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).

The last of the airport updates...

Waking up exhausted mentally and physically from the day before, we didn’t understand why we had to be somewhere at nine, because it was just a lecture with our group only, and that’s just a silly time. We took cabs to the university, because when you fit five (or even four), it’s cheaper than the metro. Five of us who are always on time because we respect this class became exasperated and left down the street for the first cab. We got in, and I said, ‘Bahçesehir Universitesi,’ and the cabby repeated the first word, which Jessica confirmed and added the second again. We sat and enjoyed the ride, except I didn’t, because I’m not used to cabs, and I hate how they drive like everything is a race and they have no regard for anyone’s life. Also, I take it upon myself to watch things like the temperature and gas gauges (the second of which was on empty this entire time), the speed, and where we’re going. Sure enough, we start heading over the bridge to Asia, and this is not right. Knowing the most Turkish in the cab, I say something that amounted to, ‘No, Bahçeşehir Universitesi, not here, there,’ and I pointed back across the bridge. The cabby apologises and points to some random university that we’re passing and mentions something about two, to which I reply, ‘Okay, I understand, okay okay, there, Bahçeşehir’ and point again. He continues driving through Asia, and it’s when we get on a freeway that I stick half my body from the back up the front of the cab and say, ‘No! Bahçeşehir Universitesi, Nısantısı [a district near which it is] there, not here!’ And the cabby explains that, O, that’s Bahçeşehir Campus, and Bahçeşehir University is out here. He finally understands, and we head back into Istanbul in rush hour traffic. Yippee. We get across another bridge, racking up a fare, Meaghan freaking out for the gas gauge and feeling nauseous from worry and motion sickness. We get to Nısantısı with me having to point streets most of the way, and I want to poke this cabby in the eye. He pulls into some random lot and I repeat Nısantısı again, and then say ‘Bahçeşehir, Deniz Müzesi. Nısantısı’ exasperatedly, and the cabby asks a man out the window if there’s a Bahçeşehir near the Sea Museum.

Great, our cabby doesn’t even know Istanbul as well as I do. Awesome.

After he confirms that I’m not making this up, we drive down, and I have to keep pointing streets. I make him pull right up next to the big blue sign that says ‘Bahçeşehir Universitesi’ pointing to the big building that says ‘Bahçeşehir Universitesi’ on it, and nothing about a campus. We go to give him 10 YTL, because the original fare should have been 7, but Emre (hocam’s second cousin or something), who has less than I do between his legs, I’m sure, talks with him, explains to us that there are two Bahçeşehirs (no shit, Sherlock!) and pays the full 35 YTL fare. No money out of my budget, at least.

Our would-have-been-first group ends up last sitting outside for our lecture, where we are told that there are two Bahçeşehirs, and we had to ask for the Beşiktaş one. Thanks for mentioning this in any of the past two weeks that we’ve been going there, those in charge. Every other cab’s students said the same thing that we did and got there fine. We were also told, with a dig at the drama situation, that we should pay for our mistakes, and you pay for what you do, just like in America. Excuse me? I would NOT have paid that fare in America! I knew the city better than the cabby, and he nearly killed us SEVERAL times! I would that I had thrown up on him. Grrr… Also, yours truly had to speak broken Turkish to get us back from the abyss of the next continent, thank you very much, and you’re welcome for not losing five of your students, because you’re staying at a residence an hour from ours. Do not tell me that I’ve made a mistake. But o, we should have asked the residence to get us the cabs and tell them where we’re going, even though we have to walk from the side street down to the main street to get them, and everyone else did the same thing that we did. Over.

After the reflection sort of thing, we took the metro to some touristy shopping district, where I had more dondurma and received less change back than I should have, because apparently things are two difference prices: one before you give them the money, and the other before they give you your change back. I told her, in perfect broken Turkish, ‘This ice cream is four lira, that is a five. This is fifty kurus [the change that I was handed]. Fifty? 1 lira?’ and of course, their comprehension of me went from perfectly fine before to nothing now. O well, 50 kurus. We loitered a bit again, me under the false pretense that once we met in a group, we were having lunch, and then left for a bus and the hammam: the Turkish bath.

1229 O, my. The hammam was incredible. Upon entering (separate male and female baths), we used the incredibly beautiful bathroom, and then, back in the vestibule, we changed two by two in litte rooms with transparent glass doors. Someone called, ‘Are people taking off everything?’ and I answered, ‘Yeah! Naked party!’ We stripped down and wrapped the thin linen towels around us before entering into the bath on our odd little wooden platform sandals. Inside the bath, stone basins lined the walls of the square room, separated by low stone dividers, with just enough room for someone to recline on the divider on one side of the basin and one on the other. In other words, two people to a basin. We were instructed to sit or lie on the large stone block in the middle of the room, which was hot, so that we would sweat. Apparently, one of the bath attendants (very large women) took Meghan’s towel from her when she entered, but she grabbed it back and lay down bare-backed on the block with the towel over her. We all were lying in this fashion until the topless call came around. Our professor not yet in the room, topless went down for a bunch of us. When the professor entered, some people didn’t care, but we all giggled until our laughed echoed and bounced off the stained glass octagon windows atop the dome, the chandelier hanging from it motionless in the sound waves, half its lights on. Some people sat up, and all but two of us pulled our towels up across our chests (I, for one, did not, because why?). After several minutes, the attendants came in and instructed us to walk in those little wooden sandals over to a basin to begin to rinse. It was time to lose the towels completely, and yet still sit modestly. The whole experience, really, was a progression of nude bonding, if you will. I hung my towel over the divider next to me and took the small metal bowl from the basin and began to pour water down me, feeling lovely in the heat, and playing with hot and cold water alternately depending on how I felt. Jessica was in the corner next to me, and Theresa around the corer from her, and they were both covered still. I implored them to lose the towel, because everyone’s looking at everyone and no one cares, and it took them some time before they finally made a deal and flung their towels aside simultaneously.

By that point, the large women, who were wearing only panties, had begun to scrub down with a loofa mitt four girls on each side of the stone block in the middle. We all watched at waited, beginning to walk about and socialise. I was pretty much one hundred percent okay with everything, somehow in my adolescence missing the modesty train, and dripping self confidence. Hocam walked about in her towel still, and it took a while for Defne, her fifteen-year-old daughter, to take off her towel for her bath. Somehow, I ended up being the second to last to go to the middle, besides hocam and Defne, but when I did, it was wonderful.

I was hand-motioned to lie face-up on the stone while a two-hundred and fifty (ish?) pound woman scrubbed off all my dead and peeling, sunburnt skin from my body, wiping off all of Spain, all of Turkey, all the squat toilets, all the fag smoke from nights out, silly Turkish boys, everything... She then scrubbed me down with a washcloth and made bubbles everywhere, which made both me giggle uncontrollably and her smile and ask me if it was good. ‘Çok iyi!’ I replied, still laughing, bubbles getting in my mouth from the pure, Arabian soap. I flipped over on the block, sliding around in the foam, as she rubbed down my back, too, and then massaged me with soap. Her hands on my skin were so soft, and I wondered what it must be like to work here every day, especially for upwards of twenty years, as these women had. She sat me up and took my arms, scrubbing them, her hand on my wrist and my hand touching all sorts of things that I had to forget were awkward, American social custom as it were. She led me back to the basin to rinse me off, and they washed our hair after, getting the sea salt and the sand out.

For more questions about people’s reactions, especially the hilarious question that my professor asked me, and how I swear the lady who loofaed me did it with malice at one point, you will have to ask, and I mean no offense if some of you receive less-than-straightforward answers.

She smoked a fag afterwards (we were that good?). Seriously.

We went out to dinner last night at a really nice restaurant here that had a beautiful view of a few mosques, Haçik, and Galata Tower. We ate until we were stuffed; I had all of the vegetable appetisers with this one poofy bread that you had to pop to rip open, then another squishy bread that was naan-like that I used to soak up the last of the salad appetisers, and then pide (like pizza, but this was just melted cheese on bread), and then another bread that was flat with my salad and hot peppers (really hot!--made my tongue tingle, and that’s never happened before!), fruit and baklava for dessert, Turkish coffe, and the remains of my gin and tonic with lemon and also the mint that I threw in, because apparently there aren’t limes in Turkey. I’ve yet to have a decent gin and tonic on this trip, I tell you.

We didn’t really sleep last night. I came back, showered, tried to pack and procrastinated, talked with Gözde, and then finally packed. I slept for a little over an hour before waking up four minutes before we had to leave (read: I woke up at 0356), having Kristina knock on the bathroom door as I brushed my teeth, her telling me that everyone else was pretty much on the bus. She helped me cram my last few things into neat little bags and then throw them into my big backpack duffle bag as I tried to dress myself and wake Gözde to say goodbye. I ran downstairs and out the door barely dressed, accessories and makeup in accessible places for later. We saw everyone off, said goobyes and hugged. Sonja was taking a later flight, so she, little Emre, and I waited around. We wandered to Starbucks where I got a breakfast wheat popover thing with white cheese and tomato with a chai latte that was just a regular latte, which I didn’t even like because thy didn’t have soymilk, and it tasted really weird with regular milk. It tasted all fatty and salty and ew, and I wish that I had just gotten coffee or something, alas. After leaving at 0400, seeing everyone off finally at 0610, and then eating, we were pretty tired come that time. Around 0650 we lay down on the comfy chairs at Starbucks, our stuff tucked around us, and slept. I exercised my uncanny ability to nap for exactly and hour, give or take five minutes, and by the time that I looked at my computer clock again, it was 0750. We got up after a while, walked around, made sure that Sonja’s ticket that she had just bought was all set, checked her gate, waited, and saw her off before splitting up a few minutes ago.

So here I am now, having been typing this in a Pages document since 0621, it now being 1254. I have faulty internet access, and I have to plug the pictures into this now fourteen-page entry (probably entries) before finishing, but it feels good. Ryan is supposed to land at 1335, but his flight is delayed 25 minutes, so that means 1400. I figure that he’ll be about half an hour what with walking from the gate, buying his visa, going through passport control, getting his baggage, and coming out. I don’t know how far he’ll have to walk, or how long the passport control will take, but I’m sitting right now in front of the small screen of international arrivals, about eighty metres from the door. I’m a little nervous right now, I won’t lie, but I think that it’s mostly excitement. I’m also happy that I had only two-and-a-half collective hours of rest, because he’s bound to be tired after flying east, but I think that he’s right in saying that he’ll be too excited to be tired, because I don’t need a wink right now. I’m too excited to eat, even. I keep looking up at this small board, waiting for his flight, but it’s only at the 1305 flights right now.

I guess that I’ll go back and revise this a little bit, but I’m wondering when I’m going to finish this (these) entry (ies)--maybe back here to-morrow, waiting to fly down the coast to be picked up by our driver from the resort.

I miss everyone, and I hope that you’re all well! I’m thinking of all of you on this adventure, but that doesn’t mean that I’m in any rush to get home...

O, lazy...

06.08.08 1127 The next day, we went on a boat ride to one of the Prince’s Islands, without our professor, who was giving a grant proposal or something at the university with which we’d been associated, because it just so happened that Aoun, our president, was visiting. We were supposed to go on a bike ride, but once we got off the two hour boat ride, people wanted either to eat or to peace for the beach. I stayed and ate, and four of us after this decided that we just wanted some water and sun, and I told the other three of them going, ‘I’d rather come with you guys, not to be a follower or anything, but I’d prefer your company…’ and I was happy to hear in reply, ‘Meaghan, you’re not a follower.’ We took this sketchy little boat ride ten minutes around the island, and the whole time I was thinking how Mommy was probably having chest pains somewhere halfway across the globe, knowing in her heart that something is not right with her daughter…

We got there alive and not ransomed, somehow, and ended up at a little bay of concrete that was full of lounge chairs. I enjoyed a lazy afternoon, and for it my face and chest are a weentsy bit red, which is only bad because I told Ryan that I wasn’t tan, and he’s going to see me in four hours (yay!) and think that I lied, but I didn’t, because I told him the night before this beach.

The way back was hectic, as we had a three minute window to catch the big boat from the island, so I fronted 36,40 for 13 tokens and handed them out only to be told that the boat was full, alas. This incident, however, resulted in dondurma (ice cream), which was a-okay with me. We had a lazy boat ride back eventually and headed home to procrastinate packing, buying groceries on the way, and walked in to a pow-wow of drama on the first floor, remember.

Random note: what the hell!? (her nose thing):

The best part, obviously, was feet in water.

06.08.08 1110 The next day we were up obscenely early (actually, we were up obscenely early pretty much every day; I would not have minded this that much had our days not been upwards of twelve hours most of the time; in fact, I would have preferred longer days that started later) to take a guided tour up the Karadeniz (Black Sea) coast. It was beautiful up there: windy roads around mountainous terrain that cascaded over cliffs into the sea all of a sudden. We drove to a small village where a bunch of men were gathered outside and playing instruments, presumably for us?

One played something that was definitely not a soprano sax, but it looked like a silver clarinet and sounded like one. Actually, maybe it is a soprano sax. Nevertheless, after this reception and our complete and utter avoidance of a very friendly dog who was obviously carrying both fleas and the mange, we walked down a windy road and crossed the Dry Stream, or some name like that, which, well, dries up in the summer. Most of our group stayed at what was to become our picnic area at the next river crossing, but a few of us wandered up on a small hike into the hills.

The hike was beautiful, and I really enjoyed rock climbing and being my gangly, tomboyish self for once.

Splish-splash!

Moo!

Respect for this tree, which tumbled its roots over rocks to reach ground.

Another stream...

This was not, in fact, a gate; it was a fence. I slipped through the first and second rung, because I couldn't be bothered to climb over it, and I'm skinny enough to slip placed like that.

Once we cleared out, the cows continued to graze. Moo!

Corn!

Okra?

Aw, Madison and Cristina, sitting on the bridge in the picnic spot (you can see people in the distance on the right, and the barbecue is on the left, but you can't see that).

This is a sycamore! Behold how it looks like a cedar or something at its bottom bark.

 

I did not enjoy, however, the overabundance of water bottles littering the everywhere.

I started picking them up, and soon had to solicit the help of another backpack because I didn’t have any more room in mine. Despite really neat rock enclaves and pools of water, I came back with a foul taste in my mouth and poison ranting on my lips. Littering makes me so angry, and as I mentioned before, I wish that each person who littered could have his house littered, too. If people invested in water bottles, then they would think twice about leaving something that cost 25 YTL in the wild. I just can’t comprehend this carelessness and conceit. What are people thinking when they do this? Are they thinking!? I had to scramble into rock caves to grab four of them at one point, including a 2L that was mostly full. Seriously, people, what the hell? Also, there were no recycling facilities when we got back, so I think that they were thrown away, alas. I had much more about which to rant, but I think that I’ll spare that. Humanity makes me a cynic.

Karadeniz, when we finally arrived, was crowded at the spot to which we went, but cleared out once we woke up from our naps in the sun. When we finally stopped walking for a spot, I asked, ‘Water?’ and only Alejandro joined me. I walked right in and dove under, but his Puerto Rican self was complaining a bit of the temperature (granted, he got under before I did). The water was at least five degrees centigrade warmer than the Atlantic to which I’m accustomed. It made me laugh to hear people talk of how cold it was... I went back in again later, loving the saltiness of the sea and how it makes my hair curl like that.

Our dinner on the drive back was delicious; I think that we ate at such a town restaurant that the whole family was cooking and lived in the back. Because we were so many, they had to run about asking help from the neighbours, also owning restaurants, to roll out dough to make our pastry things, which were the best that hocam had ever had, and us as well, but we are not exactly connoisseurs of the Turkish pastry thing with the stuff in it rolled up sort of flat. We had to scarf down the food, though, having only forty-five minutes, and I did quite a few shots of people's unwanted tea on the way back to keep from having to waste it.

The kitchen, yes, that's right, the kitchen:

 

Alejandro didn't have any silverware for his ravioli-type dish, so I gave him my tea spoon...

It's the last one down on the right, I think...or the second-to-last...

Driving back, I watched Karadeniz stalk us from behind hills and down ravines. It was always there in the distance, the setting sun darkening its waters as they reflected off the darker sky. I saw it, massive, ominous in the distance, waiting there like the formidable expanse that it has always been. This was strangely comforting, like having a large black dog appear out of nowhere as you wander the streets of Little Winging and the yards of Hogwarts.