Editor’s note: You know you have a problem with brevity when your own family starts to complain that blog entries are too long. Thanks to such (welcomed) feedback, our longer entries will now start with a quick summary and the picture/video links.
Summary: We visited Dubrovnik and Split, Croatia as well as Istanbul and Türkbükü, Turkey over 11 days with Rob and Jean. A family friend and her husband made Dubrovnik feel like home. A ferry journey up the Adriatic Sea showed off a wonder along the Dalmatian coast and Split was a short overnight visit. It was a whirlwind 48 hour rush around Instanbul, a fascinating city with 16 million people and traces of Christianity, Persians, Islam, world supremacy, decline, and (now) emerging modernity. The overused description of Istanbul as “the meeting place of east and west” seemed to unfairly oversimplify the place. Our last few days were spent unwinding on the shores of the Aegean Sea on the Bodrum Peninsula in Türkbükü.
Link to pictures: http://www.kodakgallery.com/gallery/creativeapps/slideShow/Main.jsp?token=965417138703%3A219027168
Link to a short video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8pit9uXS5A0
And now for the whole story…
It’s hard not to love European vacation policy. Every calendar year, I’m required to take 10 consecutive workdays of “holiday.” The idea is that if I’m up to any financial shenanigans, the red flags will start flashing to my replacements while I’m out of the office. Compliance and Risk departments…I salute you!
In New York, such a significant period away from the office might be encouraged during a honeymoon, for example, but that’s about it. Erin doesn’t get the same treatment, so we had to compromise. My parents were planning their annual visit so I took a few days off work to hang out with them in London before we all departed Gatwick for Dubrovnik on Wednesday night.
Dubrovnik never seems to get a bad review, so it had been on our “hope to visit” list since we moved. On top of that, my dad had performed a few knee surgeries on a woman named Carol who had since relocated to Croatia to live with her partner Baldo. There’s nothing like a local contact to turn a good visit into a great one…and Carol and Baldo did not disappoint.
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| Walking into the Dubrovnik at night was incredible. |
We arrive at the Pile (PEE-luh) Gate at around 9:30pm. No cars are allowed in the old, walled city of Dubrovnik so Carol met our taxi outside and escorted us the rest of the way to our hotel. Entering the city through the fortified walls at night was stunning. It was quiet since it was relatively late so the white washed marble stones of the Stradun (main street) glowed majestically in the streetlights. (I honestly can’t remember the last time I typed the words “stunning” or “majestically,” but the only alternative I can think of is “breathtaking” and that’s even worse, right?)
Anyway, we arrived a the Amoret Apartments 3, 2 semi-joint rooms overlooking the Cathedral. We dropped our bags and immediately left for Carol and Baldo’s for dinner and snacks including ridiculously good olive oil and local liquors made in the village: cherry liquor, rakki, grappa, wine. What a welcome!
Their apartment is in old town to the right of the Dubrovnik Spanish steps (same architect as Rome’s). There are a lot of words that could be used to describe Carol, but quiet and timid do not make the list. We ended up staying for a few hours before slip/sliding our way back to our hotel at about 1am. It had poured while we were inside and walking on smooth, wet marble in sandals after a few glasses of rakki is deadly.
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| Starting the day the only way she knows how |
We woke up the next morning and went straight for coffee at Konoba Kamarice before heading out to explore the Old Town. KK is a favourite of the locals for both coffee and food.
C&B took us on a mini tour outside of old town to some nice beach spots and views of the city from the outside. Lunch at K______ overlooking the sea was a good start on the food front. It was the first of many good seafood means. Amberjack was ordered all around upon Baldo’s recommendation.
Dubrovnik is commonly described as “Venice without the canals.” It seems like a fair description to me for many reasons. It remained neutral from hundreds of years which is pretty incredible given its proximity to Rome, Greece, and Venice. The Venetians got the closest to taking over the city, but instead allowed Dubrovnik a fair bit of autonomy. However, they did place a Venetian ‘governor’ in the city to keep an eye on things. The governorship lasted only one month, but during that month the governor couldn’t leave the Doge’s Palace for any reason whatsoever.
We learned this and other fun facts from our personal tour guide Sonja. We were fascinated with the recent Yogoslav war so she was able to help us sort things out. As a mix of Serb and Croat, she was able to provide some neutrality when describing the horrible events of the 1990s. It is nearly impossible to imagine that within the last 20 years, a city that now looks so perfect was under siege, being shelled constantly for months at a time while local men and boys were dying to protect their home. The war was fought between many different ethnic groups within the former Yugoslavia. It involved Slovaks, Serbs, Croats, Bosnians, Macedonians, Albanians, and many others each with slightly differing religious beliefs, ethnic backgrounds, disagreements about newly forming national borders, and political leaders with a penchant for genocide. It was a mess. No one seemed to have benefitted, but a lot of people are still very very bitter. Many people echoed the sentiment that it would probably take generations (of these bitter people dying off) before bygones will be bygones. It’s probably best for me to leave a longer description of the conflict to more informed sources.Before dinner we stumbled into Buza 1 (literally “hole in the wall 1”) to watch the sunset with a about a hundred other people on some rocky cliffs just outside the city walls. As always, pictures don’t do it justice.
Dinner was at Kanoba Kamarice which, unfortunately for Erin, specialises in shellfish. My black squid ink risotto was salty but very nice while Erin’s plain omelette was uninspiring. After dinner we strolled the harbor and ate some good ice cream. The Croatians are very proud of theirs – it’s a lot like Italian gelato which is a very good thing.
On Friday morning we got off to a relatively quick start in an effort to beat the cruise boat crowds for a tour of the city walls. It took us about an 1 ½ hours to work slowly around the perimeter of the old city, taking in nice views. Afterwards we relaxed and swam for a while at the public beach, called the “socialist beach” by Baldo. Rob and Jean aren’t huge fans of relaxing in the sun so they took off relatively quickly. Erin and I get so exciting about seeing sun that we were willing to stay a bit longer. Tired and salty, we grabbed a quick lunch and some ice cream at the harbor.That night we all had a glass of wine on the terrace of Pici Palace. It was closed but they let us stay. We were the only ones. We met C&B for dinner. They were planning to take us to their favorite just outside the Pile Gate, but we had no reservations and therefore no table. We experienced the same problem at three other restaurants before hopping into a pair of taxis and driving 15 minutes to a yacht club for dinner. It was the only time in our four days in Dubrovnik that we didn’t travel by foot. Orsan Yacht Club turned out to a great choice. It was excellent local wine and grouper. At this point we were learning a lot about C&B; how they met, lessons from Carols Zen Master and Buddhist (we think it’s two different people). Dull they are not.
On Saturday we climbed Mount Srd (pronounced Surge – the ‘d’ is crossed like a ‘t’ to give it the “dge” sound). It is topped by a Napoleonic-era fort. When the Serbs laid siege to Dubrovnik, Srd was the only hill they were never able to take…and good thing for the Old City. The fort now houses a museum which recounts the events of the war. It is notably one-sided, but fair enough I guess. The scars are still pretty fresh. Srd probably rises up about 2,500 feet, but it’s enough to get a sweeping view of the coastline to one side and Croatia’s mountainous border with Bosnia and Herzegovina to the other. Sorry B&H, but the view up the Dalmatian coast wins handily.
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| On top of the city walls |
It was early afternoon by the time we made it back into town and having skipped breakfast we were starved. The pizza and beers at Mea Culpa Pizzeria hit the spot. Mea Culpa was one of about 50 simple pizza/pasta restaurants in the old city which catered to the cruise boat tourists. Sure enough, when we sat down the British couple at the table next to us asked, “so which boat are you on?” We ended up talking with the Brits a little throughout the meal. I think they were Liverpudlians, or at least that’s the closest large city they referenced.
Afterwards we took a short ferry ride to Island Lokrum. It’s a green oasis about half a mile from the Dubrovnik. We scouted a rocky, boulder beach to spread out our towels and take in some sun. Again, Rob & Jean were bored after about an hour so they made their way back while we laid around and I swam a bit more. Erin was happy not to get too close to the sea creatures (small fish). Our hike around the island took a surprisingly long time, so by the time we got back to the mainland we were ready for another swim, this time at Buza II since it was only about 2 minutes away from our hotel. We ran into Baldo there – he was just wrapping up a card game with his fellow speedo-clad friends. Tourists are everywhere in Dubrovnik so it was nice to see the local guys still hang out in places like Buza II. He described it as his “neighborhood swimming hole” for his entire life.
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| Carol and Baldo |
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| Reading up on Turkey |
The next day we took a ferry up the coast from Dubrovnik to Split. We stopped briefly in the island towns for Korcula (“CORE-chew-luh) and Hvar (don’t pronounce the “h”). We sat outside on the deck of what appeared to be a retired cruise ship from the 1970s. I played about 10 hands of cribbage with my dad and lost every one of them…some things never change. In fairness it was my first time. I’ve joined an online cribbage league so I’ll clean the floor with him next time (kidding about the online league.)
One unique sight from the boat was two red and yellow “fire planes” battling a forest fire. They would fly low along the sea, somehow scooping up a fuselage full of water before flying up above the fire to drop their load. We watched the pair of planes repeat this cycle for a few minutes. They did not seem to leave much room for error near the water. Erin also spotted a marlin jumping out of the water.
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| Split at dawn |
We arrived in Split and wandered some grubby old streets trying to find our hotel. I didn’t have a map so I was struggling trying to remember the mental route I had mapped out while studying googlemaps a few weeks prior. It seemed so easy online! We finally found Villa Stina, a nice small hotel with an outdoor lobby area. The receptionist, Mario, gave us a sweet free mini church tschotschke souvenir which will be prominently displayed in our homes forever. We relied on Rick Steves for dinner, just outside the walls of Diocletian’s Palace at Pizzeria Gratija. The pizza was a little soggy, but we were all starved and each put down our own pie. Don’t order prosecco there unless you’re really hoping for a glass of sherry.
We snickers ice cream at Hayduk and took a short walk on the promenade and through Diocletians Palace. He had retired here after running the Roman Empire. The ruins of the original palace are in very good shape and the rejuvenated city has successfully rebuilt itself throughout the original walls and buildings. Before bed we scouted the location of the Hertz rental car. We wouldn’t have much time to spare the next morning since we needed to get ourselves to Zagreb for our flight to Istanbul so we wanted to map things out (again – since we had no map.). The Hertz was easy enough to find so we went to bed knowing it would be a leisurely morning drive.
Wrong! Turns out I had booked the car from Split Airport, not Split “downtown” and the downtown location had no spare cars. So much for the good planning. We sprinted to the airport in a cab and waited while the painfully slow rental process unfolded. An hour behind schedule, we zoomed up the A1 highway in our Fiat something-or-other. Luckily, the highway is very modern (3 years old) with somewhat expensive tolls ($30 USD equivalent) so it was clear of traffic and we could make good time. We arrived at Zagreb airport with enough time to have a picnic lunch in the quiet park across the street from the main terminal. That was a first! I can’t imagine doing the same at Heathrow or LaGuardia. Once we were through security, we spent our last Croatian kuna the only way we know how…buying about 6 chocolate bars from the duty free shop.
The Turkish Airlines flight was pretty empty and we even got a free sandwich. The turquoise blue seats were a fun too, though Erin was unsettled by the four shifty young men in the back row. She turned around to check on them about once a minute for the whole flight.
As with every other place during this trip, our arrival into Istanbul occurred in the dark of night. It was about 8pm when our taxi pulled into the winding cobblestone streets of Sultanahmet, the oldest part of Istanbul and the neighborhood where we would spend most of the time during our short visit. It’s a mixture of hotels, shops, restaurants, and old, old, old houses. We were on the 4th floor of our hotel so we had an unexpectedly good view of the Blue Mosque and some of Hagia Sofia (pronounced Aya Sofia). Just as we walked into our room the sunset prayer call began (see video). It was perfectly timed to make our arrival in Istanbul feel all the more enchanting, or creepy, as Erin would say. The Erten Konak is a small boutique hotel in Sultanehmet which smelled a little too much like moth balls. But at least there were no moths, right Er?
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| From Hagia Sofia toward the Blue Mosque |
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| Inside Hagia Sofia |
Unless you’re interested in a brief Istanbul history, skip this paragraph: The land now called Turkey was once knows as Anatolia. The ruling Hitittes in 2000 BC built a society that rivalled the Egyptians for 1000 years. The Greeks later colonized a city-state here called Byzantium. Then Persians (today’s Iranians) swept in around 600BC to leave their mark. Alexander the Great (the Macedonian) re-conquered Byzantine in 300BC and the Romans followed shortly thereafter. Constantine moved the Roman Empire’s capital here in 330 BC renaming the city Constantinople and forming the Byzantine Empire (Greek culture, Rome’s politics, Christian religion). This is completely separate from Holy Roman Empire we know better in the West. Later the Turks brought Islam to Anatolia in 1000AD, about 300 years into the life of that religion. The Mongols even showed up for a brief stint, but never really conquered. The Ottomans (a subset of Turks) grew strong in eastern Anatolia and were able to take Constantinople from Byzantine Christians in 1400s. From Constantinople, the Ottomans ruled Turkey, north Africa, and much of Middle East until the early 1900s. In WWI, they sided with Ze Germanz which did not end well. Goodbye Ottoman Empire. Enter British influence, the founding of the secular country of “Turkey” and the renaming of Constantinople to Istanbul. In short, this place had been influenced by lots of cultures and religions of many centuries.
So we started our tour at Hagia Sofia: it was built by Emperor Justinian in the 500s, over 1,000 years before St. Peters in Rome and it’s just as impressive architecturally. It served as a church for 1,000 years before the Ottomans took over. They liked the building so much that they built some minarets and called it a mosque...the model for hundreds of world’s famous mosques started as a cathedral…funny that. Minarets are for prayer calls so only one is really needed. The other five are just for showing off.
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| Underground Cistern |
The ceiling of the original church was covered with mosaic tiles. But there were lots of images of people which is a no-no for Muslims so they just plastered over the mosaics and painted their standard geometric patterns. The building has since become a museum and it turns out the plaster job actually helped to preserve many of the original mosaics. To give some impression of the size, Notre Dame Cathedral could fit completely inside the main room. The statue of liberty could fit if she lot her torch and “do jumping jacks.” Unlike a St. Peter’s, there is very little going on within the interior, so the building itself is the main attraction.
Next up on the tour was the Underground Cistern, two football fields in area with 40 foot ceilings held up by Greek columns. It was once filled to provide water for the rapidly expanding city of Constantinople. Two of the support columns have huge Medusa heads carved into the base. Multiple theories exist to explain their existence.
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| Inside the Blue Mosque |
The Sultanahment Camii (a.k.a. Blue Mosque) was the first working mosque visit for any of us and it sets the bar pretty high. It’s no shoes allowed and female guests need to cover up from head to ankle. The interior is a surprisingly large and unadorned space. That said, the walls and ceiling are intricately painted and the entire floor is covered with a huge industrial carpet that reduces the “character factor” relative to what it would like if the floor were still covered in hundreds of small rugs.
Non-Muslims are only allowed inside when it’s not prayer time so we didn’t stay long. We went to the Turk/Islamic Museum of Art in an attempt to put Erin to sleep. Then we walked in wrong direction for at least an hour (sweet map reading, Magellan!) before grabbing the tightly packed tram and another funicular up to Taksim Square. Some dude wrapped his leg around Erin from behind on the tram. Needless to say she was not happy, but she didn’t tell us about it until after we were off a few stops later. We started walking down Istiklal Street, but it was way too crowded. We sat for one of the best and cheapest meal in Turkey at Beyoglo Ocakbasi on or Bekar Sokak off Istiklal Caddesi. It was simple and good!
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| At Galata Bridge |
Istiklal Street is like 5th Avenue and Times Square combined. It feels a million miles away from the mosques and winding streets of Sultanahmet. We walked back across the Golden Horn via the Galata Bridge. Due to the end of Ramadam, we knew that the Grand Bazaar was closed so we tried to go to the Spice Market instead. It was closed too but the surrounding streets and alleyways were still packed. That was a theme throughout our time in Istanbul. Everywhere we went we found crowds. It was a very busy, energetic and youthful city despite it’s age.
That night Erin and I went to a Turkish Bath called Cemberlitas Hamam. Neither of us was quite sure what to expect. We walked in a paid (95 TL per person for the works). We were handed tokens (1 red, 1 yellow) and directed to enter. The sexes are segregated so I proceeded to the men’s changing area. I was pointed towards a bunch of semi-private changing rooms, and guessed/hoped that I was supposed to leave my clothes there. I wrapped myself in the large red and white plaid dishtowel and wandered around until someone pointed out where I was supposed to go next. I was feeling a little vulnerable in my dishtowel with tokens and a bottle of water in hand, sliding around on the slippery floor on my too-big sandals. I walked through a big, heavy wooden door and found a bunch of other guys wrapped in a dishtowels too so I figured that I was off to a good start. One of the older men grabbed me by the wrist and led me threw a doorway into the “main washroom.” This bath was built in 16th century so lots and lots and lots of dishtowel-clad men had been through this room over the centuries. The room is circular, maybe 10 meters in diameter, with 15 or so wash basins around the outer wall and a huge octagonal marble slab in the middle. My new friend (Ali, as I would later learn) got me ready for a wash. He sat me down by one of the basins. I was thinking that I would use one of the bowls to cover myself with water, but Ali had better ideas. He disappeared for a second before returning with a big bucket which he filled with lukewarm water. Then he chucked the bucket full of water in my face. The force of the water almost knocked me over backward as I was a bit caught off guard. Thankfully I had just enough time to close my mouth and eyes before a second bucketful of water arrived. Then we just looked at each other for a few seconds. He seemed unhappy. I didn’t know why. He took his bucket over to one of the other basins and filled it again. As he started walking back I braced myself, but this time the water was scalding hot. I don’t think I screamed, but an expletive may have escaped my lips. He seemed content with this. After a few more bucketsful of hot water, he brought me over to the marble slab and motioned that I needed to lay down. Then he disappeared again.
After a few minutes he returned and took out a coarse glove-towel scrubber thing and started exfoliating me head to toe. The same thing was happening to a handful of other guys on the slab so despite the pain from the steel wool exfoliation procedure, at least I was having an authentic Turkish experience. Then he returned with a bucket of hot-soapy water and repeated the process. There were lots of suds and I was sliding all over the marble slab. Ali seemed to be enjoying himself and I was pretty relaxed considering I felt like I was walking through a carwash. Once he rinsed me off, he led me into another room and sat me on the floor again by another wash basin. He stood over me and shampooed my hair and face and nothing about it was gentle. My neck cracked and popped as he messaged my head forcefully from above. I started to think about what the Turkish hospital system would be like if I became quadriplegic right then and there. Then, just as quickly as it all started, it was over. Ali stood me up and said “ok?” and giving me the thumbs up while looking into my eyes hopefully? I said, “yes, ok, thank you” using all the Turkish words I had memorized from the back of the guidebook. Then he said “Ali” while holding his hand to his chest, clearly introducing himself – and he followed that with “tip.” I tried to think about how to tip him. Clearly he didn’t expect me to be carrying money. Or were there pockets in the dishtowel? Or was I supposed to tip him with my yellow token? Speaking of which, where are my tokens? And my water bottle? And my sandals? I had lost everything in the carwash. He seemed to understand the concern on my face, so he added “tip after.”
Then he directed me to another room where a huge, hairy Turk named Aziz gave me 30 minute oily rub down after which I showered, changed and waited in the “cool room” for Erin to finish up. I ended up waiting about 45 minutes because Erin’s experience was even more fantastical that mine.
She had the same degree of confusion that I had, but she didn’t have someone like Ali to pull her around like a small puppy on a leash. She changed into her dishtowel, then went into the women’s marble slab room. From the sound of it, the women’s room is much bigger than the men’s. There were 20+ women in the room. She laid on the marble slab waiting for someone to come do something, but nothing happened for about 15 minutes. Then a topless woman in bikini bottoms came in and gave her the rubdown. Whatever erotic images you have in your head right now, you can just stop. Evidently all the female workers were fat…like orca fat. According to Erin, they looked miserable and tired and were just going through the motions. I guess fair enough. It was going on 10pm by now and they had been wandering around a sauna all day. After her rub down, she sat in a hot tub for a while. Then she made the mistake of going back into the marble slab room to wait. With no one there to point her in the right direction, she just conspicuously held out her red and yellow tokens hoping someone would take notice and tell her what to do. After 20 minutes, someone came and led her into the message room for her full body massage…and apparently full body is not an exaggeration.
It was quite an experience for both us, to say the least. We had a quick drink and some meze (like Turkish tapas) at Maneaura Cafe before bed.
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| Grand Bazaar |
The next day I got up for a run while Erin tried to sleep off a headache. Mom and dad zipped over to the Grand Bazaar early in the morning because they had decided to sign up for a cooking class at Cooking AlaTurka during the day. We heard about the class from a Kiwi couple, Fi and Hayden at our hotel. Evidently it was a great an experience. They learned how to cook a few Turkish staples in a classroom of 11 people, then sat down to a feast at about 1pm. Meanwhile, Erin and I went over to the Grand Bazaar and Spice Market. The Grand Bazaar is a huge covered maze of small shops selling all sorts of things. It was a little disappointing in that many of the stalls sold Canal Street, NYC-like knockoff stuff (“Real Fake Watches!”). The rest of them sold the obvious collection of lamps, ceramics (which we bough and broke on the way home), leather goods, spices, etc. We bought ourselves some bowls because Erin loves small bowls and some gifts. The shopping wasn’t great, but the size of the place and the history was impressive. It would be great to have seen this place 50 or 150 years ago. Who knows what you could have found. It was so big we couldn’t figure out how to get out! After 20 minutes of wandering we just picked a direction and tried to walk in a straight line. Eventually we escaped and made our way to the Spice Market, a much more manageable collection of stalls selling tourist crap, food, spices, etc. I went a little overboard buying $60 worth of dried fruit, nuts, and baklava from one of the vendors. That said, the figs, sun-dried apricots, and sesame covered peanuts were really good. In both the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Market, we were pleasantly surprised by the lack of pushy salespeople. We were expecting constant harassment, but it was pretty tame…nothing like Marrakech.
We had lunch at Hamdi Restaurant overlooking the Galata Bridge. The recommendation caçme from Risk Steves and Fi and Hayden. It was ok, but nothing great. We had an interesting conversation with a Swedish dude named Andreas. He was just “on a break” from his real estate profession in Dubai and he decided to ride his motorcycle from Dubai to Sweden and back. However, with just 3-4 countries to go, he ran out of passport pages so he couldn’t get the necessary Iranian visa. Anyway, interesting guy despite being a little suspect at first. He said a friend sent him to Hamdi and that he had to get the pistachio lamb kebab. I tried it myself…so so.
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| View toward Istanbul from Bosphorus Bridge |
Late that afternoon we took an airport shuttle across the Galata Bridge and then across the Bosphorus Bridge to the Asia side of Istanbul. The new, small Sabiha Gokcen airport was about an hour drive.
We arrived into the Bodrum airport via Pegusus Air after dark and drove our rented Ford Focus into Türkbükü, a small village on the Bodrum Peninsula. ‘When you arrive at Maçakizi, your holiday begins.’ That was the greeting from the receptionist…it felt a little forced and awkward since we’d already been on holiday for a week at that point, but no matter. The place looked nice and we were happy to arrive after the 45 minute drive. Our rooms overlooked the bay, but we didn’t fully appreciate the view until morning. Erin’s head was still throbbing, so we made an early night of it.
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| The jetty at Macakizi |
The next morning, we realized that we had hit the jackpot with the hotel. The view was incredible - just what we were hoping for. All four of us went for a short, but painful run up and down the hills around the harbor. When we got back, we felt as though we had earned our breakfast and we took full advantage. Türkbükü is a holiday spot heavily used by Turks, so now that most of them were back at work and school for the season, the town seemed almost dead. Our hotel felt like it was operating at 25% capacity if that. After breakfast we spent most of the day laying on the jetty. Even Jean swam in the Aegean! It was an incredible way to spend a day.
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| Erin just dropped the soggy donuts in those bushes |
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| Laughing through a bad meal |
We wandered along the harbor to find a restaurant for a late lunch / early dinner. We chose a place that looked, well, open. “Close no,” said the owner, as in “we’re open 24 hours”. The frustratingly nice owner didn’t really speak any English, but some of the menu was in English so it shouldn’t have been a problem. The view was great, but it was downhill from there. Despite being situated right on the harbour of a fishing village, there was no fish on the menu. All the food tasted and looked a little like Turkish TV dinners. Erin’s wine tasted like vinegar. The canned Efes beer was good, thankfully. We were the only ones at the restaurant and the owner brought each of us two complementary desserts. The second one was so bad that Erin secretly dropped the soggy, syrupy donut holes into the bushes. We felt really bad, but couldn’t bring ourselves force them down out of politeness. We ended the day with some bread, chocolate and wine on the balcony of the hotel.
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| Ahhhhhhh |
The next morning we drove the long way into Bodrum. Erin was a little cranky because she was missing out on jetty time, but she held her tongue. The situation was not helped by the incoming cloud-cover. Bodrum was very touristy and very crowded. We wandered the shops for a while. I think we walked away having made a few purchases and we were happy to get on our way back to our hotel. We tried to salvage some jetty time, but the clouds made it a little cool. Dad beat me in cribbage about 10 more times. We decided to order room service and eat more bread with the olive oil from Croatia. We played eukre for a few hours before bed.
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| Not allowed in the Roman Forum |
On our last day, we left after savouring our last few hours at Maçakizi – one last breakfast, one last swim. We then drove 2.5 hours to Ephesus, an ancient Roman city with some incredible ruins standing to this day (maybe with the help of some recent reconstruction.) Nevertheless, as one of the Seven Ancient Wonders of the World it was well worth the drive.
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| Library of Celsus at Ephesus |
On the way back to the Bodrum Airport, we stopped for a Starbucks coffee in an outlet mall that also contained a Nike and an Adidas outlet. It felt like we were in the States, save for the Starbucks menu being in Turkish. We flew on Atlas Jet back to Istanbul where we would catch our flights back to the Portland and London the next day. We stayed the night at the Cinar Hotel by the airport. We had our last breakfast together on the terrace overlooking the Sea or Marmara. I was sad to see my parents leaving for the airport. We live about 5,000 miles apart so it was quite a treat to be able to spend two weeks together. Erin and I played tennis on the mini-court by the beach that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. It was the last thing we would do in Turkey…except for burning our last few lira on chocolate in the duty free shop, of course.
UPDATE: The Marco Polo, the cruise ship-cum-ferry that took us along the Dalmation coast ran aground on the island of Sit. No one was hurt, but everyone had to be evacuated...funny to think that could have been us as it occurred about one month after our voyage.
