EXCURSION BEGINS!

Hello all!
Well, we are on the road! I don't even really remember writing here two mornings ago (hey, it was 5), but I guess I already posted the itinerary. I'll start at the beginning:
So we left Istanbul bright and early, heading west, north along the Sea of Marmara. We got a sense of how truly huge this city is; this is what it looked like a good 15 minutes on the highway past the old walls: Yeah, I know it looks like I'm in an aquarium or something, but still, I think you can tell the sprawl; and I thought Southern Cal was bad. After some stops, we finally arrived in Gallipoli (Gelibolu in Turkish) at the other side of Marmara about 1 in the afternoon. Our first tour guide, the mystic Captain Ali, was violently thrown off the bus by the driver, who accused him of being drunk. This is Turkey; it would be weird if it made sense. Our next guide spoke the funniest native-Turk-learned-English-from-an-Australian English I've ever heard- and we were with him for five hours (dude loved the definite article, eg "the Admiral Ian Hamilton", "the Brighton Beach", etc.).
The battlefield is truly interesting. For Americans, I can hardly imagine a conflict more obscure than the Middle East theater of World War I, but for Australians and New Zealanders (Kiwis!), it is at the forefront of their national consciences. A minute or two to explain: by September 1914, the two sides in the First World War had solidified. The Triple Entente of Great Britain (and her Commonwealth), France, and Russia squared off against the Triple Powers: the German Empire, the Austro-Hugarian Empire, and the Ottoman Empire. Russia, therefore, was entirely encircled on the west, blocked from the sea and her allies. To relieve that pressure, Great Britain (in a plan engineered largely by then-First Lord of the Admiralty Winston Churchill) planned an invasion of the Gallipoli peninsula. After securing the peninsula, the Allied fleet would sail up the Dardanelles and seize Istanbul, freeing up Russia's Black Sea ports for resupply.
Instead, somehow, the decrepit Ottoman Empire managed to put up a stiff defense against the Allied attack, the backbone of which was formed by the sizable ANZAC (Australia-New Zealand Army Corps) contingent. A Turkish colonel named Mustafa Kemal ended up becoming commander of the resistance, and eventually won basically the only Ottoman victory of the war; a few years later he took up the nationalist cause, became President/Father of the Nation, and you know him today as Ataturk.
Anyways, the enormous sacrifices made by Australians and Kiwis on the beaches of Gallipoli have featured hugely in the formation of those nations' identities. As one Australian man said in response to my question, "heaps" about the battle is ingrained in children ("sticking with your mates" and whatnot). It's so interesting how many nations have formed their identities in opposition to the Turks: the Greeks won their independence from them; Serbia, Bosnia, and most other Balkan nations, the same; certainly the Armenians; and Australia and New Zealand too. Well that's enough history for now; here are some pictures from a beautiful site with breathtaking views:
Actually, this monstrosity first. Turkey evidently has a vast surplus of sculptors (there is a sculpture in the park of a random man who died in a 1994 brush fire. A brush fire), most of whom are terrible. Where even to begin? These blue-green figures are nothing short of gelatinous; the flag (besides being incorrect! Don't forget these were soldiers of the Ottoman Empire, not the Republic of Turkey) 'hangs' limply; and a barbed-wire olive branch emerges from the ground to wind skyward around one of the soldiers' bayonets. This is pretty representative of public sculpture here.
Okay, here's the terrain. This is the cove they meant to land at; instead they landed a little further down. Really beautiful, history notwithstanding.

The very impressive Australian memorial.
This might not look very interesting. Know what it is? Here's a clue: it's in the Turkish memorial. No idea? It's a mithrab- the niche indicating the direction of Mecca in mosques; the platform is evidently for prayer, though we didn't see anyone doing so. The tour guide said that in recent years, the Turkish memorials have been visited mostly by religious tourists from Istanbul, funded by AKP- weird blending of nationalism and Islam.
What a view- the Aegean is so beautiful. The island on the left is Imbros, and the one on the right is Samothrace (you know that headless, armless, winged statue of victory or Nike in the Louvre? Yeah, it was carved on that island).
So today we got up early again (not that that's getting old or anything) and went to Troy. Like, ya know, Troy. It's funner to say than actually go, because it's pretty underwhelming. Before we left Canakkale, we stopped to see the Trojan horse used in the 2004 movie 'Troy':
Our guide sold it with the line "stand next to something Brad Pitt once touched!". Again, the key word is underwhelming. The actual site of Troy is fairly interesting, as long as you don't expect walls and watchtowers. 9 separate cities were built here, from 3000BC to Roman times, all on top of each other, so seeing the layers was fascinating. Like Turkey itself, kind of (Turkey, by the way, claims Homer as one of their own, a 'son of Anatolia'; seeing which elements of history Turkey embraces and rejects has been one of the most interesting things here). And, of course, beautiful views.
Look! A ramp!
After Troy, we drove a few hours south to the Turkish city of Bergama (Pergamon to the Greeks, Pergamum to the Romans). The old settlement is on a citadel overlooking the modern city and the surrounding valleys and mountains all the way to the Aegean. Settled in the third century BC, Pergamon was the center of a Greek kingdom in Anatolia, part of the Hellenistic heritage created by Alexander the Great and his conquests.
So this was the thing we went to the top of. I really loved this place:
The view west
Part of the reconstructed Temple of Trajan. Today the columns are mostly used for senior portraits.
Also, Pergamon had the steepest known theater in the classical world. We didn't go to the bottom (quick tour), but I think you can tell from the top:
Apparently it had a capacity of 100,000 and the acoustics are so good you can hear someone talking at the bottom in a normal voice from the top.
We're in Ephesus now, it's about 1am, and we have yet another busy day tomorrow, so I should probably go. Thanks for reading, miss you all, and I'll talk to you soon