Ch-ch-ch-ch-ciao

Arrived in Venice on Sunday and it feels like I've been here for months already. Was promptly whipped off by some mates for spritz at a little red bar in Castello, where i'm now staying. From thereonin it's been a plethora of little shindigs: coffee with cream pastries, then pizza or panini at lunch, prosseco (like champagne) or spritz amporol for afternoon tea, venetian bar nibblies and then pasta for dinner. Mmmmm.

Wondered around in awe for the first couple of days trying to figure out if i was in EuroDisney. Venice is uncannily beautiful and charming that expect everything's papier mache. At least in EuroDisney there's less French people. The city is so charming and romantic – all these little bridges (ponts), campos (squares), crsuty buildings, leaning towers, winged lions au-go-go, velvet wallpaper, crystal chandeliers in faded palazzos, tacky mask shops, apartments with long gothic windows draped in bustle curtains and scary elvin doorknobs. It's insane. Ridiculous even.

I didn't realise how bloody confusing it is to get around here though! After a few boozies i did get lost for two hours the other night – and that was with a map. How humiliating. I've developed some golden rules for finding your way:

1. Just because it's a big street, doesn't make it a main street.

2. Campo hoping is method in madness

3. Don't orientate using landmarks such as 'old white church' or 'coloured glove shop' instead use 'triple umbrella light globe at left of blue unicorn with whirligig rainbow tail' or 'stucco lion holds 3 rose baskets in teeth below Atlas supporting chick with spear with big calves'

So i'm getting there.

My apartment is very cute now i've purged all the vestiges of the last grandma who was living there. I've thrown her shauls on the windows and and now i've got hot water (yes, no showers for four days) so am feeling human again. Even in the city of water, having to turn all the taps on to build pressure for a hot shower gives me drought guilts.

The work here is great. So far, super easy. The Australian staff are living it up and enjoying the place and the locals are too terrific – they keep us on our toes, show us all the places to go and laugh at our accents and bad Italian. Having local knowledge is a godsend and draws your appreciation for the place no end. I only use San Marco as a thoroughfare if you get my drift.

Had an aqua alto yesterday – high water. The lagoon sweeps through with a high tide which breaks above the canals and gets the boats stuck under the bridges. Everyone has to wear boots to wade through some parts and you need to walk on special planks whipped out at the last minute. Air raid sirens start going off and it all seems very dramatic for a few puddles. Even half submerged, Venice is gorgeous.

Kym is staying with me for the weekend which is nice. Last night we went out with some of the gang to the old Salt Refactory which has been converted into a night club but the local communist party???? Anyway, there are these amazing, ancient vaulted ceilings with ferals serving Becks, 6 foot Ukrainians chain-smoking and old boats propped against the walls instead of seats are all too cool for school.

Off to a Palazza over the otherside of town now by Vaparetto (the ferries around the canals and between the island). Unlike Veneitians who seem to be able to sit waiting on floating stops that ride heavy freshwater swells like Tokyo in earthquakes, I've been having the serious wobbles. Coupled with only a few hours sleep it could make me a little vommy.

Very, very happy.

Villas de Brits Abroad

Hard things to find in Cyprus: internet access, travel agencies that are open, Cyprians and supermarkets (that sell groceries, not souvenirs).

Easy things to find in Cyprus: tomatoes and cucumbers, sunburn, clear water, dust, Euro trash and leather workshops.

Cyprus has been chilled. Have been Villa-ing with Jen, Rebecca and Helen which has consisted of some softcore swimming, eating and beaching. The weather's been mild, the water's warm and the company has been relaxed - no-dramas. An improvement on Turkey.

The wedding was great. Lots of cheesy dancing in the discotheque and too many photos of Jen (who caught the bouquet) and her potential husbands. We all went to Nissy beach just outside Agia Napa and rented a peddaloe (sp?), which we'd been threatening to do for days. Felt like we were on for only about 10 mins before we had to return but not without some serious slippery dip action and some ominous flotsom and jetsom moments and the super high 45cm swell. I even tried skiing off the back as the poor girls put their lead foots to good use. The water was extraordinarily clean and even at about 10 metres, you can still see to the bottom. Not that there's much to see mind, just sand. Jen liked this, she feels so much more relaxed without any life in the water - no sharks, no jellies no bluebottles. It makes me feel unnerved.

Had the luxury of being driven in a car around the island and was relieved to find we weren't really amongst the Brits abroad who are spoilt (?) by theme clubs and bars that ruin the Cyprian sea towns with fibreglass monuments to kitsch. Ironically the Us sitcom F-R-I-E-N-D-S bar was about 1 metre squared and looked like a public toilet, guess they got the right balance there. I did harbour a soft spot for 'Magic Dancing Waters' a live performance with lights and gels that accentuate some kind of weird Las Vegas hydraulic action. Might take myself there on a hot date tonight ;)

Off to Venice tomorrow morning *sqwee* and looking forward to some quality time in my own apartment.

Artemis and the 40 Boobs

11-12 October

Did you know that Ephesian Artemis has about 40 boobs? She stands sarcophagus-like with a breast plate that has oodles and oodles of boobage poping like pomegranate seeds or black heads from her sternum. Other theories say they're bulls testicles. Regardless, if she was lactating she'd pass out after about two minutes. She was incredible!

Ephesus is one of the best preserved ancient cities in the world. There was lots of marble, graffiti, statues, pipes, columns, houses and pathways which really added to my empathic approach to history. Met a nice Australian woman called Belinda, who, despite her hesitancy towards ruins, thoroughly enjoyed the site too. We spent time finding weird signs and taking photos of American nannas posing like playboy bunnies in front of Ionic columns. The library at Ephesus was incredible, although Iwas a little disturbed that Epistome, the goddess of knowledge had lost her head. Also sat in the half-colosseum Ampitheatre and on a Roman public latrine. I've got lots of photos of Efes which i'll put up when I get round to it - they'll warrant further comment. Spent the night at a bourgeios hotel watching BBC world which was nice for a change.

Next day went to Pemmukale at the sight of the Roman city of Hierapolis. Our tour guide was a retired geologist so we learnt buggery. Luckily, the whole minibus had collectively rebelled against Attila the 2 toothed tour-operator so that we weren't force fed lunch at 11am, so not all bad. The ampitheatre at Hierapolis was also brilliant and a boisterous canadian guy who spent the whole time breaking into showtunes got to test his lung capacity. Unfortunately, the concave carvings beneath every Ampitheatre seat assisted his vocal capacity and we were amusingly plagued for the remainder of the trip. After seeing the city, we went to the calcium carbonate terraces which function as bathing hot springs looking out over the valley. Really incredible blues against the white of the deposits and the water was lush. Have some great pics of those too, will put up soon.

Ibrahim and the Bustess

Well let me tell you of Turkish buses! They take forever but they are da way 2 go. Once you've actually found your bus (the hardest bit) you can snuggle into bliss to be supervised by your Bustess - normally a smokey man/men with tight pants, poor English and lots of cake and tea just for you! You get politely woken up at every stop but the nice bustess rewards you with sweets and lemon alcohol for your hands, face and hair just for causing you the trouble. Yummabum

Met a nice man called Ibrahim, a civil engineer, who sat next to me and proceeded to practice his, often hilarious, English until the wee hours of the morning trip. He revealed some interesting insights into Turkish politics in particular perspectives on Israel and US involvement in the region. He also showed me about 50 pictures on his phone of the monument minuatures park he'd spent the day at. He also quoted the population of every town and city we passed with dubious but explicit accuracy. Ibrahim bought me pistachios, showed me the ferries and talked to me about all his favourite films like Braveheart which he's watched 15 times. He told me that Efes was where 'Stink' played. He's written in my book: "In Istanbul friends. Don't forget".

On the way back from Pemmukale, noone on the bus spoke a word of English (and my Turkish is non-existant) so I spent a lot of time pointing and pulling faces. One of the Bustesses got me up prematurely and I almost got off at the wrong stop, luckily the other bustess saved the day. We had the following dialogue: "Asagna" - I show my luggage ticket - "Asagna" - I say 'Istanbul' - "Asagna" - I shrug, so they pat me on the shoulder and take me back to my seat. The bustess then spent the rest of the time smuggling me drinks, smiling at me and showing me pictures of women's backs in magazine. Oh la la.

Doesn't get better than that.

Griffins and Booties

Wed 10 Oct

Spent the morning writing postcards which I still haven't sent, four days later. *sigh*

Was skimming through Lonely Planet looking for inspiration and discovered I was near a little museum in Arrasta Bazaar. It was little, quiet and occupied by only 4 German tourists and, I can safely say it's been a highlight of the trip. Beautiful Byzantine Mosaics from the palace were excavated here by Austrians a couple of decades ago and they're fantastic. There are bucolic scenes, animals, mythical creatures and the usual carnage one wouldn't expect from such a dainty craft. The work has been beautifully restored with lots of descriptive panels about the process (five points to the Austrians). There are some terrific mosaics of elephants fighting lions and about 5 different types of griffin: topkapi headed, lion headed, leopard headed etc. There's even a monkey poking dates out of a tree. Is that a double entendre?

Then strolled to Turkish and Islamic Arts Musem. Got a rug dose without being dragged into a shop kicking and screaming. Museum grounds were in an Ottoman palace for the Grand Vizier and were oosh-bagoosh. The collection was pretty amazing. They had a whole section dedicated to matriarchal Anatolian artisanship, which is exactly how it should be. I recoil making a passing judgement, but from my eyes, Turkish society is unfortuantely still pretty sexist, so a craft exhibition is one step on a long path (not unlike the UNSW Women's collective holding a cake stall c. 2000 for Women's week. pht.) The museum showed all the tools, dyes and yarns used for weaving kilims, rugs etc. Triffic.

After that scooted over to Dolmabace Palace to get a dose of tack. It was with the horded detritus of the last Sultans' reigns and it's truly disgusting. Aside from some bigger than Oprah chandeliers the palace is full of crap and everything is engraved and gilded to within an inch of its life with no sense of style or aesthetic. I felt like i was being slowly bludgeoned to death with a red velvet and brocade cushion with crystal embossing from Copperart. The guides were at 'capacity' which meant we learnt nothing more than the name of the room and which of the moth-eaten bear rugs was given by the Tzar of Russia to hoo hoo the Sultan blah blah blah. The guards demanded that we stick to the red carpet with our little pink plastic booties which had to cover your whole shoe. I dared to step off to peer into a bathroom (which was about 2 metres away) and was strictly reprimanded. At the end of the tour our disposable booties were thrown into bins already full of pink-bootie-sweat. Environmentally friendly? No. Gross? Extremely.

God bless Osman Bey

First day into Turkey, after writing my last email, on way back to the hotel I met a lovely shoe salesman from Cyprus. He wanted to go for a drink in the centre of town and needed company and I was up for a beer so off we went. He took me to a dodgy bar and after ordering a beer, from out of the woodwork appeared some lovely Russian ladies. [switch to third person] Josh panics and starts to leave but buys a champagne for his blonde lady friend before he does - not wishing to offend. The bill arrives at about $1200 and Josh flips out suddenly remembering about said scam in lonely planet guidebook page 165. A cranky Turkish bouncer makes Josh pay half and promptly marches him to an ATM to handover the money (about $450 YTL). Destitute, feeling stupid and wondering how he got gipped with his (allegedly) hip-to-the-groove street cred, Josh returns home and makes sob call to Damien.

BUT THERE IS GOOD NEWS: I reported my adventure to the Tourist Police who couldn't help because I couldn't recall where the club was.... but today, Josh sees a Metro map and recalls that he had pointed out to his Cyprian friend that the Metro station they were passing was named after Osman Bey a Turkish painter he studied at Uni. I knew i got my Masters for something. After a quick visit to Istanbul Modern to check, Josh gets a taxi to the metro station and low and behold finds the bar and returns with the Police. (A side story here involves the Police laughing at my accent and then the stupid cop reversing into another car and breaking the side mirror. Without telling me, we end up in a dark garbage lot with some angry dobbermans living in broken fridges - to repair the mirror.... not beat me up I finally figured out *phew*.) The nice owner of the super classy Sanzelize Club seems to know the local police quite well - who've done little more than drive me to the club a half block away. The owner says 'what's the problem?' - Josh demands money in his butchest voice. After negotiations I get 300 YTL back. oooosh.

An expensive mistake, but in hindsight super impressed by my revenge complex and not too much money lost for a helluva story. The morning after, I also lost that cursed credit card (maybe it was for the best after the Sanzelize incident) so I cancelled and am using another one. All ok now.

Onto more plutonic news I went on a boat ride up the Bosphorus today which was windy. Sydney Harbour is way better. Did get to gawk at some Ottoman apartments, a few glitz castles, some ruins and a number of swearing fisherman who kept losing lines when our boat went under the bridge. Saw the Istanbul Biennial which was brilliant. Favourite work was by an artist who made a film using a colours on a white map to represent political and colonial territory from 500 BC to the present day. Made a mental note that Terra Nullias apparently applied to all non-imperial lands prior to invasion. Australia was absent until 1788 and then only a blue dot for Sydney. Then went onto the gallery to meet Osman Hamdi Bey and other serendipitous Turkish painters. Have also squeezed in Aya Sofia the Blue Mosque and the Roman cistern. I can't really speak too highly of walking in a giant subterranean toilet but the atmosphere was greasy. There are some terrific Medussa heads underneath two columns which were puzzling and around them, oodles of goldfish. (Damien, you know when we flushed tumour fish last week - he's probably doing fine!) Blue Mosque was pretty amazing (the French ladies with their jugs out standing in the Mosque even more so). Aya Sofia really took the cake. Had some great golden mosaics which were all very holy. To get to the second level you have to go up a 6 story ramp! Jesus, that Empress must have had wheels.

Off to Ephesus (Temple of Artemis) and Pemmukale tomorrow where they have hot springs. Am going with a guided group so may get to speak to someone other than the Police or Russian hookers. Very excited. Mind, the ruins will probably keep me blabbing for hours and who wants to hear me talk about that?

Have realised that Medussa, Osman Hamdi Bey and Artemis are my guardian motifs in Turkey - they're always around when I need them. This strange trinity ensuring i'm "rock solid, artful and a vengeful virgin". Good motto eh?

Thanks all for your stories and messages from home. Keep them coming. Will report in a couple of days after my trip. Then on to Cyprus with Jen - VERY excited about that but will NOT be speaking to any shoe salesman.

Topkapi, Hamams'n'stuff

Went to Topkapi palace. Highlight was definately the Harem with its incredible tile work. I went snap happy for a while before regaining my composure. I was particularly impressed by the concentration on education by the Ottomans. Boys throughout the kingdom could be educated for free if selected by the Sultan, regardless of rank. They'd later become aristocracy and were encouraged to marry one of the 500 or so concubines from the harem - most of whom had no contact with the Sultan. Concubines in the harem were encouraged to improve their minds and stay healthy as investments of the state. The Harem was run by black eunuchs - mostly Ethiopians who also had a pretty good education deal aside from having their woo-woos removed.... Speaking of fellas, the most unusual and expensive tiles are in the Circumcision Kiosk (uh huh). Maybe the tiles would have kept your mind off things while they hacked off a bit? I doubt it, but the view was delectable. All the best decor was reserved for the Sultan, his favourite and the mother of the Harem. Only the big mumma was allowed to ride on horseback through the inner palace - aside from the Sultan himself. The gates to each quarter and the Quaranic calligraphy were simple but beautiful. Topkapi also has a load of export ceramics from China, India and Iran which caught my eye. It wasn't the best works I've seen but they were different from what I was used to - tribute celadon plates with biscuit cut Arabic inscriptions. I know, I know will shut-up now. My audio guide provided some classic moments including: "It is known that Sultans would entertain guests by watching the dwarves do shows in the pool". What dwarves?!? What pool?!? All I could see was a balcony and a pit which had rings attached to flaggon stones. I felt for our small comrades, it must be hard to do sychronised floating formations whilst chained at the ankle. I had to write it down...

Went to the Istanbul Archaeological Museum which was a plain exercise in hording and doing the best of what you've got. It was obvious that there's a lot missing from Turkey (er hum US and Euro museums) so they over compensate by showing EVERYTHING. My inner-museum student went ballistic at the haphazard layout and useless information. Aside from everything being at dwarf height (see above), the didactic panels were ironically Spartan themselves: Mans Head (sic) / Hellenistic / c. 2-4BC. Very exact. Regardless, there were some terrific artefacts on display including a corner gorgon stellae with slashing talons, an Athena fighting the giants stellae and some great Ishtar temple dragon and lion reliefs. I've taken photos :) Oustide at the museum cafe (set amongst the detritus of hundreds of ionic pillars) whilst having a bag of crisps, a tiny black kitten with green eyes stared at me with a tilted head. I was like, 'Sweetie they're chips' and she calmly tapped her tiny paw on my knee. So I dropped a chip that was bigger than her head on the ground and 3 minutes later, when she came up for air, she'd brought all her brothers and sisters. Chip demanding black cats - Allah!

Saw a flyer for "Turkish bath: the best way to decompress" and I felt like I had the bends so I went along. The 300 year old Hamam (Turkish bath house) was white marble with Ottoman basin and taps with a dome punctured with stars revealing blue inlay. As I was lying looking up at the decor, the fat British guy next to me had an equally overweight masseuse standing on his back pulling his shoulders into his toes - sweet jesus was he screaming. I passed a concerning glance at pops beside me who looked like he was about to give birth to one of the kittens at the gallery - that's where they come from! My massage was fine, good actually. The guy just hit me a couple of times, squeezed all the bulgy bits then put a soapy mop on my head and threw water in my face. For a black market 2 Turkish Lira i got an extra soap massage which has made my skin feel like latex. Brilliant.

Met some American tourists who were trying to get me to see whirling dervishes tonight. I've seen Martin del Amo so I feel i'm covered.

Istanbul, day one

Have arrived in Istanbul. Think I've managed to stave off jetlag with some well-timed naps on the plane and a very expensive shower in KL.

Am staying at a pension in Sultanahmet below Aya Sofia and near the Blue Mosque during Rammazan (the Turkish version) so I'll be woken by sun-up calls to prayers - woo hoo. Stupidly did not realise that the Lonely Planet expression 'the pension is popular with Japanese travellers' was a clue to the size of my abode which makes the panic room look like the Bosphorus. Oh well, it's quaint and homely and Ali the owner is either really nice or trying to rip me off blind. He walked me to his mates' travel agency and is keen on us having regular catch-ups... I obliged and he and travel buddy both laughed at why I would possibly want to go to Cyprus?- ah a WEDDING! That's ok then. You know that the other side of Cyprus doesn't exist don't you? Jesus, yes, yes I know, sorry to trouble you.

Traffic is carnage here although i've not been oohing and arghing from the back seat like I normally do - partly because I'd hyperventilate and also because I can't identify any road rules let alone benchmarks of traffic rules. At least in Sydney we have more than one lane and a tenth of the population.

Istanbul is Santiago, Chile except instead of dogs, they have kittens and are Mouslim, not Cathlolic. And like the Chileans, the Turkish people are just drop-dead gorgeous. If I was so inclined, I think I could evidence that blondes have more fun.

Half the buildings here are in disrepair and the others are glorious. All of them are sprinkled with oversized sea birds that circle minarets like vultures. The grand bazaar is, surprisingly, grand. Like Theseus in the labrynth, I walked in at sundown when the shops were closing and the store owners were pulling out their stools and tables for suppers of black tea after they'd washed their hands over the cobblestones beneath cerulean decorated domes as prayers and songs echoed over the load speakers in Arabic. I got Orientalist goose bumps against all my better judgement. This five second scene has of course eclipsed the hours of European haute couture rockin on by. I especially like the silk hijabs with matching Ferrari pumps.

Have been personally navigating a bump of emotions which, in true Josh fashion is an inner storm. Long walks and writing is keeping me chipper. Starved of conversation already but not enough to go and bug Ali with opportunities for him to input or offer insider 'assistance'.