Turkey 2024

Arrival In Fethiye: Suddenly We’re In Turkey

As one of our friends commented the other day, we just can’t sit still for long. And so suddenly, in the blink of an eye, instead of watching the cold, wet autumnal days of England get shorter and shorter, we find ourselves looking out from our apartment balcony across the blue waters of a yacht filled marina to the pine clad hills on the other side of the bay. We’re in Turkey, and here’s how….

Back in the COVID blighted days of 2020, with our long held dreams of retirement travel temporarily knocked sideways, our choice of destinations shifted from our established wish list to those which presented themselves through happenstance. In other words, each time our erstwhile leader Boris Johnson – remember him? – declared our airports open, we headed for any one of those countries which had opted to eschew the need for quarantine. One such was Turkey.

Making our way slowly around the Turquoise Coast all the way from Izmir to Alanya via a couple of detours inland, we were treated to an Efesus devoid of crowds, a Pamukkale where a hot air balloon flight could be booked at less than 24 hours notice, and some alluring coastal resorts where beaches were full of empty spaces and half of the restaurants sat silently behind closed doors. 

Heading south west from Pamukkale we turned left at Mugla towards Dalyan, so missing out what we knew to be another spectacular section of that Turquoise Coast. Now, after returning from our Africa adventure where opportunities to enjoy one’s own space in apartments-with-a-view are severely limited, we’ve opted to fill this unexpected free time by plugging that Turquoise gap.

And so it is that twist of fate which brings us to the town of Fethiye, arriving late Tuesday afternoon and waking to this superb view the next morning:

Even at first glance, there’s no doubting that Fethiye is a tourist destination, the huge numbers of restaurants, the tour boats masquerading as pirate ships and the regular shop windows advertising excursions here there and everywhere are solid evidence of that. But this is the back end of October, high season long over and the crowds long gone, and it takes just the first half hour of wandering around town for us to be reminded of all the reasons we love Turkey.

Turkey. I am told that we are supposed to say Türkiye rather than Turkey these days, but it strikes me as a bit odd that just for one country on Earth we have to drop our word and use theirs – in fact, until someone tells me that the French have stopped saying “Angleterre” and that “Inglaterra” has been removed from the Spanish vocabulary, I’ll continue to write only in my own English, thank you very much. And that’s a fait accompli, amigos. Quod erat demonstrandum.

Before we go any further, a note about Michaela’s photographs, which for this trip will all be taken on iPhone because our camera curse struck again towards the end of our Africa trip. For at least the fifth time in a row, the beloved camera gave up the ghost just a few weeks after clearing the hurdle of the 12-month warranty period – uncanny how regularly this happens, a cynic would think it’s by design.

Fethiye is our first call in Turkey, the next is as yet undecided. The only thing we know for now is that we will soak up the joys of Turkey for about a month before returning home. And with these blue skies, this warm sunshine, and the stunningly beautiful natural setting of Fethiye, things are off to a very decent start.

Fethiye: The Beauty Of The Absent Beast

The haunting sound of the call to prayer drifts over the tiled rooftops and up the hillside, echoing off walls and bringing an essence to the pre-sunrise shadows of morning. Other mosques join the chorus, the lingering tones of numerous muezzins funnelling out across the water and upwards through the streets, but apart from the call, all is calmness and serenity. Flags on masts hang limply in the breezeless dawn, rigging silent and still, a single boatman manoeuvres a small craft out through the moored yachts leaving his gentle wake to lap the wooden jetties, the sound of the motor simply amplifying the sense of peace. As he moves further from the shore the rising sun paints a narrow golden thread along the top of the hills, gulls start to swoop and call. Fethiye blinks its sleepy eyes in the new light and turns back the covers.

It’s not hard to see that it wouldn’t always be this way. Night clubs and party boats are as lifeless now as the dormant flags, the season over and the crowds gone – we already feel that Fethiye would not be our kinda place in high season, but now, with nothing but its natural beauty to admire, it is nigh on perfect. 

Across the peninsula the neighbouring towns of Oludeniz and Hisaronu are the same, smaller than the surprisingly large Fethiye but equally geared to the tourist market. The shiny white dolmus takes us up over the lofty hills and down through both towns, where shops carry cheekily amusing names such as Saintbury’s, Sports Direkt, Newest Look and Selfridgez, all bearing copycat logos of their British counterparts. But if this stretch of coastline is over touristed, then it’s not altogether a surprise: the scenery is just stunning. Places don’t become this popular without good reason.

The white pebble and coarse sand beach at Oludeniz curves around the attractive bay to form at its extremity a spit of land between lagoon and open sea. Imposing mountains create headlands which encircle the bay like giant crab’s claws, leaving the beach to enjoy the calm, clear waters of a protected shoreline. And boy is the water crystal clear: it’s a joy to float in its welcoming freshness.

From Fethiye on the other hand the open sea cannot be seen at all, such is the convoluted shaping of the coastline and the depth of the inlet at the base of which the town sits. Here, the setting is what feels like a 360 view of mountains both across the water and in the hinterland behind the town, the result of which is spectacular. By day, the Mediterranean reflects beautiful inverted images of the lofty heights; at night the jagged mirror which is the sea plays games with both the lights of settlements around the shore and the pinprick lamps of the moored yachts, scattering dancing diamonds across the dark ripples. These views are both restful and beautiful from before dawn till long after dusk.

Just before the road from Fethiye descends to Oludeniz the soaring mountain of Babadağ towers over the terrain, pushing its rocky head through the tree line to sit in majesty above the amazing coastal views below. Babadaġ is a mecca for paragliders and there are plenty here just now, enjoying the last few days of the season before winter calls a halt to their adrenaline rushes. It’s a long cable car ride and then an old school open chair lift to the highest accessible point 1800 metres above sea level, from where the views are simply spellbinding.

Mountainous headlands plunge into the sea, pine clad hills sweep downwards, hundreds of square miles of blue sea meet azure skies at an unclear horizon. Fethiye’s sprawling metropolis fills its bay with whitewashed buildings while the lagoon of Oludeniz looks like a misplaced piece of jigsaw puzzle, a blue oval in the midst of deep green. Every few seconds another paraglider takes to the sky, his or her artificial wings lifting them from the launchpad and sending them soaring above the amazing scenery like an oversized bird of prey. We debate whether we would have the nerve to try it in tandem with a “pilot”…..do we??

Darkness has fallen back in Fethiye. Front of house restaurant guys do their best to entice us in but their efforts seem halfhearted, the holiday season has reached its twilight and the competitive edge is no longer there. The compact old town makes one last attempt to milk its location with inflated prices, the music from the young-set bars is muted and modest – bars which will be closed and sleeping long before midnight now those with bursting wallets and carefree minds have headed home. Only when Saturday night comes do the activity levels and late openings notch back up the scale a little.

Kitchen staff play dominoes to pass the time, the rattle of pieces on wooden tables its own distinctive sound. Menus are unchanged from summer, dominated by generic tourist fare and, uniquely in all of our previous experience of Turkey, we are still waiting to be impressed by the food of Fethiye. When it comes to natural beauty though, we are significantly more than impressed.

These are beautiful places on a coastline spectacular enough to rival anywhere. It’s so good to be seeing this beauty when the partygoers are gone, when the door has just about closed on revelry for another year. There’s no doubt that we’re here at a time of year which suits us; there’s equally no doubt that the height of season would be a very different experience.

A little travellers’ tale. We’re the last two passengers to board the dolmus back to Fethiye from Oludeniz, which means of course that the journey can now begin. The remaining two seats are those in the front with the driver; I take the window seat and Michaela squeezes between him and me. Before we leave, the driver has one last task. Raising his backside from the seat, he farts loud and long, settles back down and drives off. Michaela is too stunned to comment.

Fethiye: Exploring History On The Turkish Riviera

Balcony views like our rather wonderful one here are obtained either by choosing an upper floor in an apartment block or by staying uphill from town – ours here is the latter. Back in Padstow, the climb to our house is so steep that the Cornish locals nickname it “Cardiac Hill” – if by any chance there is an equivalent phrase in Turkish then we surely have to climb it each and every time we return to the apartment. It’s a steep one to say the least.

Another benefit of being up here, as well as the amazing view, is that when we set off on our planned walk which will include Fethiye’s best vantage points and a look into its history, we are already more than half way up the proverbial mountain. It’s worth making the rest of the climb, too. As the Hellenistic amphitheatre basks in understated glory below, the road heads up above town towards intriguing glimpses of Fethiye’s past. A castle, spectacular tombs and sarcophagi await as we head up the first ascent.

The town has only borne the name Fethiye since 1934 being renamed then in honour of an Air Force pilot killed during a pioneering flight. Built on the site of the ancient city of Telmessos, the city became part of the Persian Empire in the 6th century BC, going on to enjoy several periods of considerable prosperity. By the time the city fell to the Ottoman Empire in 1424, it now carried the name Makre (or Makri, or Megri).

In the mountainside just yards beyond the residential streets of Fethiye, the tombs of Amyntas, very similar in design to those along the coast at Dalyan, stand proudly above the town. A series of ancient Lycian rock tombs hewn into the sheer face of the mountain, these impressive sights bear witness to amazing craftsmanship, large hollowed out creations with mighty pillars and lintels made all the more enthralling by their easy accessibility.

Below the tombs, sarcophagi dot those residential streets, sometimes simply standing in the middle of the road with little or no protection. It must be a tad strange living just a few feet from such ancient sites. Fethiye castle, in an imposing position looking out to see, dates originally from the Telmessos era but today what little is left is perhaps best viewed from out on the water.

Youssuf has a surprise in store. He’s selling boat trips – as lots of Youssufs are – but not only does his version of a boat trip fit precisely with what we would like to do, the trick up his sleeve is his price. Book for tomorrow, he says, and I give you special deal. A near 7-hour trip to six attractive destinations for the princely sum of 600 lira each, INCLUDING lunch – that’s just under £15 a head all in, for a full day. It’s the kind of surprise which we are happy to encounter, in fact it would be rude not to accept.

It really does prove to be amazing value too, a well organised trip with lengthy stops just where you want them, an excellent choice of route and a delicious lunch of fish (you could choose chicken) barbecued on board and accompanied by a decent selection of meze. Our first call is at Cold Water Bay, where underground springs feed into the sea, meaning that we swim through pleasantly warm and startlingly cold in unpredictable patches.

At another stop we swim into a dark cave; at a third we hike from the beach through Butterfly Valley to reach a waterfall. It’s a decent enough hike even though there’s more goats than butterflies and the waterfall is a seasonal trickle. At every stop the sea is crystal clear and refreshingly clean, the sea bed fully visible even in greater depths. The island of Gemiler presents yet more variety, an opportunity to climb past the remains of several ancient churches up to the summit of the island. The five churches, dating from between the 4th and 6th centuries, are linked by what is thought to be a centuries old processional route.

One school of thought amongst archeologists is that Gemiler is the site of the original tomb of St Nicholas, consequently then becoming a call for Christian pilgrims en route to the Holy Lands. 

Our town stroll around the ancient ruins of Telmessos and the subsequent boat trip have taken us away from the centres and enabled us to capture glimpses of Fethiye’s history through the tombs, sarcophagi and castle, together with the unusual story of Gemiler island. Turkey often describes itself as the world’s largest museum, and the Fethiye area, like the rest of the country, has its intriguing stories to tell and our first seven days here have begun to uncover them nicely.

Sunday afternoon brings an opportunity for each of us to enjoy rather different types of culture as Michaela sets off to explore any shopping experiences which the town has to offer, heading off through the old town with Bank card in hand and no irritable husband to inhibit her interests. Me? Ah well, once I’d discovered that Fethiye’s football team have an important home match, there’s only one place I’m going to be come 2pm Sunday. More to follow on that, if you’re lucky.

As our time here unfolds, it becomes obvious that the British influence on Fethiye is more than simply holidaymakers: there is a significant expat community here too, which explains still further why the English language, English breakfasts and fish and chips are quite so prevalent. We ponder a while on what being an expat here would be like – kind of an England in the sun in which half the year is chaos and the other half decidedly quiet. Feast and famine with chips and vinegar, if you like.

It’s not lost on us either that Fethiye must be a fairly significant contributor to the region’s economy. A thriving tourist destination, a sizeable expat community… and to cap it all, a marina where literally hundreds of boats are moored at undoubtedly hefty prices. The tourist cash must roll in from every level of travelling society. 

Enough even to keep all these pirate ships and night clubs in profit.

Ancient Sites, Canyon Hikes & Deserted Cities: Last Days In Fethiye

Things just keep getting better. The more we explore this section of coastline and its scenery, the more we are in awe of its beauty, it really is a breathtakingly gorgeous area. And, after a slow start with food, we’ve fought our way past the tourist restaurants and found eateries which do complete justice to the Turkish cuisine which we already love. Even the weather is playing ball with clear skies, sun drenched days and seas still warm enough for a dip whenever we fancy it. Things just keep getting better.

Our food breakthrough comes when we discover restaurants inside the fish market where not only is the fresh catch fantastic but the meze is everything you would want it to be. The rather perfect drill goes like this: choose your fish from the extensive catch, then choose five meze dishes from the appetising and colourful display which you then eat with pide bread during the period your fish is being cooked.  Enjoy both delicious courses while the musicians play traditional folk songs. The food is fantastic, the whole experience is an event, in fact a little slice of foodie heaven.

After Reis Balik, the restaurant in the fish market, it all just falls into place and the uncharacteristically slow start is soon a distant memory; meals are as enjoyable as they always have been on previous trips to Turkey. Some, like at the tiny restaurant Lokanta Fethiye, are even better than that.

Hiring a car for a couple of days to see as much of the area as possible, the drives are dominated by wow moments as we scale twisting mountain roads and magnificent views open up again and again. Each bend in the road seems to bring another fabulous scene. Soaring mountains, plunging gorges, dazzling seascapes, sumptuous coves…it’s all here.

At Çaliş Plaji, the seafront boasts a long run of restaurants and grants impressive views of the sunset. Whilst still clearly a holiday and expat centre, Çaliş is much more relaxed than Fethiye town with the distinct impression of year-round calm compared to the main town’s lively character. It feels a step up – but we are shortly to discover another level in that respect, at the gorgeous town of Göcek.

Before then though, we take an interesting hike through Saklikent Gorge, Europe’s second largest canyon, the longest in Turkey and one of the deepest canyons in the world. What makes this particular hike unusual is that for long stretches we are actually walking in the fast flowing, freezing cold water – this walk can only be undertaken in certain seasons when water levels are low, but it’s enormous fun picking our way through the uneven and unsteady rocks beneath the icy flow. Every footstep feels like a potential disaster! At times the water is knee deep, others less than an inch, but in any event it’s a good job that we’d been pre-warned to wear aqua shoes, no other footwear would be remotely suitable. Our starved feet need some TLC in the sunshine by the time we return for a Turkish tea.

From Saklikent we head to Tlos, where the ruins of an ancient Lycian city are spread across the hillsides. Tlos was in its day a prosperous and thriving city, one of the six principal cities of the Lycian League, powerful enough to be granted autonomy by Rome. The extent of the ruins really takes us by surprise, and as we take a bend in the road and the mighty site appears, we both let out a gasp. It’s a huge site, one of those understated destinations here which just serve as a reminder that Turkey is an almost limitless source of major historical sights, the nation’s claim to be the World’s largest museum is justified over and over again.

Our second day with the hire car brings us to a lost city of a different kind – the deserted homes of Kayakoy, a legacy of the Population Exchange of 1923, when over a million Greeks were effectively expelled from Turkey and a smaller number – up to 400,000 – Muslims brought the opposite way. Kayakoy, a town exclusively occupied by Greeks complete with orthodox churches and cafe neons, was comprehensively evacuated and has never been re-occupied, since that time falling steadily into decay year by year. Clambering through its eerily deserted walkways, it’s still possible to spot on the walls traces of the blue paint so loved by Greek homeowners – a faded reminder of its former life.

Fig and olive trees grow through and around the crumbling walls, descendants no doubt of plants cultivated by the Greek population; finches and flycatchers flit between the undergrowth and the houses, swarms of bees turn odd scented unidentified trees into a cacophony of buzz. For the most part all else is quiet in these homes now deserted for a century, a handful of other curious visitors poring over the remains in this town once no doubt filled with characteristic Greek chatter but now just a series of silent shells. 

And so finally to the delightful coastal town of Göcek. As if we hadn’t already become enamoured with Turkey, Göcek unexpectedly takes it all to another level. A beautiful, genteel town nestled inside another deep sea inlet, this little place just epitomises everything which is appealing about the Turkish Riviera, so much so that we find ourselves gazing in property agents’ windows, wondering what it would be like to use Göcek as our base for a year or so. We could happily handle that scenario. Until, that is, we see the price tags on the properties. 

Time is almost up in Fethiye, as we are about to move approximately three hours along the coast to our next destination, where the Mediterranean meets the Aegean. Did we go paragliding? No, in the end, we didn’t. Maybe we decided it’s a good idea to keep our limbs intact, we might just need them.

Dusk descends, the orange sunset pales into darkness and the call to prayer once again echoes over the rooftops. Filling in this section of the coast which we bypassed on our last visit four years ago has so far been just what we hoped it would be: another delightful stay which has further enhanced our already strong affection for Turkey.

As ever though, the feeling as we prepare to move on is one of excitement at what we may discover next….

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…

Further Afield: More Of Datça Peninsula 

The Turks of the peninsula have clearly decided winter is here, on the basis that there has been one single chilly day, last Sunday. No matter that the next few days were sunny and 22 degrees and then Wednesday touched 27, the quilted coats and heavy woollens are out now and they’re not going back until some time next Spring. At Hayitbükü, three guys work repairing a fishing boat on the beach, toiling away in body warmers and sweatshirts, a few yards away from where a girl, obviously not a local, is stretched out in a bikini. 

Datça town, the only place of any size on the peninsula, is a town of irregular shapes. The flatter areas close to the sea soon give way to the steeply rising foothills of the mountains beyond, meaning that places like our apartment are close to the centre but way above it, reached either by a long flight of challenging steps or undulating streets somewhat reminiscent of San Francisco. Irregular too is the seafront, winding around various small headlands and tight bays, thus presenting a number of different seascapes and aspects as we wander around the Sevgi Yolu, the “Love Path” along the shore. The different views add substantially to the appeal of the town.

We like Datça. On this peninsula with its island vibe, away from the real tourist traps but still a holiday destination for Turks, there is a very appealing ordinariness about the place despite its glorious location between the mountains and the sea. Out of town and across the peninsula life is distinctly agricultural; a feeling which spills comfortably into this larger town where tractors and trailers trundle through the streets delivering produce to shops and markets. 

A collection of marble sculptures by local artists pop up at various points around town, most of them marine themed, one small constant in a town of irregular character. If disparity is a theme here, then it is surely reflected in Datça’s restaurant prices – ludicrously expensive on the town beach, crazily cheap everywhere else. 

Talking of which, our best tip for eating out in Turkey is this:- look for the “Ev Yemekleri” houses. If you don’t mind choosing from trays of pre-cooked meals and having portions ladled on to your plate, then you’re in for the best of Turkish cuisine. “Ev Yemekleri” means “home cooking”, and these are family kitchens where Mama does the cooking using produce sourced locally – everything is lovingly prepared and tastes wonderfully fresh. In the same vein, any “ocakbaşi” is your destination for good, cheap kebab type meals cooked on an open grill.

Heading out of Datça town, we take a tour of the peninsula’s picturesque villages in our 2-day rental car, winding our way through the mountains and olive groves to numerous tiny settlements. Without exception these are rural, agricultural corners where the pace of life is endearingly slow. Heads turn if we drive through, there’s always a “hoşgeldiniz” or two if we park up and take a stroll.

Amongst these delightful little places we find two gems – one coastal and one on the slopes of the mountains. Hayitbükü is a seaside hamlet where the gentle bay is calm and exquisite in the afternoon sun and the cafe serves amazing imam bayildi (although they call it shakshuka round here, even though it bears little resemblance to the shakshuka of Arab countries). Çeşme on the other hand is a hive of activity which appears to be the point to which local farmers gravitate – tractors roll through, crowds drink tea and play okey, a long queue waits at the water pump to fill large plastic bottles. People sit and talk, everyone has time to spare.

There’s one oddity around Datça peninsula though – there are a lot of very decent, large houses dotted around, some right on the coast, others up in the hills with magnificent views, most with generous plots of land. Either there’s a lot of homes or second homes for the wealthy here or there’s serious money to be made in growing almonds and oranges.

For our last full day in Datça we take the dolmus to a winery – in a region so loving of its own wine it would be rude not to – and wile away a sunny afternoon sampling wines made on these very premises, devouring charcuterie and bonding with the docile vineyard dogs. It feels like one of those perfect afternoons of travel.

Friday November 15th and we wake to the sounds of falling rain and rumbling thunder. The red tiled roofs of the town are a new, deeper colour with the usually visible layers of dust now banished by the rain. Apart from our October weeks in England when of course we saw plenty of rain, this is the first we’ve seen since Diani in July.

By breakfast time the storm has closed in, dark clouds turning the sea a steely grey, headlands and islands disappearing from view behind the moody darkness. We probably better wrap those rain covers around the backpacks, as our onward transport today is an open deck ferry….

Bodrum: Party Town Or Ancient Treasure?

Sometimes it’s a strange feeling, saying goodbye to an airbnb host who lives on the premises. For a few days your lives have crossed, your stories have entwined, and then you move on, knowing that those paths will never cross again. Our host at Datça, a tiny elderly guy named Bulent, shows real kindness by driving us across the peninsula to the ferry point, then caps it all by parting with warm heartfelt hugs on the quay. Bye mate, and thank you.

In order to reach Bodrum the ferry at an hour and 45 minutes is a much better choice than three hours by road, especially with the sea flat calm and the setting sun casting shafts of gold across the water as it is today. Bodrum promises to be an oddball – I mean, there aren’t too many holiday party towns which double up as a site of one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, yet Bodrum is both of these. We wouldn’t really consider coming to such a centre of hedonistic holidays in high season but it will be interesting to see what the town delivers in November.

What it actually delivers on day one is a complete washout so thorough that we spend almost all day trapped in the apartment watching the offshore islands disappear behind the gloom and raindrops the size of golf balls create mini waterspouts as they hit the waters of the bay. Even the muezzins’ calls sound muffled. The only time it doesn’t rain is when it really hammers down – until sundown when the deluge finally stops and the clearing skies make for some photogenic scenes…

This small town, clustered around yet another picturesque bay and fronted by its bold and assertive shoreline castle, is built on the site of the ancient Greek city of Halicarnassus, home itself to a structure magnificent enough to make the “ancient wonders” list. Long ago destroyed by successive earthquakes, the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus must have been an incredible sight – but, given our limited time here (a weekend) and the persistence of the heavy rain, we haven’t yet visited the site. We will by necessity be returning via Bodrum later on this trip, so will hopefully see the site then.

The magnificent building was constructed as the burial place of Mausolus, ruler of Caria, Lycia and adjacent islands in the 4th century BC – known therefore as the “mausoleum” and thus giving the world that very word. It is from this very building that the word “mausoleum” was adopted worldwide for sites of above ground burial. 

Many artefacts from ancient Halicarnassus are stored within the castle – well, those not plundered by British archeologists and squirrelled into the British Museum – which we do get to see on this first rain swept visit. The castle itself, built by the Knights of St John in 1402, occupies a dominant position on a small headland in front of the town and has survived earthquakes, wars and sieges to retain an air of power. Its four distinct towers – named the English, French, Italian and German towers – are adorned with the coats of arms of some of those committed to its construction and upkeep. It’s an impressive place.

Residents of the castle

The castle is also home to the Museum of Underwater Archeology, a rather glorious study of the discovery, excavation and presentation of shipwrecks and the contents therefrom. Much centres around the Glass Shipwreck, an absolutely fascinating account of a painstaking excavation of an 11th century trading ship which foundered nearby. From the glass artefacts in and around the wreck, archeologists spent 12 years trying to fit together as many of the shards of glass as they could – given that there were 20,000 separate glass items and over half a million shards, that’s some jigsaw puzzle. The fruits of their labours are amazing.

Almost as amazing are the many items from other wrecks – amphorae used to ship wine and olive oil centuries ago, jewellery and scales, implements and tooling. Wrecks exhibited here even go as far back as Hellenistic and Roman times, it’s a truly fascinating collection. Wandering around both the castle and its museum is quite an experience. There is, of course, more of Bodrum’s ancient history to uncover around the town, hopefully we will do it justice when we return in ten days or so.

And what about Bodrum the party town? There are several clues – like the large numbers of bars strung along its main pedestrian street, Cumhuriyet Caddesi, the accessory stores selling what they amusingly call “genuine fakes”, the large restaurants with 100+ covers, the slogans on T-shirts such as “They tell me I went to Bodrum but I don’t remember”. Then there’s the Irish pubs (the “Molly Malone” and the “Irish Corner”), a bar called “Anthony’s English Pub” plus, of course, the widespread use of the English language. 

Yep, a party definitely goes on here through the summer months, and even now in November music from some of the bars drifts across the shallow waves till about 4am each morning. It’s gentle music now, not the rowdier affair which it probably is at other times. This, for us anyway, is a good time to visit, and we look forward to our return later on this trip – with a bit of luck without the rain.

The presence of the ancient sights alongside the holiday party scene is almost as incongruous as the call to prayer vying with the sound of lounge music and the clinking of glasses. Unlike other towns, the music isn’t paused during the call. It’s fair to say we think that Bodrum has more than one face. 

We will be back to see more on our return. For now, there’s a morning ferry to catch, one for which we’ll need our passports.

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…