57hE5CDq06OFysZbIT18Y9D6HPLLwPza0IySuFv63cKo30z4-4rbc6RbeXeX0Wox6L8enSJoXyd8TqHlmatF9A7OE-bX3c6B0iG7NACAquOVoLCqejhnHavDg1DCyz-/s320/IMG_1892.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View north towards Canary Wharf, the financial centre of London</td></tr>
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Finally, we had tea in Greenwich then sat beside the river, enjoying the warmth and the sunset and eating English toffees. Bliss! Just what an English bank holiday should be, if you ask me!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX8L3ycc-Q9Pg-GmhMnw0FcAwdsvdBJDdBG01bhe2HBr51Q5plQCuk-jCqwWLrftfXBdRaEhl5_A_czyuyRgDyRBK2Ig8ehSizzmqd6Z0FCZOYCA0xRX3-QftMsAO2kfDPoGC27pS8jj49/s1600/IMG_1907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX8L3ycc-Q9Pg-GmhMnw0FcAwdsvdBJDdBG01bhe2HBr51Q5plQCuk-jCqwWLrftfXBdRaEhl5_A_czyuyRgDyRBK2Ig8ehSizzmqd6Z0FCZOYCA0xRX3-QftMsAO2kfDPoGC27pS8jj49/s320/IMG_1907.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking west down the River Thames</td></tr>
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Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-63924139792155042852013-05-21T11:29:00.001+01:002013-05-21T11:29:33.577+01:00Not just ANZACs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span lang="EN-NZ">By the end
of 1914, the Western Front was at a stalemate and casualties were mounting. With
both sides digging in for the long run, Allied political and military leaders
began to look for other ways to achieve a breakthrough. In January 1915 Winston
Churchill, who was The First Lord of the Admiralty, tabled a plan for a naval
attack on the Dardanelles Strait which would neutralise Turkey and enable the
Allies to take Constantinople. This would ensure control of the Bosphorus,
would take out one of Germany’s allies, and potentially give the Allies a way
to attack Europe through the back door. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-NZ"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqOcdqGaqR-MCMwn6EHCVWPLqF2qHCPapQhxyAFdejM6c-tDg6Hxs9hTh0-cpWU6-MhA_VLavypEV2ZfBFiBiF046J9c0k_nflY4uKpAaSJOtcvrfwlOhUEeeW7q4JyjB1TnVRsDdaVlKf/s1600/IMG_0798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqOcdqGaqR-MCMwn6EHCVWPLqF2qHCPapQhxyAFdejM6c-tDg6Hxs9hTh0-cpWU6-MhA_VLavypEV2ZfBFiBiF046J9c0k_nflY4uKpAaSJOtcvrfwlOhUEeeW7q4JyjB1TnVRsDdaVlKf/s320/IMG_0798.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Extent of Royal Naval advancement into Dardanelles<br />Also, Mediterranean Expeditionary Force landings at Cape Helles</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">An
intelligence report compiled in September 1914 had already indicated that the
Strait was heavily fortified and that armaments had been modernised. The report also advised that the Gallipoli
Peninsula was “likely to prove extremely difficult” and that it would be “unjustifiable”
to attack with less than 60,000 men. The following year, Churchill’s suggested attack
was for a naval bombardment of Turkish fortifications on both the European and
Asiatic shores of the Dardanelles Strait. It was anticipated that there would
not be great loss, except for those sustained in sweeping for mines, and that
the greatest difficulty would be in getting through the narrows – a long, narrow
section of the strait, around the Çanakkale area.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">On February
19, the naval bombardment began. The campaign had mixed success – some Turkish
fortifications were destroyed, but minesweepers had difficulty against the
strong currents in the Strait. On March 18, eighteen battleships entered the
Strait: three were sunk, three crippled, and 700 men were killed. The day was a
disaster for the Allies but considered a victory for the Turks, as Britain,
rulers of the sea, essentially withdrew from the Dardanelles. Churchill wanted to continue the attack, but the First
Lord of the Sea refused to send further resources to the area, claiming that fighting
in the Atlantic was top priority, and he ordered all battleships to withdraw.
Naval operations continued on a much smaller scale over the following months,
though the ships still struggled against the currents and gains were few.
(Excitingly, two submarines – one Australian – made it through the Narrows. <a href="http://www.anzacsite.gov.au/5environment/submarines/ae2.html">Here’s an article from the Australian Anzac Site</a> if you’re interested in reading
further.)<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE1zEifqRKz4m-cFw_og-kkspRv9e9kEOIs78eD90sJloMtd8NdTtRX7d0ZIAuBEvTeEqvLuOE8k5vZ5kxBtIQ1O_xZIV2EtNX5mf72bDOPUN7bxVEPjZcNMMGOlEGgzkc6mRGafh3zK3i/s1600/IMG_0991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE1zEifqRKz4m-cFw_og-kkspRv9e9kEOIs78eD90sJloMtd8NdTtRX7d0ZIAuBEvTeEqvLuOE8k5vZ5kxBtIQ1O_xZIV2EtNX5mf72bDOPUN7bxVEPjZcNMMGOlEGgzkc6mRGafh3zK3i/s320/IMG_0991.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As I mentioned in previous posts, the naval victory is a BIG DEAL to the Turks.<br />I am surprised that the naval aspects of the campaign are not very well-known - <br />they feature big battleships, submarines, and lots of guns. Definitely not boring!</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">So why all
the background? Personally, I feel that the naval attack – the original
campaign – has largely been forgotten about. Attention, instead, has focused on the ground attack on the Peninsula, mainly due to the extremely high casualty rates there. In addition to this, there has been perhaps an overemphasis on the role of the ANZACs at Gallipoli. </span><span lang="EN-NZ">For Australia and New Zealand, still getting on their feet as countries, the proportions of men killed or injured was high in relation to total population. </span>We also know that the ANZAC story had an effect on nationhood, and helped to develop the identities of Australia and New Zealand as separate from simply being colonies of the Empire. There is good reason for attention to be focused on the ANZAC efforts, but at the same time, we should not forget about the involvement of British and French troops in the Campaign.<br />
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<span lang="EN-NZ">While at Gallipoli, we wanted to explore some of these lesser-mentioned aspects of the Campaign - the original naval attack and the British landings at Cape Helles. </span>When we left Eceabat,
we drove south and explored some of the terrain that the British
fought on during their nine months on the Gallipoli Peninsula. We also visited
the Helles Memorial, which serves as a Commonwealth memorial for the whole
Campaign, as well as commemorating missing servicemen, and those who died in
the naval attack. Our visit to the
area felt like a fitting end to our Gallipoli trip – bringing most of the
strands together. (In future, I would like to explore more of the French
involvement in the Campaign – though I doubt we'll ever get to Kum Kale to see
the shores on which the French landed on April 25, 1915.)</div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">The first
stop on our tour was Kilitbahir. We had spotted this fortress when returning by
ferry from Eceabat, and decided to hunt it out. We learnt that it was called Kilitbahir
Castle, and was built in 1452 by Sultan Mehmet II, the conqueror, as a means of
guarding the Narrows. A twin fortress was built at Çanakkale. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">It was easy
to spot, though we were disappointed to find it was closed for restoration
work. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kilitbahir Castle</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Restoration work</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">We were excited to discover these fortifications beside it. With the help of Frenchman Baron de Tott, Fort Namazgah was constructed during the Russo-Turkish war of 1768-1774. It was expanded over the next 100 years, as it was recognised that this was a key place to protect the Strait from future enemy attacks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">During the Dardanelles Campaign, only two of the guns at the Fort were used, as the others were of too short a range to reach the Allied battleships.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">In 2005, the site underwent massive restoration and it was reopened on 18 March 2006, in celebration of the end of the naval battle of 1915.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fort Namazgah</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruins at the Fort</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The surrounding village</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We did not stay and look around for long, as there were four tourist buses at the Fort and we wanted to beat them to the next sites. It turned out there were myriad other buses around the Peninsula, though they seemed to be Turkish tours and they did not visit the Allied memorials, so it was not as busy as we had feared.<br />
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<span lang="EN-NZ">Soon, we arrived at the Commonwealth War Graves Commission’s memorial at Cape Helles. It
was truly beautiful, and in an amazing location – overlooking the Dardanelles,
the Aegean Sea, and the Gallipoli Peninsula. Encompassing all theatres of the
Campaign. <o:p></o:p></span>The memorial is beautiful, again the contrast of white sandstone and marble, blue sky, green grass, and azure sea. <span style="text-align: center;">Around the outer wall are the names of 20,000 men who are ‘missing’, including those who perished at sea. In the centre are plaques commemorating the corps at Suvla, Anzac, Helles, and those on Royal Navy battleships. It is here that you fully comprehend the scale - and the casualties - of the Gallipoli Campaign. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-NZ"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFhOiPJB2TBK24nm_0A3JPHGqnClRVbNydlKcM918GEwkfhghV4YOc0F8IZwSFZ1D2PE3_EpYZgVYzhyd211NyoAAzcl0o4zgrN7VNzq-lShxgk_n4go0XEu3N1CselD4MOCFGdwDsjKlA/s1600/IMG_1571_stitch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="80" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFhOiPJB2TBK24nm_0A3JPHGqnClRVbNydlKcM918GEwkfhghV4YOc0F8IZwSFZ1D2PE3_EpYZgVYzhyd211NyoAAzcl0o4zgrN7VNzq-lShxgk_n4go0XEu3N1CselD4MOCFGdwDsjKlA/s400/IMG_1571_stitch.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking west</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50OYxCUDQnPOiC1u5ePFmW8rRfKsaSmLUUAstqIzL8750XZElnZdkJLFkkY4HDo_ZO3rc_vRl9ICChvI7uTpobVRNiwphju8jcb-uRGn7zlAmpLnme1ugQvB1DF-SX6dSmQ8fKxb-7InT/s1600/IMG_1558.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50OYxCUDQnPOiC1u5ePFmW8rRfKsaSmLUUAstqIzL8750XZElnZdkJLFkkY4HDo_ZO3rc_vRl9ICChvI7uTpobVRNiwphju8jcb-uRGn7zlAmpLnme1ugQvB1DF-SX6dSmQ8fKxb-7InT/s320/IMG_1558.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy7r-WSQvwy_dMZGGblnB8vXJBWP5uqHsGrQaLIcojcMXWnRHiSXXzbos8IAhPIM_TZSSyLZjNfDELXbm8WWOh1IOHtguvVhNshaAatbbSIi8xfp7PC4aHaUYsMI-02Qm7nNk83WnKN2cm/s1600/IMG_1552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy7r-WSQvwy_dMZGGblnB8vXJBWP5uqHsGrQaLIcojcMXWnRHiSXXzbos8IAhPIM_TZSSyLZjNfDELXbm8WWOh1IOHtguvVhNshaAatbbSIi8xfp7PC4aHaUYsMI-02Qm7nNk83WnKN2cm/s320/IMG_1552.JPG" width="213" /></a><span lang="EN-NZ">Apart from
their landing at Suvla Bay, and support to the ANZACs at Anzac Cove, the
British made five landings around Cape Helles, the southernmost point of the
Gallipoli Peninsula. Terrain was similar to Anzac Cove, and the men faced heavy
Turkish fire from entrenchments at the top of cliffs overlooking the beaches.
However, they soon made gains – though the frontline remained largely static
over the following nine months. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">Landings
took place at beaches nick-named S, V, X, W, and Y. At S, X, and Y beaches, British forces were
“virtually unopposed” but gains were not capitalised on, due to communications
failures and possibly a lack of understanding of how important it would be to
press forward while Turkish resistance was low. </span><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOGR_cSgD0EhbwSohOGfbAE3RVBHikOKEeSR79huAQeL3BiPCRkdbPdDrFEUglPwR5XX7u4UL_dn0KOAepI2b3NEEvsiKDe5LTCDvx3BVHdpJjnDPHdnX70aM1uXQEjeNYITuRQm7WCJ7A/s1600/IMG_1584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOGR_cSgD0EhbwSohOGfbAE3RVBHikOKEeSR79huAQeL3BiPCRkdbPdDrFEUglPwR5XX7u4UL_dn0KOAepI2b3NEEvsiKDe5LTCDvx3BVHdpJjnDPHdnX70aM1uXQEjeNYITuRQm7WCJ7A/s320/IMG_1584.JPG" width="213" /></a><span lang="EN-NZ">At V and W beaches
there were heavy losses, and many troops were killed by entrenched machine
gunners. At ‘V’ beach, a boat was grounded to act as a landing aid but this was
a prime target for Turkish snipers at the top of the cliffs, and few men made
it ashore alive. Of the first 200 soldiers to leave the ship, only a tenth made
it ashore. Overall, casualties at the beach stood at about 70%. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">Over the
next few months, the focus would be on taking the small village of Krithia –
ground that was supposed to have been captured in the initial assault of April
25. A small number of ANZACs were sent to assist the British units, and on May
6 another attempt was made on Krithia. The plan was dangerous – a frontal
assault in broad daylight – and over the next two days the men made gains of
only 500 metres, with 6,500 casualties, including 800 New Zealanders.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">During May,
20,000 of 70,000 men were wounded, of which 6,000 were killed. The medical
facilities were overwhelmed by the casualties, and many troops waited days to
be evacuated from the Peninsula. In </span>June
and July, the pattern continued: heavy bombardment, small gains, and
“horrendous” losses of close to 30%. The Turks also sustained heavy losses, but
merely retreated, dug in, and awaited further attacks. </div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">In August,
another offensive was launched at Helles, designed to draw attention away from
the ANZAC offensive at Lone Pine/Chunuk Bair.
Once again, the action at Helles was a “costly failure”. After this, no
new offensives were launched and the units at Cape Helles were evacuated in
early January 1916, bringing an end to the disastrous Gallipoli Campaign.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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On our way up the coast, we came across quite a bit of Ataturk memorabilia and reminders of the fighting, such as guns and emplacements. The naval victory, and Ataturk's subsequent creation of the nation of Turkey, really are very important to the history of the Peninsula, and we felt they had definitely retained a special place there. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEireyknoKR322gfn6bU-JPi8uQsCtAgiz9kQcLyfUSuY0_e8-xyWFm7hdnb2f0DABIg3tD8mU1p0vMX0tE5LihqNLk_GaEzxy5dDom4XvuvZ_X8pWDiJ7CR1Xfw-8lHrvfzcMoEP749lUOY/s1600/IMG_1621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEireyknoKR322gfn6bU-JPi8uQsCtAgiz9kQcLyfUSuY0_e8-xyWFm7hdnb2f0DABIg3tD8mU1p0vMX0tE5LihqNLk_GaEzxy5dDom4XvuvZ_X8pWDiJ7CR1Xfw-8lHrvfzcMoEP749lUOY/s320/IMG_1621.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ataturk</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_jOKMMKyCLLZEmTrTZ1hrDTZdxKIQKPKiL_k84ykRACMn_XJRAQ2xmnKi7yQLgOUB-ehDnzaTw841W-IO1NVxFYiCeTy10zlaCMpAvmmK899Pl8hHSucXZIyCSNPHd79aqnQLjPXDuqYJ/s1600/IMG_1619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_jOKMMKyCLLZEmTrTZ1hrDTZdxKIQKPKiL_k84ykRACMn_XJRAQ2xmnKi7yQLgOUB-ehDnzaTw841W-IO1NVxFYiCeTy10zlaCMpAvmmK899Pl8hHSucXZIyCSNPHd79aqnQLjPXDuqYJ/s320/IMG_1619.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More emplacements</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Finally, we reached ANZAC Cove, and were able to take our photo with the famous sign. What a lovely way to end our pilgrimage to the Gallipoli Peninsula.<br />
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Thanks for having us, Turkey. We had a wonderful time.<br />
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[I hope you've enjoyed learning a bit more about the Gallipoli Campaign, and especially the non-ANZAC experiences. If you want any further information, I found these websites very useful and they're well worth a visit:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><a href="http://www.anzac.govt.nz/">NZ Anzac Site</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.nzhistory.net.nz/taxonomy/term/2314">NZ History Net</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.cwgc.org/find-a-cemetery.aspx">Commonwealth War Graves Commission Cemetery Database</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.anzacsite.gov.au/">The Australian Department of Veterans' Affairs Anzac Site</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.awm.gov.au/atwar/gallipoli.asp">The Australian War Memorial on Gallipoli</a> </li>
<li>Or, if you're a real geek, the National Archives have a worksheet with primary sources, you can <a href="http://nationalarchives.gov.uk/education/greatwar/g4/cs2/default.htm">view it online or download here</a> </li>
</ul>
Enjoy!!]</div>
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Adamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07245272477913209311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-30472536847168664782013-05-15T10:48:00.004+01:002013-05-15T10:52:28.385+01:00Anzac Day <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: left;">After our visit to </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-style: normal; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ç</span></em><span style="text-align: left;">anakkale and Troy on April 24, we took the ferry back across to Eceabat and headed for Anzac Cove. On the night before the Dawn Service most people head to the site and try to get a spot on the grass or in the stands so they can spend the night there and be ready for the dawn. We planned to take our sleeping bags and lie down on the grass and try to get some sleep, so we knew we would have to get there early. </span><br />
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Security was heavy, and we passed numerous <i>jandarma </i>checkpoints along the road. We arrived at the south end of the National Park at 2pm, but were told by some helpful Aussie marshals that we should turn around and approach Anzac Cove from the north as we would be able to get closer to the site that way.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1aQ7_eMdgj8pCDbSNVI82I9Kr0BdV7t-CubPIfgXGSjXqHuRLPbOfvVBOBNyXho0Un-_n0AucOxL-WvPQLT3LFWJ6Cw-98k2CnLOIaUmES9AiP4UTNkgn4PqR9BXWI22cvvChnLLD7ZeG/s1600/IMG_0763.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1aQ7_eMdgj8pCDbSNVI82I9Kr0BdV7t-CubPIfgXGSjXqHuRLPbOfvVBOBNyXho0Un-_n0AucOxL-WvPQLT3LFWJ6Cw-98k2CnLOIaUmES9AiP4UTNkgn4PqR9BXWI22cvvChnLLD7ZeG/s320/IMG_0763.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">As close as we could get to Anzac Cove.<br />
You can see the red seating for the Dawn Service</td></tr>
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We followed a narrow rural road for 45 minutes, getting waved through <i>jandarma </i>checkpoints every 5-10 minutes, until we reached the north entrance to the national park. And were promptly told by the final <i>jandarma </i>to turn around and go back whence we came....</div>
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The official system was that most of the tour buses would approach Anzac Cove from the south, drop their passengers off, turn around and follow the loop road by which we'd come, and then park along the side of the road leading in to Anzac Cove from the north. The other portion of buses drove straight to the north end and let their passengers off there. (The next day, the buses would drive south through Anzac Cove and then head up the hill to Lone Pine and Chunuk Bair - the Aussie and Kiwi memorials - to pick up their passengers there). We wanted to make sure we were well out of the way of the <i>jandarma </i>and the potentially long line of buses, as they were to park along the road for the next 9 hours, so we drove back up the coast a bit further and pulled into the 7th Field Ambulance Cemetery. We paid our respects to the many men buried there, and set off on the 3km walk to the northern entry point. When we finally arrived about 3pm, there were already a hundred or so Aussies waiting to enter. We soon discovered that the <i>jandarma </i>were not opening the gates to Anzac Cove until 6pm, so it was going to be a long, hot wait.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Xy4B9WH0edhGdA0tmdmUgJf85SZ-5THYB6M3pk0E5TVYFnAg5nFu4YJQcnuqC0oZnL4KYP1XKkRjUfeb5c2HmUpI7sT2Qv7bocCCnpUnsBaKwMg3tRoGjmH1GVm7zpMv0aE9Sz7QnB8E/s1600/anzac+map+with+arrows.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Xy4B9WH0edhGdA0tmdmUgJf85SZ-5THYB6M3pk0E5TVYFnAg5nFu4YJQcnuqC0oZnL4KYP1XKkRjUfeb5c2HmUpI7sT2Qv7bocCCnpUnsBaKwMg3tRoGjmH1GVm7zpMv0aE9Sz7QnB8E/s320/anzac+map+with+arrows.gif" width="226" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bottom arrow shows the beginning of the anticlockwise loop road (which eventually becomes the top arrow)<br />
The arrow in the middle is pointing to Artillery Road.</td></tr>
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Finally, at 6pm, the gates opened. We soon discovered that everything was to be done in tour groups, and we were the only people there who had travelled in by ourselves... Eventually we pinned down the head Aussie marshal who escorted us through the entry gates and into the site. He also introduced us to the first Kiwi marshals we'd seen, who were amazed that we had walked in by ourselves, shaking our hands in awe like we were celebrities! (By 3pm the next day, we had met only one other group of people who had travelled in by themselves. It didn't take long to realise that everything was much easier if you were in a tour group, especially as those in tours didn't have to do the 8km walk back down from the top of the hills. So if you're thinking of travelling in independently - it can be done, but I'd recommend you join a small tour instead.)</div>
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After chatting with the Kiwis for a moment more, we entered the queue for the security checks and were soon on our way to Anzac Cove.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtowS9xFt1HnlWPFgIaa-CUwpzCR8KKFZBlNTEVcUuGDd-7ORwlUWiLKhZUQMHNkc7kRsvcIzOfBKxPzFar9-7_gVR7klierg5iOfA873GyyGbwt-rX208Ys0j0Xbd2TE8jxlM9TMzcI0k/s1600/IMG_1134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtowS9xFt1HnlWPFgIaa-CUwpzCR8KKFZBlNTEVcUuGDd-7ORwlUWiLKhZUQMHNkc7kRsvcIzOfBKxPzFar9-7_gVR7klierg5iOfA873GyyGbwt-rX208Ys0j0Xbd2TE8jxlM9TMzcI0k/s320/IMG_1134.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking the final few kilometres south to the Anzac Commemorative Site</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKc0_eZ_nYJY9-VhvpDKNSR5e4LOL1CRf3wZn6rv9U8sKn6sQnmTgzlo83gfLRgddIm0-1Sj2sLtAC9OfJhy-hZydqmVlMXBAxSOeOE05D84rzn_J4eFihXzpzszFFIPVLtg6U1K0Sqki/s1600/IMG_1176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKc0_eZ_nYJY9-VhvpDKNSR5e4LOL1CRf3wZn6rv9U8sKn6sQnmTgzlo83gfLRgddIm0-1Sj2sLtAC9OfJhy-hZydqmVlMXBAxSOeOE05D84rzn_J4eFihXzpzszFFIPVLtg6U1K0Sqki/s320/IMG_1176.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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We managed to find a good spot at the back of the grass, and we set our our sleeping bags and made friends with our neighbour. He was with a Contiki tour and was unimpressed at the less-than-appropriate party attitude of those on the tour so had found his own spot to set up camp. He was a military enthusiast so there was much to talk about.</div>
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Soon the sun started to set and the long night began.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidoD0nlhNMhjg7gh_OrRS0Kq2Q_U-F0YdkYnTMB1F9J5-AzVll1wp7dEQgWlFPmAL2DlPSrjdB89heGOsIGl3Zjr6d5YyWFN_1TwmTaXw8XGC7XjpNe9Tj2r1gyIbAypjBov7PsB3Ced76/s1600/IMG_1164_stitch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="123" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidoD0nlhNMhjg7gh_OrRS0Kq2Q_U-F0YdkYnTMB1F9J5-AzVll1wp7dEQgWlFPmAL2DlPSrjdB89heGOsIGl3Zjr6d5YyWFN_1TwmTaXw8XGC7XjpNe9Tj2r1gyIbAypjBov7PsB3Ced76/s640/IMG_1164_stitch.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The front half of the site - there were about this many people again behind us</td></tr>
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Once the sun had set, the floodlights came on and the video screens began to play clips from documentaries, films, historians, and the like. It was all very interesting, though hard to catch a moment of sleep with the bright lights and extremely loud audio.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_QQZ2JNF-4gfKIKc9MfDJqCYa9WHlUDnpa9iOTm0P7BL1A3sEAQu7STWNeYrtgOUsilIFo5RnjQCWDChgIhO-SPK9ViPd1GbyvF_gJsyjDs4UvTqhKULGEadf1MPE3-4lAFlD9lgrD3o/s1600/IMG_1191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_QQZ2JNF-4gfKIKc9MfDJqCYa9WHlUDnpa9iOTm0P7BL1A3sEAQu7STWNeYrtgOUsilIFo5RnjQCWDChgIhO-SPK9ViPd1GbyvF_gJsyjDs4UvTqhKULGEadf1MPE3-4lAFlD9lgrD3o/s320/IMG_1191.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sphinx and moon looking down on us</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbk4bnbMKj2SzpPvJjCqjs9nmTH5SbjUfyUNKAICUU0zGWYnJkpF4CTLhlr8nT3OKl-XY3aIOnP9w-C9Vc65zeHbizqXOijAFfu3IfZcNlFuzXNbhAGfZ3uAFpsoBCnbVYaRgr_5KRbDwo/s1600/IMG_1252.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbk4bnbMKj2SzpPvJjCqjs9nmTH5SbjUfyUNKAICUU0zGWYnJkpF4CTLhlr8nT3OKl-XY3aIOnP9w-C9Vc65zeHbizqXOijAFfu3IfZcNlFuzXNbhAGfZ3uAFpsoBCnbVYaRgr_5KRbDwo/s320/IMG_1252.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trying to get some sleep</td></tr>
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It was a long hard night, though the material playing on the screens was quite interesting, and the occasional slot from the NZ Military Band and Mark Hadlow was very welcome. (Who knew he was in the Navy??) It got a bit more cramped at 2pm when another whole swathe of people arrived, and I found myself sliding down a hole. No more sleep for me!<br />
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<strike>Soon</strike>, - I lie - <i><u>hours</u></i> later, the Dawn Service began. The atmosphere was electric. We stood there solemnly, chilled through, as the beautiful orange moon slowly set in the sky behind the stage. I tried to picture the ANZACs, moored out beyond the horizon, waiting for the moon to set so they could begin their mission. Finally setting off in near total darkness, boats drifting north with the current, men shivering with cold and nerves. Rowing towards us, rowing into the toughest challenge of their lives.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn9oy1L-4fV5CLXLfKejduV_C-RQErycUIqJ8YN8OCL1JfU_ebSZYQilg8ahFBGvd0X9Q9tCMBiH30UG6GdBXMAGFZOlgeVDo7XYA6AOEa5v4zkn4-jsA5vpSukccHzwKXzLa96Cn8ipzX/s1600/IMG_1271.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn9oy1L-4fV5CLXLfKejduV_C-RQErycUIqJ8YN8OCL1JfU_ebSZYQilg8ahFBGvd0X9Q9tCMBiH30UG6GdBXMAGFZOlgeVDo7XYA6AOEa5v4zkn4-jsA5vpSukccHzwKXzLa96Cn8ipzX/s320/IMG_1271.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
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During the service there were readings, hymns, prayers, and greetings from official parties. Finally, as the flags were lowered and we bowed our heads, the bugler played the last post. After this, with the sun slowly rising over the range behind us, the haunting tones of the bagpipes filled the air. We thought of the second wave of Australians coming ashore in daylight to be met by now reinforced Turkish fire. The waves of Australians and Kiwis that kept arriving during the day, some never making it up the beach. The next eight months spent on the very ground we stood on, with so many of our countrymen never to make it off these shores.<br />
As we reflected, the piper piped.<br />
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<i>Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;</i><br />
<i>The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide.</i><br />
<i>When other helpers fail and comforts flee,</i><br />
<i>Help of the helpless, O abide with me.</i><br />
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<i>I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;</i><br />
<i>Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.</i><br />
<i>Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory?</i><br />
<i>I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;</i><br />
<i>Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.</i><br />
<i>Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee;</i><br />
<i>In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTBBYJ02xXgaEXIgZOByuyqJOQCwUK-PWRBWeMLXfyd1MSDB_Q2vpXuYSgddiWrbeHr9nJnDRONqtKJKNUd0V3MMyzPRbQSIOY0XRZ_NGRwlUiZ-_qQZXNp0_Oxj9IW5_XOCDRTzt47y6g/s1600/IMG_1296.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTBBYJ02xXgaEXIgZOByuyqJOQCwUK-PWRBWeMLXfyd1MSDB_Q2vpXuYSgddiWrbeHr9nJnDRONqtKJKNUd0V3MMyzPRbQSIOY0XRZ_NGRwlUiZ-_qQZXNp0_Oxj9IW5_XOCDRTzt47y6g/s320/IMG_1296.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuta9chJ-Rh0YkfQIbw8yzJcSfBMGj7PqBNjkoQzVrTU93e-9nxlfOK4vd9BNPvYX2OIxPMJGfM9gHJUF4S7kBnosOwuoDNJCTe7pSyCmifjKWwBviFdyJ4zZoOmrJh-A93536-P5aJj4a/s1600/IMG_1298.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuta9chJ-Rh0YkfQIbw8yzJcSfBMGj7PqBNjkoQzVrTU93e-9nxlfOK4vd9BNPvYX2OIxPMJGfM9gHJUF4S7kBnosOwuoDNJCTe7pSyCmifjKWwBviFdyJ4zZoOmrJh-A93536-P5aJj4a/s320/IMG_1298.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ2XFR6mzb1rzOPJmMGX65azpmR1GxVNO-LM0GC3xAO7kkI5kowEpIfPm7y5uRG3tK_oPmDwQrAQgoRqu2qvEhteaxjf5wVJTsiXzOYDOhRhKSuIGCGNrdVczcaqQWnoph_DMFXYOsWOPL/s1600/IMG_1310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ2XFR6mzb1rzOPJmMGX65azpmR1GxVNO-LM0GC3xAO7kkI5kowEpIfPm7y5uRG3tK_oPmDwQrAQgoRqu2qvEhteaxjf5wVJTsiXzOYDOhRhKSuIGCGNrdVczcaqQWnoph_DMFXYOsWOPL/s320/IMG_1310.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;">And over it all, the Sphinx (and the <i>jandarma</i>) stood watch.</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJpLlXCnY5v91aWyexKMjTCXs4f31wINdtSuoZaNsZPa6ykfNQgdHdxBIiAxl1zeXAGLzqXRYBtWM7Gdx2v07ubbIvi-L34l_8yH7lnQLkHnrz9VYgL-372Y6LC6XgpNft82xxjZq8W2qx/s1600/IMG_1141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJpLlXCnY5v91aWyexKMjTCXs4f31wINdtSuoZaNsZPa6ykfNQgdHdxBIiAxl1zeXAGLzqXRYBtWM7Gdx2v07ubbIvi-L34l_8yH7lnQLkHnrz9VYgL-372Y6LC6XgpNft82xxjZq8W2qx/s320/IMG_1141.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">After the service, we prepared for the 8km walk up to Chunuk Bair. It was lovely and cool, the perfect time to begin a tough walk on little sleep.</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">The first part of the walk was south along the main road into Anzac Cove. After walking for a few kilometres, we came to a sign pointing to a rough track - Artillery Road. This was a steep track created by the Allies in 1915, to enable them to get reinforcements up the slopes of Bolton's Ridge. The Australian Field Artillery also had a number of batteries instilled along the surrounding hills, which is where the name came from. In preparation for the August Offensive, the track was widened and extended up to the top of the ridge, near Lone Pine. </span><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">Today, there is a fair amount of scrub and trees along the sides of the dirt track, and this provided much needed shade as the sun grew hotter. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1ZP6BJ4HIIgmPvIhuyDs63Afzha906dZxkg7oGc9DlIog4BEZ8jgtoj5RA6r5NZ96RhQYqLleAQfekHSrMuGqGTn-f8aae_TRp6SD3WJ3JhwD8l4lwpFWos09Fg3hqAiPMNpiFSSmgXq/s1600/IMG_1347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1ZP6BJ4HIIgmPvIhuyDs63Afzha906dZxkg7oGc9DlIog4BEZ8jgtoj5RA6r5NZ96RhQYqLleAQfekHSrMuGqGTn-f8aae_TRp6SD3WJ3JhwD8l4lwpFWos09Fg3hqAiPMNpiFSSmgXq/s320/IMG_1347.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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And we climbed, and we climbed, and we climbed. This shot looks down to Shell Green Cemetery, the first place of rest on the long walk up Artillery Road. On December 17, 1915, Australian troops played cricket at Shell Green in order to divert Turkish attention while much of Anzac Cove was being prepared for evacuation.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1LJFz37P10CI7R1SGT-qN7snp_BWMKd-W2YzIa455wSwk46OD6N4d9Q-da57XTl2MN1V4inDEmCmGtYgFUAP7ZHyzvpXpJlIqkR9TDipP87R_cqMb_KJ1iVbyhwBk4JFD0HOmgef9T8wc/s1600/IMG_1342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1LJFz37P10CI7R1SGT-qN7snp_BWMKd-W2YzIa455wSwk46OD6N4d9Q-da57XTl2MN1V4inDEmCmGtYgFUAP7ZHyzvpXpJlIqkR9TDipP87R_cqMb_KJ1iVbyhwBk4JFD0HOmgef9T8wc/s320/IMG_1342.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shell Green Cemetery</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSJKnpAtoTmyJHyTuKFQnvhCUWOT1LHM5ZuCTGV3EHv4lZnSRpf0u-L9pnEVcr3JL-bmgCTXJTqkwWgQjJkUMKhSjreIP2MeMbWJy2Gg4lIF7ZPDduYMaJEiB9XsMIqbQl_Y-4WtIRhSc1/s1600/IMG_1349.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSJKnpAtoTmyJHyTuKFQnvhCUWOT1LHM5ZuCTGV3EHv4lZnSRpf0u-L9pnEVcr3JL-bmgCTXJTqkwWgQjJkUMKhSjreIP2MeMbWJy2Gg4lIF7ZPDduYMaJEiB9XsMIqbQl_Y-4WtIRhSc1/s320/IMG_1349.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking south towards Lone Pine.<br />
The end of Artillery Road is on the right, where the person in the red top is visible.</td></tr>
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We finally made it onto the main road, just beyond Lone Pine, the Australian War Memorial. By that stage, we were 118 metres above sea level. After about 45 minutes of walking, we decided to turn off the main trail and pay a visit to The Nek.<br />
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On August 6, 1915, a new offensive began. British forces would land at Suvla Bay and march south to capture the high ground of Sari Bair while the New Zealanders would take the high ground at Chunuk Bair (part of the greater Sari Bair range). The landing at Suvla was unopposed, but British troops failed to make much ground up the Sari Bair range (Most simply because commanding officers failed to impress upon the men how crucial it was to capture Sari Bair within the first few hours of the Offensive - ask me if you want to know more!), and the New Zealanders, too, struggled - becoming lost in the unfamiliar terrain, desperately in need of British back-up. </div>
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It was planned that by dawn on August 7 the New Zealanders would have captured Chunuk Bair and at 4.30am that morning, the Australians would launch attacks at Lone Pine and The Nek in order to distract the Turks. By dawn on August 7, the New Zealanders had not managed to capture Chunuk Bair, but it was decided to launch the Australian attacks anyway. The fighting was brutal: much of it took place in extremely close quarters - with trenches some 10 metres apart in places - including some hand-to-hand fighting actually inside Turkish trenches. At The Nek a naval bombardment of Turkish trenches started the attack. Unfortunately the bombardment stopped early and this gave the Turks valuable minutes to prepare for the inevitable attack. Between 4.15 and 5.30am, four waves of Australian soldiers rushed out of their trenches and towards the Turkish trenches only metres away. 243 Australians were killed and 138 wounded in little more than an hour. </div>
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This is The Nek - there are 316 unidentified men buried in a piece of land barely the size of a tennis court:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNm3c3jkpUtFo5TGY3b4gnZkwpm5fFgM1C0_VtwX44ALJE7wdrXYom7FP7yqYTjaofFyqQtNZ4Bmw6M0i23IexAjO1Lgz5O6SM_EiNIgDXU_vhINpBsA2F1BJWlvgLAro1Xj-LChuzSSJd/s1600/IMG_1352.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNm3c3jkpUtFo5TGY3b4gnZkwpm5fFgM1C0_VtwX44ALJE7wdrXYom7FP7yqYTjaofFyqQtNZ4Bmw6M0i23IexAjO1Lgz5O6SM_EiNIgDXU_vhINpBsA2F1BJWlvgLAro1Xj-LChuzSSJd/s320/IMG_1352.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The views from The Nek were breathtaking. Another difficult-to-process juxtaposition of beauty and the horror of war.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXCVphC4dx4u6szwOaGyaDP4dTmADL-XnCrUO9C6FKCGasotbmx5Q1tCQuqg-FxeWjRa14PXpYv0eswRqeyuC_vSz67oonUEUW_vpauuHa2NMJzdytQZsH42nDqNwcQM2MFPIsZoibHMAJ/s1600/IMG_1357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXCVphC4dx4u6szwOaGyaDP4dTmADL-XnCrUO9C6FKCGasotbmx5Q1tCQuqg-FxeWjRa14PXpYv0eswRqeyuC_vSz67oonUEUW_vpauuHa2NMJzdytQZsH42nDqNwcQM2MFPIsZoibHMAJ/s320/IMG_1357.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking north towards Suvla Bay, where the British landed on August 6</td></tr>
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We dragged ourselves away from this haunting place and continued our walk up the hill. The road grew steeper, the asphalt radiated even more heat, and our legs began to grow wobbly. It was a sort of baptism of fire, but we must have been fitter than we realised - and I suspect the <a href="http://www.cotswoldoutdoor.com/meindl">Meindl walking boots</a> helped a lot - and we finally arrived at Chunuk Bair.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZQtkhj4JUABJTOj6tPsl6jJFynWyOudz6dbMHXNXcDzhmZ1e7FSgjnfok6-5lLbjpqlO4UqNFvAOw7DQhpeIE7au5fzLRI7qG4hfJXHzsJyl1C2zAdVFprfzwe9hDUK44iE-vJY24vX5R/s1600/IMG_1368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZQtkhj4JUABJTOj6tPsl6jJFynWyOudz6dbMHXNXcDzhmZ1e7FSgjnfok6-5lLbjpqlO4UqNFvAOw7DQhpeIE7au5fzLRI7qG4hfJXHzsJyl1C2zAdVFprfzwe9hDUK44iE-vJY24vX5R/s320/IMG_1368.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These boots were made for walking</td></tr>
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After a 2.5 hour wait, and once the VIPs and VVIPs had eventually arrived, the service began. I must admit, it was hard to concentrate with the Turkish media making a large amount of noise directly behind us. However, when they shut up long enough for us to hear the service, it was beautiful.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lkQnldMH6yJsXYaznGsA8010m5mZt851TrYSgvmhiE9PTwuJ3xM42g7TB2aBKzNqWfkbGvQqavmfIaF_rjzO1M2NFbdvifSlmnjpQxsUXCBRBGph77NoEi4HDMDIqYC4plhZe-ehMZ6y/s1600/IMG_1407.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lkQnldMH6yJsXYaznGsA8010m5mZt851TrYSgvmhiE9PTwuJ3xM42g7TB2aBKzNqWfkbGvQqavmfIaF_rjzO1M2NFbdvifSlmnjpQxsUXCBRBGph77NoEi4HDMDIqYC4plhZe-ehMZ6y/s320/IMG_1407.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeAMK7bhjF-ddl5aaNo5kDmyez2Kje2h9X99T-3fmORO6QnJpk2FvnPRBh2vlqrTzUg1j0hQQ-FdMpreITqHsTAXPfTy0Ehy7tXNxav0FhYRSsaj0cpGhevTw_FugqmXk5Zk3Q-aNJWL58/s1600/IMG_1408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeAMK7bhjF-ddl5aaNo5kDmyez2Kje2h9X99T-3fmORO6QnJpk2FvnPRBh2vlqrTzUg1j0hQQ-FdMpreITqHsTAXPfTy0Ehy7tXNxav0FhYRSsaj0cpGhevTw_FugqmXk5Zk3Q-aNJWL58/s320/IMG_1408.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKGlPUXXkDwY_kk-AjSf1WQQ-qXGpxoxKYbf4YyW1RkDQcs-FKTDgcT8TydCpXWJZgrMtzCg9eIsfO4WQFiKXv4e-Ms7Q-5snPM5-VmeIBP2tZSOo-IHvu-UWV8DLUQX3-SDbimFt3EdDU/s1600/IMG_1424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKGlPUXXkDwY_kk-AjSf1WQQ-qXGpxoxKYbf4YyW1RkDQcs-FKTDgcT8TydCpXWJZgrMtzCg9eIsfO4WQFiKXv4e-Ms7Q-5snPM5-VmeIBP2tZSOo-IHvu-UWV8DLUQX3-SDbimFt3EdDU/s320/IMG_1424.JPG" width="152" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBNYRJCaGrUnYfhW3pyG9c3LfEzTmkgCFZZQHp0FmtGy-bwHTJ09z5E1fryHmPcfrlc1QFrAD6sTPaV-6XlhwQY5QTY3glbU6pud6Fahh_pMrBKogi8Nih3NkNrx2Yjq_8lnCcsbV26PWD/s1600/IMG_1419.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBNYRJCaGrUnYfhW3pyG9c3LfEzTmkgCFZZQHp0FmtGy-bwHTJ09z5E1fryHmPcfrlc1QFrAD6sTPaV-6XlhwQY5QTY3glbU6pud6Fahh_pMrBKogi8Nih3NkNrx2Yjq_8lnCcsbV26PWD/s320/IMG_1419.JPG" width="155" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My friend Shay</td></tr>
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Afterwards we placed poppies on the memorial, said goodbye to friends Shay, Jo and Regan, and - failing to find any offers of transport (other than suggestions to walk down Rhododendron Ridge - anyone have any info on this? Not that we're planning on going back to try it!) - began our long climb back down the hill.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5GHV11HDXwim6wlgEjLon31QmV6cjvBrrysuHGdelps013HloTEuD5nVRCz2Om6I3O9sR46jvcfruyA7TS2FfqBqdnvM_E5buZNCewPuVOPIkbJOqVqPvITyHqurI4xKikDcGWUeb7Jbt/s1600/IMG_1429.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5GHV11HDXwim6wlgEjLon31QmV6cjvBrrysuHGdelps013HloTEuD5nVRCz2Om6I3O9sR46jvcfruyA7TS2FfqBqdnvM_E5buZNCewPuVOPIkbJOqVqPvITyHqurI4xKikDcGWUeb7Jbt/s320/IMG_1429.JPG" width="208" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jo and I</td></tr>
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From The Nek we had taken a picture of the long line of buses, snaking their way along the road south into Anzac Cove. Our car was parked right at the very end of those, and the only way to get to it was to walk back down, past Lone Pine, down Artillery Road, through Anzac Cove, some 11+ kilometres... But we made it!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijpCvoKLFiBsqLpnw3lZD5tfulclYeD6Fv3jCcFWmMtdEQZ4W8vbUu2zrljKFn0-nr8f-InPit50eU6SyJ78zZU5y4TgaRpnANt6jcZmTJwZcR0l0fjpemTTBpbhpLc25_gI1JWgt0e0qZ/s1600/IMG_1358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijpCvoKLFiBsqLpnw3lZD5tfulclYeD6Fv3jCcFWmMtdEQZ4W8vbUu2zrljKFn0-nr8f-InPit50eU6SyJ78zZU5y4TgaRpnANt6jcZmTJwZcR0l0fjpemTTBpbhpLc25_gI1JWgt0e0qZ/s320/IMG_1358.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our car is pretty much off the right-hand edge of this picture...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZ6nbxQstsbymRoCKfh_03O2rK9dlwmCA_FpXYgJCdH3YvQeyRoY6DU-ViZEsrfgi-rCpNDlPNQ-UT2vyCFlJ4yK4YmZsbThgVEramd5ZKPE-2M38XiZmazx9zs8hUYZWJwmuGYg65ueN/s1600/IMG_1433.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZ6nbxQstsbymRoCKfh_03O2rK9dlwmCA_FpXYgJCdH3YvQeyRoY6DU-ViZEsrfgi-rCpNDlPNQ-UT2vyCFlJ4yK4YmZsbThgVEramd5ZKPE-2M38XiZmazx9zs8hUYZWJwmuGYg65ueN/s320/IMG_1433.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We even made some friends on the way back down</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPaOvZNBv5XJAL7Y2uxjdx6OhUm2H6LoQOxCDV-kDgBHaku3J9ApAxvAGGYGN9WUiPJsn9PLoI8-TLV648Zmu6iEzmWJkt99JxBOa6sAxsbFwoSCP4DNjO1IXI9YzHzVojvjTAocb1i-zF/s1600/IMG_1438.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPaOvZNBv5XJAL7Y2uxjdx6OhUm2H6LoQOxCDV-kDgBHaku3J9ApAxvAGGYGN9WUiPJsn9PLoI8-TLV648Zmu6iEzmWJkt99JxBOa6sAxsbFwoSCP4DNjO1IXI9YzHzVojvjTAocb1i-zF/s320/IMG_1438.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view back up to Chunuk Bair - giant Ataturk monuments are in white on the right, <br />
the Turkish flag flies from a statue just beside the Chunuk Bair memorial</td></tr>
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Just after 3pm we made it to our rental car. Dog tired, we drove back to Eceabat and to our B&B there. We collapsed, and slept so deeply that it eventually took me half an hour of concerted poking, prodding, shaking, and pinching to get Adam to wake up. </div>
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What a day. A truly memorable experience, and we felt like true ANZACs for making the epic climb both up <i>and </i>down the tall range. Even though the walk was tough, we both agreed we had no regrets - it was all part of the experience. I'm so glad we got to go, I've been wanting to go since I was about 16 and this really was a dream fulfilled - another thing ticked off our bucket list!</div>
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01588590445127913647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-18234914251608495162013-05-08T18:05:00.000+01:002013-05-08T18:11:25.224+01:00We Will Remember ThemOf course, while a holiday in Turkey was nice, our main purposes in visiting the country were to attend the ANZAC day dawn service and to pay our respects at the numerous memorials and cemeteries around the Peninsula.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU2DkaMrOHu6AiOhGYB1RR6wFY-rMkoatR0NFFza4h1czkwWh5lbcjKEds_Eb2VbJvyhjQqwOGswBsCyP-p6M02YuNL7rbn39YxsYIlEuD_bz3AeHsLaAAMHZpkD7LuWcx8SLpDnu2xjJK/s1600/IMG_0799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU2DkaMrOHu6AiOhGYB1RR6wFY-rMkoatR0NFFza4h1czkwWh5lbcjKEds_Eb2VbJvyhjQqwOGswBsCyP-p6M02YuNL7rbn39YxsYIlEuD_bz3AeHsLaAAMHZpkD7LuWcx8SLpDnu2xjJK/s320/IMG_0799.JPG" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Map showing locations of cemeteries and memorials<br />on the Peninsula</span></td></tr>
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In the eight month long Gallipoli Campaign of 1915, 44,092 Allies (8,709 Australians, 2,721 Kiwis, 21,255 Britons, 10,000 French, 1358 Indians/Ghurkas, and 49 Canadians) and 86,692 Turks lost their lives. Some of these men died in hospital ships or camps in places such as Limnos Island or Egypt, and some at sea, but by far the majority died on the soil of the Gallipoli Peninsula. Many died where they fell, some on their first day of action.<br />
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When possible, those who died were buried in individual graves but it was often too dangerous to collect the bodies from where they fell. For example, after the unsuccessful Turkish offensive of 19 May 1915, over 3,000 dead Turks and 160 ANZACs were left to rot in No Man's Land as it was simply too dangerous to cross the front-line and retrieve the bodies. Finally five days later it was agreed to hold an armistice to bury the dead. On occasions like this, when casualties were heavy, bodies were often buried in mass graves in old trenches or ditches. However, the men were committed to remembering their comrades, and where able they erected wooden crosses and kept records of deaths. In time, permanent cemeteries were established and a chaplain was appointed to maintain the sites and ensure details of those buried were better recorded. When the Campaign was called-off and the men were evacuated (over December 1915 and January 1916), the chaplain undertook an extensive survey of the burial grounds and recorded bearings for isolated graves so that the graves could be located if it was possible to return to the site at a future stage.<br />
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In 1919, a Graves Registration Unit arrived in Gallipoli. This unit undertook the difficult task of locating graves and identifying remains, as well as finding and burying all unburied remains. After the evacuation, vegetation had grown up over the Peninsula and a number of the wooden grave-markers had been burnt for firewood, making it difficult to relocate the graves. Eventually, the team completed their mission and passed control to the Imperial (now Commonwealth) War Graves Commission.<br />
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Over the next few years, the Commission employed a Gallipoli veteran (Lt Cyril Hughes), an architect (Sir John Burnet) and team (made up of Russians, Greeks and Turks) to landscape the cemeteries and create headstones for all men believed to be buried in each area. The team developed a quarry from which they could obtain a ready source of local stone, and that stone was generally transported by sea to the memorial sites. Graves on the Peninsula are different to those on the Western Front due to extreme weather conditions (floods or earthquakes) in the area: headstones are small square pedestals with stone faces; the Cross of Sacrifice is built into a memorial wall, rather than free-standing; and each cemetery is bordered by a ha-ha to channel away potential flood waters.<br />
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There are 31 cemeteries across the Peninsula containing 22,000 graves. Of these, 9,000 are named while those unable to be definitively identified are marked as 'believed to be buried in this cemetery'. 'Missing' men and those who died at sea are commemorated on memorials at numerous sites around the Peninsula.<br />
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(Thanks to the article <a href="http://www.awm.gov.au/exhibitions/gmaps/cemeteries/">'Mapping Gallipoli'</a> for most of the above information.)<br />
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On April 23, we arrived on the Gallipoli Peninsula and set out to explore the memorials of the National Park.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkInnkK7YWYuuo3JrDDJjL1B5v4N-ztgYGrs1zHnqi9LKZwy9IeBpIrpkF-L7iO7U17SKL6wokzsZyt-fLxNIJWG9iyQU7zE6HV91GmgtXFWApPNwYd_8Z8C8Ojv95p239owJTauiDml_/s1600/IMG_0722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkInnkK7YWYuuo3JrDDJjL1B5v4N-ztgYGrs1zHnqi9LKZwy9IeBpIrpkF-L7iO7U17SKL6wokzsZyt-fLxNIJWG9iyQU7zE6HV91GmgtXFWApPNwYd_8Z8C8Ojv95p239owJTauiDml_/s320/IMG_0722.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">At the southern entrance to the National Park, near Kabatepe</span></td></tr>
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The Peninsula is rich with history. It hangs thick in the air and adds a solemnity to the beauty of the area. The remnants of war litter the ground from Bulair in the north to Cape Helles in the south. At the entrance to the National Park, gun emplacements perch precariously on the sand, or sit firmly entrenched in the hills. The present still carries physical reminders of the past.<br />
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Further north is Ari Burnu, the main cemetery for those who died at Anzac Cove. A place I will never forget.<br />
Row after row of marble headstones. So clean and perfect. So white.<br />
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<i>They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:</i> <i>Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.</i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ari Burnu - 252 graves</span></td></tr>
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Every headstone bears an inscription. I am compelled to read each one. <br />
A tear rolls down my face. The ages, the messages, the dates in the battle. It's gut-wrenching but I have to keep reading. They catch at me in different ways: a father; a teenager; one who died on the first day of the Campaign; one who fell in the August Offensive. Something flicks inside and I'm on my knees, whispering a prayer, my heart breaking for the men who died on this soil. This very soil.<br />
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It is so peaceful, so perfect. The lush grass, a shady tree, the beautiful white sand, the clear blue water. It feels like nothing could hurt you in this place. I feel a kinship with those who died here; a sense of spiritual connection.<br />
Some of the tombstones face the water and the sun shines warmly on their faces. I picture a row of men standing there, waiting patiently, peacefully, to be reunited with their loved ones.<br />
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And over it all stands the Sphinx. Keeping watch over everything as it has done for the past 98 years, and as it will do in the future.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWExkh43B_12rYabBQBWIy43V3ktijNU7gr9UWH7f0o98m1ICsT3m-wX4TfGg1Bsk_ceRcQiEgyyw1539WLGHVCH6NTvNdylhHqrMvThDQDiVDdOPOhfPg8PkLVSmLjRTPlH6FoeU6_9ss/s1600/IMG_0751.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWExkh43B_12rYabBQBWIy43V3ktijNU7gr9UWH7f0o98m1ICsT3m-wX4TfGg1Bsk_ceRcQiEgyyw1539WLGHVCH6NTvNdylhHqrMvThDQDiVDdOPOhfPg8PkLVSmLjRTPlH6FoeU6_9ss/s320/IMG_0751.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The outcrop Allied soldiers nicknamed The Sphinx</span></td></tr>
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We leave and visit the next cemeteries, <span style="text-align: center;">and feel the same sadness tugging at our hearts. That sense of how wretched and wasteful war is. And how strange it is to stand in such a place of peace and beauty while you picture the carnage that happened here so long ago.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Beach Cemetery - 391 graves</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">7th Field Ambulance Cemetery - 640 graves</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Embarkation Pier Cemetery - 944 graves</span></td></tr>
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Further up the hill, we come across some trenches. More physical reminders etched on the landscape.<br />
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As we reached Chunuk Bair, we discovered whole networks of trenches. In the offensive of 6-8 August, NZ troops were ordered to take the summit of the Chunuk Bair range. At the same time, British troops would land further north at Suvla Bay and march south and up the hills to link up with the Kiwis. While this was happening, the Australians would launch an attack on Lone Pine and at The Nek. The offensive saw heavy casualties, and was the last major offensive of the Gallipoli Campaign. It was bizarre to stand on this ground, in the very trenches the men had fought in.<br />
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Looking north-west, down over the coast and to Suvla, we could see how difficult the terrain was, and how truly daunting it must have been to look up at this high mountain range from Anzac Cove or Suvla Bay. We could also see how easy it would have been to take the Gallipoli Peninsula if only the men had been able to link up and the offensive had succeeded. If only.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Looking north towards the salt lakes of Suvla Bay</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Looking east over the Chunuk Bair graves towards the Narrows of the Dardanelles Strait</span></td></tr>
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At Chunuk Bair, the memorial is inscribed with the names of 850 'missing' NZ soldiers, and the cemetery contains 632 graves. Only twelve of those buried are identified. There are other cemeteries near Chunuk Bair that contain thousands of others who died during the August Offensive. Such a brutal failure. Such a waste of life.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chunuk Bair Cemetery - 632 graves</span></td></tr>
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In numerous locations around the Peninsula there are gigantic slabs of stone that feature quotes from Ataturk, including his famous words from 1934, </div>
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'Your heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives</div>
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You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country</div>
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Therefore rest in peace...</div>
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Your sons are now lying in our bosom, and are in peace...</div>
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They have become our sons as well.'</div>
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It was a day filled with sorrow, with prayers for the fallen, and with a sense of frustration over the toll of war. A day we'll always remember. A sacrifice we'll never forget.</div>
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<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01588590445127913647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-2269853015985093372013-05-05T18:01:00.000+01:002013-05-05T18:01:49.571+01:00Trojan Adventures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
While on the Gallipoli Peninsula, we stayed in a wee town called Eceabat. It proved to be a good base - handy to the memorial sites as well as to the city of Çanakkale. We stayed two nights there: one before the ANZAC campout and one after, in two different B&Bs. Both places were just lovely so if you're ever heading that way we'll give you the details! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Views from our first <i>pansiyon </i>(B&B)</td></tr>
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It's obvious that the Campaign in 1915 had a big impact on the Peninsula, and there are reminders of it everywhere. There are gun emplacements dotted over the rolling countryside, particularly around Bulair (north of Gallipoli) and the ANZAC Cove area. On the Asiatic side of the Dardanelles, there is a clearing with a large Turkish flag and the words '18 Mart 1915' - proclaiming the date of the naval victory.<br />
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On the other side of the peninsula, above the ancient fort of Kilitbahir, is a clearing with another large flag, a man with a gun next to a flaming cauldron, and words that are meant as a warning to those who want to enter the Dardanelles without permission (the text is from a poem and roughly translates as "Halt Traveller! The soil you tread once witnessed the end of an era")</div>
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As well as this, along the seafront at Eceabat there is a new exhibition featuring a 'miniature' (actually quite large!) map of the Peninsula and showing where the memorials and cemeteries are. It is very well-done, and it was quite cool to be able to walk around with that bird's-eye view. There is also a section of life-size statues fighting in the trenches, depicting how close some of the trenches actually were (in some places only a couple of metres separated the Allies from the Turks).<br />
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<span style="text-align: start;">Next to that was a statue to the men who fought. I think I can see Allied hats in that </span><span class="st" style="text-align: start;">mêlée</span><span style="text-align: start;">?</span></div>
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While staying in Eceabat, we decided to cross the Dardanelles and visit Çanakkale (pronounced 'tcha-nak-ar-lay') and Troy. Çanakkale is quite a touristy city - and actually has supermarkets, unlike most of the rest of the Peninsula (confusingly, most of the Gallipoli Peninsula is in the region of Çanakkale, but the town of Çanakkale is located on the Asian side of the Dardanelles) - so we went in and stocked up on items for our ANZAC Cove experience. A couple of tourist buses had also stopped there, and it was quite a sight to see every second face in the large supermarket was white and talking with an Aussie accent. (Most of the remainder had white faces and Kiwi accents!!)</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eceabat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me on the car ferry</td></tr>
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Troy is about half an hour away from Çanakkale, and it was a great day for a drive. Personally, I only knew of Troy from the Trojan Horse connections, but that really is only a bit of the story. The main attraction is actually the historic ruins of the city of Troy. There are nine layers of ruins that have been discovered in excavations, which date the first city of Troy to 3000-2600 BC and the most recent incarnation to the first century BC. In the Bronze Age, Troy was a mercantile city, controlling access to the Dardanelles Strait through which every ship from/to the Black Sea had to pass. Some cities on the site were destroyed by earthquakes or war, but the most recent Troy (Ilium) declined in importance when the Roman Empire established the city of Constantinople. </div>
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There were a few other tour groups there when we visited, and we wished we had our own tour guide as the site was a bit confusing at times and their guides seemed so knowledgeable. Either way, it was great to look around and we found it so amazing to think that only 10% of the site has actually been excavated. Adam and I wanted to get to work with our toothbrushes and trowels right there on the spot and start exposing more of the amazing ruins!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9kCTwOMD5pIB3TOOtdXfrMzWoOjoFJJD7phyphenhyphenhTmidcJlwzxSOaj9uSx-kWyfHl-IdLhG3chMJB9pR3nA9eyS6lGH2NFAeFxt7gdl0k7h6holVOwMWcRaS7AX9xtgDKsuuLcbYK3LOrRGT/s1600/IMG_1023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9kCTwOMD5pIB3TOOtdXfrMzWoOjoFJJD7phyphenhyphenhTmidcJlwzxSOaj9uSx-kWyfHl-IdLhG3chMJB9pR3nA9eyS6lGH2NFAeFxt7gdl0k7h6holVOwMWcRaS7AX9xtgDKsuuLcbYK3LOrRGT/s320/IMG_1023.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The restored Hippodrome</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG3MyvzykTrvLi6NPooNz5T6roXqcjMtJvCjDAxAjIlmy6ZaF98UFNC92JP0VONFd62ZfkbuNBV2j42_jeABOCGznaYrDgR1FAW12GZZOHepHgbAVBeD_XwYQuMzAK2wm9s0-aFECfaYqX/s1600/IMG_1029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG3MyvzykTrvLi6NPooNz5T6roXqcjMtJvCjDAxAjIlmy6ZaF98UFNC92JP0VONFd62ZfkbuNBV2j42_jeABOCGznaYrDgR1FAW12GZZOHepHgbAVBeD_XwYQuMzAK2wm9s0-aFECfaYqX/s320/IMG_1029.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adam the Archaeologist</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4tW9jEOzv65_pKZN6mYctZnPzjNKbc_4apfTmoOvGe0lhPoswFeLf7c7lhUKoPBH-Yy3mJ7i-fSfoAoEHEdm-2s41B3avdggs6wKbczX28w7fMA8qUwuEdajsKqu4jazTs8NQSa1FcoWd/s1600/IMG_1034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4tW9jEOzv65_pKZN6mYctZnPzjNKbc_4apfTmoOvGe0lhPoswFeLf7c7lhUKoPBH-Yy3mJ7i-fSfoAoEHEdm-2s41B3avdggs6wKbczX28w7fMA8qUwuEdajsKqu4jazTs8NQSa1FcoWd/s320/IMG_1034.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So much more to be discovered under all that grass and dirt</td></tr>
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In other news, we saw a Turkish squirrel, jumping over the artefacts like a boss. </div>
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Çanakkale is obviously proud of its Trojan connections, and we saw three good Trojan Horse models around the area. One in Troy itself, one at a cafe on the way to Troy, and one in Çanakkale that was used in the 2004 movie 'Troy' (featuring Brad Pitt). You be the judge - which is the better horse? (And no, you can't vote for the one in the polo shirt!)</div>
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We were so glad we took time to explore Eceabat, <span style="text-align: left;">Çanakkale and Troy. It was good to get a feel for Turkey and understand a bit more about the country's history, and it was also great just to get out in the sun and go exploring somewhere new. </span></div>
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01588590445127913647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-55389504879814172362013-05-02T19:14:00.001+01:002013-05-02T19:14:33.459+01:00A Day in IstanbulWell, now that you know a little more about Turkey, I shall tell you about our day in Istanbul.<br />
<br />
After arriving at the overcrowded Ataturk International Airport, we collected our (filthy) rental car and entered the Istanbul traffic. It was hair-raising! Eventually we reached our hotel and coma-ed out for the next 7 hours. Feeling <s>refreshed</s> - lets be honest, we're all friends here - after having a jolly good puke and a few panadols, I crawled out of bed and we agreed to head for the historic
Sultanahmet area of the city. (And no, Dave Reid, just a migraine). Along the way, we stopped to explore a seafront park and came
across both our first wild dogs, and our first ancient ruins. These were from the old city wall, mostly constructed in the fourth and fifth centuries
under Emperor Constantine.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitnu6B0FblLRoJpijITbyW41ZKQ-4rkPEEVe7k_y4hFLAQoT_ljTQfOD4qB49-orMle3x-MRYhtQ80T5vVCfIeOvzck7a1JliGYYO2y9i6_i0UnfpYpJhTecORhbOpo74oXdErXLCzBekV/s1600/IMG_0374.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitnu6B0FblLRoJpijITbyW41ZKQ-4rkPEEVe7k_y4hFLAQoT_ljTQfOD4qB49-orMle3x-MRYhtQ80T5vVCfIeOvzck7a1JliGYYO2y9i6_i0UnfpYpJhTecORhbOpo74oXdErXLCzBekV/s320/IMG_0374.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Patriotic ruins</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I shall call him 'rover'</td></tr>
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Once we finally
found our hotel, we went to explore Sultanahmet. We walked past the Blue Mosque, a nearby Egyptian obelisk, Hagia Sofia (originally a church, then a mosque, and now a museum), and wound our way up the hill to Topkapı Palace.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-MoD4_pcs07WIpHfKkDheeOC58sGDsf6Ii0cTjpD9ZgoHOoYioRs6yNZ42HRYWL3-V3FR2S4So7lXGkq5yK_1A7lO9Wimxkh0mdaLPnFx6xO6W2Gn34HfzCakBGoPa6FxG4Or4yezyQXE/s1600/IMG_0589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-MoD4_pcs07WIpHfKkDheeOC58sGDsf6Ii0cTjpD9ZgoHOoYioRs6yNZ42HRYWL3-V3FR2S4So7lXGkq5yK_1A7lO9Wimxkh0mdaLPnFx6xO6W2Gn34HfzCakBGoPa6FxG4Or4yezyQXE/s320/IMG_0589.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Blue Mosque, named for its special coloured tiles</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSmCJ4mAGqAnGyrLRZgSQ9g6HfqQ-04OI6YDjY1aeLBuHGjWJueoIiXSkaOxTx8AE9pc7Y89bLURLREenfl5xRcqhFnDP7pZV7Qyn4vv0FbVaFoRK-6Nj46k9iLkRMLLTg-aC61okNSmVs/s1600/IMG_0470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSmCJ4mAGqAnGyrLRZgSQ9g6HfqQ-04OI6YDjY1aeLBuHGjWJueoIiXSkaOxTx8AE9pc7Y89bLURLREenfl5xRcqhFnDP7pZV7Qyn4vv0FbVaFoRK-6Nj46k9iLkRMLLTg-aC61okNSmVs/s320/IMG_0470.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shame the Archaeological Museum wasn't open</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4vEPBTQTNDBLED-2-WWxXZVC3NVTEvqfmno0R3p0wRTdIb0tlNeVuIxtzrVtavSaqQVKIFRXmVnXuH2qRgDh-9_YVIoPDc4G99dB7erq8dRXOG4trpWvqCuHt8kUIL5K_ydnbDFJwy21/s1600/IMG_0441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4vEPBTQTNDBLED-2-WWxXZVC3NVTEvqfmno0R3p0wRTdIb0tlNeVuIxtzrVtavSaqQVKIFRXmVnXuH2qRgDh-9_YVIoPDc4G99dB7erq8dRXOG4trpWvqCuHt8kUIL5K_ydnbDFJwy21/s320/IMG_0441.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Obelisk of Theodosius</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvIEAGFsbVBZWWzN8JARONcEFiGVE_YFHhc7SPpSk9lj94y_oF3dH4sn2dnaeAJk3WF3b2UB6CNX69AZuNQv4LrP0meyddCgfWCP0X4Zz07gOgWGWXdxafWia61XjFzHnJnZbaiF4CTX8/s1600/IMG_0472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvIEAGFsbVBZWWzN8JARONcEFiGVE_YFHhc7SPpSk9lj94y_oF3dH4sn2dnaeAJk3WF3b2UB6CNX69AZuNQv4LrP0meyddCgfWCP0X4Zz07gOgWGWXdxafWia61XjFzHnJnZbaiF4CTX8/s320/IMG_0472.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Gate of Salutation at Topkep<span style="text-align: start;">ı</span></span></td></tr>
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Topkapı Palace
was the primary residence of the Ottoman Sultans for approximately 400 years
(1465-1856). At its peak, the palace was home to as many as 4,000 people,
and contained mosques, a hospital, bakeries, and a mint. The palace also had
its own water supply through underground cisterns. Construction began in 1459,
ordered by Sultan Mehmed II, the conqueror of Byzantine Constantinople. The
complex was expanded over the centuries, with major renovations after the 1509
earthquake and the 1665 fire.<br />
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Following the end of the Ottoman Empire in 1921,
Topkapı Palace was transformed by a government decree into
a museum of the imperial era. It also houses important Islamic relics, such as
hairs from Mohammed’s beard, and his coat and sword. We would have liked to see
the treasure rooms, as they are apparently up there with the Crown Jewels, but
the queue was enormous. We’d already waited in a queue for an hour just to buy
tickets, so we decided to forego seeing the riches of the Palace. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Privvy Chambers of the Crown Prince</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Yn4XjFN3ykNsA7SlyP9NIHGqOdVSitj_e_UwUWjpllX3xFXZvawALTiZo8Mi6FxAQBaE0rvpiNHrb7XcNVuhT6ccA2Q-IHzaVspakLVsr4ca1281MWLWfYXXJMCPSZuL-4xS6zYxvFK7/s1600/IMG_0557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Yn4XjFN3ykNsA7SlyP9NIHGqOdVSitj_e_UwUWjpllX3xFXZvawALTiZo8Mi6FxAQBaE0rvpiNHrb7XcNVuhT6ccA2Q-IHzaVspakLVsr4ca1281MWLWfYXXJMCPSZuL-4xS6zYxvFK7/s320/IMG_0557.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty tulips everywhere</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Topkapı
Palace was the main residence of the sultan and his court. It was initially the
seat of government as well as the imperial residence. One of
the central tenets was the observation of silence in the inner courtyards. An Imperial Harem wing was added in the late 16<sup>th</sup> century. It was
located in the private apartments of the sultan and contained more than 400
rooms. The harem was home to the sultan's mother, the concubines and wives of
the sultan, the rest of his family (including children), as well as eunuchs and
servants. The girls who served the Ottoman sultans were mostly beautiful
Circassians from the North Caucasus. Muslim women were forbidden to be
concubines, so mainly white, Christian slave girls were used instead.
There could be up to 300 in residence within the complex at one time.</div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1UQTXGzjxrzoab1B4i3KwrE-qZ2F6p-K5mnDZQ3WWRlDtuUvWFWQZhMAlwJAlCSbg6fWouaNMyQmU5D7XfS0zMZZrMrYUpHYUJ4pLlG_bp0-Nmt5mizsYyot9vaTXBJsQyvO1Xfgan87W/s1600/IMG_0504.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1UQTXGzjxrzoab1B4i3KwrE-qZ2F6p-K5mnDZQ3WWRlDtuUvWFWQZhMAlwJAlCSbg6fWouaNMyQmU5D7XfS0zMZZrMrYUpHYUJ4pLlG_bp0-Nmt5mizsYyot9vaTXBJsQyvO1Xfgan87W/s320/IMG_0504.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nice beds!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRu71nUgWfED5DmD9nNJdYb2lAyKaewRT9ngHWGCVBmDdgnZ9chfByzikCl4lxjbAKSIkzcX7C07Jhs7khLozbT_om8_Afk0pnga76IWNL_wYONwkMbJZgSjNOoeldUri7q3D721_x1k1V/s1600/IMG_0480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRu71nUgWfED5DmD9nNJdYb2lAyKaewRT9ngHWGCVBmDdgnZ9chfByzikCl4lxjbAKSIkzcX7C07Jhs7khLozbT_om8_Afk0pnga76IWNL_wYONwkMbJZgSjNOoeldUri7q3D721_x1k1V/s320/IMG_0480.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiles in the Harem </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-NZ">Sultans
could be very picky and moody. </span>Sultan Ibrahim I, who died in 1648, seems to
have had an obsession with finding more and more obese women, and is also
rumoured to have ordered the drowning of his entire harem of 280 girls on a
whim. Until the 17th century there had been a brutal tradition that justified a
sultan killing all his male relatives to ensure that the sultanate passed to a
favoured son. For example, in 1595, Mehmed III’s 19 brothers were murdered
at the instigation of his mother, while seven of his father’s pregnant
concubines were put into sacks and drowned at sea. Such brutality was ended in
1666 by Selim II, who decreed that all princes should survive, but be locked
away from public life until the succession. One prince spent 39 years in the 'gilded cage' (where princes were secluded) before taking up the
sultanate.<span lang="EN-NZ"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZJHlfRRqL9rat131QxW7t-57mj8FT4tJAWnB_8GHeJuy7GzHryHw3iOORpbNqcp2hAtC-X9LHlaELRC47QQOPYgZkVIA-MphhD8bchTm8lS_F7fdac-4MrGcpODt1tL-Lta8Ht8Ys8ze/s1600/IMG_0579.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZJHlfRRqL9rat131QxW7t-57mj8FT4tJAWnB_8GHeJuy7GzHryHw3iOORpbNqcp2hAtC-X9LHlaELRC47QQOPYgZkVIA-MphhD8bchTm8lS_F7fdac-4MrGcpODt1tL-Lta8Ht8Ys8ze/s320/IMG_0579.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Gate of Felicity</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
An interesting place! After that, we went to meet our friends who were also in Istanbul on their way to the Gallipoli Peninsula. We looked around the Grand Bazaar - it seemed mainly to be scarves, knock-off clothing, and over-priced Turkish Delight. (Though there were a few shops with awesome names...)<br />
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdnK-oDMoy_qZqFxT4idNk-mmdecemD6LCYi3XtPvLn9B1Op6dOrJLvPlBxrWff4HeQFUDSDR2lV7K-93_h2izYB2-3N_9tiDy7Srb0-y8to2R7mh0wPllenn2eqeRZgdAHlukoXFHTcX/s1600/IMG_0612.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdnK-oDMoy_qZqFxT4idNk-mmdecemD6LCYi3XtPvLn9B1Op6dOrJLvPlBxrWff4HeQFUDSDR2lV7K-93_h2izYB2-3N_9tiDy7Srb0-y8to2R7mh0wPllenn2eqeRZgdAHlukoXFHTcX/s320/IMG_0612.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">E.g. 1</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjbzHvr3JTKKIRwbd_JLKBQZlVmylj3mQsJn5S2C6X3XfMKkm7IFTj4kP03mQoZu3GVBbEsd3fdCcF-cvUyIStL1a-yi3Zxj9GWMKQRXBkhgiFxlEGBipk_hmCUjckgldAFfjsHCvBxFJH/s1600/IMG_0609.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjbzHvr3JTKKIRwbd_JLKBQZlVmylj3mQsJn5S2C6X3XfMKkm7IFTj4kP03mQoZu3GVBbEsd3fdCcF-cvUyIStL1a-yi3Zxj9GWMKQRXBkhgiFxlEGBipk_hmCUjckgldAFfjsHCvBxFJH/s320/IMG_0609.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">E.g. 2</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Seeing as there was nothing else we wanted to buy, we spent our Lira on some (hideously expensive) Turkish Delight, before heading to a local restaurant and having dinner and traditional Turkish rakı with our friends.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsfUh4XlD1ocJDofnRnFaqbswSFU7VrbGlW6fdlAlJLqL2kfe-8ttfzKg6dBrUdibz7n8pE2FHkNve8Qhu5M4POdRBM27OkBhxjA7CHvxQlPV1F8k-O4UdimRsqQa0ChyphenhyphenfVCUPHLjxT21R/s1600/IMG_0624.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsfUh4XlD1ocJDofnRnFaqbswSFU7VrbGlW6fdlAlJLqL2kfe-8ttfzKg6dBrUdibz7n8pE2FHkNve8Qhu5M4POdRBM27OkBhxjA7CHvxQlPV1F8k-O4UdimRsqQa0ChyphenhyphenfVCUPHLjxT21R/s320/IMG_0624.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJDDRITRyufpdSeneQ8uqHxvV1qSvP2nCsCOs4BqXGHcmH0uJEn7xH8qeVvQzXyIP6PXUVnBUXJpra_rr8LApW7CBa4C607S6agQTuUECI8Zlwtyc7JZQgE5lwoLOOk5X15dsCmAYYia-7/s1600/IMG_0636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJDDRITRyufpdSeneQ8uqHxvV1qSvP2nCsCOs4BqXGHcmH0uJEn7xH8qeVvQzXyIP6PXUVnBUXJpra_rr8LApW7CBa4C607S6agQTuUECI8Zlwtyc7JZQgE5lwoLOOk5X15dsCmAYYia-7/s320/IMG_0636.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our friends Jo and Regan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After that, we walked back to our friends' hostel, stopping along the way to see the sights all lit up at night. By the time we got back to our hotel, we were exhausted, but we were glad we'd booked that extra day to sight-see in Istanbul. It was an amazing city and not at all what we had expected.<br />
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</div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01588590445127913647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-583631708265620040.post-23483905753411848012013-05-01T19:09:00.002+01:002013-05-28T21:54:44.669+01:00Delightfully TurkishFinally, we have some more adventures to share with you! Last week we visited Turkey in order to attend the ANZAC services on the Gallipoli Peninsula. We knew little about Turkey before we went, though I did learn some Turkish phrases - and both of us were chuffed when one B&B host thought Adam was a Turk because of his well-accented 'merhaba' ('hello')!<br />
<span lang="EN-NZ"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-NZ">The only thing I really knew about Turkey (other than relating to the Dardanelles/Gallipoli Campaign) was that the country is 99% Muslim, and I had been a little nervous about how this would impact on my enjoyment as a Christian and female. However, while locals did look at my western clothing and lack of head covering, I never felt unsafe or uncomfortable. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-NZ"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-NZ">I think Turkey surprised us both - particularly the lovely Gallipoli peninsula. What we saw of the country was very green and lush, there were flowers and trees everywhere, and the white sands and clear blue waters of the Peninsula were just lovely. The people were very hospitable, and many spoke more English than we expected. We liked Istanbul and the historic sites there; we really enjoyed a visit to Troy; and it was a strange mix of sadness and peace to explore the numerous cemeteries on the Peninsula. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-NZ"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-NZ">We both agree we'd go back in a heartbeat. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-NZ"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-NZ">Let me share some more about our impressions of Turkey:</span><br />
<span lang="EN-NZ"><br /></span>
<br />
<h4>
<span lang="EN-NZ">Patriotism</span></h4>
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<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We arrived just weeks after 18 March - Martyr's Day and Canakkale Naval Victory Day (which celebrate the Allied naval withdrawal from their campaign to force the Dardanelles and take Constantinople (Istanbul). As we know, the Allies then went on to launch the ground-based campaign that began on 25 April 1915) - and right in time for the April 23 National Sovereignty and Children's Day. I'm not sure if it was in honour of these special days, or if Turks are just especially patriotic, but we saw flags, images of Ataturk and the president flying everywhere.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After discovering on our final day just how much the Turks see the Gallipoli Campaign as a victory, seeing all the souvenirs of bullets on key-rings or t-shirts showing Turkish soldiers with guns,and translating the text written on the hillside of the Dardanelles which tells foreigners to keep out; I found it a bit hard to see the flag flying proudly everywhere. It does hurt a bit when you're visiting somewhere to commemorate a military defeat and the victors sit proudly around you!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4>
<span lang="EN-NZ">Transport</span></h4>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div>
<span lang="EN-NZ"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-NZ">After we arrived in Istanbul, we embarked on our ritual hair-raising </span>holiday drive – everyone does
these, right? You get in your rental car at the airport and head for the nearby
highway. Traffic is always thick, angry, and nowhere near as lost as you are. Within
seconds you’re flustered, and probably having a heated argument with your
spouse.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-NZ"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-NZ">Brisbane
has the telephone-book sized map book, where you have your fingers in about six
places at once. “Hey! Where did Mount Coot-tha go?!” you cry in a panic as you
try to find page 165, and all you can hear is Dan Bakker’s voice whirling
through your head, saying, “Just get to Moggill Road. Trust me. Moggill Road leads everywhere.” (It doesn't.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-NZ"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-NZ">England has
crazy roundabout trails that lead to major highways. Your TomTom robotically
instructs, “Roundabout in 50 metres. Take first exit. Drive 150 metres to next
roundabout. Take third exit. Drive 20 metres to roundabout. Take second exit. Drive 30 metres to roundabout.”
And doesn’t warn you that the British don’t use lanes or indicate at
roundabouts. It’s a free-for-all. Middle lane, schmiddle lane. Whoever gets
there first gets to choose which lane is for which exit. If you’re in the
centre lane, be prepared to be cut-off by someone swerving across from the
outside lane.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-NZ"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-NZ">Spain. You
get the first clue when you pull open the driver’s door and find that there’s
no steering wheel. Still in a state of confusion, you settle yourself into the
opposite side of the car and reach for the gear stick. Your hand hits the door.
“This could be a long drive,” your husband mutters. Finally you get out onto
the highway and it is three lanes. Finding the correct position in your lane
for your car seems impossible. Your husband screams as you nearly hit the side
of a bridge. Oncoming traffic screams as you swerve close to the centre line.
Somehow you end up in the centre lane and fellow drivers scream as you wobble
your way along the road. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-NZ"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-NZ">In France
it’s the rule about giving way to cars turning onto your road from your right.
Even when you’re driving straight and they’re on a side road. It’s not until
you nearly get T-boned by some old Frog that you realise YOU have to give way
to HIM. Lucky you couldn’t find the horn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-NZ"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-NZ">Turkey.
Upon exiting Istanbul airport the first highway you encounter has no white
lines painted on it. It’s a free for all and there are uneven rows of yellow
taxis barrelling towards you. Suddenly you know what it sounds like to hear 50
taxi horns all honking in unison. And they’re all honking at you. You miss the
turn-off and you’re stuck in the back streets of Istanbul. Every car that
appears behind you toots at you and swerves past at the first opportunity. Some
drivers lean on the horn for 5 minute stretches at a time. Pedestrians play
chicken with the car. Chickens play chicken with the car. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-NZ"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-NZ">Driving in foreign countries is tough! Some people go sky-diving overseas; we just hire a rental car. It can be exhausting and
frightening, but it’s exhilarating. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-NZ"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-NZ">In general,
Turkish roads were good. This was particularly so from Cape Helles through
Kaba Tepe to ANZAC Cove. However on the way down the Peninsula we took the
coastal route and the ground was pretty bumpy and had lots of potholes covered
with un-levelled heaps of asphalt. Also, there was lots of parking and it was free everywhere we went. That makes a great change from in England where there is hardly any ever parking and it's always exorbitantly priced.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-NZ"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-NZ">Turkish
drivers like speed. It took us a while to work out what the speed limit was –
turned out it was 90km/h, not the 130 that most drivers favoured – but even
when we were driving at the correct speed, most Turks motored past us. If you’re
passing a car, other drivers like to roar up behind you, tooting their horn and
furiously flashing their lights to indicate that you should get out of their
way. People also did that around the streets of Istanbul, no matter what the
situation was, someone somewhere behind you was leaning on their horn. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h4>
<span lang="EN-NZ">Rogue
animals</span></h4>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg22N4CBGD-d3F9aagJUiQfoZDwpmA09WMj8rJKGpqOmhboODQWSgbWRD6cv2OkJAdwZei2VFELtDqp_pM7W9pJ38fzWpUYWQzIz2a4f43EHFx08Y5k2s8QPjwkKtkNjWXU8Hl0IehZoWqe/s1600/IMG_0334.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg22N4CBGD-d3F9aagJUiQfoZDwpmA09WMj8rJKGpqOmhboODQWSgbWRD6cv2OkJAdwZei2VFELtDqp_pM7W9pJ38fzWpUYWQzIz2a4f43EHFx08Y5k2s8QPjwkKtkNjWXU8Hl0IehZoWqe/s320/IMG_0334.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7vRc2FUDknB62DXa-vLFZItl9Su3zqgpfY8VQtP2rOcXbNOmcHR7MSojpcPXE_wh46PIxo-1sQjOKAivCNfJHVLAn32BwSiy05yucbRBJa19lHJ1BwygsE1SbhSlX-qmn8ET5yJT_1e1Z/s1600/IMG_0466.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7vRc2FUDknB62DXa-vLFZItl9Su3zqgpfY8VQtP2rOcXbNOmcHR7MSojpcPXE_wh46PIxo-1sQjOKAivCNfJHVLAn32BwSiy05yucbRBJa19lHJ1BwygsE1SbhSlX-qmn8ET5yJT_1e1Z/s320/IMG_0466.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These ones were lucky enough to have a house!</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">One really
random thing in Turkey was all the dogs and cats lying about the place. The
dogs were mongrels generally of a greyish sandy colour and of no discernible
breed. They lay about on the waterfront park area, and were in every village in
the countryside. The grossest part was watching the nursing bitches waddling
around, their teats so swollen they dragged on the ground. It was a bit funny at Troy to see groups of
Aussie girls from the tour buses rush up to the mongrel pups and coo “oh
they’re so sweet” and picking up and cuddling the dirty creatures. They were probably
covered with fleas or stricken with rabies, but that didn’t seem to occur to
these dog-loving Australians!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<h4>
<span lang="EN-NZ">Food</span></h4>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeXe00NF6XS0KhsljOD40mO69V3-M1BcR9qXH_9pFl-mSWs_B-_MFS0eahQYQhENGdD5Tj2_Ti4dlbCSJn0lh3aAbAzkwHDRjfq9znGKITt2FtGZSe9Ku8zj4C0Yz0aDgdRR9arE8Rl3hp/s1600/2013-04-23+20.55.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeXe00NF6XS0KhsljOD40mO69V3-M1BcR9qXH_9pFl-mSWs_B-_MFS0eahQYQhENGdD5Tj2_Ti4dlbCSJn0lh3aAbAzkwHDRjfq9znGKITt2FtGZSe9Ku8zj4C0Yz0aDgdRR9arE8Rl3hp/s320/2013-04-23+20.55.38.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mmm... sis kebab</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">Turkish
food is quite different from traditional western food, and it actually was a
bit of a struggle to find suitable food while travelling. The B&Bs we
stayed in served traditional Turkish breakfasts, which consist of some
combination of the following: olives, cheeses such as feta, kidney beans,
boiled eggs, tomato, capsicum and mushrooms. One of our hotels also had fresh
fruit and cold crepes, and another had yummy bits of fried potato and some
traditional rolled pastry with cheese inside. Our two favourite Turkish snacks!
We also found a good restaurant in Eceabat, and I had sis (shish) kebab both
nights while Adam tried traditional meatballs. The meals were served with
Turkish pilav rice, which was the best rice I’ve tasted. I looked up some
recipes once we got home and we’ve already had it for tea one night! (For those
who are interested, it’s a mix of long grain rice and orzo pasta, simmered in
chicken stock and then left to the absorption method. Yum!)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">Surprisingly,
there were quite a few small cafes alongside the country roads. We didn’t stop
at these establishments, but they mainly seemed to serve traditional Turkish
cay (tea) or icecreams. Other than that, it was really difficult to find places
that sold more Michelle-friendly lunches such as sandwiches, and we often ended
up just snacking rather than having a proper lunch. I didn’t get as hungry in
Turkey as I do elsewhere, so that was probably a good thing as the food choices
were a bit limited. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<h4>
<span lang="EN-NZ">Religion</span></h4>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPHkpAoGoSTHD39WzzrpNXtz0r90j1bz03QiKizaJlV2WCyjO45GRmgHeCTTVUKo-DP3xOgWQZExIV4VvPaYYG9Y6c4JHgmvC-HV_M48U7XyYfSW4T7q8vUCauyFw2xZalK5LrSDTLKBcb/s1600/IMG_0686.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPHkpAoGoSTHD39WzzrpNXtz0r90j1bz03QiKizaJlV2WCyjO45GRmgHeCTTVUKo-DP3xOgWQZExIV4VvPaYYG9Y6c4JHgmvC-HV_M48U7XyYfSW4T7q8vUCauyFw2xZalK5LrSDTLKBcb/s320/IMG_0686.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">Technically, Turkey is a secular country and has had no official religion since 1924. Despite this, 99% of Turks are Muslim, and schools hold compulsory classes in Sunni Islam. The Constitution recognizes freedom of religion, but religious minorities, such as Christianity, have historically been discriminated against. Istanbul is an interesting city, as it was established by the Christian Roman Empire (Byzantine) then it was conquered by the Muslim Ottoman Empire in 1453. One of the first acts of conquest was to seize the Hagia Sophia basilica, which was the world's largest cathedral for a time, and rush an <i>imam </i>(priest) there to proclaim the Islamic creed. All those sheltering inside were either killed or taken as slaves. Then the conquerors ordered the construction of minarets, and the church was turned into a mosque for the next 500 years. It is now a museum. (We didn't get any pictures of it, sorry)</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">As a result of the dominance of Islam in Turkey, in every town and on almost every street in Istanbul there is a mosque. Five times a day, these mosques broadcast a 'call to prayer' where someone called a muezzin tells Muslims to prepare themselves for prayer, and reminds non-believers of the central tenets of Islam - there is no god but Allah and Muhammed is his messenger. Historically, the muezzin would climb the minaret to recite the message, so that believers could hear. Now, the minarets are rigged with multiple loudspeakers and you can hear the calls to prayer from any part of the city, in any part of a house, and in densely mosqued areas the calls often overlap. They go five times a day, starting at around 4am. I must admit I found it very difficult to lie awake at 4 in the morning, hearing the wailing chant of the muezzin, announcing to me that Allah is the only god and Muhammed is his messenger. In a country that is officially secular and is run by an Islamic political party. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ">Well I hope you've enjoyed learning about (our experiences of) Turkey. The</span> next blog post will be about our time in the historic city of Istanbul, and the interesting things we saw there. It also features friends (friends!) which is exciting!</div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01588590445127913647noreply@blogger.com2