Out On The Datça Peninsula 

Our arrival in the small coastal town of Datça coincides with the first noticeable drop in temperature and the first time on the trip that the sun has failed to break through cloud. The Datça peninsula is narrow, too, only about 6 kilometres wide, meaning the sea breezes are far more sharp here than back in Fethiye. Overcoats are in evidence down in the square on our first morning as the crowd gathers for Ataturk Remembrance Day, today – November 10th – being the anniversary of the death of the Republic’s founding father 86 years ago in 1938. The weather blip is just that, a blip, and the sun returns next day.

With its off the radar location and its narrow, mountainous shape, being on Datça feels more like being on an island than on a peninsula, the locals apparently think of themselves in this light too, proud of their slow paced island-like lifestyle. The isthmus at the neck of Datça is so narrow that the village in that stretch is named Balikaşiran, which loosely translates as “the place where fish may leap across” – now that’s an amusing name however you look at it. Once through the neck, the land ahead is dramatic and spectacular.

It’s also populated only sparsely – the eponymous town is the only place of any size, the rest of the “island” comprises small, attractive villages and large tracts of land too mountainous to be inhabitable. Down in the depressions between mountains olive groves, almond orchards and orangeries dominate the agricultural scene, with almonds being the produce most “exported” to the rest of Turkey. Evidence of that is everywhere – shops selling local produce stock dozens of different almond products alongside the copious numbers of jars of pine and other honey. Almond bags, almond sweets, almond paste, fizzy almond drinks, almond cookies, almond essence….oh, and of course marzipan.

Rising up from the groves and orchards, any south facing slope is covered with a different crop, as vineyards producing the renowned Datça wine line the hillsides with bright green rows. We are of course past the harvesting season and the almond trees now stand shedding their leaves in the neat plantations, but with just a modicum of imagination it’s possible to picture what must be an incredibly colourful scene when they are all in springtime bloom.

Dramatic is the right word for these towering, hulking mountains which run the length of the peninsula, then dive beneath the sea to rise again as the Dodecanese islands visible just across the water. Driving around Datça peninsula is a slow job, the roads are twisting and narrow but the real delay is the number of times we have to stop and stare, such is the drama unfolding with every kilometre. As if this isn’t terrific enough, the tip of the peninsula is the point where two seas meet, the Mediterranean off to the left and the Aegean to the right. Small wonder a city stood at this very point in ancient times.

This city was Knidos, built by the ancient Greeks between the 4th and 2nd centuries BC, a compact hillside city with the bonus of two adjacent ports, one in each of the two seas. Pinned between the mountains and the sea, Knidos was densely populated, evidenced now by the close proximity of the remains of its grand buildings. The site was only rediscovered and excavated during the 19th century; some restoration is now in progress, not all of it to our taste. Is it really necessary to ship in new marble blocks in order to rebuild sections of an ancient city?

As we drive through, and keep stopping in, the sleepy villages, there is yet more distinct evidence of the island vibe. Stooped ladies in heavy traditional clothing glance up and perhaps issue a toothless smile, weather beaten field workers haul olive crops behind chugging tractors, in every village groups of men huddle around tables playing board games – usually a variation of a game we call rummikub at home but which is known as “okey” here.

Just above Datça town is Eski Datça (“old Datça”), the original settlement built in compact enclosed style to defend against the Meltem winds. Little has changed here in the tight cobbled alleys between stone houses, bougainvillea in multiple shades draped over characterful walls, ancient fig trees providing shade – apart from nods towards visitors via coffee shops and wine bars. It is extremely quaint and impossibly charming, though unfortunately the wine bars’ season is over and their doors are firmly bolted.

Eski Datca

Like absolutely everywhere else in Turkey, Datça supports a sizeable cat population in every village. Generally speaking, cats in Turkey are not pets to a particular home, but rather a free roaming colony fed, cared for and respected by all. As a result, they look healthy, well fed and content, free but never ferrel.

 It’s probably time we did the little treasures some photographic justice…