Leave the Path

Yesterday we drove across Turkey, south to north. It took us about 13 hours all together. I thought that there’d be a big motorway all the way from Antalya to Istanbul (after all, Antalya is a big city) but there wasn’t. It was a long, windy trip through farm land.

In the morning we washed the sheets and tidied up (one of those responsibilities that comes along with a borrowed house.) We also ate a little breakfast and Emre2 went to pick up some other relatives who would be staying in the house just after us. They came, we left.

We saw a big tortoise crossing the road as we left the Olympos area. (You may have noticed that we saw many turtles here. They’re famous. There are sea turtles, as well, which come lay eggs on the shore, but we didn’t see any. Someone’s comment about sea turtles was that they’re quite strong and he’s seen children 6 or 7 years old sitting on their backs as they crawl back to the water. This may, in fact, explain the current scarcity of sea turtles, if people harass them when they’re on land. The trash on the beaches and development for tourism are, of course, big problems, too. And sea turtles are supposedly delicious, so in on beaches that have been inhabited for so long, I’m surprised that there are still turtles at all. The turtles are protected, today, though, with little cage things to go over the nests and signs about not being loud or shining lights at night on the beach.)

We’d been in the car a lot of this trip, so we settled back into a comfortable routine. The Emres took turns driving. Fiona alternated between sleeping and chatting. I took pictures and loudly admonished bad drivers, though of course they couldn’t hear me.

A note about Turkish roads: Often, there are three lanes. One lane on each side for each direction of travel, and then a center passing lane that is supposed to be open to one direction at a time, but is constantly abused. In theory, you drive in your lane, and then, when necessary, over-take other cars on certain areas where the line between your lane and the center becomes dotted. In fact, however, drivers often stay in the middle, and routinely pass when it’s the turn of the other direction. In addition, there are sometimes cars in both the outside and center lane when a new, fast car wants to pass, and, more often than not, that driver will simply go into the lane reserved for on-coming traffic. Sometimes there will also be a motorcyclist, no helmet, weaving between these cars and driving on the shoulder of the road. And often the vehicle being passed is an over-loaded truck or two, swaying in the wind and dropping tomatoes. It’s hard to capture the horror of watching this kind of driving in still photos. Fiona and I had several conversations similar to this: “What does he think he’s doing? Oh my god, he’s not going to pass here?!? Look, look, two of them are going now, in the other lane! There’s a car coming! They’re going to hit!” And then the driver would always bully his way in between the cars in the lane that he should have been in.

We did see the aftermath of one bad crash that seems to have happened in this way, though. We passed a car which had been smashed so that it looked like a Persian cat. The front grill was over the front axle, and the driver’s side was more damaged than the passenger’s. Once again, when we passed there were no injured people, and no ambulances, so I guess they’d already come and left. Or maybe some person trying to be helpful pulled the passengers from the car before the ambulance arrived. (Emre tells me this is common, as well.) It was scary, though, and we were very cautious drivers thereafter.

We did, however, have a little snag in our travels. There are many places where the roads, even big roads, are not good. We hit a pothole going about 70 mph, towards the center of a big road. With cars weaving back and forth, we didn’t see it until we were right on top of it. It made the car skip a little and surprised all of us. We took a look at the tires shortly afterwards, and there was a big bubble on one spot. We drove on it for a while, but the roads were still pretty dodgy, and I was increasingly paranoid about having a blow-out on such unpredictable roads.

We finally stopped and talked to an expert. He said “maybe” it would make it back to Istanbul. Given the Turkish standards for safety, we took that as a “no” and asked him to track down a new tire. Fiona and I waited at the truck-stop restaurant while the tire was delivered. Truck stops are truck stops, all over the world. Big, dirty guys came in and had big bowls of indiscriminate food and little cups of tea. The waiters were surprised and a little confused by the appearance of two Anglophone girls, but he was polite enough. The bathroom was deplorable, and black with mosquitoes, but other than it was okay. It took a couple hours to get the tire changed, but it was worth it to not worry as much about accidents.

We stopped once to look for ceramic gifts in the town of Kutahya, where the Ottoman sultans used to have their ceramics made. There were factories and outlet shops. Nothing amazing.

We also saw a cave. Emre noticed the signs from the road and remembered that he’d been there once and liked it. We stopped. Outside the entrance, there was a political rally for the most conservative nationalist party in the country (surprise!) and so the Emres were a little uncomfortable and we didn’t spend much time wandering around. The cave itself was interesting. It was a natural limestone cave, this time, with drip formations and an underground lake. I spent most of my time being annoyed by the poor management, though. Like most other “attractions” in Turkey, there was an entrance fee and then an entrance, but no guide. There were signs saying “Please don’t write on the walls or touch things.” There was a pathway of shiny, wet marble to guide the way, and speakers played a message in Turkish, occasionally, which may have been pre-recorded information. Groups of unsupervised children ran back and forth, though, and I saw 50-year-old ladies walk away from the designated walkway to rub their hands on the limestone formations. People smoked cigarettes as they walked, despite no-smoking signs.

Limestone formations stop growing and turn a dirty brown color when they’re touched with bare hands or exposed to smoke. It’s a sin to do bother them on any cave tour I’ve ever taken, and it really irked me that people in this cave didn’t seem to know or care. I think that having guides in caves is a necessity. Not only does it keep visitors from destroying delicate features, and give them interesting information, but it is also important for safety. Teenagers don’t stay where they’re supposed to be, and having people wander around in caves is dangerous. We saw groups of kids running through arches and columns, trying to find short-cuts from one part of the path to another. Even for people who heed the signs, if there’s a cave-in or an emergency, there’s no way for the people outside to know how many people to look for or where they’d be. It would raise the price of admission, though, and I guess people don’t really care that much.

With all these diversions, we didn’t get around to dinner until 10:30 or so, and then we didn’t make it to Istanbul until almost midnight (nearer to Istanbul, the roads are safer and wider, though, so it wasn’t a big problem to drive in the dark.)

We stayed with Emre2’s family. In the morning, his mother prepared us a fantastic breakfast spread, complete with home-made strawberry jam, and also French fries. When we finally left the apartment, we spent the entire day walking around, meeting up with old friends, and drinking tea. We crossed the Bosporus and saw a dolphin in the water (a very rare sight in such a busy shipping lane.) We also shopped half-heartedly, but didn’t get much.

We met up with Emre’s brother Hakan and Umut (he visited Emre2 in France) and two other friends, Arda and Giray, who both speak Chinese. The group of us had beers and dinner together, and then went our separate ways. Hakan’s staying with us tonight, and we’ll see some of the others tomorrow. It was relaxed and cool, and I felt pretty comfortable with Istanbul this time. It’s really a fantastic city.

(Emre may make a great pirate, but Emre2 is secretly Popeye.)

After the internet café on the 9^th, we tried to stop at another beach, called Phaselis, to go swimming. There are more Roman ruins at the beach, and so the cultural ministry charges an entrance fee of 10 lira per person. It was already after 5:00, and so we’d only get to swim an hour or so, anyway. We decided to turn around. In a stroke of Turkish genius, Emre2 remembered that there’s another way to get to that beach, without paying. He had once stayed at a camp ground a little further around the bay, and knew that you can park at the camp ground and wade around. So we drove off to find that camp ground.

It took us a long time to find the right road, and then we kept having to slow down or stop for children and animals in the road (including hundreds of chickens.) As we drove, Emre2 told us a little about his visit to this campground. When he and his friends checked in, they initially thought that the staff had some sort of tropical skin disease because they all had huge red welts on their arms. After a day or two, they realized that the welts were just mosquito bites, and by the end of the trip, everyone in their party had the same symptom. What a recommendation of a place to visit: So many mosquito bites that people will think you’re diseased. In fact, the very word “Phaselis” sounds like a disease to me. Like “Psoriasis” or “Syphilis.” I kept making jokes all the way there about the Phaselis disease and how horrible it would be to contract.

We finally did find the campground, and we parked, and we walked through (it wasn’t too dirty, but hardly the Ritz) over a freshwater stream, and out to the beach. The beach near us was really unclean looking, and we’d have to walk a kilometer or so through the water to get to Phaselis, which sounds like a disease. And it was already twilight. We decided against. We all got back into the car, and in the end, no one got Phaselis, after all.

We went for a swim on our own little beach when we got back near the house. Or rather Emre and Fiona went for a swim, and Emre2 and I waited on the beach. The waves were the biggest I’d seen, almost like Atlantic waves in force and regularity. Emre did his famed “beached-whale impression,” which I find absolutely hilarious.

Emre2 decided to throw rocks “near” Emre and Fiona (he accidentally hit Fiona once.) Emre decided to throw rocks back, from the bottom of the sea. I see a danger in these pebble beaches. We all survived, though, with a minimum number of bruises.

I watched the sunset, and was impressed again. (Notice I’ve photographed just about every sunset for the last few weeks and not a single sunrise. I don’t think I’ve been up that early even once.) Our little stretch of beach has a grassy bit near it, with huge trees. It looks like a misplaced chunk of African savannah and every time I walk through it I half expect to be attacked by a lion. The sea and the outlines of the huge trees make for lovely sunsets, though.

Back at the house, we all had showers and primped a little, and then headed off to Olympus to go out. We had dinner at our little restaurant with the chardaks (it’s called Bayram and I highly recommend it to any travelers in the area. They also have cabins.) We had a beer there and then went exploring.

There were tons of bars and places with tree-houses. Most of them were empty though. Apparently June isn’t the high season, justyet. We went to one big discotech-type place called Golge (Turkish for “shadow.”) They had a live band, which wasn’t half bad. We were enjoying the show, and then the power went out. In the middle of the song, everything just went black. The audience sang along for the remainder of the song, which was fun (it was a Turkish song, and I’d never heard it, so I clapped.) But then the band took a break. A half-hour later, the lights still hadn’t come up, there was no more music, and we decided to leave.

We had to walk back on the beach to the car. But first we had to walk through the woods and the Roman ruins to the beach, and we had to cross the stream twice along the way. It was an adventure in the dark. Luckily the moon was almost full; I was surprised how much light it gave. Even with the moon and the hippy tourists (mostly Australians) that we passed along the way, it was pretty creepy. I was very relieved to find the beach, and even more so to reach the car, and then our little cabin. I slept very well when I finally found my bed.

Yesterday marked a whole month that I have been in Turkey. Didn’t do anything special. We took a slow day, worthy of the word “vacation.” I took sort of a hiatus from photos, and I don’t think we did anything photo-worthy anyway. We didn’t rise ‘til noon, and then we had a slow breakfast. I finished my book (excellent ending, by the way) and we watched a film or two. We sat outside with the laptop, and during one of the offensive songs in “South Park: the Movie” a little sparrow lighted on the porch and started singing along. He kept it up for the whole of the song, and then flew off as soon as it finished.

At some point in the late afternoon, we all went for a swim, but the waves the day before had stirred up some nasty black silt stuff and we didn’t stay in for too long. I knew this would be my last swim in the sea, and I wish it had been one of the nicest. I regret that I didn’t swim more on the clear, flat days.

We stopped by a market on the way home to buy one onion, chocolate and newspapers. (At one point a dove carrying an olive branch flew out in front of the car, and we almost hit it. Wouldn’t that be terrible, to accidentally kill the international symbol of peace?) Fiona and I perused the little shops near the market. Most of them sold India-made hippy clothes (the brightly-colored, flowing kind) and also little glass animals. One shop had tons of shells, but most of them were cowries and conchs and other shells that I know don’t come from here. We didn’t get anything at all.

At home, we made a big dinner, all together. Emre2 made the salad, and it was good. I made pasta sauce, but we had fewer tomatoes than I thought, so it was a little strangely lumpy and odd in color. I accidentally poured all of the macaroni into the sink, but we had another bag and it wasn’t a big deal. We opened a bottle of wine and had a long, leisurely, meat-free dinner that would make the French proud.

Afterwards, we all sat around and had tea. Fiona and I finished the crossword from the English-language paper. (We did have to make up some words. Anyone know a 5-letter word for “Helmet shaped”?) Then we watched some more old videos and gossiped about people we knew and miss.

We also started packing. We’re driving back to Istanbul this afternoon. We’re going to try to drive strait through, something like 10 hours, so that we don’t have to stay in a hotel, and so that we can be in Istanbul tomorrow. Who knows how that will go.

Just got back from an absolutely amazing day. It started this morning around 8:00 when some strange guy knocked on our door saying “Boat trip, boat trip!” Apparently Emre2’s uncle knew someone who does boat tours, who was supposed to call us last night. We’d written it off when we didn’t hear from him, but he came by this morning instead. Sounds kind of odd way to do business, but I’m really glad we went with them.

It wasn’t a sailboat, sadly, but most of the sailboats we saw had the sails furled because there wasn’t much wind. We puttered along on the boat for a while, picked up a nice Dutch family, and then we headed down the coast. There were a grand total of 12 people on the boat, including the two-man crew and two small children. It was very comfortable and relaxing just to ride and watch the coast.

We got off at a few places to swim. I looked for shells along the beach for my mum. I found a few on the first beach, but they were all inhabited by hermit crabs. I know that you can kill the crabs and take the shells, but I didn’t fell inclined to do so. I let them go. One of the guys from the boat got a bunch of more exotic shells off of a fisherman’s net, but they all had the original animals in them. I didn’t take any of those, either.

The swimming was really great. The water was clear, again, and I’m getting used to the salt in my nose and mouth. I’m really enjoying every minute in the water. It’s deep enough to dolphin kick and surface dive, but so clear that you can see every stone and fish on the bottom. The sea is so salty that I can float in a comfortable, reclined position without any effort at all. It’s great! I wish we had a sea at home.

The Emres and Fiona jumped off the roof of the boat into the water. It was deep enough, but I wasn’t in the mood. The little Dutch kids jumped off the sides, and they were really cute.

Fiona and I re-applied sunscreen before and after each swim. Emre2 must have been very tired, because he dozed on the front deck every time the boat moved. Emre dozed as well, on the benches, or he talked with the other people on the boat. He’s really a very sociable guy.

The second place we stopped to swim, I had better luck with shells. I found three, all a kind of cone shell, and all completely uninhabited. I also saw lots of neat fish, some as long as 10 cm (6 in) swimming around the rocks. Emre did a bit of his infamous Russian water ballet for us. I imagine this is how we must look to the fish: Weird hairy things poking up into their domain.

Lunch was included on the boat trip. It included a nice Turkish salad, bread, spaghetti, and a roasted fish, cleaned but served whole. Fiona has a fish allergy, so she got extra salad instead. I am able to eat fish, and usually willing, but the Turkish manner of preparation, with the head and fins attached, still weirds me out a little. The eyes in particular are just a little gross. I did manage to eat most of mine, though not the head, and without swallowing bones for once.

Just before lunch, a little motor boat had pulled up along-side us. It was unannounced and moving fast. The two guys on board looked like pirates. Luckily, though, they didn’t have a Jolly Roger as their pendant, instead they carried a huge plastic ice-cream cone. I like to think of these guys as the “Ice-Cream Pirates.” We politely declined the ice-cream before lunch (had to set a good example for the kids and all.) But afterwards, we all watched the horizon for the Ice-Cream Pirates return. We waited and did not see them for a long time. We asked the boat guy about them. He pulled out his cell phone, made a few calls, and within 10 minutes the Ice-Cream Pirates were steaming back our way. (Who knew that Aegean Ice-Cream Pirates carry cell-phones? The world gets smaller every day.) Everyone on the boat bought something. Being hot and salty, the ice-cream was thoroughly savored and greatly appreciated. The Ice-Cream Pirates waved to us as they pulled away, Turkish flag and giant Cornetto flapping in the wind. It was like something from a strange comic-book-inspired dream.

After lunch we did some more swimming. We pulled up to a cove with a huge rock wall on one side. Huge submerged boulders provided a mountainous landscape for the underwater life. The sun was at an angle so that the rock wall cast a long shadow on the water. This was a blessing in that it provided a sun-burn free swimming area, but it also cast dark, mysterious shadows around the rocks, some of which were 10 ft by 10ft cubes, with human-sized crevices. With the goggles, we took turns swimming around the rocks to look for cool animals. The Dutch guy warned us that there could be eels and octopi; I didn’t see any of those, but I did see a crimson-colored urchin, and so I didn’t put my feet on the bottom again for the rest of the day.

Late in the afternoon, we headed back towards Olympos. We went slowly, and in my mind, lines from Homer’s Odyssey kept popping up. Sirens waiting in the rocky caves, monsters leaping up from the crevices in those huge submerged rocks, gods that control the temperament of the crystal-clear sea: none of these things seem so far-fetched when you’re right there, with those rocks, on top of that water. I’m beginning to wish that I’d brought a copy of the Odyssey, or maybe Hamilton’s mythology. I think I’ll enjoy them even more now.

As we approached the shore, Emre2 woke up. His hair was stiffened by the salt, feathered by the winds, and stuck up and out like a lion’s mane, or maybe that of an 80’s rock star.

The Dutch family left the boat before us, and made a point of saying a proper good-bye. They seemed like very nice people. When it came to our place to get off, we said goodbye to the crew, and road in the little row-boat out to the shore. It was sad to be leaving the boat, and the sea, but I looked forward to the shower with every salt-incrusted inch of my skin.

We did shower, and packed picnic sandwiches, and then set out to do something we’d been planning for days: see the fires at Chimera. We’d always talked about it as an after-thought, something that we’d just pop over and see. Somehow I got it into my head that it’s an old field, with piles of rock that you can kick over and then they spontaneously burst into flames. We arrived, parked, and started walking. The first bit was flat, with random domestic animals running around. We saw two very chubby rabbits, one black-and-white and one completely pale. There were also chickens, and one hen had a dozen black or yellow chicks chasing after her. No burning rocks, though.

Then we started to go uphill. Fine. I had worn comfortable shoes. More uphill. I stopped periodically to take photos, and the others got ahead. I figured I’d catch them at the next flat spot. There were no flat spots, though. We just kept climbing. Emre, who was carrying all of the food and water, fell back to join me. We probably climbed stairs for half an hour or more, pausing only for the occasional snap-shot or breathing-break. Both Emres had been here before, but somehow I missed the memo about the mountainside we’d have to climb to get there.  (We started almost at sea level.)

The summit was cool, though. Once again, bits of old buildings lay everywhere. Chunks of carved Roman marble with inscriptions made up stepping-stones in the path. I didn’t even get a good look at what was probably a shrine or something off to one side. The real focus was on the flames.

I think that the rocks here are partially metamorphosed. An ancient sea-bed was squeezed and heated by the power of a volcano. This same process created the marble that we see everywhere here, hard, but still warm and organic. But here it left mixed chunks of crumbly rock. Some of this rock also leaks gases, including oxygen and fossil fuels like propane and methane. There must be a lot of it to leak, as well, because these flames were known and recorded by the Ionians more than 2000 years ago, and they still burn ferociously today.

Even the scientific explanation sounds fantastic and somewhat improbable. For the first people to stumble upon it, this surely must have seemed a miracle. The ancient Greeks associated this place with the story of the Chimera, a mythical beast of enormous proportions and possessing the pointy bits of several dangerous animals. Even today, there are trees with bits of paper tied to them, like the prayer place at the Virgin’s tomb. Someone must think this place has special religious significance.

We sat amongst the flames for a long while. We all ate our sandwiches. Emre2 assumed his favorite position, cell-phone in one hand and cigarette in the other. Emre1 played with the flames, finding places that had gone out and lighting them with a stick from a spot that still burned. It worked, perhaps a little too well. He singed all of the hair off of one of his hands.

I was tired from the swimming and the walk up. I took many photos (Emre accused me of being a Japanese tourist) because of the excellent light. I didn’t trust my tired legs on the loose gravel and steep incline, though, so I mostly sat and watched.

It was dusk when we headed down the mountain. It didn’t seem nearly as far on the way down, and we didn’t see any more bunnies. The moon was almost full and the fading light silhouetted the outlines of trees and rocks against the brighter sky.

We didn’t go see the burning rocks today after all. We were late getting up again, and Emre decided that we should see Antalya, instead. It’s one of the biggest cities in Turkey, and is exceptional in its humidity, temperature, and proximity to the sea. Most of the city looks just like Ankara or the newer parts of Istanbul: big concrete apartment buildings with colorful paint and little shops on the first floor. The oldest part of the city, however, around the harbor, is quite neat.

I was hot and grumpy after the car ride (I think I’m having trouble with allergies, again. Maybe aggravated by all of the second-hand smoke) so we stopped at a café overlooking the bay. The cliffs drop off sharply into the harbor. On the side opposite our café, a little trickle of a waterfall meanders down 50 ft or so of exposed rock, bumping a few times before reaching the sea. A dozen sailboats were anchored to the docks, and on one end there are lots of buildings with staircases down to the water and the tiny stretch of beach. We saw one kid in an inflatable row boat (?) and a flock of Japanese tourists with umbrellas. After the drink and the rest I felt much better.

We wandered around to find new shoes for Fiona, and succeeded (they say Prada, but for 10 lira, I’m positive that they’re a poor fake.) We also walked by many leather shops whose proprietors sat out on the street, and when they heard us speaking English, tried to get us to come in with lines like “Please come look at my collection.” “Where are you from?” “I’m not trying to sell you anything, just come have look.” Who would buy leather on a steamy June day is beyond me, but they were pretty persistent. We managed not to buy anything we didn’t want, or even to go into shops that didn’t interest us, but it feels very rude not to answer direct questions.

We did buy some dry snack foods from a street vendor. There’s a kind of candied chick pea that I like to call “sweet crunchy little brains.” They’re tasty and filling and really do look like tiny brains.

Fiona and I also saw some cookies in a shop window. I ducked in and conducted the entire transaction of cookie purchasing in Turkish before Emre arrived. One was like shortbread and one tasted like peanut butter. Both were good, and I was pleased with myself.

We stopped at a surprisingly classy fast-food place for lunch. I got a burger, and it wasn’t kofte this time. The people at the table next to us were having a very “interesting” conversation and we didn’t want to waste the day. We didn’t stick around too long. We visited an internet cafe as well, but we got back on the road quickly enough.

After Antalya, we went to a Roman amphitheater. Emre kept calling it a “ruins,” but, in fact, it’s functioning today. There are nightly operas held there in the summer, and the gold-colored Egyptian things are actually a set for an upcoming show. There were techies running around with electric drills and paint, just like every other stage I’ve ever seen. It was a touch surprising to see modern techies in an ancient theatre, but I guess there would have been some ancient equivalent, and whoever built the place would probably be thrilled that it was still complete and useful so much later. Though the rocks are chipped on the edges, they’re surprisingly solid for something 2000 years old.

We had each paid a large entrance fee to get in (the Emres wanted to pass Fiona and I off as Turks in order to get a better rate, but there was no difference, and I’m not sure how well it would have worked anyway.) The area around the amphitheater included an ancient city with an agora and a stadium and such. There was a trail that went around to all of it, and we started to walk it.

Emre2 found a turtle, though, and came running, shaking the turtle from side to side and spinning it around to “confuse it”. The turtle seemed undamaged, thankfully, and after the photos we let it go.

We walked a long way, but before the citadel, the trail became narrow and we had to walk through tall grass. We also didn’t have much water and were feeling tired. It was too hot, though, and overgrown; we turned back half way.

Next we went to a waterfall. Emre had mentioned swimming, so I expected a little trickle into a big, cool pool. Instead it was a short drop, but the whole of a river rushed over, making a huge, bubbly, swirling rapid that was surprisingly solid looking, but also terrifying. This was not a place to swim, and we didn’t. I don’t understand how this place came into being, even. It’s just a drop of 5 or 10 feet in a big river, with thousands of gallons of water rushing over at every instant. (As Grandpa would say, so much power lost…)

In the evening, we came back to our little beach, and I was happy to be back. We stopped for a swim on the way back, in the twilight. Emre skipped rocks and I managed a few, as a well. We all splashed around in the water a little, until the light faded. And then we headed home.

The next morning, we’d intended to get up early, but we’d stayed up too late the night before talking and watching Fiona kill bugs (mosquitoes or something have been biting here, and she’s developed something of a personal vendetta against all bugs.) We didn’t get up until 11ish today, except for Emre2 who had to take care of some errand about the house. We had breakfast here, as per usual, and Emre started to read a book.

Eventually, we made our way back over to Olympos. I found a lightbulb, undamaged, on the pebble shore with no one around. I was really confused. Could the waves have brought it there without cracking it? Did someone set it there gently? If so, why? They didn’t seem to be coming back. I picked it up and brought it with me, figuring that it’s better for someone to lose a lightbulb than to have the bits of glass end up in some swimmer’s foot. We started picking up empty bottles and stuff, too, just to have something to do as we walked. There were several boats anchored near the beach, today, and more people than ever on the shore. I think they may have contributed to the trash. Sadly the great and mighty dam was no more, probably demolished by the fishermen the next morning, or cannibalized for one of the other two little dams on the stream.

Emre, Fiona and I spent the hottest part of the day in that same little chardak at the outdoor café. We all had books, and so we lounged and read and sipped at juices and such. It was nice. I’m reading _Life of Pi_ and for the most part I’m absolutely loving it. It’s about a boy who subscribes to three religions at once, who gets trapped on a little boat in the Pacific with a tiger for most of a year.  Emre read the first 3/4 of his book.  He reads very fast in Turkish.

Emre2 finished his errands and met up with us. We all headed out to the beach. The beach wasn’t as nice today as it had been. The wind was blowing and there were some waves. The waves themselves would have been fun, but they’d churned up the bottom to the point that the water, usually crystal clear, was cloudy and also filled with bits of trash. We didn’t swim for long. Plastic bags in the water kept floating into us and sticking, which felt really gross. Also, my book includes a bunch of talk about sharks, and so I was a little anxious in deep, cloudy water.

We walked along the beach for a while. I looked at the pebbles. I really like all these little rocks. The pose some problems, of course: They crush all of the shells that make it to the shore. They get hot and burn your feet. And also, they make it damnably difficult to climb out of the water because they slip and crush toes and poke into soles of feet as the waves go in and out. (I may never understand how round rocks can be so pointy against your foot.) They’re really fascinatingly diverse, though. My favorites are the green ones. They’ve got a warm, buttery texture and a green color that seems artificial. I remember a kind of rock called “serpentine” from my geology class in France, and I think this may be it. There is something reptilian about it. There are also lots of grey marble stones, and white stones, and pepper-looking stones. I found one stone that looked exactly like a chicken egg. There are stones with a grain like wood, and monochromatic pebbles. There are flat stones, spherical stones, stones like rounded cubes. Some of them are big and heavy, some are fine like sand. (The best ones to walk on are the size of your hand. They’re small enough to pack together nicely, but big enough to distribute weight evenly and not poke so much.) And also, the flatter rocks are absolutely perfect for skipping. Rock beaches are much more entertaining than sand beaches, in my opinion.

After the beach, we went home to tidy up. We wanted to go out later, to see Olympos at night. We’ve seen lots of young foreigners there, and we thought there might be a good nightlife. We all wanted to have a drink, and so we couldn’t take the car. We knew that it was long to walk the way that we’d been driving, so the Emres decided that it would be a good idea to try to find a new path, as a shortcut. We did eventually make it, going this other way, but we had to ask for directions a half-dozen times, and at one point we found ourselves between a derelict field and a road, climbing up a loose-dirt hill and ducking under a huge irrigation pipe.It was a good excuse to see rural communities more closely. There were tons of chickens and sheep, and one old lady was leading a very pretty cow with huge eyes. We also passed lots of tomato houses and fruit tree groves. Emre2 periodically picked a fruit or two from the trees and ate them as we walked. We had a bit of a discussion about whether this is an acceptable practice. We were within site of the houses, and he said the farmers wouldn’t care. Everywhere I’ve lived, though, it’s good form to ask before you pick fruit, because even if they don’t notice the fruit missing, they may be unhappy about the intrusion of the picking. We never really settled the matter, but the old lady with the cow said something along the lines of “take more if you want” and no one shot us, so I guess it was okay.

At one point, we found a path through an orchard that went in exactly our direction. Our end was surrounded by “pansions” (cheap bed and breakfasts) and there were foreigners walking on the path, so we figured it was a safe bet that it continued out to the restaurants and the beach. We were right, but before we could get onto the path, we were stopped by this older man with a chair near the entrance.

He spoke to the Emres in Turkish for a long time.  I followed some of it, and got filled in on the rest later.  He had something to complain about. He owned one of the pansions and it was his orchard through which our path crossed. He was annoyed that business wasn’t better, and, after a long chat about origins and tourism and such, he gave us his card and made Emre see one of the rooms. They were nice, and new, but about three times the price of the tree houses in Olympos, so I can understand why he has trouble attracting customers. He was pleasant enough to talk with though. And we did eventually find our way through the orchard.

We went back to the KaraKus restaurant at which we had eaten the first night in this town. (KaraKus means Dark Bird in Turkish.) They’d given us good food and friendly service and seemed clean, so it seemed like a safe bet to go there again. It was pretty slow, but we had fun. We ordered a bottle of raki (strong Turkish anis-flavored spirits) and we couldn’t decide of the food, so we just asked for a mix plate. The waiter brought us a series of little appetizers (melon, white cheese, fresh bread, tiny lahmacuns, tomatoes, mixed fried vegetables, garlic yogurt sauce) and then a huge, decoratively arranged plate of meats and starches and tomatoes.

We took hours to savor the meal, and we tossed bones and scraps at a little dog that scampered around the table. Our waiter told us that there’s not much going on in Olympos on the week days, that we should try to go out on a Friday or Saturday. In many ways, it’s very fortunate that he gave us an excuse not to try, because a half-kilometer of loose rocks is difficult to walk sober, and we would have had to do it twice. We did have to walk home, though. We waited on the beach for a while, watching the stars (most of the names I know are ancient Greek, and they may, very well, have been conceived from this very spot.) Then we stopped to buy bread, water, and chocolate (the necessities of life) from a little market. We needed the water, particularly, but it was a pain to carry it the whole of the hour-long walk home. We kept dropping the slippery bottles on the road. We ate the chocolate immediately to avoid carrying it. I was constantly on the look out for cars, because it’s a one-lane road and the drivers don’t seem particularly cautious. We all made it back without any incident, though, and then Emre stayed up to watch more Lost.

After the internet café the other day, we went to the grocery store. Fiona spent a few minutes debating the merits of various breakfast cereals, while the Emre’s picked up a few various necessities. First in the cart: candy bars, beer, nutella, cream cheese, cola, and a giant tub of high-fat yogurt. Afterwards they did get chicken and tomatoes and pasta and such, but Fiona teased them about the candy, non-the-less.

We came home and made dinner. No one felt like cooking anything, so we made sandwiches and had leftovers and such. Emre2 made a giant cheese-and-nutella sandwich which looked disgusting, but which he devoured with gusto. In the evening, we all sat around and watched videos from our time in France. We gossiped about various acquaintances, where they are now, what they were up to at the time that we didn’t know about. It was almost like being there again.

We got to bed late, so no one woke up early in the next morning. Emre and I were first, and we had breakfast while the others slept. If found a turtle that was a good 7 or 8 inches long. He kept trying to climb through a chain link fence, but it was completely hopeless.

Soon thereafter, Fiona and Emre2 got up, and had their breakfast. By the time we were all awake, fed, sunscreened, packed, etc, it was almost noon. We had wanted to go to the heart of Olympos, maybe 2 km away, but we’d accidentally waited until the hottest part of the day. We went anyway. We drove most of the way, but the last ½ km or so we had to walk on the beach. The little pebbles are pretty, but when they’re hot they slip into your shoes and burn into the soles of your feet like a kind of torture. They also slip out from underfoot and it seemed to take forever to walk just a few hundred yards. We made it, but we were all hot, tired, and thirsty.

I had a chance to write a little:

“We’re hanging out in a ‘chardak’ (a kind of padded open hut) in Olympos. Outside it’s hot like an oven, but it’s shady and cool in here. The Emre’s are playing backgammon. Fiona is reading and sipping fresh orange juice. It’s really nice and peaceful. We had to walk part of the way here, and it was miserable, but when we reached the trees it was like another world.

Olympos is actually a little valley, where a cold mountain stream runs into the warm, salty sea. The steep mountains and cool water make a nice, protected glad for the trees, of which there are many. It’s like a paradise: sea, mountains, beach, trees, river, it’s all here. Apparently I’m not the first to think so, either. The banks of the stream are littered with bits of Roman buildings. The Ionian Greeks, and probably others before them, were here before the Romans. Today there are very few permanent shelters. Only little wooden huts for restaurants and shops, and tree houses or cabins for visitors.

Some of the tourists are foreign. I’ve heard a lot of Australians and seen white people with dreads who I think are American. Many of the tourists are Turks. It doesn’t seem to matter, though. Everyone’s relaxed and groovy, profiting the peace and beauty of a natural wonder.

In many ways, I like the ruins here better than those at Efes. They’re not reconstructed in any way, and there isn’t any easily-accessible information about them. They’re also over-grown and only accessible by a little winding path, so when we were there, we were practically alone. In many ways, it’s a more intimate and natural experience. There weren’t hundreds of school children, or bits of German concrete holding the place together. In some places the rocks of the path are decoratively-carved column drums or bits of a frieze. The trees and reeds have begun to absorb some of the rocks back into the fabric of the forest. It’s more mysterious, but also a powerful reminder that even the most impressive, well-built works of man do eventually return to the plants and the earth.

I do wonder, however, who left these behind. Who, living in this paradise, could willingly leave? And why would they neglect the buildings if they stayed here? Were they forced out? By famine or by enemies? I feel like there’s a good story here.”

After the ruins and the drinks, we spent the whole afternoon on the beach. We all went for a swim in the clear, salty sea. There were no shells, because of the stones on the beach that crush everything. I did see many fish, though, including some round little white-and-yellow ones that eat stuff from the bottom and like to follow Emre’s feet. There were also some finger-sized blue and green and yellow fish that were lovely. We tried to catch them, but they’re too fast. Emre2 and Fiona swam out to some rock that you can jump off of into the sea. Emre and I stayed nearer the stream, where the salt water and the fresh water refuse to mix and make alternating patches of warm and cool. I swam down and brought up rocks, which Emre then skipped across the calm surface of the sea. He can skip practically any rock 3 times, and more with a good, flat one.

Fiona took this photo of a sailboat, which I really liked.  There were a few of them near the shore, with little tiny motor boats to get to the beach.  Such a lovely sea almost made me wish I knew how to sail.  Maybe one day.

Fiona and Emre2 came back, and Emre got out of the water before the rest of us. He started to build a dam in the stream. By the time we got out and took a photo, he had a line of rocks across the stream. People kept coming up and speaking to him. The fishermen downstream kindly asked him not to block the middle until they finished fishing. Emre2 and I helped, and some random German guy just started handing us rocks.

They did a great job, using different sizes of rocks for different jobs, and finally raising the water-level on the back of the dam by a couple of feet before it got dark and we left. A couple of strangers on the beach told the Emres that they’d make good engineers. I found that funny.

Fiona’s shoe broke during the morning walk in the woods, and I fixed it once with duct-tape from my emergency kit. That didn’t hold, though, so part of my activity on the beach was to rig up a repair for the shoe using a bit of ribbon that I was keeping on my diary. (The ribbon originally came from a box of candy, so it wasn’t a huge sacrifice.) It worked pretty well, I think, and she was able to walk all the way back on the beach, which would have been painful without shoes.

In the evening, we barbequed some of that chicken from the grocery, and Fiona made a lovely salad. (She pretended to be extra-enthusiastic for the photo.)  Emre2 was a little peaked from all of the sun, but he got better, and we watched Lost. I went to bed after one episode, but Emre and Fiona stayed up a while. It’s a captivating show, and if I squint, it’s almost like we’re staying on a desert island,now.

Today, we’re hoping to visit the burning rocks at Chimera (where the mythical beast supposedly lived) and that town again to buy Fiona some new, less broken shoes. With any luck I’ll get to post this then.