Boat tour...

15.08.08 1902
First of all, this was the hostel at which we stayed. Monica and Tuna were absolutely amazing, an invaluable resource, replete with connexions and helpful information and advice, and a welcome sight after a long day or serving (included!) breakfast. Our room was quaint and small, but very clean and nice. There was a little line of ants that ran from the hot water tap, behind the mirror (but didn’t have a home in it) an across the wall to the door, and we didn’t bother them and they didn’t bother us. It was actually rather nice to see them there all the time. Our room had air conditioning, which we used in moderation, but appreciated very much after sticky summer days. There was a little dipping pool in the sun lounge landing outside our door, and the swimming pool ended up being up to my neck, but I still don’t understand how. Down a small flight of stairs, the lobby was covered in vines and plants, a little verdant space that felt all tropical at night. Down the walkway from there, you could go right up to the dormitory or down a few more stairs to outside, which was a little walk from town, but closer than some hostels. We would 100% stay with them again, no question.

 

 

After our first night there, we asked Tuna some questions about the area and our plans, which he answered succinctly and without hesitation. For the boat tour that we wished to take, he pulled out his cell phone and arranged our free pick-up for the next morning in under a minute. We paid him fifty lira total and went to bed after backgammon.

The next morning, after our breakfast (I will miss turkish kahvaltılar (breakfasts)) we waited until the van came to bring us to Ölüdeniz. Now, I can’t remember if it was on this drive, but I’m more certain that it was walking into town at some point, but Ryan said to me, ‘I like when you worry; it makes you seem human.’ ‘As opposed to?’ and as I was about to offer ‘superhuman,’ he said ‘goddess-like.’ I’ll take it. By this, he correctly surmised that whilst I’m travelling and have the bulk of the language and communication (read: stubborn haggling and arguing) skills, I feel tremendous pressure. I feel like I have to know where we’re going and what we’re doing at all times, and if anything is uncertain, then I will be working it out (‘thinking’) in mine head. Ryan is very good at telling with I’m thinking. The constant picking of the hair is another tell. I worry in cabs and dolmuşlar that we’re going somewhere unintended or that as he tries to pass that truck we’re going to die. I worry that we’re being had or cheated or tricked or that someone’s stealing something. I worry that we’ll be late or too early to start things or that I left something behind or we forgot something important. I worry about money. I worry that I’m in charge and I have to have all of the plans all of the time, and when anything is up in the air, I’m a bit of a worried wreck.

Human.

This worrying got better over the course of our stay in Fethiye, but on that little van ride to Ölüdeniz, I was worrying that we wouldn’t get to where we were going (we didn’t even know where we were going, technically), or when we got there, we would be late. Or to early. Is someone stealing something? Miraculously, we arrived onto the boat without being hit in the head by a paraglider and with funny British companions. We got a seat on the boat and moved when we realised that we were right in front of the speakers.

This boat cruise cost us only twenty-five lira apiece, and was totally worth it. We took off from Ölüdeniz (which some consider the most beautiful beach in the world) in a two-story boat. The first story was a bunch of benches and tables, and the second was benches along the edges and tanning cushions in the middle, with the entrance to the water slide (yes!) at the bow and the captain’s little bubble at the stern. We sat near the bow on benches. From Ölüdeniz, we travelled to Five Stone Beach and swam in the beautiful Mediterranean. The waters were unbelievable warm and salty, keeping us afloat with ease. You could see the rocky bottom through the blue-turquoise water, and I dreamed of scuba diving in this haven. Because of the rocks and the bays of the coast, I think coupled with the fact that there aren’t really tides in the Mediterranean, the waves were few and, when they were, they were at most a foot high. Lying on my back and staring into the cloudless sky, I kept mine eyes open to the aether without getting them salty. We swam around before climbing back onto the boat and heading for Cold Water Spring.

Now, we had been told that five minutes in this water would take five years off your appearance, but the water was definitely warmer than the Atlantic. It is probable that we were the only ones on the boat who found the water a comfortable temperature, and granted we didn’t get the chance (due to another tour boat) to swim directly over the spring, but there seemed to be pockets of still-warmer-than-bath-water (okay, because I like warm baths, maybe not so, but still) floating up from the sand, and while funny and cute British little girls chattered their teeth in the cold, we told them that this water was nothing, dear.

After swimming all the way around the boat and climbing back on, we travelled up the coast line to St. Nicholas Island, WHERE SANTA CLAUS WAS BORN! That’s right, we’re way cooler than all of you put together, because we got to walk around the ancient Lycian settlement where your very own St. Nick was conceived, birthed, and raised. Boo-yah. Apparently, too, when the weentsy Suez Canal opened, because of the connexion with the Red Sea and thus the Indian Ocean, the water level of the Mediterranean rose three to four metres, and parts of the ancient settlements were sunken below the new sea level. We wandered around the island and were very amazed at all that we saw. Luckily, the heat got to us a bit, and I realised that I wouldn’t be able to walk to the top of this

peak and get back down in time (unfortunately), so we walked back down to the boat and jumped into the water again. We met a nice honeymooning couple from Pennsylvania, too, so that was cool. They were the first Americans that I’d seen all trip, methinks--maybe not all trip, but definitely Ryan and Meaghan’s trip trip. We got back onto the boat and were happy that we were early, because the captain left ten minutes before he said that he would, and as cool as Santa Claus is, he certainly wasn’t visiting his relatives, and wouldn’t have been able to sleigh us off the island any time soon.

You can see the outlines of buildings under the water.

The most Mediterranean picture, ever:

And o, don't worry, this was the colour of the water:

O, we also had lunch (included! and vegetarian for me!) on the boat, so that’s good.

We travelled again out and around the water, passing another island and not really caring what it was anymore, because is was more ancient Lycian stuff, and cool as they are, tending to sunburns and fatigue was more important at the point, and all of the pinkish torsos around us agreed. Our next and sort-of last stop was Butterfly Valley, which was beautiful and hippie-like. We paid an entrance fee and hiked in horrifically inappropriate shoes through narrow paths and rock passes to a pitiful summer waterfall and back, not seeing a single butterfly the whole time, but seeing and picking up plenty of littered plastic water bottled AND there were trash barrels provided on the paths. (Meaghan smoulders.) We didn’t have time to stop at one of the small houses to buy desserts or drinks and economically support the local hippie people, unfortunately, because the captain didn’t give us enough time. On our way back to Ölüdeniz, we saw the big Blue Cave, which everyone mumbled a bit of awe at, and then willed the boat back. It was around 1730 or so by the point, and we had been picked up at 0930 (well, they were a bit late, so 0945) in the morning and waited on the boat until a little after 1100. In other words, it was time to go home.

We took our (included!) ride back to Fethiye after getting real Turkish dondurma, which I will miss very much. After appreciating air conditioning for a bit, we dressed to drudge into town for dinner. Seeing that Monica was cooking behind the counter in the bar/lobby/garden/sitting area, we asked when dinner was, and she told us that she could cook for us. Problem solved; Monica’s Sexy Dinner on the way. I think that I lost a few games of backgammon before sitting down to FANTABULOUS TURKISH HOME COOKING, Monica’s little dance included!!!

I can’t even remember all that we ate--some sort of yoğurt with something green and whole garlic cloves that you couldn’t even taste as garlic as you are it together, a tomato garnish, really yummy fried phyllo wraps of ak paynir and something green--that cabbage/spinach stuff like I had before again?--that was my favourite, what else Ryan? Um, well he had the chicken. O yeah, potato and vegetable stew thing that was also delicious, pilaf (the only word that rhymes with Ihloff!), you got the stuffed grape leaves? Nope. Stuffed grape leaves, which were so good that Ryan and I really really liked them, both of us only somewhat liking grape leaves and most of the time not; for me they’re too oily and the insides aren’t good enough. There was also a basil leaf garnish that I had with the salad, and I think that was everything, all piled onto on plate of deliciousness. Yum.

We went to bed shortly after that, methinks, and slept very well again. I was very happy to see that Ryan was sleeping so well on this leg of the journey (he didn’t the first night in İstanbul, and not at the resort, but after his five hour nap when we arrived at Ferah Pansiyon, he slept the whole night through and was over his jet lag after that).

Yay Fethiye!

I should start my own blog and say, 'Meaghan let me sleep for five hours so she could blog, the selfish little bitch. I felt like I had wasted the whole day. And then she wanted to finish watching Aladdin! What does she think this world is, her play-toy? That I'm some kind of accessory for her Barbie's Mansion...no don't write that!'

There, I gave Ryan his own blog space. He was reading what I had written over his shoulder. What he really wanted to make a point of was that he felt like his sleeping habits had been misrepresented in this blog, so I hereby repeal any and all commentary that may have made it seem that his seven-hour-off sleeping habits were anything that he could control... =) And for future reference, the world is indeed my play-toy, and things wouldn't be any fun otherwise.

For reference: that dream scared me, because I was afraid that you would think less of me, and because I was wrong.

We went to be somewhat early last night, and I slept long enough to have a few dreams. It turns out that the sun rises right in the window that our bed faces, and fewer things make me happier than being woken up by the sun. Some things that make me happier are the ocean, real juice, fresh bread, children laughing, and possibly vegan ice cream--the occasion has to be right.

After a yummy traditional breakfast (çay, ekmek, no ak peynir for some reason, zeytinler, domateslar, hıyarlar, and even portakallar bu güz), we set off to walk about the town, which we accomplished with flying colours. We even saw some ancient Roman ruins.* It was Sunday, so the place was quite quiet. We found out to-night that Tuesday is market day here...

They bay from the corner of our street:

Theatre!

A random path that we took and then the town and bay from it:

Steep hills...

Fethiye and tombs, just, you know, bein' tombs up there:

What Turkish journey would be complete without one of these?

And look what it's hiding!

After some lunch, we headed back to the hostel to find the best way to the rock tombs, but we ended up just looking at a map of where we are and I stubbornly refused to ask for directions, and when I finally conceded to ask, Tuna was around somewhere where we couldn't find him. We were told not to go into the tombs themselves, because they make you pay and it's the same anyways.

These are ancient Lycian tombs, just carved into the side of hills. I joked about how peeved the slaves must have been to build/carve them. All in all, though, the tombs were pretty cool.

The pomegranate trees growing on the sides of the streets were even cooler, though. They were not ripe, and did you you know that unripe pomegranates are really sour? O, and we had eaten figs from the trees on the sides of the road earlier, but I forgot to take pictures because I was too excited about the figs. They were yummy.

(Don't worry, I know that these are the pomegranates.)

When discussing how we were going to get to Kayaköy, Ryan mentioned that he thought that walking on roads was sketch, and that people should walk on paths or something. I asked him if I was sketch for growing up in a town that didn't have sidewalks. 'Yes.' I think that, since the ancient Romans constructed roads for moving soldiers, and they pretty much made roads what they are to-day (forget Eisenhower), so I'll walk on roads, thank you very much.

We had a nice, long, lazy dinner at Paşa Kebab, which had extremely reasonably priced traditional Turkish food that was both fresh and presented in an appealing manner. After dinner, we relaxed a bit back here and talked with Tuna about how to get to Kayaköy, Ölüdeniz, and a good hamam around here. I explained to Ryan that blogging is my substitute for journalling whilst travelling, and that is helps me decompress and sort out everything, and he's been very patient as I've written. After this, it's nearly bedtime, and then waking up to that damn rooster again around the 0400 call to prayer. To tell you the truth, I'll probably sleep through the call to prayer like I always do, and then go back to bed after hearing the rooster vaguely until the sun wakes me up, but Ryan, apparently, hasn't hones his unconsciousness quite yet like I have...

*Let it be known that, even though not everything that may be referenced here as 'ancient Roman' may indeed be ancient Roman, the ancient Roman were way cool, first, and second, they pretty much conquered everyone's ass, and may have inadvertently stolen architectural, artistic, or cultural styles, among other things, but by stealing them, made them Roman, and made all of the predecessors and followers Roman as well. So there.

O, also, today after seeing the theatre, wait, just kidding--strike that; amend it: last night after the 'Caesar salad? Et tu Brute!?' line in Aladdin, at which point I giggled quite a bit, Ryan only a weentsy bit began to understand how my reactions to Rome itself will be...