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Published: March 20th 2009
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After five months of saving, one month of planning and seventeen hours in transit, Turkey welcomed my Calgary friend, Jordin, and me with open arms; but not without first testing our resolve to be there. After waltzing too easily through Immigration and baggage pick-up at 11pm, we prepared to slide into our rental car and drive off into the breezy ocean-scented night.
An hour later, sitting in an Antalyan police station, our watery eyes made contact over steaming glasses of tea, half laughing and half sighing that maybe we should take another stab at a seamless arrival. Next to us, the police chief was giving us a confused but sympathetic look as he summoned the Europcar representative to the station, less than 200 meters from where she had met us twenty minutes before. As he explained our situation in Turkish, I translated in my mind: “You’re never going to believe this! Those Canadians you rented your car to, can’t actually drive it! They say they can’t drive a manual transmission. Who can’t drive manual transmission? Strange country, I know…Can you come and pick up the car?”
Despite having taken some manual driving lessons in France (and my unwillingness to
Too Cold for a Swim
But perfect for a boat cruise pay a colossal 100€ cancellation fee for mistakenly booking a manual transmission car through E-Bookers.fr - a third-party booking agency to be avoided in the future), my lurching attempt to drive a stick-shift for the first time alone while trying to conquer frazzled nerves, resulted in a scary stall on the highway upon exiting the airport parking lot. With Jordin kindly keeping his own panic to himself in the passenger seat, I watched as one police car, then two, then three, switched on their sirens and formed a circle around us. Flushed with embarrassment, I handed over my driver’s license and explained using a mix of sign language and over-simplified English that, I could drive…but not this car.
I felt highly suspicious with my bloodshot eyes and nervous clumsiness but the police simply smiled, gestured for me to hop into the backseat and drove us over to the station across the road. After sorting out our car problems and hunting down the only automatic rental in Antalya, we set out towards the coast, ready for a good night’s sleep to kick off our vacation.
Two hours later we were not only still awake, but having another encounter with
Smorgasborg on the First Day
An attempt to sample everything in too little time the Turkish police. This time they found us wandering on foot like vagabonds through the maze of empty streets in Antalya’s old town, Kaleici, desperately searching for our
pansiyon. Once again they looked at us confusedly and sympathetically and invited us to climb into the back seat of their car as they sent out a dispatch for directions to a street no one seemed able to find.
Finally, after squeezing through every tiny lane way of Kaleici, the police dropped us off in front of the White Garden Pansiyon. We were more than ready at this point to curl up and forget about our four-hour ordeal, but our car and belongings still lay abandoned somewhere beneath the cliffs on which we now stood. Luckily, we had picked the right accommodation; taking pity on our directional senselessness, the disheveled front desk clerk, wiped the sleep from his eyes, slipped on his shoes and walked out into the chilly night to escort us and our car from the marina to the Old City. Not long after, we collapsed onto our beds and embraced sleep, chilled with exhaustion but warmed by the generous help we’d received since arriving.
Thus began our
week-long love affair with Turkey. During four days in Antalya, we explored the town market filled with the freshest Mediterranean ingredients; plotted to revive the ancient civilization of the Pisidians while trekking through their mountainous ruins at Termessos; lingered over plates of mezze, kebabs, Antalyan-style fish and chicken and glasses of anis-flavored Raki in cozy Parlak Restaurant; smoked water pipes while lounging with the locals on the sunny terrace of beach-side Beyzade café; clapped along to Turkish karaoke singers at Jungle Dan bar; and learned about the history of the region at the simple and informative Antalya Museum. Our stay was permeated by pleasant encounters with locals and tourists alike, as if the genuine hospitality of the Turks makes everyone act more friendly. We met many guests at the pansiyon who had apartments or were planning on moving to Turkey, and we gave in to our own fantasies about coming back here for an extended period of time.
So it was with some sadness that we checked out of the White Garden early on Monday morning to make our way to Istanbul. At 4:30 AM Mustafa was waiting for us at the front desk, smiling and helpful despite the
early hour. We wished we could have stayed at least a few more days, but once out of the labyrinth of Kaleici, we became focused on our next mission - making the most of our thirty-four hour stay in the old seat of the Ottoman Empire.
After a short search for our hostel (Cordial House) we were eager to begin our exploration, but not without finding our new friend Heidi, an outgoing and poetic soul who befriended us at the White Garden and seemed to energize and bind us with her positive, loving personality. As a dynamic threesome we explored the historic and culinary delights of Istanbul, interspersing our visits to the Palace, Blue Mosque, Aya Sofiya and Grand Bazaar with samples of Baklava,
Sahlep (a warm, milky orchid-root and cinnamon drink), hot wine, an endless array of mezzes, outlandish puddings (including
Tavukgogsu - chicken breast pudding, and
Asure - a pudding filled with 40 dried fruits, grains and nuts and supposedly invented with the leftovers on the deck of Noah’s Ark after the rains had cleared) and finally chewy Turkish Delights from the “original” makers.
We exhausted ourselves and soiled our clothing (we nicknamed our tour “The
Mountainist Ritual
Worshiping the mountains at Termessos Adventures of Jam-Pants and Sugar Scarf” after the gourmet messes we incurred), but left off with promises to stay in touch and a deep feeling of connection with this large yet convivial city. It was almost shocking to arrive three hours later in the main square of a dark and empty Frankfurt, but we made the most of the inviting bar at our hostel to reminisce about our voyage. The residual warmth from the week before was enough to carry us through the cold German night and our long trips back to status quo.
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Kathy
non-member comment
Hey, you're back!
Wow, you certainly have an exciting life! Thanks for taking me along vicariously on your amazing adventures. Best wishes, Kathy et al