Hans Christian Andersen was born in Denmark in 1805 and became famous for his fairy tales. From 1840 onwards, his plays achieved great success. Before his death in Copenhagen in 1875, he published his memoirs under the title "The Improviser." Andersen's journey to the East began on October 31, 1840, at the port of Copenhagen. Arriving in Rome on December 19, Andersen's play being staged at the time did not receive the expected attention, so he requested a travel grant from the King. Receiving the grant on March 1, 1841, Andersen set off from Naples on March 15. Despite having little money, he decided on March 21 to take a steamboat from Piraeus to Izmir and later to Istanbul:
"In the early morning, we entered the Dardanelles, known in ancient times as the Hellespont. A city had been established on the European side, with a single minaret and five windmills, as if to show there was one temple for God and many for stomachs. A beautiful castle rose behind the city. On the Asian side, there was a similar one, and the distance between them seemed to me to be about one and a half nautical miles. On both shores, stony slopes and green fields were noticeable. On the European side, stone huts with doors and windows that were merely holes in the walls were scattered, with a few pine saplings sprouting here and there. A few Turks were strolling along the deserted road following the coast. The Asian side was more inviting, more summery; here, green fields and lush-leaved trees stretched out.
We came to the front of Abydos on the Asian side and Sestos on the European side. Leander used to swim across this strait, which separated him from his lover Hero, in stormy weather. In the storm, the lamp lit by the light of love would go out, and hearts burning in the storm would turn to ice. Years later, Byron also performed the same ancient tour here.
The distance between the shores of the two continents did not seem very great to me. Thanks to the clear weather, I could distinguish every bush and every living thing on the shore with the naked eye. Both cities had slender minarets, and houses with brown roofs nestled in flowered gardens.
Although our ship was progressing against the current, a considerable distance could be covered with the help of 200 horsepower.
We are heading towards Çanakkale, the largest city on the strait, on the Asian side. The cannons lined up in the castle of the city do not salute us. Soldiers in European uniforms with red fezzes on their heads are looking out from the embrasures of the castle, between the cannons. The boats carrying Turkish men and women around our steamboat have pulled away. A Turkish steamer passes close by. The deck is filled with Muslims and their veiled women. The wind and current were in favor of the steamer, they had hoisted the large sail, and while a thick, black smoke spiraled up from the chimney, the ship advanced as if flying among the green shores with its noisy passengers. Most of the passengers on our ship disembarked here and were replaced by hundreds of new passengers, Turks with fezzes, turbans, pistols, and rifles. An officer, whom I guessed to be just over twenty, had brought his entire household with him. They had filled the boat they boarded with their wives and servants to the brim. I stood at the top of the stairs they climbed to the ship and watched them; the family consisted of three women, three black maids, two children, and a servant. The women immediately covered their faces with their yashmaks, even the black maids hid their jet-black beauty from view. The servant, dressed identically to his master, spread colorful mattresses on the deck. The ladies lay down on these mattresses with their backs to us, facing the bulwark. They all wore yellow boots made of goatskin, with red slippers over them, a short and brightly colored skirt over wide silk trousers, and a ferace edged with a black stripe. Their white muslin yashmaks completely covered their chests, necks, chins, and mouths, wrapping around their heads and descending to their eyebrows. Their noses and eyes were exposed, their long black eyelashes accentuating the sparkle of their black eyes... Before setting off, all the Turks on the ship fired their weapons. This rumble echoed in Abydos and Sestos. Then all the weapons were gathered in the middle, and within a few minutes, colorful mattresses and carpets were spread across the deck. The Asian passengers lay on these, some smoking tobacco, some drinking coffee, and some pulling feather pens from the handles of their daggers, dipping them into the hollow part of the handles used as inkwells, writing long Turkish texts, whether prose or poetry, we could not determine...
The city of Gelibolu on our left was almost pitch black, except for the white, tall minarets, it resembled cities in Northern Sweden. The roofs of the houses nestled in small gardens were steep and red like those in Northern countries, and with their red-painted wooden verandas and bay windows, all these houses looked dark and worn. A gloom, a neglect prevailed in this city. Most of the houses extended towards the rather choppy sea, where icy winds blew. Nowhere else during my journey in the South did such cold winds blow from the sea; I could almost feel the chill of marble. There were two lighthouses, one on the Asian and the other on the European shore. Gelibolu was surrounded by low and bare hills. Further on, green plains stretched out, resembling those in Denmark."