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Memories of A Detour to Turkey

by Marjory Harris

110 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #01-0185; ISBN 1-55212-785-0; US$16.00, C$17.95, EUR13.00, £9.50

This second in a series (first book titled 'The Moorish World and Beyond"), chronicles the 'detours' the author took on her way to and from the 1970 'Experiment in International Living' conference in Turkey. Locations include Denmark, Holland, cruises on the Rhine and Danube, as well as stops in Iran, Japan, and Hawaii.

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About the book      About the author      Sample excerpts       Catalogue info

About the Book Memories of a Detour to Turkey is the second in a series of travel books by Marjory Harris, an engaging and energetic ninety-three year old. Turkey was Marjory's original destination, the 1970 Experiment in International Living conference was being held there. When she found she couldn't fly directly to Turkey, she took out her wish list of countries to visit and things to do, and planned her second around-the-world trip. On her way to Turkey, she "detoured" to Denmark and Holland, cruised up the Rhine River and down the Danube-the latter turning out somewhat less than ideal-and revisited Iran, Japan, and Hawaii. Marjory tells a personal travel story. Of her first EIL conference in South America, of being shocked ("then, but not now," she says) by certain statues in the Frogner Gardens, of sore feet and three concerts in one afternoon in San Marco Square, of a circumcision party in Turkey, and of typhoon preparations in Hong Kong.

About the Author Marjory Harris was born in 1908 in the beautiful West Coast city of Vancouver, Canada, and lives there still. Her early years were influenced by politics; her father was a federal cabinet minister. Then motherhood, and helping her husband build a successful advertising agency. After a divorce, Marjory was on her own-and she came into her own. She did volunteer work with the United Nations International Co-operation Year and The Experiment in International Living. She remarried in 1971 and, with her husband, continued to travel. At eighty-nine, widowed, legally blind, no longer able to travel, and bored, she bought a computer, memorized the keyboard, and began to record happy memories of travel. She is busy now with researchers, editors, and publishers preparing the third of her five travel books, and a romance, for publication. Click here to read about MEMORIES OF THE MOORISH WORLD AND BEYOND Click here to read about MEMORIES OF SOUTH PACIFIC ISLANDS AND AN AFRICAN SAFARI

Sample Excerpts

     I buckled the seat belt, kicked off my shoes, and leaned toward the window to take a last-for a couple of months-look at Vancouver. Finally! I was on my way, on the first leg of my trip around the world. Oh, not in 80 days, and not by camel, balloon, or three-masted sailing ship. I was travelling much more conventionally, by plane and river boat. And circumnavigating the globe hadn't even been in the original plan.
     Originally, I was flying straight to Turkey to attend the biennial meeting of The Experiment in International Living. Around-the-world happened when my travel agent told me there were no direct flights to Turkey, that I'd have to fly to Europe first. Well, I thought, since I'm already in Europe.... I dusted off my travel wish-list and got out the atlas.
     My detour to Turkey now included Scandinavia and Holland, and cruises up the Rhine River and down the Danube. And, I reasonably concluded, since Turkey was roughly half way around the world, I would continue travelling east, to Iran, Japan, and Hawaii, before returning home to Vancouver.
     But the EIL conference was the reason for the trip, and I looked forward to the stimulating seminars, to the fun and informative bus tours, and to seeing good friends: the "Experimenters" I had met at the conference in South America two years ago.
     I had been involved in The Experiment for several years when I decided to attend the South American conference. I flew first to Toronto to attend the pre-conference meeting there, and to meet Helen Tucker, the national president and official delegate to Chile. This was an important event for Canada: Helen was to present our petition for full membership in EIL.
     I arrived at the meeting to find Helen in tears. Family problems prevented her from going, she told me, and then asked if I would present Canada's petition. It was already written, all I had to do was read it. I shook my head in disbelief, and refusal. With not much effect. Helen presented a motion and had it passed before I had time to speak. I regained my voice, and agreed to present the petition.

     I was able to enjoy the breakfast on the flight to Vienna, and when we landed I felt almost normal. On the ride into the city I had an impression of antiquity; yet the city was clean, new, and orderly. Later I came to understand why it seemed both ancient and yet efficient. The city had been severely bombed during the Second World War, but the Viennese had rebuilt the major buildings according to the original plans, with only necessary modernization. Other cities had replaced the bombed buildings with high rise steel, glass, and concrete office and apartment buildings. I preferred Vienna's method.
     My room in the Bristol Hotel had large corner windows that looked out at the Opera House and many of the other buildings in the centre of the city. Still, I could not be certain which were new and which were old! My room was lovely, and decorated for a female occupant. The room was small, but the comfortable furniture and the way it was arranged made the room both cozy and user friendly. The bathroom was finished in pale blue and pink, with luxurious pink bath towels and pink Kleenex! The early morning sun cast a pink glow through the large east windows, and would shine later through the south windows.
     As I ventured out into the city, I could see that the streets were well laid out and the traffic well organized. A ring road circled the city centre, the traffic lights were synchronized, and parking was prohibited during rush hour, making it easy to get from one side of the city to the other. Many public buildings are on this popular thoroughfare, for example, the Rathaus (City Hall), and the university. A public park nearby was also beautifully kept, and I wanted simply to relax on the comfortable benches and look about me. The flowers were fresh and colourful, and a woman with a basket went round clipping off the dead roses. I was very impressed with this, and felt it showed extra loving care. On my way back to the hotel I visited the charming Saint Stephen's Cathedral, which was not large, but most inviting. As the doors were open and people were coming and going, I ventured inside, and picked up a brochure (written in English). I sat down in a pew, and admired the rather gruesome panel on the main altar that depicts the stoning of the cathedral's namesake, Saint Stephen, the first martyr of Christendom. Saint Stephen's architectural history began in the 12th century, but the oldest remaining parts date from the 13th century. These are the Giant Gate and the Towers of the Heathens. In the South Tower, 343 tightly spiraled steps lead to the watchman's lookout 246 feet above street level. The tower was once used as a fire warden's station, but now serves as an observation point for tourists.
     Near the cathedral I discovered a large building that looked like an arena. Seeing the word Lippezan on a placard at the entrance, I wondered if the famous Lippezan horses were in residence. I saw a small door that was open, so I walked in. The horses were not only there, but were doing the dressage: the riders guiding the horses through various and intricate manoeuvres using only the pressure of their knees and shifts in body weight. It was obviously not a performance, as there were so few people watching. A young man came over and asked, in English, "Can I help you?"
     "Are these the Lippezan horses?" I asked.
     He smiled. "Yes. These few horses are rehearsing for a show. They will be travelling to perform in five countries."
     I watched them doing their dainty dancing steps, all in unison. They looked so graceful that I could not imagine that the performance was not already perfect. When he came to sit beside me, I said, "When I was in Vina del Mar, in Chile, I watched a military performance that included dressage."
     He was very interested that I had been there, and said, "Chile and Vienna are the only places in the world where Lippezan horses are allowed to be bred and trained."
     The Chilean experience had been exciting. A group of EIL delegates had been invited to a military show that featured Lippezan horses performing the dressage. We all had reserved seats and were enjoying the show when the loud speaker blared out, "Will Mrs. Marjory Lovick please make herself be known to an officer. The Comandante would like the pleasure of her company in the box. Please stand so that the officer can escort you."
     I was stunned. With the prodding and pushing of my friends, I stood up and a handsome young man escorted me to the box and introduced me to the Comandante. After the formalities, the Comandante explained that another Canadian was with him in the box, and he thought we should meet. He then introduced me to Helen Winters, of Toronto. We were both surprised to meet another Canadian so far from home. Helen Winters, the Comandante explained, was the only woman in the world to be allowed to train with the Lippezan horses at their military base. She was holding her own among all of those expert horsemen, he said. Helen was not in the performance that day, but would be ready for the next monthly performance. The view from the box, was spectacular. Of course I had been kidded by my fellow Experimenters about hobnobbing with aristocrats.
     I watched the Lippezan practice session for about half an hour. Then continued on to the Opera House and the interesting shops in a mall located under the main street. As the Pan Am office was nearby, I walked there to check on my Danube cruise. Here, also, the staff claimed to know nothing about it! I suddenly began to be worried about that cruise. I asked to see the manager, but he was away for the day. I returned to my hotel and asked the doorman if he knew anything about it, but he could not tell me anything, either. I went to bed that night very worried. During breakfast next morning, I decided to put it out of my mind for the day, and got on the bus feeling excited about the morning tour.
     We drove through the lovely countryside to the elaborate Schönbrunn Palace. The palace sits on a square mile of beautifully landscaped gardens and pools, looking more like a huge resort hotel than a stately palace. The Emperor Maximilian II acquired the ancient (built in 1271) Katterburg castle and mill in 1569 and rebuilt it to be a hunting castle. In 1614 Emperor Matthias rebuilt the Palace, and discovered a spring. He built a fountain over the spring, and called the place Schöner Brunnen (beautiful fountain). Only forty of the hundreds of rooms were open to the public. The guide told us to look for the Oriental influence in the lacquer ware, vases, and porcelain, and also for the beautiful Gobelin tapestries. After a brief tour of the formal rooms some of us strolled into the restful gardens.
     My restful mood lasted only until I returned to Vienna. I was determined to find out something more about my Danube cruise, so the next morning I went again to the Pan Am office to tell my story to the manager. He frowned, made a few phone calls, and finally said rather authoritatively, "The ship you have chosen is Russian. They are not exactly popular with our people. You should have chosen an Austrian ship." In the end he was very kind and, wrote, in German, instructions to get to the wharf for the eleven o'clock departure the next day. I was to give the note to the taxi driver. I wandered around the city in a happier state of mind, enjoying the sites and the shops.
     In spite of my apprehensions, I was beginning to be excited about the cruise. I would see sights and countries I had not seen before. From Vienna, we would cruise into Czechoslovakia, then into Hungary, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria and Romania, where we would disembark at a small riverside town near Bucharest. We'd be taken by bus into Bucharest, and from there I would fly to Turkey.
     But first I had to get my hair done. I am a natural blonde, but gray having mostly overtaken the blonde, I've touched up my hair. It needed to be touched up now. I found a hairdressing salon and had my hair done late in the afternoon. I was in a hurry to get back to the hotel for dinner and final packing, and didn't really look at myself in the mirror before I left the salon. Back in my room, I finally did take a good look-and saw a brassy orange! I was horrified, and almost too embarrassed to go down to dinner. But what could I do? I had to eat, and there wasn't time tomorrow to have it redone. What a way to start a trip!
     I didn't know it then, but brassy hair would be the least of my problems.

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