Joe’s Trip to Turkey 1999 (5 of 10)

The tourists here are mainly here on package tours, and my hotel has posted what times their flights leave to their respective destinations. There are direct (charter) flights from whatever airport is near here to Manchester, Cardiff, Birmingham, etc.

I have exchanged pleasantries with some of the British hotel guests staying at my fabulous hotel. They are middle-aged and large, so therefore seem familiar.

The hotel staff is bemused by my presence. I am not on a package tour and I kid around and talk to them as people, with respect, something that the usual fussy hotel guests do not even attempt. I swam at sunset in the large hotel pool. My Zambezi river shorts work well. Another fine North Face product!

Remember that scene in “The Thin Man” where William Powell teaches the bartenders how to make a martini? There was nobody at the bar, so I asked to see the selection of glassware available. I settled upon a tall glass, maybe 14 oz., and instructed the young bartender to fill it with ice up to the rim. When he returned with ice, I asked for two shots of the local vodka to be poured over the ice, and then stirred.

After it was suitably chilled, I asked for it to be topped off with Schweppes tonic water. My request for a slice of lime proved fruitless, so to speak. We settled upon lemon. I explained that I would be staying around for two days, and THAT was the drink that I needed to keep me sane. He nodded.

I ordered dinner and sipped my “Joe drink”. Two different kinds of eggplant salad and some grilled spicy Turkish sausage were my appetizers. They brought me a second drink. I was feeling no pain. For the main course I settled upon what we would call a ‘Mixed Grill’ which had a delightful assortment of lamb and beef thingies, a pilaf side and some fresh, ripe tomatoes. There is always fresh bread by the bushel on the table, French style with sesame seeds and plenty of artery-clogging butter.

Today I am off to Fetiye. The dolmus fare is 500,000 Turkish Lira, or slightly over a dollar. I am in search of some towels and trinkets. Maybe an ice cream cone. Then a nap.

I had hopped off of the Fez bus (bus #44) in Oludinez and I could happily stayed at the Aygul Motel another decade. After two glorious days there a yellow Turkish Fiat taxi took me back to the Fez pick-up spot, which was that horrible Oludinez camping spot, the budget backpacker spot that I had fled after only one steamy, sleepless, mosquito infested night.

Fez bus #46 was waiting for me, and with it came a new “Offsider”, Greg, from Perth. He was a tall, handsome man, maybe 25 or so, and the female passengers were charmed. The bus left on time and a tape cassette was shoved somewhere into the dashboard in the hopes of providing music. What else could it have possibly been but Cat Stevens? Yes, THAT Cat Stevens, the one that we had forgotten about in the States is as popular here, even today as he was when I was in Junior High School, about 30 years ago.

Surprisingly, the music does hold up well, but why he is still popular with young Australians perplexes me no end. The entire bus was singing along to Cat’s version of “Another Saturday Night” and I pointed out that Sam Cooke had a hit with a similar song in about 1963. I’m kind of a wet blanket that way.

The coastline is very rugged and the ¾ sized Isuzu bus is perfect for this kind of road. The terrain reminds me of the road to Ensenada, but with worse pavement. We pulled off at a roadside shoulder scarcely large enough for my butt and everybody got off the bus. There was no signage, but it was a secret swimming spot at a secluded cove, a planned stop on the Fez bus route.

Everyone hopped down to the tiny beach and jumped into the sea. The water was warm and the color was one I had not seen before. Perfectly clear, changing to the lightest shade of blue/green and finally to the deepest blue that I had ever seen.

I spent a few minutes paddling around, trying to stay afloat and trying to remember the last time that I had allowed myself the luxury of swimming in saltwater. I could not remember. If The North Face wants to keep me around, we will have to negotiate a swimming allowance in my next contract. Note to self: Stop allowing work to rob my soul.

I swallowed a healthy mouthful of the Mediterranean and decided to paddle to shore. I hoisted myself up onto the rocks where I had left my shoes, a sight that must have appeared as a Manatee preparing to die. Note to self: exercise more.

Read all the adventures!
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10

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