Snow Diary

Here's how we've spent the last week. It started snowing at lunchtime on Friday and by 3pm the garden it was starting to accumulate.
By Saturday morning there were drifts of dry snow in the garden.On Sunday the snow and wind had stopped but the temperature was two below freezing.On Monday the temperatures were even lower, six below freezing and Canakkale was draped in white.On Wednesday the snow made one last attempt to fall, wet and heavy.And today it's all melting away....

Falling in the Cracks

Living outside town brings many advantages; peace and quiet, a view of an olive grove, a garden of our own. There are some disadvantages though, none more confusing then the bureaucratic web surrounding us.

Our electoral register is held in one village, our post office is in another, and the public health centre in a third village.

Now there’s a fourth village to add to the mix. The Ministry of Education has linked us to this fourth village and thus we should send our children to a school in Kepez town. Their address-linked system links us to this school and if we want to send them elsewhere we have to work around this system.

The confusion arises after a chat with our next-door neighbour. For two years her eldest boy went to this same school in Kepez. Yet when she tried to register her youngest boy there in September she was told she couldn’t. The address-linked system linked her to the school in the village that holds our electoral register. As the school there doesn’t operate the children are bussed to a school in Canakkale town itself. She ended up taking her eldest boy out of the school that we are now supposed to send our children to.

Somewhere in the twenty metres separating our houses there’s a bureaucratic boundary we never knew existed.

Budding Artists

When I wrote a month or so ago about visiting the sculpture exhibition in Cimenlik Castle I really didn't imagine the next exhibition there would be my daughters! We got a phone call last week to invite us to the opening of the Cocuklar Evi Troy Project in the Muavenet-i Milliye Exhibition Hall in the castle grounds. The mayor strolled around a walking tour of Canakkale opening exhibitions as he went.The Troy Festival in Canakkale this year is mainly centred on several exhibitions like this in various locations around town. Previous years involved a lot of folk dancing from Eastern Europe but a reduction in funding meant that there isn't so much dancing at the crossroads this year.

For the last year the whole preschool has been involved in this project, learning about Troy and its myths. The story was watered down a little, the gods were sidelined, the violence reduced and the sex left out completely. We had to read a book where the site as it is was explained from the point of view of two hedgehogs. Then we visited Troy with the author. The trip mainly involved a huge queue to get into the reconstructed horse by the gate and some of the outspoken kids told the story from the stage of the theatre. Then we sat, ate our lunch and the kids drew pictures. Back at the school they constructed a horse from their artwork and drew or constructed lots of little projects to do with Troy. The end-of-year show was a play of the story by the 5/6 year olds, with the 4/5 year olds on darbuka and the 3/4 year olds with bells on their wrists, held in the Korfmann Library downtown.

Troy and Hittites

I decided to take the kids downtown to Cimenlik Kalesi yesterday. The castle is at the narrowest point of the Dardanelles and has a lovely park outside with various remnants from WWI dotted about the grass. We went because there was an exhibition of sculptures by Erdinc Bakla on show. The Hittite portion was out on the grass. The pieces were mainly marble and bronze. I liked the one above most of all, but it seemed very familiar somehow.The fertility goddess seemed a little vulnerable standing in the centre of a military establishment without a stitch on her. The castle is run by the navy and even the tours are conducted with proper military precision.So that was the Hittites where were the Trojans hiding? They were in the exhibition hall and didn't make the impression they should have as pale marble against white walls didn't stand out.

This was the nicest piece, I really like the way he thinned the marble to make the soldiers inside the horse. The mane was made of stone, and made it all a little top heavy.Helen, the face that launched a thousand ships, possibly trying to escape her hair! The Brown-eyed Girl got a great kick out of recognising the characters, having spent the last year doing a project on Troy in preschool. She took over the camera too.Homer, the man behind the legend. All the pieces compliment Bakla's piece on the Kordon next to the Trojan Horse (the one from the movie!). It shows the walls of Troy with the horse inside being stormed by the Greeks all contained in a glass pyramid. The opposing soldiers are all blocks of white marble against black/green serpentinite.

This was the most spectacular piece, the head and mane of the horse is glass (sorry the photo's not better). Little Boy Blue was wandering around having gotten a little bored. And as the Brown-eyed Girl and I were looking at this he made a run for me, missed my legs which is what he was grabbing for, slipped, knocked over the guide rope and slid to the base of the sculpture. Thankfully he didn't hit it but I had flashes of it falling and smashing into thousands of pieces over his head for the rest of the afternoon. Took icecreams for all of us on the seafront before I was calm again.

Decisions, decisions...

I didn't plan my kids to match school timing so the Brown-eyed Girl and Little Boy Blue miss out. The Brown-eyed Girl misses starting primary school proper by being born in November. That's not a definite rule, if we met the teacher and the principal I'm sure they'd agree that she's ready to start (no, I'm not biased, she really is a smart girl!). In order to do that we have to choose a school though, and fast, as registration has already started.

When we moved here I was delighted to find there was a school on the doorstep. Alas it is a private school and the most expensive one in Canakkale at that! Looking up the Private Education General Directorate (Özel Öğretim Kurumları Genel Müdürlüğü) under the Raports (Raporlar) tab I found the list of private primary schools for the whole country. By going to the Primary Education General Directorate (İlköğretim Genel Müdürlüğü) I searched by state and county to get a list of primary schools for the county. So narrowing down the list by location leaves me still with a long list. And the best way to judge each school is by visiting them one by one.

This could be avoided as a new system has just come into effect where based on address, a school will be assigned for your child. However we live outside town, and don't intend to send the kids to the village school. There could be debate about which village school would count as local as we don't live within village limits, so our post goes to one village, we vote in another, and the local public health clinic is in yet another village.

In the face of so many choices we'll probably just put off making a decision! Currently she's in the Children's House (Cocuklar Evi), the creche/preschool in the university. The facilities are good, she loves her teachers, and gets on well with her classmates (see if you can spot her in the pictures on the website). Next year they'll work on reading and writing, and Little Boy Blue will join the 3/4 class. With the two of them occupied, it will leave me time to traipse around every school in the area...

The Skaian Gates

Well here it is at last - The Skaian Gate



The Southern gate to Troy VI, also called the Dardanos Gate, is believed by some to be the Skaian gate mentioned in the Iliad. The remains of a tower are seen to the left with standing stones at its base. You can also see a drain running down the middle of the road capped by a single flagstone. The white tent in the background covers the partially reconstruction of some of the oldest remains found on the site and represents the level of the hilltop before excavations began.


The model of the Wooden Horse of Troy at the entrance to the site.

A Trojan Oak (Quercus Troias).

Creepy Crawlies

It was a dark and stormy night. The wind howled, and lashed the rain against the siding of the little blue house. The heavy black clouds pressed ominously low, illuminated by the flashes of distant lightening. The rumbles of thunder came closer, leaving the children crouching, fingers shoved into their ears.



DH paced the veranda, torch in hand, looking for early signs of a deluge. Occasionally walking to the gate and back he monitored the flow from the drainpipes, the sheetflow across the path and the windblown trees. Inside a semblance of normality was upheld, the dinner eaten and the dishes stacked for washing. And then they noticed it, long, black, many-legged and most probably poisonous, it lay on the floor, still and menacing.



Hastened by the high-pitched calls from the house DH entered the kitchen and followed the pointed fingers to the black creature lurking by the sink. Quickly he put on slippers, an action followed by all members of the family.

"He'll be fast" he said, approaching with caution.

"No, I think he's hurt, he looks squashed" said I.

DH grabbed a rolled newspaper, and slapped it down, catching the tail of the speeding monster. It disappeared under the fridge as a roll of thunder roared closer.



DH pulled the fridge forward, out from under the counter, as I held the children back. Nothing moved, nothing disturbed the thin layer of dust. He pulled the freezer forward, again nothing save the scatter of dropped coffee granules.

"Look under the fridge"

Torch in hand I got on my knees and looked under, dust, plastic and nothing moving any moment expecting a flurry of movement as the creature would launch itself at my eyes from halfway across the room.



DH moved the fridge, again and again until the hideous creature sprang out, moving back under the counter. Newspaper forgotten, DH stamped and stamped, destroying the creature, leaving scattered body parts in his wake. Gingerly he gathered up the bits and took it outside dumping it unceremoniously over the wall.

Autumn colours

The ridge is a wash of russets, reds and browns. The few pale glimpses of green are slowly overtaken by the darker colours.

But these are evergreen trees, dying in the wake of the fire.

Already a lot have been logged, standing stacked by the roadside, shorn of their burnt bark. The village workers are shrouded head to foot in black soot, pale eyes standing out against the burned earth.

Here and there the growth begins, hints of green sprout from the ashes. Our gozlemeci has reopened in the petrol station a few km's down the road.

Life goes on.

Aftermath...

By the early hours of 31 July the fire was under control. The helicopters and planes started flying at 6.15 am, after sunrise, and just before the winds began to pick up again. They worked alternate hours through the day, three helicopters cooling the smouldering embers. A walk to Guzelyali brought us right alongside where they were refilling their buckets sequentially.


Bulldozers are used to clear the firebreaks and limit the fire's spread. Here's one being transported over the pass to Intepe.


We drove to Intepe along the main Izmir road shocked to find trees that appeared healthy through binoculars from home were thoroughly burnt at their bases, all undergrowth gone. The entire ridge and pass had burnt.



Deeper in the forest the devastation was complete, especially in the valleys.



Looking north from the pass at Intepe the whole area is burnt.

On the south of the pass the view was much the same. The fire swept down to the sea here. The valley below the road still smoking yesterday evening.

The village of Intepe had a lucky escape as the fire passed below it. Behind the village there were rumours of fields burning as far south as Dumrek.

All that remains of Bag Evi and the restaurant beside it are the frames. Bag Evi was a small wooden chalet that served great gozleme and traditional breakfasts. The restaurant closest to the pass was unharmed by the fire. Similarly a house nestled in the valley below the pass survived though the fire passed around it.

Looking east from Guzelyali the fire smokes. The lower ridge channeled the fire south, saving the centre and the complexes to the north of the village. The fire came within a few hundred yards of the wind turbines in the top left of the photo.

At the southern end of Guzelyali the fire passed very close to these houses before being limited by the coast at Karanlik Limani past the Youth Camp. The ridge is burnt and shows outcrops of rock that were hidden before.

At Karanlik Limani a pile of ashes smoulder. The fire moved along the coast here and yesterday evening a single helicopter was still working near some new houses being built near a tree plantation on the coast road to Kumkale.

Apparently started by farmers burning stubble the fire was called in quickly. It started within sight of the Fire Post in Dardanos. Still within a very short time it was out of control and required six helicopters, five planes, multiple fire brigades from as far away as Istanbul, Izmir, Mugla and Bursa, army backup for ground crews, bulldozers and road graders. In spite of all this effort 500 hectares burned.

Fire!!

Hanging the washing yesterday at 11.30 am I noticed the planes circling overhead. It wasn't the fighter jets as usual but small propeller planes that look like they were left over after the WWII. I expect the propellers to be wooden looking at their flimsy structure. They belong to the Turkish Aviation Foundation and spend the summer in Canakkale, waiting to be called up if a forest fire starts. They fly over occasionally but this time all four of them are circling behind the house. Must be a drill I thought and shout to the kids to take a look.



Then I see the helicopter. It is Ukranian rented by the Forest Fire Brigade, we see it on the ground at the Forest Fire Post as we pass on the bus into town. Must be a drill. But even as I repeat this the helicopter drops beneath the treeline beyond the Jandarma camp. It fills its bucket from the Dardanelles. It rises again from behind the trees, flys above the house and up towards the ridge behind us. A few minutes later it returns and repeats the procedure. This is no drill.



Looking behind the house the smoke billows slowly, blown by the strong wind. We walk up to the corner of the complex but see very little through the trees and olive groves. The smoke is rising from below the ridge that the wind turbines are on. From then on it grows continuously. A few of the neighbours arrive, curious about the aerial activity and worried by the smoke. One prays, pacing and muttering under her breath.

By lunchtime, the ridge is barely visible beneath the smoke cloud. Fire brigades and bulldozers pass on the main road from Canakkale, Lapseki, Eceabat and Mahmudiye.




By 2.00pm, the ridge is hidden in smoke as the fire moves south through the valley. The number of helicopters is increasing from the original two to four and eventually six. Our electricity is cut off sometime after this.




By 3.30pm the main Izmir road is closed. A seaplane owned by Istanbul Buyuksehir Belediyesi has joined the other planes, drenching the valley below the ridge in seawater, circling, filling up and repeating.

On the way home from work my husband is stopped twice by roadblocks. He is allowed to continue given the warning that he should evacuate his house. Shocked by the fire on the ridge behind he is surprised at how little we can see from the house. Around 6pm all the planes and helicopters focus behind the house, towards Cinarli. The seaplane and helicopters all refill in front of the Jandarma camp and fly straight over the house. If the wind changes there is a chance the fire could come towards us. The noise is intense from the low flying planes and the double-rotar helicopters. All the neighbours gather, looking for news, exchanging ideas of where was burning, how the fire started and whether they would control it or not. Some of them I know, mostly to see. Without fail they all know which house I live in and that I am Irish. Neighbours who quarrel gossip together, bound by fear.

By 7pm the fire moves south of Guzelyali, towards Karanlik Limani beyond the Scout camp. The ridge is visible through the smoke, lined with matchstick trees. There are rumours that the restaurants on the road below Intepe, including our favourite gozlemeci, have burned.

By 9pm the area south of Guzelyali, Karanlik Limani, is burning. The Izmir road is reopened in a controlled manner and our electricity is restored. The planes and helicopters aren't flying in the dark and it is eerily quiet after the noise of the day. Having been bumped from the news headlines by the Constitutional Court decision we go to bed with no idea of whether the fire is under control or not.