Retracing Our Steps: Different Sides Of Bodrum

One last morning cappuccino in the Greek island sun, one last tickle of the friendly cat with the pretty face, one last pastry from the savoury counter, and it’s time to pack the bags and wander round to the ferry point. With impeccable timing, Meltemi has taken a rest day and the Aegean is benign and flat as well as its usual spectacular blue.

When we looked out on our first morning on Kalymnos, preparations for some sort of ceremony were underway, one which lasted through the Sunday morning and featured the army, a naval captain, a marching band and what appeared to be most of the island’s dignitaries. The priest was busily animated, hosting the whole process and drifting between duties with robes flowing behind him. For a full two hours following the ceremony, we could hear him singing and chanting inside the church as his faithful flock joined him in prayer.

We were to cross paths with the priest several more times, usually in an ouzerie or cafe where he always seemed to be feasting on sumptuous fare. We’ve heard it said that in communities like Pothia, the priest never pays for food or drink, it is the privilege of cafe owners to feed him whenever he visits. Maybe that’s why priests have to wear loose fitting flowing robes.

One night as we walk into the Mad Music Cafe (no really, that’s what it’s called), the bar next door is showing a Greek soccer match on TV, a crowd of older guys are hunched beneath the screen, eyes glued to the action. When Panathinaikos (for the uninitiated, a top team from Athens) score an injury time winner, there is uproar, and one guy in particular leaps from his seat, loudly roars his joy and punches the air in celebration. It’s the priest, still in his robes. 

Our clanking ferry chugs from Kalymnos to Kos where we have three hours to kill, filled with one last Greek lunch, before the catamaran speeds us between countries, across a time zone and back into Turkey. The Bodrum we last saw in heavy rain is basking in the afternoon sun – there’s no puddles in the streets this time, just a cloudless sky and long shadows.

This is a different side of Bodrum in more ways than one. Our home is at the opposite end of town, away from the party area and closer to the ancient sites, closer too to those neighbourhoods where the locals reside – in, if you like, the ordinary end of town, quite distinct from the “holiday bit”. We’re also in a hotel, the first base on this trip which has been a hotel rather than our own apartment space. It is, unfortunately, a typical seasonal hotel with a proper out-of-season feel: an unkempt leaf-filled pool, chambermaids conspicuous by their absence and, most annoying of all, wifi switched off.

Yet the town is a totally different place from last week, it’s as if nobody bothered opening up on a rainy weekend. Now, in the revitalised sunshine, shops have reopened, cafe tables have been brought back out and Bodrum feels ten times as lively. It’s the perfect setting for exploring the ancient sites of the town.

The mausoleum of Halicarnassus is one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, though now it’s nothing more than a ruin incongruously surrounded by residential housing. In its time it must have been an incredible sight – well, it would need to be in order to be granted such an accolade – of gigantic proportions. Each one of its four incredibly ornate sides was created by one of the leading Greek sculptors of the time; the structure stood 148ft tall; its rectangle a 411ft perimeter, though its status as an ancient wonder was not due to its size as much as the beauty of its design.

Indeed it must have been an incredible sight, recorded in ancient texts as a magnificent memorial. The exact date of the mausoleum’s demise, believed to be brought about by earthquakes, is a matter of conjecture for historians.

From the mausoleum we climb the steep hill to the ancient theatre, back down to the ruin of one of the seven city gates of Halicarnassus – the only one of which anything remains – and past the randomly strewn stones which were once the city walls. As we mentioned in a previous post, it was the mausoleum of Halicarnassus which gave rise to the very word “mausoleum”, being the resting place of King Mausolus.

The more we explore Bodrum, the more we realise how different are its various neighbourhoods. Cumhuriyet Caddesi, or “bar street”, is just one area, wander further afield and you will find market areas, streets filled with kebab houses and oçakbasi where the locals eat and prices are substantially lower, then turn a corner and find designer clothing shops and upmarket jewellers. It’s a town of many sides, and actually one which has really grown on us on this return visit.

It’s not unusual anywhere to find restaurant prices moving down the scale as one gravitates away from the centre or seafront, but in Bodrum that scale is eye watering. Something as simple as a kebab doubles in price near the waterfront, then move along to the eateries adjacent to the yacht marina and listen to the ker-ching of cash machines as prices rocket still higher. A front of house guy at one of these wants the equivalent of £60 for a fish which is £8 in the back streets – and if you want accompaniments you’ll have to pay more, that £60 is just for the fish. Eye watering indeed.

So Bodrum is nothing if not varied, its characteristics changing and evolving as we move through its different parts. Everything from back streets to party town to yacht marina to one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. And, of course, as with all of Turkey, cats and dogs everywhere.

Maya the hotel dog keeps following us into town, she seems to have taken a shine to us, regularly trotting alongside as we make our way to the seafront. It’s like she wants to show us around. Turkey’s cat and dog population is well cared for even if not strictly domesticated or belonging to any particular household. This traffic sign probably tells all you need to know about their standing in society:

There’s something going on down at the harbour, colour and pageant and what appears to be press photographers. Sauntering over for a closer look, there are eight camels, each one in regalia or ceremonial dress, being led around the quay by handlers as others look on and admire. Our enquiries reveal that this is indeed a ceremonial parade, marking the start of… guess what… the camel wrestling season. No, we didn’t know either, but it seems camel wrestling is a big spectator sport around here, and December marks the start of the season – now that sounds to us like something worth coming back to Bodrum for.

So Bodrum is done, our month in Turkey and Greece is over. There’s no doubt we copped some good luck weather wise with many sunny days even right up to the end of November. Next, England’s winter awaits…