#ask: abdulaziz han

[bestmovies0]

The Final, Terrible Voyage of the Nautilus

On May 3, 2 008, a sunny Saturday in Copenhagen, a mob amassed along a dock to watch a 58 -foot submarine be lowered into the sea. Part art project, component engineering achievement, the submarine weighed 40 tons and had been has been established by volunteers at minimal cost from donated iron and other portions. The spectators cheered as the submarine swam for the first time. Peter Madsen, the designer of the vessel and the organisers of the day’s event, climbed into the hatch, smiling in a white skipper’s hat, before the submarine motored into the water.

Madsen christened the ship the UC3 Nautilus , after the fictional submarine in Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea . Jules Verne’s antihero Captain Nemo was a figure who lived outside social statutes, sailing the seven seas in search of total freedom. Unlike Nemo, Madsen had stayed close to home in Denmark, but he had devoted his life to constructing audacious vehicles of his own design, ones that might venture high above the atmosphere or down into the depths of the ocean.

Shortly after the launch of the Nautilus , Madsen started another undertaking. He and a former NASA contractor named Kristian von Bengtson cofounded a company called Copenhagen Suborbitals. Their programme was to launch the first manned built-from-scratch rocket. The two set up shop on Refshaleoen, a zone of the city that extends into Copenhagen’s harbor and once had been the heart of Denmark’s shipping empire. That industry’s wane “d left” empty warehouses and mills, which had been reclaimed by artists, engineers, and other creative characters. Madsen and von Bengtson were among them, occupying a hangar, and financing Copenhagen Suborbitals with crowdfunded donations. It was, von Bengtson wrote in 2011 on a WIRED blog he started that year about the rocket build, “the ultimate DIY project.”

The programmes made Madsen a kind of antiestablishment celebrity in Denmark. “You had a sense that he was doing something different. It was something bigger. It was something worth being part of, ” Robert Fox, a filmmaker who made a 2009 documentary about Madsen called My Private Submarine , told me. A biography of Madsen was published some years later. Madsen parlayed this fame into speaking engagements.

In 2016, another filmmaker released a documentary called Amateurs in Space , about Madsen and von Bengtson and their efforts to build a rocket. To watch the cinema is to see the men’s relationship fall apart. In June 2014, Madsen opened a new workshop of his own, Rocket Madsen Space Lab, in a hangar across the paved lot from Copenhagen Suborbitals.

In March 2017, a freelance columnist named Kim Wall learned about the rival rocket manufacturers. Wall had been raised in a Swedish township called Trelleborg, simply 40 miles from Copenhagen. She had left home for schooling in Malmo, Sweden, then London, Paris, and eventually New York, which she was calling home for a while. She was in Refshaleoen visiting her collaborator, Ole Stobbe, a Danish designer who had just moved there. The two were walking around one afternoon, past the vestigial houses of the old shipyards, when they came in all the regions of the rocket-building workshops.

In the four years Wall had been a reporter, she had traveled to Haiti to write about practitioners of voodoo; to Sri Lanka to document the tourism on former battlefields of the long civil war; to Cuba to follow the underground network of people delivering TV proves and internet culture. Wall was fascinated with what she called “the undercurrents of rebellion.” Here was just such a tale simply minutes from where she was staying.

Wall reached out to various publications, and had email exchanges with editors at WIRED, working towards getting an assignment to write about the rocket builders. She and Stobbe had also decided to move to Beijing together, and their departure date was approaching. She had interviewed one of the builders at Copenhagen Suborbitals and was hoping to speak with Madsen, but she hadn’t will reach him. She had only a few periods left in town.

Wall got the text she had been waiting for: Madsen was inviting her to tea.

On August 10, a Thursday, Wall and Stobbe were preparing to hurl a goodbye party. In the late afternoon, just as they were setting up for a barbecue on the quay along the water in Refshaleoen, Wall got the text she had been waiting for: Madsen was inviting her for tea at his workshop. Madsen’s hangar was not far, so she set off. About half an hour later, she returned to let Stobbe know that Madsen had submit a report to take her out on his submarine. She decided to forgoes her own goodbye party for the interview. She asked Stobbe if he wanted to come. Stobbe was “insanely close to saying yes, ” he told me, had it not been for the group he had assembled. Because she was going out to sea, Stobbe committed Wall a bigger kiss than he would have had she gone out for, say, ice or lemons. Wall promised to be back in a few hours.

Just before boarding the submarine around 7 pm, Wall texted Stobbe a photo of the Nautilus . A little later, she mailed a photo of windmills in the water, and then another of herself at the steering wheel. A while afterwards, Stobbe was tending to a quayside burn when a friend told him to look up. He watched the fix sunlight and Wall aboard the submarine in the distance, waving toward him.

By most public accounts, Madsen was a charismatic rebel. He had a weathered face with the prominent features of a plaything troll. His habitual uniform was coveralls and hiking boots. Fox, the filmmaker, calls him a “modern-day Clumsy Hans, ” for the apparently dimwitted suitor in the Hans Christian Andersen fairy-tale who wins the princess’s favor over his more intelligent brethren. Wall was in the early stages of her reporting, and she would not be aware of this much more about Madsen than what had already been published. It was only later, after everything that happened, that the details of his private life would become important.

Refshaleoen had once been the heart of Denmark’s shipping empire.

Mustafah Abdulaziz

Madsen was born in 1971 and grew up in a small town south of Copenhagen. His mom, Annie, was more than three decades younger than Madsen’s father, Carl–a pub owner. She had three boys from two previous wedlocks, and the union with Carl did not last long. Madsen was six when his mothers split up. Annie moved out with her other sons while Madsen remained with his aging father.

According to Madsen’s biography, writes to Thomas Djursing, Carl was a brutal boy who beat his stepsons, though not Madsen. It was Carl who stoked his son’s fascination with rockets, telling him , among other things, about a human who would become a hero to Madsen: Wernher von Braun, the Nazi aerospace engineer who later came to the US and helped develop the Apollo missions. Carl died when Madsen was 18, and for the next few years, Madsen ricocheted around, starting several degrees and apprenticeships–in welding, refrigeration, and engineering–before falling out of each.

As a adolescent, Madsen detected the Danish Amateur Rocket Club but was eventually kicked out because he wanted to use fuels that others in the group seemed weren’t safe. He invested his twenties and thirties organizing their own lives around the building of submarines and rockets. He often slept at the workshop where he built things.

Madsen’s obsession with submarines and rockets was all-consuming, but not to the exclusion of sex. I get in contact with Camilla Ledegaard Svendsen, an age-old friend of his, through Facebook. She told me that Madsen became a regular at sex fetish parties. These were a place of community, she said, “where everyone was relaxed about everything, including their bodies, ” and where women felt safe. He also availed himself of Travelgirls.com, a website that advertises meeting “thousands of adventurous girls who want to travel.” Deirdre King, who was Madsen’s close friend for more than a decade, told me he could be doting. “I broke both of my hands once, and Peter came by every day for two months and brushed my hair, ” she told me. “He is a man who loves women.”

Fox, who spent 100 periods with Madsen and his crew while attaining My Private Submarine , said that “women discovered him fascinating” and that the Nautilus sometimes played important roles in his seduction strategies. “’This is my submarine. You want to see my submarine? ’ He kind of used to draw that off a lot, ” Fox recalled.

After he split from Copenhagen Suborbitals, Madsen moved his rocket-making workshop simply across the lot.

Mustafah Abdulaziz

The goodbye party continued into the night that Thursday in August and finally moved to a nearby bar. When Wall still had not returned, Stobbe began to worry. The couple was supposed to leave for a wedding early in the morning, and it was unlike Wall to not stay in touch. Stobbe waited for his partner by the wharf. Then he went back to his room, tried to sleep, get up, grabbed his bicycle, and ride around the island in search of her. Around 1:45 am he called the police; a half hour later he called the navy. Wall was missing.

Just before 4 am, the police were notified of a possible accident by the local maritime rescue middle. Soon after, helicopters and ships began searching the water around Copenhagen. At 10:30 am, the Nautilus was spotted near a lighthouse in Koge Bay, near a desolate stretch of coastline southwest of Refshaleoen. According to a local news report, at 11 am a man out on his craft helping with the search discover Madsen in the submarine tower. He read Madsen go down the hatch, then reemerge as the sub began to sink.

Madsen then began swimming toward a nearby motor craft, where he was pulled out and turned back to land. By now, newsrooms had learned about the search for a missing submarine. Upon Madsen’s rescue, reporters headed to the dock. When he stepped ashore, a reporter called out to Madsen, asking if everything was OK. Madsen turned around and committed the reporter a thumbs-up. He said he was fine but sad because his Nautilus had dropped. There had been a defect on the ballast tank, he said.

Related Stories

Sarah Scoles

What Happens Now? Learns of Sexual Harassment Can Show the Way

Julia Angwin

How Journalists Fought Back Against Crippling Email Bombs

Issie Lapowsky

The Year Women Reclaimed the Web

Stobbe was at the dock where the press had amassed that morning as Madsen devoted his thumbs-up. He knew that something was off and braced for the worst. Still, he wasn’t prepared for what was to come. Afterwards that day the police put under a statement saying that Madsen had told them that he had dropped off Wall on the tip-off of small island developing. The police clearly did not believe him; they arrested him and accused him with involuntary manslaughter “for having killed in an unknown route and in an unknown place Kim Isabel Fredrika Wall of Sweden sometime after Thursday 5 pm. ”

The next day, a Saturday, Madsen appeared in courtroom at a closed-door conference. He hadn’t dropped Wall off on the island; she died in road traffic accidents onboard the submarine, he said. His tale was changing. A hatch had fallen on her psyche, and he panicked, he would claim. He said he dragged her body out of the submarine by a rope and “buried her at sea.”

On August 21, a cyclist journeying along on Amager Island , not far from where the submarine drop, came across a torso that had washed ashore. The next day, DNA analysis confirmed that the torso is accountable to Wall. On September 5, a court approved the prosecutor’s request to change the charge against Madsen to manslaughter. An autopsy afterwards revealed that she had been stabbed 15 hours in and around her vagina. Then, one month afterwards, divers procured her psyche, attire, and a knife in plastic bags, in the seas not far from where her torso was discovered. They also detected both her legs, tied to pieces of metal. Despite these breakthroughs, Madsen stayed to his tale: Wall had made her chief and succumbed, and he disposed of her body, but he denied killing her or dismembering her. Even after divers acquired a watch that might have been used to dismember Wall’s body, even after the police searched Madsen’s computer and discovered videos that appeared to show females being strangled, beheaded, and tortured–he stay to his story.

Kim Wall and I were both freelance novelists, both young and female, both reporting from abroad. Our relationship began after we followed one another on Instagram and Facebook. Then, a year or so later, in 2016 we found ourselves in New York. We invested most of the summer sitting across from each other in a glum coffee shop in Williamsburg, working on our laptops. We didn’t yet know where reporting objective and living began. We ensure in one another a companion, but likewise a guide. She was my friend and likewise the closest thing I had to a colleague. When I left for Afghanistan that autumn and she for Denmark and later Cuba, we kept in touch by text, talking each week if not more often.

When I learned that Kim had disappeared, my instinct was to find out everything I could about what happened to her. I could say that I was trying to control grief by examining the source of that sorenes, but that would be reasoning in hindsight. All I knew was that it was painful to think about Kim, and it pained me simply a little less to try to report about Madsen.

In the weeks and then months following Kim’s death, I read local news stories, watched the documentaries about Madsen, and scrolled the posts on the blog he maintained on an engineering website. I went on Madsen’s Facebook page and mailed friend requests to every one of his contacts there. I spoke to dozens of people are attached to Madsen–family members, buffs, collaborators, fans, and childhood friends, many of whom would not let their names to be used for this story. I spoke with lawyers, a forensic pathologist, and an oceanographer. In late September I flew to Copenhagen. I met with members of the police division leading the investigation, but they did not uncover much and did not want to speak on the record. I objective up committing them a statement. They asked about my friendship with Kim, and I told them what kind of person she was and why it wasn’t surprising that, as a columnist, she would have chosen to go with Madsen on the submarine.

On my first afternoon in Copenhagen, I met with Jens Falkenberg at a restaurant on Dag Hammarskjolds Alle, in an affluent part of township. Falkenberg is a 58 -year-old roof salesman. He first heard about Madsen years ago, when he saw a segment about him on television and, by coincidence, gratified him the next day at a diving store. He started volunteering at his workshop and helped build the Nautilus . He told me that the police had been calling, asking about a ascertain that was missing from Madsen’s rocket workshop.

If something did not please Madsen, “he would behave like small children who just lost his toy.”

Falkenberg was like many of the others who volunteered with Madsen, who called himself “a maker of extreme machines.” They expended their weekdays in regular undertakings but were weekend builders. They wanted the feeling of community the workshop made them. At the center of their alternating cosmo where boys constructed submarines and rockets was Madsen himself.

Some volunteers “was talkin about a” Madsen as a generous spirit, the various kinds of guy who would invite a pal who was feeling down “to take part in his little adventures as a means of applauding him up, ” as a friend named Lars put it.

Others reexamined old incidents and behaviours. Madsen could sway between rage and euphoria. One volunteer at Copenhagen Suborbitals told me that if something did not please Madsen, “he would behave like small children who just lost his toy or plummeted his ice cream or something.” When his feeling turned, “most people would know what was going to happen, so they would stay away from him before material started flying.” Volunteers said Madsen threw hammers, screwdrivers, and other tools. One volunteer, who asked to be identified by his initials, S. W ., helped build the Nautilus . He recalled how Madsen would go from being supportive to “pensive, jubilant, irritating, and sarcastic.”

“It’s hard for us to understand what drives a madman, because we are not mad, ” Falkenberg told me. He then described a recurring gag: Madsen would pretend to be a violent Nazi and would mime reaching Falkenberg, saying “Should I punch you in the kidneys? ” or Madsen might joke: “What if I inject battery acid into your veins? ”

There was also a lot of joking around about Nazis in the workshop. Crewmembers called each other by Nazi-inspired names. Madsen was called Kaleun, for Kapitanleutnant, a nod to the 1981 film Das Boot , about a fictional German U-boat unit during World War II, Falkenberg said. When they went out in the sub, the crew spoke German, reciting lines from the film.

Madsen’s fascination with space and rockets and technological sciences could hoodwink you into thinking he was a man of the future; you are able miss the fact that his obsession was rooted in nostalgia. He was enamored with the early Apollo missions in American space exploration. The venerate he held for the Third Reich was hard to detect as it was framed as irreverence, but it was there. “Some of the behavior the Nazi regime worked, they did horrible things and they should be executed and everything. But some of the things they did, it ran, ” the former workshop volunteer told me. “They built the biggest military machine in just four years. They constructed it virtually out of nothing.”

Building something out of nothing was central to Madsen’s philosophy, as was his sentiment that he should be able to play by his own rules and control his own destiny. He seemed down on people for being cautious. He talked about wanting “to be free from authorities” in attaining his submarines. After he left Copenhagen Suborbitals, he continued a blog about the progress at Rocket Madsen Space Lab. In one enter from 2015 he described his team as people who “all know that they are taking part in a Peter Madsen project, just like they would do if it was a von Trier movie … the unqualified impression that Madsens crasy[ sic] dreams tend to become reality … induces these people invest period and money.”

Windmills on the water.

Mustafah Abdulaziz

I had been in Copenhagen a week when I moved looking for a woman I knew did not want to talk to me. She was a friend and recent sexual collaborator of Madsen’s. She lived in a converted building in Refshaleoen. One afternoon I walked through its vast hallways until I managed to find her chamber. I knocked on her doorway, and she let me in. I had twisted my ankle on the way over and was limping. She let me sit on her carpet and keep my injured foot elevated while she ate toast. Her eyes seemed heavy with sleep.

We ended up spending the rest of the working day together. She missed a concert; I skipped an appointment. We smoked Bahman cigarettes, an Iranian brand I had brought from Afghanistan. We boozed home-brewed kombucha. Music filtered in from another studio down the dorm, filling the occasional stillnes between us.

Like others I spoke with, she said she was enormously angry at Madsen and felt guilty for what she believed he had done. Her ache about Kim’s death seemed deep and genuine. And like others, she was reaching back into her remembrance of every exchange she had with him in search of clues that might explain this misfortune. She told me that she had either considered or talked to Madsen nearly every day in the weeks leading up to Kim’s death. Then she told me about a particular exchange that was still bothering her.

Wall was early in her job but had already reported narratives from Cuba, Haiti, and the Marshall Islands( above) in 2015.

Courtesy of Jan Hendrik Hinzel

Some periods before Kim stepped onto the Nautilus , the woman and Madsen were exchanging notes via iMessage. “It was a joke, ” she said, pulling out her phone and scrolling through the white and blue text. Like many people I met in Refshaleoen, this woman was typically resided with an art project of one kind or the other. “Shes been” be very difficult finishing a video, and she’d asked Madsen to motivate her with a threat. The dialogue began as a casual sexual exchange but speedily intensified. She read the texts to me, translating into English as she went.

“He says he has a murder plan ready in the submarine, and I tell him I am not afraid, you have to be more threatening. He talks about the tools he wants to use, and I say,’ Oh it’s not threatening.’ ” The scenario darkened to inviting a friend to the submarine, where they would suddenly change the feeling and begin cutting her up. At the time, the woman didn’t give the exchange much imagine; it was not something she took seriously. After a letup in the backward and forward, she responded by sending him a video of ponies. The minute passed. The police now have the texts.

Kim and I often “was talkin about a” the challenges of reporting while being young, while being a woman. Harassment, come-ons, and our panic of not being tough enough were perennial concerns. This is particularly true on the road leading. During a reporting trip-up to Cuba in 2016, Kim texted me to say that as a strategy against unrelenting harassment, she had devised a “fictional NYC fiance.” The incongruity of the go-to deflecting move being to proclaim attachment to another man was not lost on us.

Lately I have been thinking about a question Kim posed in a series of texts last spring: 3/14/ 17, 7:43 am: Kim Wall : strong> i only have questions 3/14/ 17, 7:43 am: Kim Wall : strong> about organization as a woman 3/14/ 17, 7:43 am: Kim Wall : strong> and if we will ever be free , no matter what we do 3/14/ 17, 7:43 am: Kim Wall : strong>( leaning towards no)

In the working day after she disappeared, I hear people ask questions that betrayed a misunderstanding about reporting–couldn’t she have done the interview over the phone ?– and casual sexism–why was she there alone so late? On nighttimes when I couldn’t sleep, I would end up on internet chat room where specific comments parts filled me with fury: “She is a woman–how could she go alone with a boy she does not know? ” And: “She had skirt and pantyhose–how could she egg on a poor uncle in that way.”

In Afghanistan, where I worked mainly with men, I never wanted to show any sign of weakness or panic. In reporting this story, my editor attained me promise that I wouldn’t set myself in harm’s style. But much of the submission of reports is just that–routinely putting yourself in uncomfortable points. In the four months I spent on this story, I did things that in other circumstances might have seemed foolish. I went on long drives at night with sources. I satisfied strangers on their doorsteps and entered their homes. In stepping onto that submarine, Kim was doing what any reporter onto a good story would have been able to done.

My love for Kim has turned into devotion for her parents and for Ole. I’ve invested time with them in Copenhagen, Trelleborg, and New York when they came for a commemoration for Kim; it was held at Columbia University, where she had received her master’s degrees in journalism and international affairs. We talk online and discuss the fund we are setting up in her name. I want to alleviate their suffering, but I also know that the one thing they genuinely crave is Kim.( They did not wish to be interviewed for this article, and I understood .)

Ole and I speak on the phone, to talk about heartbreak, and what is to be done about it. He is still moving to China. Movement is good, he says.

Wall and Stobbe stayed in a converted building in Refshaleoen.

Mustafah Abdulaziz

On October 30, the Copenhagen police reported that Madsen had changed his account of that night in August yet again; he said Kim might have died from carbon monoxide gas poisoning. He likewise admitted to dismembering her body. Three a few weeks later, the police detected an arm in Koge Bay, weighed down with pipes. Eight periods after that, they found another limb. Madsen’s lawyer, Betina Hald Engmark, declined to comment for this story.

I wrote Madsen two letters at Vestre Prison in Copenhagen, where he was being held before trial. I FedExed the first and dropped off the second in a mailbox near the prison. I told him who I was, who Kim had been, my sadness over losing her, and my wish that he would tell me what happened. One afternoon in January, several months after I’d returned to New York, I went to pick up my mail and acquired an envelope with no return address. It was postmarked from Denmark on December 6, 2017, but that didn’t register until after I’d opened it and started scanning the neat, hand-written pages. It was only when I got to the word “submarine” that I realized Madsen had written to me from his detention cell. I remember telling myself to keep breathing as I tried to fold the pages back into the envelope. I did not succeed. The envelope was small-scale and thin and rent in my hands.

When I ultimately forced myself to look at the letters–there were three, dated in September and November–I was struck by their terrifying cliche. He spoke patently about the boredom of prison–he had few visitors and few pastimes besides penning. He described recognizing Terminator 2 in prison and identifying with the specific characteristics played by Linda Hamilton. He explained what he had access to( paper and pencil) and what he didn’t providing access to( nearly everything else ). He also wrote about Kim. He wrote that he thought about Kim every day and that they are able to “feel her feeling somehow.” There was a disturbing friendship to his words, as if he were writing to an age-old friend. He flattered my writing style and extended an invitation to visit. He asked me, “What are you? An explainer trying to understand? A terminator sent to terminate me? … Without exception–whatever you are–you are welcome, I am all yours.” He aimed one of the letters by saying “I will try to get this letter out to you as soon as is practicable, and hope that you will stay in touch as things get easyer[ sic ]. ”

On January 16, the police released the following statement announcing that Madsen was being indicted for homicide that “took place with prior plan and preparation, ” and likewise charged him with “sexual relations other than intercourse of a particularly dangerous nature, as well as for dismemberment.” A week subsequently, the full indictment provided more excruciating details: Madsen had brought onboard “a understood, bayonet, sharpened screwdrivers, straps, zip ties, and pipes.” Madsen had bound, thump, and stabbed Kim before killing her, possibly by choking or cutting her throat, the indictment said. Madsen’s lawyer told The New York Times that she was “puzzled” by the indictment. The lawsuit is scheduled to go to trial on March 8, with a judgment anticipated in April. In between is March 23, who had allegedly been Kim’s 31 st birthday.

“What are you? An explainer trying to understand? A terminator sent to terminate me? ”

The case has been deeply unsettling to people in Denmark, a country of five. 7 million people where there were only 54 reported homicides last year. It is hard for Danes to fathom the gruesome discoveries and to imagine that someone as well-known as Madsen could be responsible for them. In December, the Danish publisher Saxo withdrew the first book in a true-crime series about the example, written by Djursing, after it comes down under criticism.

Before my trip to Denmark, I talked on the phone with a humankind who had worked with Madsen off and on for nine years. He was in shock. But he likewise allowed for the possibility of setting up unseen perversion. “Some are walking around with a fantasy like this for perhaps 10 times, ” he said, “and one day they will do this thing.” Madsen had expended his adulthood pushing against the bounds of society, of reason, of the present, of gravitation. Did he think he could get away with committing the ultimate act of brutality? The trial may offer some answers.

On one of my last day in Copenhagen, I returned to Refshaleoen. I stopped by a eatery to ask directions to the building where Kim and Ole had lived. The line cook didn’t know the building, so I asked if he knew where the reporter who had died had lived. He cut me off midsentence as I was explaining how I knew Kim and asked, “Why are you doing this? ”

I didn’t have a ready answer. I said something about how I wanted to know what had happened. But saying this out loud, to this stranger, I knew I could never actually know, could never measure the precise weight of her agony. Trying to find out what happened to Kim, in hopes of seeing meaning in the senselessness of her death, is a selfish act, designed to serve the living. It feels like an act of betrayal.

I still don’t yet know where reporting aims and living begins. All I know is that it hasn’t sink in yet that she is dead. I’m still wishing for a smaller tragedy: that she was kidnapped but will soon be rescued, or injured but healing somewhere, or lost but will find information. I wish for life. I wish for a different story.

Read More

There &# x27; s a reason women in tech are finally speaking out

Why female photographers matter now more than ever

How one correspondent use social media to get inside the minds of ISIS

May Jeong (@ mayjeong) is a novelist and a visiting intellectual at the Arthur L. Carter Journalism Institute at New York University . em>

This article is displayed in the March issue. Subscribe now . em>

Additional reporting by Andrea Powell

Related Video

Culture

How a Virtual Reality Journalist Takes Viewers Inside Stories

At Nonny de la Pena’s Los Angeles-based Emblematic Group real tales, from melting glaciers to solitary confinement, are construct in full virtual reality.

Read more: https :// www.wired.com/ story/ final-terrible-voyage-nautilus /~ ATAGEND

from https://bestmovies.fun/2018/02/17/the-final-terrible-voyage-of-the-nautilus/

[justforustravel-blog]

10 PLACES TO GO IN CANAKKALE - #BigaTea, #ByzantineEmpire, #Çanakkale, #Constantinople, #DardanosBeach, #FatihMosque, #Gallipoli, #KabatepeBeach, #KilitbahirCastle, #Museum, #Sardines, #Troy, #TroyStatue

New Post has been published on http://justforustravel.com/2017/10/03/10-places-to-go-in-canakkale/

10 PLACES TO GO IN CANAKKALE

of the Dardanelles, as explained in the poem the poet of an era, and the setting is the heart of a homeland. Unique natural beauty of the Dardanelles, which is the subject of legend and history with the war and heroism of destansilastig the world has ever known, one worth you die. Come here and I can’t let it affect me. While touring museums and historic monument, a martyr’s heroic, on the other hand, you can enjoy the beaches and natural beauty.

1-Canakkale Troy Statue

one of the symbols of the Trojan horse has become almost heroic. The Trojan horse of legend’s na viewed from the outside, it’s like a work of art looks, as the construction of the horse but for a different purpose planned. Wanted to conquer the city of Troy and the Greek soldiers carrying wood sculpture in the form of a horse, until the present day didn’t come. Used in the filming of Troy was made of wood, horse statue, Canakkale’ye was given as a gift. At the entrance to the ancient city of Troy, is among the most visited places of Canakkale. It takes approximately 30 minutes to reach here through the Dardanelles.

2 – Çanakkale martyrs ‘ Memorial

Çanakkale during the war, 253 thousand martyrs who were martyred in this land, which has become almost a symbol of our construction of the monument, it was decided in 1952. The war stopped the construction of the monument was found and enough money to exited several times in 1960 and the opening has been accomplished. Yards Nose the height of the monument and Fort 41.70’has been placed in the. The monument resting on the four pillars of our nation is sitting on a solid foundation and that means indestructible. When viewed from a remote point, the fact looks in the form of M si. Processed mosaics when you look up from the bottom of the monument you will see the figure of the Turkish flag.

3 – kilitbahir Castle

the sea lock, which means the castle was built in 1452 by Fatih Sultan Mehmet han. The purpose of the construction of this castle, the siege of Constantinople in the Byzantine Empire, the papal Navy to help prevent. In the history of 1451 by Sultan Süleyman the magnificent, commissioned by Sultan abdülaziz in 1870 on the restoration.

4 – aynalı Çarşı

in the Dardanelles, I think that chucking of the market do not know the song. Canakkale mirrored local and foreign tourists who visit the market wants to come and visit. The gate made of red stone and relief patterns in chichewa, the architectural structure is quite different. Until recently, neglected and ruin in the form of market, held on with the restoration opened its doors to visitors in 2007. Unique souvenirs are sold in this place where the spirit of Gallipoli is quite interesting.

5 – Çanakkale martyrs ‘ Museum

used during the war of Çanakkale, blueprints, weapons, binoculars, photos, food containers and canteens used by our soldiers you can see. What can be affected when you get here? The bullet that lodged in the bones and shrapnel, bullets colliding in the air and the bandages here, you can see amazement. How to handle your emotions won’t be when you get here, and you’ll be very impressed.

The monument is located in the immediate vicinity of this country was a martyr for Canakkale martyrs ‘ Memorial you can visit. Our country and our fallen heroes come from every corner of this country don’t forget.

6-Fatih Mosque

the history of the Dardanelles was built by Fatih Sultan Mehmet in 1462 at the mosque, which is one of the oldest mosques in the city. The structure is rectangular and has a single minaret Mosque, the architect, Çanakkale, is one of the largest and most magnificent in the Ottoman mosques. Include a cemetery near the mosque. This cemetery is close to the tomb of Hafiz Ismail Pasha in the Ottoman Empire sadrazamlik made.

7 – Namazgah Forts

Namazgah was built by Sultan Abdulaziz and rumeli forts in that period was known as aziziye Bastion. Here’s a place to be sheltered from incoming attacks and biggest property impressed. Here is the reason for bastions called namazgah, if she didn’t make the Friday prayer here. Although it remained during the war due to the angle of the throat where it is located was one of the areas of the defense.

8-Kabatepe Beach

Canakkale kabatepe, which is a land of pristine beauty, clean air and sparkling sea, dazzles the mind. The front part of the back of the summerhouse, with a beach of sand, on the beach, in the sea, if you enter each way you enter, you can see clear. Visitors can picnic from within pine. Eceabat with approx a 7 minute walk from the beach. You can bring food with you when you get here. You can buy something that destroyed much of the facilities around.

9-Dardanos Beach

the beach which is quite close to the city centre of Çanakkale, it is possible to see local and foreign tourists. The beach can be reached in quite a relaxed manner from the center of Çanakkale. When you come to the beach, you can rent sun loungers and parasols. The beach pretty much to the wind, particularly wind surfing this is ideal for people who want to do I’d say. You can spare a day here and have a great time.

10-Biga Tea

Biga hosts stunning beauties in nature Tea places worth visiting. Quite a lot of tea with visitors in the summer months reveals that almost all the beauty. Biga, Çanakkale is located that divides the county and within the province of this tea, all shades of green to offer nature lovers. Feature; Alexander the great fought in the vicinity of this tea. Tea is poured into the sea of Marmara and biga almost amazes the trees reflected in the water.

What Defeated?

the Dardanelles’s also a taste of 3 flavors I’m going to count on in 3 places, I suggest the following.

Sardines

The name at the top, here I suggest you ask for pickle juice and sardines on toast on the side. You can get a peek at the taste of mussels and other fish products.The fish is very fresh and delicious.

Cafeka

Heroic if you are going to eat meat this place is for you. Prepared by marine and soslanar the meats are delicious. You’ll have to wait a bit if you are going to eat steak, but the taste can’t get enough of. I think this is it is poised to become one of the places frequented by gourmets. Here’s de souffle is very famous. They’ve come here just to eat the souffle.

  Paternity Cheese cooks

the venue makes this place one of the oldest and the most delicious cheese halva of Canakkale. I would recommend eating here especially when you get fried cheese halva. The image of the old structure intact for years business continues. The employees here are very friendly and sincere.

How do I get to?

the Dardanelles – it takes approximately 384 km by road from Istanbul. Here in Istanbul you can come in over 4 hours and 30 minutes. From outside of Istanbul by road, you will easily find below. On the roads, you can opt for an airplane trip alone to visit the Dardanelles failure, and more fatigue. Çanakkale hidden beauties and sights await you.

the journey towards the historic and natural beauty of gallipoli! the journey towards the historic and natural beauty of gallipoli!