-
Tavuk Sis To Souvlaki: From Turkey To A Greek Island
What in God’s name possessed us to decide to leave the waterproofs at home? How on Earth did seasoned travellers like us make the conscious decision to leave them out of the backpacks until next time? Well somehow that’s what we did, which is how we come to be heading to the ferry in the early morning light by lurching from shop doorway to shop doorway in order to keep out of the worst of the rain. Mercifully it eases off just as we reach the open territory of the dock and we can pick our way through the puddles without getting a dousing. Just. An hour later – though…
-
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…
-
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…
-
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…
-
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…
-
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…
-
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…
-
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…
-
Homeward Bound: Final Legs And Next Thoughts
It’s a small aeroplane, seats arranged in twenty rows of three, two one side of the aisle and one the other, roof low enough to necessitate a stooped walk towards our places. There’s something odd though; a makeshift barrier tape (looks like the demo seat belt used by stewardesses in the safety briefing), strung across the aisle, beyond which all the seats are already taken, even though passengers have only just started boarding. These guys are clearly too settled to have only just taken their places. Who are they, we wonder. Our designated seats are in Row 16, which is beyond the tape and therefore already occupied. Michaela moves the…
-
Beyond Fawlty Towers
Nyanga was the Zimbabwe town set in beautiful countryside ravaged by wildfires, our hotel nestled in woodland with neat lawns and its own trout pool. Apart from a suspiciously empty car park there was at first nothing to tell us that we were about to step into a place so badly run that its comedy of errors would lead us to dub the place “Beyond Fawlty Towers”. Just how many issues can one hotel cram into three nights? It begins in reception, where for the first time in all of Africa we are met with straight faces instead of welcoming smiles. Having confirmed in advance that we could pay by…
