Hello again!  We're currently in Istanbul and only 2 days away from returning to Canada.  Meg has a cold and I have bad toe, so we're a pretty sad pair at this point.  This city has changed immensely in 10 years, much cleaner and more prosperous but now the Istiklal is full of chain stores and almost looks like similar streets in western cities.  We hope to get more work done on this in the next month or so, hopefully getting into the habit of weekly postings.  See you back in Toronto!

  

Oct. 24 Sunday – ARARAT and a Sunday Roast..

We slept pretty well there and had a fine breakfast before moving on. We headed north to Ararat and were making good time along decent roads when the GPS put us on a shortcut along a one-lane road that turned into a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. I turned around while Meg fiddled with the thing until she set it for no dirt roads (as well as no toll roads). We got on our way and were only a little late in arriving at Marge's house.

Marge is the matriarch of one wing of the family and 3 out of 4 of her children; Peter, Robert and Ros, were there for a big feast of roast bird, which Pete had been slaving over all morning. Everyone was in fine spirits including Lucy the Jack Russell chasing Marge's sheepdog Bonnie all over the place. We greedily stuffed ourselves and got to know folks and had a fine lunch.

Lucy gets herself a drink.

After lunch we went out with Pete and Brian to look at their piece of land. Pete was pouncing on several examples of indigenous plants to show us while we strolled through the bush. We then went to his fields which had infrastructure from when sheep grazed there but his intention was to let nature reclaim the land and just use it as a natural space for visiting. A fine spot it was, with the Grampians in the background and Lucy swimming in an old sheep trough in the foreground. Of course he told us of the great bush fire that swept through the area a few years ago, and showed us what parts of the land were scorched.

Back at Marge’s place, we said goodbye to Marge's kids and they went home. That evening Marge surprised Meg with a very special gift. It was a family history scrapbook containing photos, family tree names and various mementos from this branch of Meg's family. It was quite impressive and entailed a lot of work, compiling, researching and copying photos as well as assembling them in a readable way. An incredible piece (which I shall treasure, particulalry as my parents are no longer alive so this history could have been lost forever to the Canadian branch of the family).

Meg quizzed her on more about the family while we had a light dinner, due to the huge lunch and then sat comfortably in the living room planning our visit and finding out more about Meg's roots. We tried some of the Hunter Valley white port we bought, it was excellent, and then headed off to bed.

Monday – Loved Ones and Ancestors

We got up and had breakfast, looking out the window at a cool, grey rainy day. Meg had energy, though, and took the dog, Bonnie, for a bit of a walk. It didn't last long, though, as the poor thing kept looking for Marge and straining on her leash so that they quickly did what needed doing and headed back.

The weather was somehow appropriate, as today was a day for wandering through graveyards and tracing Meg's ancestry. We started by taking a half hour drive down a rural road to the Willaura Cemetery where Meg's grandfather, and Marge's husband was buried. The cemetery was by the road and surrounded by farmers' fields, with the Grampian Mountain range faintly appearing through the mist around us. Flowers were lain on several graves of loved ones and names and dates were noted through the drizzle. We then toured Willaura itself, noting the family home and the small church across the road where many family members attended and had marriages. The town itself reeked of neglect (what does that mean exactly?ed.), being very quiet and poorly kept as well as being almost dead quiet.

We headed another half hour south and hit Dunkeld, which was a much more active place with a tourist office and restored buildings. Pete told us of the one place in town to eat lunch, at a hotel restaurant. Marge insisted the place was far overpriced and refused to go there, so we went to a more humble cafe and had a decent, but unexceptional lunch.

Next we headed to the Dunkeld cemetery, where Meg's aunt and grandmother were buried. It was a little hard to find, but Marge’s memory was spot on and we found it on a side road across from the local racetrack. Meg's two main relatives were the only ones with stones facing away from the mountains, apparently a mistake of the cemetery staff and a difficult and messy mistake to correct . While going through the place, the stone for the elusive “Unc”, who looked after many relatives while their mother (my great-grandmother) was in a sanitarium was found, as well as some other people with family surnames.

The rain and cold were more pronounced in Dunkeld, and earlier plans to go back to the expensive hotel for afternoon tea and scones were quickly replaced with the intent of getting back to Marge’s place, warming up, and drying off. That we did, after a trip to the bakery to get some scones for proper tea at home. Robert then came over with a book of information on former prime minister James Scullin, explaining how he was a nice but indecisive guy who wouldn't intervene when a state government sent the army in to strike break, suicide for a Labour PM.

Meg with her relatives.

We had another light dinner and went through more family history as well as watching some trashy television.

Tuesday - The Australian Gold-Rush

Today we headed to an historical theme town – Sovereign Hill!(Owen and I love these old historic towns and convinced marge to come with us as it would be fun,ed.). This is a town set during the Victorian gold-rush period, coplete with costumed interpreters and restored buildings. We headed in through the gift shop onto a dirt road lined with old style wooden buildings. There were schoolkids being ushered around by stern- looking school marms, all wearing period costumes. We stopped in at the apothecary with a few historic elements in glass jars. A small jeweller's shop had fairly modern pieces for sale, but more interestingly, the woman there spoke to us about corruption in the town and how rare it would have been for a woman to be staffing such a place. Then to the local bowling alley (completely made from old wood and looking more like a large shed) , where the balls and alley were so rough it was random whether you hit any pins or not. The advantage of the alley was that it was one of the few places that had a stove, so we talked to the guys staffing the place, politely declining the chance to bowl as it would take us away from the precious heat. The undertaker's had horse-drawn hearses from various different times and a coffin being formed amongst an elaborate collection of clamps. The tinsmith had a variety of tin materials for sale, but more interestingly had a continually running gear axle along the ceiling that any machine could be attached to for operations. It was all run from a steam generator outside of the shop. Next was the department store, which had a variety of things on display, mainly women's fashions. We spoke to the guy in charge of it about stocking show-off clothes for the newly rich and the status of various styles (essentially, the more impractical, the more stylish). What differentiated this place from similar historic villages I have visited is that almost every shop had the majority of its wares for sale, leaving only a little space for historic displays.

Lunch was had at the village tavern and then we went to the local theatre for a performance. We had missed the morning's meeting of the Anti- Chinese league and wanted to catch the afternoon's performance by a noted exotic dancer. After waiting for about 10 minutes, a guy sweeping the stage informed the 20 or so of us that the performance was to be outside the theatre on the street. When we got there the owner of the theatre introduced the woman and she began to complain about the newspaper libelling her as lewd. Then the newspaper owner came out and argued with her and the whole thing ended with a brief scuffle in the street and the newspaperman walking off (so no exotic dancing for us.-I guess there never is,quite clever actually). Next it was up the street for the local militia demonstration and firing of blanks. Many of the soldiers were characters we had met before and had modern-style earplugs in to protect their hearing. We also checked out the local school, with real schoolkids being called upon by the headmaster to answer questions and keep up their back-stories (whose child they were and what their father did for a living). Quite entertaining.

Lotsa gold, made before our eyes.

We opted out of the various mine tours offered and waited for the gold pouring demonstration. The man doing it was a real pro and dealt well with some mouthy school kids who were attending the show. He had actual liquified gold and explained the process now and then of purifying and pouring it out. Once placed in water, it was almost instantly cool to the touch and some kids got to hold the ingot, apparently worth about $150,000.

We then walked by the panning area which was large, wet and full of hopeful tourists. Then we hit the shabbier area, which was the Chinese area and saw and heard some well researched presentations on how they were treated back then and how their living conditions differed from other miners.

Back at the now-crowded gift shop we grabbed some candies and doodads and then headed across the parking lot to the Gold Museum (whose entry was included with our Sovereign Hill ticket). It contained some simulations of the largest nuggets found, along with large photos about how the gold-rush looked in boom and bust phases. A room with the history of gold around the world rounded out the exhibits.

On the way back we got hopelessly lost and the GPS bailed us out and got us back on the right track. The city of Ballarat apparently has a park with statues of all of their PMs, but we skipped that as well as James Scullin's hometown, which was along our way.

Ever hopeful Meg comes away empty.

Once we got back to Ararat we took Marge out to the cosy little Blue Duck, a local restaurant that was surprisingly busy for a Tuesday night. They served huge portions of the usual grub, which took quite a long time to arrive. Meg found out later that her grandfather used to hang out there when it was a much rougher place, and play darts with the guys.

Weds. - Baa baa black sheep... (Ros n' Gary's Farm)

Meg Bo Peep and her unhappy victim.

We had breakfast and then Robert came over to guide us to his sister Ros's place. It was about half an hour's drive outside of Ararat through rural country. We were greeted there by three dogs as well as Ros and Gary. The dogs were sent to their place on the porch where they each had their own torn up lazy-boy to perch on (like little Archie Bunkers). We were given the grand tour, with Meg able to cuddle a lamb in spite of its loud protest and its mom's nervousness nearby. Their house had been renovated and was quite modern inside but still had an old wood-fired stove in a corner. We got to see their sheep shearing equipment as well as a lamb cradle, not nearly as nice a device as it sounds. It's a four-armed rotating beastie that the lambs lie on with their legs in the air while they get their immunizations,their bums shaven, and their tails shortened. We then got to see the dogs move a herd of sheep from one field to another, which they did with amazing speed and efficiency.

After our poke around we set off separately for Hall's Gap for lunch. This town is the gateway to the Grampians and a pleasant, outdoorsy feeling place. Meg got some of her postal business done and we had lunch on the outdoor patio of the restaurant as it was an unusually sunny and warm day.

Out from the Grampians.

After lunch we said goodbye to Ros and Gary and headed off with Robert for a mountain hike. Because of recent flooding, almost all of the recommended trails close to town were closed, some possibly permanently because of washed-out bridges. We were heading up Mount William, which was a harrowing 10km drive up a very narrow road where we had to frequently swerve to avoid people barrelling along the other way. At the end of the road there was a place to park followed by a blocked-off road that you continued up on foot. This was a very steep road that would have caused most cars difficulty and after about 45 minutes it led to an old military communications tower that afforded great views of the surrounding landscape. What makes the Grampians striking is that they don't develop from foothills but just shoot up from flat farmland, so the view from their edge is a good one. We looked around for a little while and then walked down again. On the way we congratulated a couple we saw biking up the steep approach road.

We got back safely to the car and to Ararat, with only a short time to get organized before heading to Joan (Marge's sister) and Rex's place for dinner. They lived in a neighbourhood which was essentially a retirement home where people lived independently in quite nice homes as long as they were able. Care was close by and a nursing home was part of the complex. We had a fine chat and dinner and Meg was able to fill in a few more blanks on her family tree through the conversation.

Thurs. - Back on the Great Ocean Road

Less sick and it shows.

Back at Marge's we had breakfast and said goodbye after a fine visit. We were heading back to Melbourne and drove back to the Great Ocean Road, as it was on the way and we wanted to see it in another light, as it was so spectacular. We drove straight to Port Philip, a small seaside town and found our hostel after a bit of, searching and the usual GPS inaccuracies. We found lunch at a little cafe on the main (really the only) strip and then went off to see sights.

We headed a bit west to check out the shipwreck coast, which had a nice enough view, a nearby beach and lots of posted information of various wrecks which had occurred. We then headed east, towards the Twelve Apostles and the most popular section of the road. London Bridge was next, this is currently an island off the coast. It used to be linked to the land but the arch collapsed, stranding a few tourists who had to be rescued by helicopter. There were several viewpoints overlooking the coast and beach below us. The sand was covered in the tiny footprints of the many penguins who nest on the beach. They wouldn’t be back until sundown, so we moved on.

Next was the Arch, which had yet to collapse and was impressive as there was no beach here and you could really watch the waves smacking the coastline and be impressed that there wasn't even more erosion going on. The Grotto was next, which had the water sloshing into a channel and making noises, not as spectacular as Thunder Cave might suggest but still impressive. At all of these sights we encountered a few people, some over and over again as they visited in the same order as us. None were overcrowded and we had a nice, sunny day to check everything out.

Meg, will you just take the damn photo?!?

Our last stop were the steps beyond the Twelve Apostles which allowed you to actually go down to one of the beaches. This was a beautiful and unusual place and the beach was large enough for you to be with others or go off on your own. Walking by the water was strange because the sand by the coast sat at a sharp angle, forcing you to bend your ankles in an awkward way. We strolled around here for awhile, as with the beach and the rock islands and sheer cliff-face, it as pretty impressive.

We headed back to our brand new hostel to relax (another good recommendation from the Lonely Planet). Almost no one else was there, leaving the huge common room empty. Our own room was a good size but sterile and undecorated. The common bathroom area was on timed lights, so you'd be left in the dark if your shower or visit to the loo was longer than 10 minutes.

We had heard that most people staying there that night were with a group, so we dreaded the thought of the noisy rabble this might turn out to be. They arrived as we were cooking dinner and turned out to be a surprisingly fine bunch. They were all ages and nationalities and assisted that leader in preparing and serving dinner. They ate in an organized way and then helped clean up while rushing off to catch the sunset on the coast. That left us to finish our meal and watch as the other backpackers there swarmed over the group's leftover food, which was left on the “free food” shelf in the fridge.

After that we hung out a bit in the common room while a trashy movie was playing and then went to bed.