Up late posting the most recent report, so I got a slow start this AM hitting the road (After some re-organizing of stuff in the car) about 10:30, but I wasn’t going very far, so didn’t feel any great rush.I was headed from Marmaris (the harbor where Nelson plotted the Battle of Aboukir, which ended Napoleon’s dream of conquering Egypt [and perhaps India]) to Fethiya, which is only about 135 km, including the second box canyon.
I wanted to go the back road, but there’s an army/constabulary post there, so the road’s closed, and so I went the long loop around to hit the ruins (at Dalyan) from the east, only they are on the west side of the river, and there’s no bridge.There are lots (scores and scores) of excursion boats, however, which charge about $70 for a little trip over and back. If I lived there, and was in either the tourism board or the chamber of commerce, I wouldn’t build a bridge, either. . . .There’s also turtle nesting beaches very near by, which the town saved at the last minute a couple of decades ago from wall-to-wall hotels, and which are now a strong attraction, although you can’t be out there at night, and the town has regulated the lights at night so the hatchlings can get to the sea.All in all, a victory for all of us, I think.But there was something there I’ve never seen before, so that was a treat.These are Lycian rock tombs, cut straight into the rock. There are others near where I am now, and I’ll have better (closer, anyway) pictures of them in a day or so.
I also stopped at a small town on the road as there was reportedly a great Roman temple complex right at the water’s edge, and I’m guessing that was true, some years ago when the water was about 20 feet lower. . . . I walked through town and found this kid—- not a bad substitute.Still working on portraits, obviously.
And while I was prowling around for better angles and all that, two vehicles pulled into the overlook parking lot and parked perpendicular to me— I was trapped.It was a large family out on a spree, I guess, and they’d all stopped there to shoot pictures of each other blocking the view. The dad/uncle spoke pretty good English, as did the older niece, so that worked well, and I got some pictures of most of them (but not the patriarch).
I’d asked the dad/uncle if I could take a picture of his father, and the grandfather (I thought) said yes, because my guy said, “Yes, please,” but the old man (would have been some great portraits of him— crocheted cap, beard, great wrinkles) waved his hand at me, shook his head, and walked away about 50 feet.So much for that. I’m now in this charming hostel and will be here a day or (probably) two.Here’s what the little patios look like.
Very expensive all this luxury— $ 21 a night and includes breakfast.I just rolled 3,000 Km on a trip that’s only 4,000 Km Istanbul to Istanbul, but the 4,000 is mostly the crow-flies A to B to C to D to E, etc. distances added up, and sure doesn’t include all my “Where the hell is G?” fulminations and backtracking and callings on the (someone’s, anyway) diety “Ofer-crissakes!” etc. . . . . As a final little report, I think the reason I’m not losing quite the weight I lost last year is the almost total lack in my diet of cheap Balkan white wine— or almost any wine, actually.But I did stay at the Beer Can hotel in Bodrum. . . .
Originally written for Two Minutes in Turkey