TURKISH SOJOURN

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TURKISH SOJOURN

(Antalya conference, january 2014)



Europe’s best airline. Really?

Just another flying bus is what i’d say. For us ‘cattle class’ lot at least (Indigo aircrafts have far more legroom).With bleh food to boot. Whats with airline food? Does it have to be universally bad? The food on board, showcased Turkish culinary culture no doubt but was stamped with that distinct airline food taste. Bleh! Bleh! Bleh! And all that bread! The bread in the aircraft was just a sample of my bread overdose through my Turkish sojourn. Bread, day in and day out. Baskets of it at every meal. Especially at the five star hotel i was staying at. I returned entire baskets full every time. And it being Europe (well the gateway to Europe, at least), olive oil ruled. Boy, was i olive oiled out! All very healthy am sure. But i found myself fantasising about good old ghee. The alternative – ‘Indian food’ on board was even more appalling. Rice and brinjal. Yes and with a packet of olive oil! But the crowning glory was the ‘jalebi,’ a lump of half cooked maida in sugar syrup. My neighbourhood dhaba makes better jalebi, and mine is not even a great neighbourhood. Announcements made in thick Turkish accent, didn’t do anything to endear me to Messi’s airline. After the genteel pampering (even if just put-on) and crisp English announcements one is used to in most Indian airlines, being addressed as ‘lady,’ by the Turkish i met, from the aircraft to the hotel, to the streets, felt a trifle condescending, if you ask me (”what would you like to eat lady,” “Stand that side, lady” etc.). What? No “Ma’am?”



That stress buster of a hotel

The hotel was such a stress buster. And after almost an entire year of hectic academic and administrative activity ( not to mention the aaaargh!! Shillong traffic) i was happy to be embraced by the nautical shaped Rixos Downtown, situated right by the Mediterranean sea with the Toros mountains in the background. From here onwards i got along with the Turkish. The hotel staff especially, spoke an English i didn’t have to strain my ears to decipher. Glory!

The strain of more than twenty hours of flying (guwahati-mumbai-istanbul-antalya), including layovers, melted slowly but surely at the sight of my hotel room. Sea-facing, with a gigantic bed and a darling balcony with white wicker furniture. All for me? Sigh! Thank you Lord! It was home for the few days that i was there and i absorbed it to the hilt. Ordering room service which i gorged on while watching British sitcoms like Eastenders, or reading books and magazines, with the drapes parted for a precious view of the sea in the vicinity. Now, that was the life i could get used to! Periodically i would venture out into the balcony and just sit and gaze reverentially at the sea. Doing absolutely nothing but just gaze and gaze, soaked in contentment. Aaaah! On other days i would step out into the enormous hotel lobby and sit and gaze at people also. Such stylish folks, those Turkish. My lazy people gazing was interrupted one day when the hotel was swarmed by a large group of whites all dressed in Indian clothes- sarees, salwars, kurta-pyjamas. Hello? What a sight! Many of the women’s saris were haphazardly put on and barely reached their ankles. But they didn’t seem to care. They were all over the place. The dining room that had been quiet all along was abuzz with their presence. Turns out, they were there for a conference conducted by an Indian Guru. In the melee, i once had to share a table with a couple of ladies, who didn’t belong to the group. The significance of the situation was that while my plate was filled to the brim with fatty food (sausages, eggs, crepe etc.), theirs contained the produce of the earth (all kinds of raw vegetables and fruits. Yes, all raw. Nothing cooked). Both parties eyed each others’ plates suspiciously. The ladies spoke to each other in a language i didn’t understand. Am sure they were joking privately about my impending heart attack from all that rich food on my plate. And in my mind i was thinking “Chewing mint leaves and lemon? Who does that? Yuck!” Within a week, i felt that i belonged at the Rixos so that when i was caught in a dark thunderstorm on my bus journey back from the market, the thought of that cosy room in the Rixos waiting for me, warmed the cockles of my heart.

THOSE STYLISH TURKISH

The Turkish are stylish, that’s for sure. Or have i mentioned that already? No matter. Their sophisticated clothes and demeanour, deserve a second mention and second glance. How they strutted around confidently in their coats and boots. Both male and female. Even the taxi drivers looked like retired officials. Neat and respectable looking in their cardigans and trousers. A younger taxi driver who drove me, looked like a version of Javier Bardem.

THE CONFERENCE

We were a truly international mix, with representation from Japan, France, Dubai, Jordan, the USA and Taiwan. It was the smallest conference group (over twenty participants- many had cancelled due to the unpredictable weather) i had been part of but comprised researchers of the highest calibre, barring me. Being multi-disciplinary, members of the group ranged from engineers to university professors to social workers. Some of the papers presented were truly jaw dropping in terms of content and presentation. These people meant business and i felt like an illiterate villager in their midst. So i was fairly shocked when my presentation on the Quality of Students Admitted to Library Schools evoked positive responses. That anyone would even pay attention to my simple work was reward enough for me.

QUAINT KALEICI

Not being the museum hopping type, i asked the hotel concierge if there were any tours to the nearby villages. They advised me against going there as it was off season and i was alone. I decided instead to explore the old city- Kaleici and my wanderlust was satiated with the two visits i made there- the first, to do a recce, the second to plunge into shopping and eating. The quaint old city is at the other end of town, a good hour or so by bus from the Rixos Downtown but the efficient bus service made the journey comfortable. There are pretty building blocks in baby pink, blue, beige etc. on the route from the new city to the old, with orange trees and flower beds by the footpath. Kaleici has enough attractions to keep one from wandering elsewhere. The tiled roof houses and the bazaar in this old town look like they are right out of some fairy tale. The cobbled square, the clock tower and the old mosque right here, provide ample opportunities for photo sessions. I got mine clicked by a variety of people, from Chinese tourists to local youth lolling about to the souvenir shopkeeper. An air of other-worldliness hung about the square. Old Turkish men and women sat quietly on the benches strewn all around, either in groups or pairs, chatting, smoking or nibbling on something while we tourists gawked at the sights and posed away around them. A colourful tram drew in and out in the periphery, picking and dropping passengers. To my shock i was accosted by someone who seemed to want directions to somewhere, speaking in a language i didn’t understand. I gestured to her that i couldn’t understand and she left. So i could pass off for Turkish? Wow! Nice.



I roamed around slowly, marvelling at the sights. What world was this? Had i stepped back in time? It was crowded but it was quiet. The atmosphere was relaxed. The locals didn’t seem to have anywhere to hurry to. They just lolled about in the square. Only waiters from the various eateries kept enticing passersby to try their specialities. I stopped by an eatery to sample the fare. Layers of lamb on skewers. I had only seen this on TV and had always wanted to try it. It came with a plate of raw vegetables and what else, bread. With a side of vinegar pickled chillies. I loved it and thereafter ordered it at every eatery i stopped by.

My shopping consisted of porcelain and metal souvenirs, assembly line baklava (whose saccharine sweetness my friends and relatives balked at) , shoes and boots. These were heavy enough and i had to pay for the excess baggage at Mumbai airport. But they were well worth it.



Not that i’m a mall hopper, but i did peek into two of the more well known malls in the main city – Terra City and Laura just to be able to gloat back home. Nothing much to gloat about, however. Indian Malls, even those in smaller cities like Guwahati far outdo the ones in Antalya, in terms of size and content. All i bought were some Turkish biscuits (which the folks back home liked better than the baklava) and a few boxes of chocolates.

AND THEN, Bound for HOME, BUT WAIT.....

So there i was, all packed waiting for my two o’clock (I was allowed two extra hours beyond check out time at the hotel, my flight being in the evening) ride to the airport when it occurred to me to check my tickets. And there it was! The storm after the calm. While my date of arrival at Mumbai was to be the 20^th of January, (departing Antalya on the 18^th, with a layover at Istanbul on the 19^th), i had booked my Mumbai-Guwahati flight for the 19^th of January. Horrors! How that gross mistake never caught my eye throughout, still rankles me. Its old age setting in, i tell you! My presence of mind and memory are fast failing me. With one hour left before departing the hotel, i rushed down to the lobby to access the internet (no, illiterate that i am, i didn’t upgrade my mobile phone for internet access) to cancel the old ticket and book a fresh one. But thanks to the Turkish system, neither my gmail nor my rediffmail accounts could be accessed for making payments for online ticket booking. The concierge did its best but advised that buying a ticket from Mumbai would be cheaper. Which i did, quite easily, on arrival. Three cheers for on the spot ticketing! I was even ready to stay overnight in Mumbai if an early flight was not possible. But by God’s grace, airport staff at every stage helped speed up formalities so that i was able to board my flight for Guwahati before 9.40 am. At one stage, standing in queue behind a big group of cackling burqa clad pilgrims with enormous boxes, i was approached by a staff member who asked me, “Madam, aap iske saath hain?,” (Madam, are you with them?) When he heard my incredulous “nahi?” he whisked me off to the front ordering the pilgrims to make way. Formalities done, he painstakingly lifted my heavy luggage, hauled it into a trolley and sent me off. Haleluyah! There is a God! And His reach didn’t end there. After the stuffy journey on ‘Europe’s best airline,” i was blessed to have plenty of room on both sectors of my domestic flight home. There was an empty middle seat on the Mumbai-Kolkata sector (with my aisle co-passenger being so generous as to share his numerous newspapers with me, he even left them behind when he deplaned at Kolkata). And on the Kolkata-Guwahati sector, i was blissfully alone in my row. I was home by 6 pm.

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Photos

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quaint kaleici - old antalya

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neat sidewalks

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the rixos downtown, antalya

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the bazaar at kaleici

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view of new Antalya from the rixos downtown

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the terra city mall, antalya

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hotel room

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view of the balcony and the Mediterranean sea from the room

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flower beds by the sidewalk

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view of the Mediterranean sea from kaleici

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lobby of the rixos downtown, antalya

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room service- delicious beef, with a side of bread