ahh merhaba !
..haha, weell seeing as its anzac day eve i thought a turkish hello would be a littlelot fitting, no ?
also to get in the real spirit of all things 25/4/1915 i thought it would be a nice reminder for myself to look back through my journal from when i was on the ANZAC trip overseas last yr, and wow so many little forgotten moments came flooding, if not tsunami-ing back to me. immense.
hey ex-anzac trip, try & get even MORE aurally treating why dont chew:
1. on what i think was our first morning in a little fishing town in turkey, my roombuddies & i were greeted with the most beautiful turkish hymn flowing through our open hotel room window, headed straight to our unexpecting eardrums.
it was the month of ramadan, and so for that period, devout turkish adults are not to eat after dawn/before dusk. a hymn is sung by a local monk in every town and city and amplified out through these huge speakers that are situated at different spots around the place. the townsfolk wake before dawn and eat before they are to fast for the rest of the day, the adhān hymn alerts them to stop eating and begin that day's fast. what with the combination of the mind-blowing turkish song and the fresh morning air coming to us from a stretch of the Dardanelles that lay ~100m away from our hotel's prime pozishun..ha. PLUS with the anticipation of knowing that i was that v afternoon visiting anzac cove for the 1st time; it was one of the single most fantastic listening experiences of my life.
2. during the 2nd Last Post service that i attended in the Menin Gate memorial on a Saturday night, [the following night Harry Patch attended which is incredz in itself], a group of trappist monks were there..amazing.
they actually had hoodies on which was adorable with their robes and beards and specs, and at the end of the ceremony sang a song together.
these famous men who rarely ever even leave their monestry just so happened to be at the menin gate as we were..how can i even begin to express the hugeness of that ?
they make this beer that is apparently god-like in taste, which can only be obtained through having special trappist bottles that can get refilled when they make a brew..which are pretty rare and only publicised really soon before being up for grabs.
the bottles are only passed down from father to son to son to son etc, so only a v tiny Belgian population has access to the bottles. when the beer is available, you have to line up to receive it, and if they run out, you miss out..which accidentally sounds a lot like the Rivers slogan doesnt it, yuck.
but..how irrelevant was that..
back on topic - the trappists sung a gregorian chant in perfect unison, sometimes making little three-part harmonies. i was standing about 5m away and was awe-struck; well and truly hypnotised by the amazing sounds that were coming out of the mouths of these men..it was like fleet foxes meets jeffrey buckley meets elliott smith meets every lovely-sounding male voice evz..wowowooww. i recorded a section on my camera, but it gives little justice to the moment..mucho unforcho.
3. the evening before that as well, at the Last Post service, the crowd at its conclusion began to collectively hum Auld Lang Syne. it was such an eerie sound, and again combined with the purity of the cold air; incredible. admittedly, in that moment, i felt infite.
&:
tomorrow on anzac day, boys, please fear not that you have died for nought.
.. ahh dearest hazzie patch you can rest in lots and lots of peace now, knowing that you had gorgeously precious 111-year-old handwriting ^, had a new gf [!] in your company before passing away, and had the lovely honour of being kissed on the cheek by my beautiful flame-haired best friend.
..haha, weell seeing as its anzac day eve i thought a turkish hello would be a littlelot fitting, no ?
also to get in the real spirit of all things 25/4/1915 i thought it would be a nice reminder for myself to look back through my journal from when i was on the ANZAC trip overseas last yr, and wow so many little forgotten moments came flooding, if not tsunami-ing back to me. immense.
hey ex-anzac trip, try & get even MORE aurally treating why dont chew:
1. on what i think was our first morning in a little fishing town in turkey, my roombuddies & i were greeted with the most beautiful turkish hymn flowing through our open hotel room window, headed straight to our unexpecting eardrums.
it was the month of ramadan, and so for that period, devout turkish adults are not to eat after dawn/before dusk. a hymn is sung by a local monk in every town and city and amplified out through these huge speakers that are situated at different spots around the place. the townsfolk wake before dawn and eat before they are to fast for the rest of the day, the adhān hymn alerts them to stop eating and begin that day's fast. what with the combination of the mind-blowing turkish song and the fresh morning air coming to us from a stretch of the Dardanelles that lay ~100m away from our hotel's prime pozishun..ha. PLUS with the anticipation of knowing that i was that v afternoon visiting anzac cove for the 1st time; it was one of the single most fantastic listening experiences of my life.
2. during the 2nd Last Post service that i attended in the Menin Gate memorial on a Saturday night, [the following night Harry Patch attended which is incredz in itself], a group of trappist monks were there..amazing.
they actually had hoodies on which was adorable with their robes and beards and specs, and at the end of the ceremony sang a song together.
these famous men who rarely ever even leave their monestry just so happened to be at the menin gate as we were..how can i even begin to express the hugeness of that ?
they make this beer that is apparently god-like in taste, which can only be obtained through having special trappist bottles that can get refilled when they make a brew..which are pretty rare and only publicised really soon before being up for grabs.
the bottles are only passed down from father to son to son to son etc, so only a v tiny Belgian population has access to the bottles. when the beer is available, you have to line up to receive it, and if they run out, you miss out..which accidentally sounds a lot like the Rivers slogan doesnt it, yuck.
but..how irrelevant was that..
back on topic - the trappists sung a gregorian chant in perfect unison, sometimes making little three-part harmonies. i was standing about 5m away and was awe-struck; well and truly hypnotised by the amazing sounds that were coming out of the mouths of these men..it was like fleet foxes meets jeffrey buckley meets elliott smith meets every lovely-sounding male voice evz..wowowooww. i recorded a section on my camera, but it gives little justice to the moment..mucho unforcho.
3. the evening before that as well, at the Last Post service, the crowd at its conclusion began to collectively hum Auld Lang Syne. it was such an eerie sound, and again combined with the purity of the cold air; incredible. admittedly, in that moment, i felt infite.
&:
tomorrow on anzac day, boys, please fear not that you have died for nought.
.. ahh dearest hazzie patch you can rest in lots and lots of peace now, knowing that you had gorgeously precious 111-year-old handwriting ^, had a new gf [!] in your company before passing away, and had the lovely honour of being kissed on the cheek by my beautiful flame-haired best friend.
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