A chance meeting with goats and fish

Deciding to have a "weekend a way" we sailed off from the safety of Fethiye to Kappi Creek.  A weekend away from the eternal list of things to do or the two walks to find the tax office in 39 degrees!!

It was only a 15nm sail and we thought we 'd try putting up other sails, like the spinnaker. Absence of wind meant another 2 hour motor so the sail stayed lashed to the deck. I was a bit concerned about launching the spinnaker; it's a light wind sail and it is enormous.

We finally reached Kappi Creek. Anchoring was  another learning curve. Lots of firsts on this trip. Steve turned Pavlov around into the wind while trying to keep control of the bow, which kept blowing off. We finally anchored. We did have to tie a line to the shore to keep Pavlov secure.  Conveniently other sailers had left lines tied to a rock via a crevice and with the help of a passing snorkeller we too attached our selves to land.

We finally took to the water again. The water was clear and devoid of much life.

Steve met some young Turkish boys on the pebbly beach nearby. Later these boys called to us from a small boat, while we were taking our normal afternoon siesta on board Pavlov,  to escape the heat of the day.

"Hot bread in the morning and honey maybe, you would like to buy?" they asked.  Naturally we said yes.

Later in the afternoon we again went for a swim. We saw on the shore the boys and their families. It appeared that they were cooking. They beckoned for us to come to the beach to join them. I felt rather underdressed as the two women, the mother of the boy, and their friend were clothed in long skirts and long sleeve tops.

We managed to clamber up the rocks and were offered tea. It wasn't long before the women gestured for me to join them. Here I was offered freshly fried fish, bread and salad.

The young man, Mustafa, translated their questions. "Why are you here?  Are you retired? What did you do and do you have family who were ANZACS? "

A pet goat insisted on joining us. It would not stay away from the food. The women threw stones at it,  then fed it until the young man 's father dragged the goat away and tied it to a tree. Not to be stopped it ate through the rope and joined us again.

Wow what an experience!  Just what I was hoping for. Real engagement.

Steve looked on as I was fed the fish! Lucky me.

Brief Encounters on a plane

Turkish history has a turbulent and controversial past. As my grandfather was

preparing to land at Gallipoli on 25 April 1915,  on the 24th the Turks began the massacre of the Armenians.

 This atrocity is given no place in the Turkish history books, according to an Armenian traveller I happened to sit next to on my journey to Turkey. My last trip to Turkey made me aware of a highly guarded and military Turkey – gendarme, military police, miitary bases and conservative ideas. Meeting Kurdish and Armenian people provide a perspective in stark contrast to the one we get in the west of a tolerant Turkey.

My Armenian fellow traveller told me of the massacre that still Turks refuse to talk about. But the events of that time are clearly felt acutely by the few Armenians left, living abroard. Many who survived left Turkey. He told me about Armenian churches used as target practise by Turkish troops, of the Kurds working with the Turkish government in the massacre of the Armenians- he commented on the irony of the situation today where Kurdish people are now fighting for their independence- given their past of working with the Turks in their drive to prevent a multi -cultural Turkey.

He was born in Lindos, Rhodes - a historic and picturesque town north west of the city of Rodos.

He spoke in hushed tones somewhat like our Kurdish student spoke back in October 2011.  That fear still persists is astonishing.

 Interesting times ahead for Turkey- A beautiful place full of history and kind people we encounter every day- surely attitudes will change. Maybe an apology is needed for their past mistakes like other nations for a new chapter in their history to begin.

The Rocky Road to Rhodes

Megan arrived on the 13^th of August. Knowing how I felt after 40 hours of jet flight and facing another 2 bus rides, I hired a car to pick her up. I was just so glad to see her, tears were streaming down my face.

Are we there, yet?

We endured another night in the backpack dive that I’d rented as a temporary home while Eugene and I sorted out the last details of Pavlov’s purchase. The next morning early, we were to leave for Rhodes.

'This is not my beautiful life!'

This was not without drama, we had to bunker the boat (took on only 50 litres of diesel as fuel is cheaper in Greece), and await the agent who was working out our departure check-out. Bulan (who we’d been chatting to for a week) was sick and another agent did the deed, but then wanted to charge us TL 450 for the checkout fee (which is normally only around TL 20). We hassled, and Eugene called Bulen who said he would work it out when we returned. We shall see!

The Changing of the Flag

We finally got away around 1000 and sailed 35 nm to Ekincik, a Turkish village (really just a pier and a restaurant) near the Karnos ruins. This was a good overnight spot for the next leg to Rhodes. Eugene took us to a grand meal and was a very generous host on our last night in Turkey.

Ta Dah!

Wednesday the 15^th, we set sail for Rhodes, a simple 28 nm sail, but interesting with the formalities for entry in Greece to be observed. We employed an agent again (Stravros Roditis) who would also serve as a witness for the Bill of Sale.

View of Rhodes harbour from the old town

Rhodes has a fabulous medieval castle that extends to the old Mandraki port. Reputedly, the Colossus of Rhodes (a huge sun god statue) bridged the port entry. It was breathtaking to sail into this ancient port under the battlements of a truly beautiful Knights Templar castle.

Pavlov moored in the old harbour

A bazouki player in the old town

We signed the Bill of Sale that day, and Pavlov became completely ours. (Of course, everything now started to break down, but that’s another story!). We spent Thursday provisioning the boat from a Lidl grocery store. It was easy getting a taxi to the store, but we were just unable flag one down going back to the port. Standing there in the 37 degree heat, our goods perishing before our eyes, even Megan’s shapely legs failed to attract Greek notice. Mind you, the 3 young girls who walked out onto the road 15 minutes after I had started waving cabs down secured a ride in minutes. Finally, we pleaded with the security guard who most graciously called a cab for us. Friday was spent exploring the castle and discussing Greek politics with a store owner, who offered us shady seats to discourse on the economic woes of the Greek people.

We had planned to stay in Rhodes over the weekend, but the agent was not able to secure our berth. We hastily bunkered the boat (learning that Pavlov likes to be burped, and if not, tends to regurgitate litres of diesel all over our teak decks!).

'Forgot to burp the baby, again?'

We took on 208 litres, and then transferred to an anchoring site just outside the inner harbour walls. We spent an idyllic night outside a beautiful mediaeval city, our first night at anchor. Huge cruise boats and ferry’s glided past like monolith monsters in the night, but we slept soundly.

Check out the neighbourhood

Next morning, a leisurely 25 nm sail bought us down to Lindos, another city with medieval and classical ruins. We had a series of panics as we successively thought

1. The generator has broken down (the light stayed on the whole trip).

2. The battery bank was exhausted (we did seem to use a huge number of amps on the trip down and overnight)

3. The generator started (hurray, wouldn’t start last week) and then promptly started running rough.

Old castle at Lindos, Rhodes

I was madly reading manuals trying to come to grips with Pavlov’s complex systems. We did find that the sea-cock for the generator (which I hadn’t known about before) was closed, it ran fine after opening it. We could then charge the battery bank, and it seems that the alternator on the engine might need a service. But we got on top of it all, even with failure contingencies worked out.

Pavlov moored in Lindos harbour

A bigger puzzle was the inflatable tender that we needed to deploy to get us into Lindos. We never managed to get the floor into the dingy, I need to rtfm but couldn’t find one onboard. Nevertheless we rowed to a small taverna who were happy to allow us to beach our dingy.

Mediaval for tower in Lindos

We wandered happily over the temple and castle ruins, wandered around the unspeakably quaint little lanes and alley’s of Lindos, shopped with the help of Greek grocers who were curious about us being from the ‘New World’. A quiet feeling of joy was spreading over me, I kept saying to Megan ‘well, we live here now, this is not a vacation’, or ‘We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto’, or ‘pinch me, pinch me’.

Classical temple inside medieval castle

We had a late lunch at the taverna where we left the dingy, some tsatziki, frits de mere, greek bread and an icy cold beer to wash it down. We’re in heaven!

The famous donkey's at Lindos

Little alley's to explore

Where might this go?

A leisurely return to the boat, a long swim in the azure blue sea, some trip planning for tomorrow (when we will make a 60nm crossing back to Turkey – will be a long day) and readying the boat for a 0600 departure concluded a very long day. Bliss!

Stairway to heaven?

Azure, turquoise and indigo

Archeological reconstruction work

Such a graceful town

All this, and still can't get that man to smile

The Road less Travelled 12 August

Abu Dhabi airport

It seems that it is the women who find cutting the ties to home the hardest. Over the last few days I felt as if I have had to say a million goodbyes. How do I know who will be here in Australia when we return. I keep remembering people I should have rung. And how will I be different when I return? Will everyone be safe?

As I now sit in Abu Dhabi Airport it is still surreal. Part of me could just as easy stay at home - safe, retired and probably very bored. Its true everyone has their lives to lead- we are just a small part . I wonder how I will change over the next few years. Steve has written about our discussion on the issue of novelty and how important this is in slowing down time- I am concerned about what the passage of time will do- My son said the other day that when I return he will be so much older and finished his degree- is it possible? Will my daughter get married and maybe start a family?

How will I respond to these changes from my little spot in the Med or  wherever-  

Not so good at dealing with these changes without witnessing them-

These things fill my mind as I embark on the most remarkable journey of my life.

 What will matter to me in the future?

 How will my view of the world change?

The process of arriving

I’ve been reading excepts from Daniel Kahnemann’s new book ‘Thinking, fast and slow’. His idea is that the human brain is wired to think in two different ways.  Fast thinking is the automated, often emotionally based habitual mode of responding. Its probably adaptive to be able to react and decide instinctively. We often identify these fast thinking patterns as our personality, or as ‘responding to my gut instincts’ or ‘following my heart’.

Slow thinking is reasoned, difficult and hence slow. It allows us to evaluate responses and to change habitual patterns. I notice how I now need to think through all my responses in a country where the ground rules are very different. 

Novelty as slowing down the passage of time, but I notice that it is also switching me into slow thought. Walking home last night through tiny lanes, I’m thinking ‘Okay, now I’m living in a small Turkish village’, but the images of the purple bougainvillea draped white-washed cottages and the relentless sun drenched quality of the light seem to demand a change in my thinking.

Its that kind of ‘traveller-consciousness’ I experienced as a young back-packer, where everything was so remarkable that I had to diarise and communicate in long missives. I find I’m now noticing things and thinking about them as if for the first time. For example, flying into Abu Dhabi, I really notived the novel shapes of the housing compounds, their sharp geometry contrasting to the flowing shapes of the sea of sand.

This novelty seems to be a trigger for switching me into slow thought. Time is slowing, the days are incredibly long again, and everything is more remarkable, nothing is taken for granted.  And then the questions arise: ‘Why am I here, why did we choose this] or ‘This is not my beautiful house, this is not my beautiful wife’ (to plagiarize Talking Heads). Everything invites an examination of habitual living.

A time traveller's guide to retirement

Megan had her retirement dinner this weekend. It was a great celebration of an exemplary career, but my social skills failed me when it came to making a speech (As unaccustomed as I am ...). So I thought about the speech that I would have liked to make, and here it is:

The retiree's guide to time travel

So the first rule every time traveller needs to know is that time travel is one way only.

Col and Meredith

Unlike Sisyphus, there's no pushing that rock back up hill. So you may as well leave those regrets for things undone behind you (like not speaking at Megan's retirement, unless you can make slight amends by post-event blogging!). 

Leonie and Michelle

The corollary is that there is no replaying the record. That one way trip is irrevocable, and cast in stone. Our actions speak more loudly to who we are, than any amount of wishful thinking.

Julia, Bernie and River

Michelle and Tracey

The second rule of time travel is that it has a beginning and an end, neither of which is under our control. The beginning has begun, and the end is unknowable, so anything you think you might want to do, you might as well do it now, bucket lists be damned.

Toni, Keith and Jenny

The final rule for time travel is a little more subtle. It says that the rate at which time passes is variable and under time traveller control. Have you noticed, in a highly predictable environment, how rapidly time passes?

Sophie and Bev

Teaching is one of the most time-regulated professions: the bell rings, we march... and its cycles within cycles, sports carnivals, athletics, swimming cross-country.... semester reports, parent and teacher nights and so on and on.  All this makes for a very predictable environment, and time passes very quickly. Have you noticed how the years have flown. As Megan said, 'At 22, I ticked 55 and here it is'.

Rob and Steve

Leila, Jenny and Geoff

The retiree time-traveller, on the other hand, wants to slow the passage of time. We want to savour the texture, smell the roses, enjoy the moment. The trick to this is to choose novel environments. When the environment is new and unpredictable, our attention is captured by each sensory event: new and exotic smells, different tastes... we struggle to catch the intonation in foreign sounds, visual textures and vista's that take the eye somewhere else entirely.


 We are captured again each minute and a day lasts forever. Automaticity doesn't have a chance to set in, and we can't pre-compile patterns for living.

Kay and Di

So our solution is to become retirees of the  itinerant time-travelling kind. There's no stopping the inexorable flow of time, but we sure can catch each passing second and treasure it for the gift it is.

Itinerant time travellers

I'd like to thank you all for attending a wonderful and celebratory evening, and allowing us to notice in exquisite slow-time, the nourishing and nurturing relationships with comrades and colleagues who have helped us survive and flourish in the quick-time twixt 22 and 55.