TURKEY AUGUST 2013 -6- FAMILY STORIES UNFOLDING

FAMILY STORIES UNFOLDING

8.3.2013

After going to bed past midnight again, last night, I slept in.... Opened my eyes to check my cell phone, couldn't believe it was 9:30 already, a first since I arrived in Turkey; jet lag is finally over. No wonder I feel so rested. I sneak out of the room again and take a seat at one of the tables close to the water. As I sip my tea while waiting for my brother to come down to the patio to have our breakfast, Kaya Bey approaches me asking whether we would be interested in joining the European team of six, we have been seeing on the deck since we arrived here, in their excursion upstream toward Koycegiz Lake. Both Mehmet and I enjoying such spontaneous plans (it became clear throughout this trip), we run to our room after a quick breakfast and get on the boat along with the rest.

Exit from Dalyan toward Lake Koycegiz
Our companions are an interesting team. I have been seeing them on the patio and on the deck since we arrived, but haven't seen them allow any eye contact to initiate a conversation. I wondered, whether they were shy, or uninterested with their surroundings, or simply respectful of personal space as is the case for many Americans and Europeans. As we are boarding the boat, I introduce myself to the young woman, whose name is Karina, who then introduces me to the rest. I discover very quickly that they were just considerate in their attitude of what turns out to be leaving us alone for three days now. Karina tells me they are all from Netherlands, one of my favorite countries to visit. Karina and her husband live in The Hague, her parents live in a village on the east border of Netherlands (her father works in Germany), and his parents live in Rotterdam. Karina is an architect by training but is working at a construction firm, currently, a beautiful, very personable, and sweet woman. Her husband Brat turns out to be a second year orthopedics resident, who is a brilliant man. I am surprised to learn that this young couple is vacationing with two sets of parents.

Brat and Karina, the younger couple of the three-couple Dutch voyagers
Brat recognizes this unspoken slight astonishment, he elaborates. "We have two weeks of vacation, only one week of which is with parents. He doesn't have to explain that, in fact, since the young people are so comfortable with each other even around their parents, it is heart-warming to see them being so playful and affectionate to one another in public with such ease. Frank (Brat's father) apparently is an expert in boating. In fact, Kaya, who is just learning how to use his boat, might have agreed to this tour because of Frank's encouragement. Frank proves to be a very understanding and competent instructor especially around the times of take-off and parking. Isn't beginning something new or taking the first step of a process is as challenging as ending something old or bringing a process to a stop? That's when true skill and talent are required. After Kaya and Frank do a trial ride, they pick us all up and we are on our way toward Koycegiz.

Frank standing on the pier waiting for Kaya
Frank is married to Lillian, who are both teachers. Frank grew up in Indonesia from birth to 8 years of age when his parents worked for an oil company. What is more exciting is that Frank and Lillian have a house in Urla, half an hour from my house in Izmir. As soon as he discloses this, we start an animated conversation. They chose Urla, which is not a touristic place at all, for this very reason. Urla in fact is a coastal town, which used to be the summer "resort" for Izmirites, when Izmir was one third its current size. Wealthy Izmirites would have a summer house in Urla, which allowed easy access to the city. With the sprawling expansion of Izmir's boroughs, Urla has been swallowed into the city proper and is now a peripheral suburb of Izmir, which fortunately has preserved its authentic character.

wonderful pictures of authentic and modest urla
I feel close to Frank and Lillian, already, who have chosen to buy a house in Urla in 1996 and made themselves a neighbor to an all-Turkish neighborhood. They still can't speak any Turkish beyond couple of words, but their neighbors like them anyway, they report. After all, you don't need any words to share food with your neighbors, sign language and body language would do just fine to let them know you've made something special and you want your neighbor to taste it. Such a Turkish thing to do, which I introduced to my neighborhood in Iowa City, following my mother's communal role in our neighborhood when I was growing up. It took root, too! My neighbors, an Irish  decent American born and bred woman, a second generation Italian woman, a first generation Hungarian woman, who reminds me very much of my mother and others, all have started sharing food with me, sometimes in response to my sharing with them, sometimes, on their own. I feel so much more at home when I can transform my surrounding as much as it transforms me...

Kaya Bey gets pulled over by the river patrol!
Frank and Lillian tell me they spend considerable time in the summer in Urla, but when they can't come to Turkey, they send their friends and relatives to enjoy what fun they have found in Urla. As much as I dislike economic aspect of globalization due to how it helps the "haves" exploit everything the entire world has by providing the smallest fraction of their profit to "have-nots", I can't help appreciating the fact that, the extent with which peoples of the world are intermingling with one another like this is an unanticipated but welcome side gain of it. I sometimes even wonder, whether, wars may come to an end eventually, just because of this, when everybody on earth comes to learn about every other culture and people and how they live their lives, why they do what they do; the level of understanding everybody reaches about one another may prohibit regular people to take up to arms anymore. who knows, perhaps wishful thinking on my part... who knows...

Frank is happy to hear the river patrol has approved all the paperwork
Just as we are enjoying ourselves aboard with the breeze, the vistas, and conversation, we hear somebody calling "Idil 96, come ashore..." on a megaphone; that is us.... the coast guard off the shore is motioning to us. it is only 9 people aboard, 5 of whom are on the deck, what could be the problem? i wish it were only the fact that Idil 96 was bought just 8 months ago and has not been used on the lake that much, yet. Kaya Bey has to get off to show his papers to the guard. After couple more trips back to the boat to produce more documents that were requested of Kaya, he finally returns with a clearance. It was indeed an attempt for the guard to familiarize himself with this new boat and its owner. I hope there was no need for any bribing, we don't ask, Kaya doesn't say anything.

caretta carettas, remarkable and adorable animals
After this last snag, we are free as a bird heading toward Koycegiz Lake, 30-40 km north of Dalyan, draining the lake waters to the Mediterranean. the waterway gets larger and larger as we head forward or upstream. At some point, we see a turtle in front of us, which quickly disappears. These sea turtles are such intriguing creatures, having survived through 110 million years of earth's history. However, all turtle species are also in danger of extinction, thus, it is extremely important to protect shores like Dalyan's, rare breeding grounds for a variety of sea turtles. as I am writing these lines, I look up to see if there are any environmental efforts of Turkish origin to preserve Dalyan and its surroundings. Sure enough: I am delighted to find out that http://www.ekad.org.tr/index.htm outlines everything one such group is doing in Turkey. The videoclip on the main page is an unbelievably humane one on the story of sea turtles that makes one want to do everything to save them.

Koycegiz Lake
Eventually we arrive at Koycegiz Lake, which is one of the relatively larger lakes in the country. We head toward the west coast, where Koycegiz municipality arranged the natural hot springs and mudbaths into a simple but pleasant facility with an old renovated hamam in the middle. Three members of our Dutch team and my brother and I enter the first mud bath and cover our bodies with the mud, which is like a therapeutic cream. It is so sweet to see Kaya Bey smearing the mud on Brat's face with no trace of homophobia, both very comfortable with being as close to one another as the scene calls for. I wonder how a lot of American acquaintances I know would act in a situation like this. The personal space, at a minimum arm's length distance they need would destroy the spirit of the moment: Kaya's motive of trying to be as hospitable to his guests as he could. I was at peace though with the fact that I have many American friends, men and women, who could be as comfortable as Brat is in a situation like this. Those are the Americans I feel most comfortable with, too.

Kaya smearing Brat's face with therapeutic mud with such brotherly warmth
The mudbath is followed with a swim in the lake, natural bath, which helps all the mud to be returned to where it belongs, too. After a refreshing long swim, we all get back on the boat and head toward another secluded cove. This apparently is at the request of our Dutch friends, which is very welcome for me. I swim there for much longer, making multiple circles around the boat along the outer borders of the bend, where we are anchored. Finally, we are on our way back to the hotel, mid afternoon. Mehmet and I decide to take it easy for the rest of the day. We take a nap, swim some by the hotel, write some and wind down throughout the afternoon to get ready for our trip back to Izmir tomorrow morning. As my brother takes a nap, I go downstairs onto the deck to continue enjoying the river/lake both physically and visually. In-between swims, I certainly enjoy one of a number of delicacies; fresh peaches or figs, better yet, the "sarma" version of baklava, the exceptional dessert from Ortaca. Eventually, I decide to go back to our room to take a nap as well. I take a shower, which makes me marvel at how relevant our perception of time is: it hasn't been a week yet, since I took a shower in a different continent, yet it feels like I've had a month's worth of experiences in that short span of time, I smile. I am slightly sad when I rinse my swimming suit, considering it won't be used until perhaps November, when I will return to Turkey.

Resting on the boat after a good swim is so refreshing
After our nap, we treat ourselves to fish, sea bass (levrek) for dinner at the same restaurant where we had dinner the night before. The same musician is playing a soft, touching beautiful music just like last night. The leftover of the flat bread they bring to each table as part of appetizer dish finds its way into the water, which then continuously attracts scores of fish. It is so much fun to watch the fish jumping over one another to get more of the bread. My brother is infatuated with his new I-phone; we laugh quite a bit, when he discloses to me he is having a difficult time believing that what these cell phones and other electronic contraptions can accomplish is mankind's doing. He is a scientific minded man, that is why it is so funny for me to hear of his skepticism. We then chat about what my dad would have thought about all this electronic network invading our daily lives. That is a fertile ground for tons of laughter. Indeed, my dad would have lost his mind seeing an electronic device plugged into all his outlets during our visits, which probably would have pushed all his "environmentalist, energy conservationist" buttons.We recall fondly, the dinner we had together in March, just five months ago, the one that we had dedicated to my dad's memory and had shared with each other his funny stories. That was indeed a lovely night...

the top picture on this page would drive my dad crazy
I also learned something brand new from my brother about my exchange year to Wisconsin in 1976. He was only 10 years old then, when I was heading out to the middle of nowhere as an AFS exchange student to be away from the family for an entire year. He told me my mother had missed me throughout that year to such an extent, she would  wait for the mailman's arrival every day and tip him (!) every time he brought a letter from me. I couldn't believe it since this is an unheard of practice for Turkey, especially during those years. He told me, he was curious about why my mother would read my letters over and over again until the next one arrived. Silly boy thought, there was something my mother couldn't understand in the letters; as if she were trying to solve a problem by reading over and over again. My dear mother, I know I've always been very dear to her, just like she to me. But, this new piece of information made me understand better how difficult it must have been for my mother to adjust to my departure from Turkey for good. As Bill would have put it, she must have felt I had stolen myself from her and the family. My intention was certainly not that. But I can see how they might have interpreted my innocent claim to be myself as such.

My dear mother, who aged much earlier than she deserves having dinner with my family
Thus, after another lovely dinner right on the water, we go to bed, with the feeling that our vacation, which was a spectacular one, is over. I wake up around 7:30, my brother is still asleep. Although I had decided last night, before going to bed, I was done swimming, the sky and the shimmering on the surface of the water from our balcony were both so inviting, I change my mind on the spot: I put my swimming suit back on and almost glide down the stairs and find myself back in the water! Since our hotel is in the middle of a bend lined with about a dozen of similar hotels, I swim in a big oval along the shore up and down. As I climb back onto the deck, because my brother is down waiting for me to have our last breakfast on the deck, I look back to the water one more time not knowing when I will be back to this lovely place. I hope I can soon, and perhaps with others, who might appreciate this adorable place.

Dalyan as perceived at dusk from across Hotel Kano

TURKEY AUGUST 2013 -5- CAPITALISM SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO TAKE OVER THE NATURAL TREASURES OF TURKEY

CAPITALISM SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO TAKE OVER THE NATURAL TREASURES OF TURKEY

8.2.2013

I woke up well rested after 7 hours of sleep. The lake is in my mind; they call the waterway "the lake" around here. How is visiting the lake going to feel early in the morning when hopefully most everybody else is asleep? Yesterday, after we returned from the beach covered with a thick layer of salt (I don't necessarily need to take a shower right after swimming in salt water, I enjoy that crisp tension, the salt deposited on my skin exerts on my body and face after rapid evaporation of all the juices of the sea), I had jumped in the lake to "rinse" and refresh... Sakir, who, I will learn later is also our cook, was busying himself with fishing off, what I will also find out, later, to be Kaya's boat for blue crabs. The boats were returning with loads of people from the beach, the mini hotels lining up the eastern shore of the lake (the west shore is left to the king tombs) were busy with preparations for dinner. All were part of the scene yesterday evening. What about this morning?
I have to find out: I put on my swimming suit and sneak out of the room without waking up my brother, still asleep. As soon as I step out, the deadly sweet scent of the jasmine blossoms covering the entire outer face of the wall of the balcony/terrace onto which the doors of all of the rooms at the hotel open fill my nostrils, taking me all the way to my childhood, to the jasmine and honey-suckle plants covering the facade of the fence separating our apartment building from the street in Bornova, where I grew up. Early in the spring, they would both start blooming, the branches of both plants entangled with each other's. An ignorant person could easily believe there was just one plant flowering with two kinds of flowers. They would both continue blooming until late into the fall. Mornings and evenings they would especially get excited, they would almost reach out to passersby to fill each nostril with their intense fragrance. My father would pick jasmine flowers and put them in a bowl of water. The white angels swimming on the surface of water would fill our kitchen with a refreshing pure scent. I, on the other hand continued sucking the syrup out of honey-suckle blossoms until adolescence.

Sakir, our cook at the hotel, fishing off Kaya's boat for blue crabs
Sure enough, the scenery by the lake is totally different at this hour of the day. There is one single couple up and awake along with Kaya Bey. The boats of the town must also be all asleep. Except for almost invisible ripples over the water created with the similar, barely visible sway of Kaya's boat, there is nothing in sight that is moving. I can't bring myself to jumping in the water in this serene, quiet scene where one can almost hear the sound of silence. I climb down the ladder hanging off the deck in front of the hotel, into the water as quietly as I can. The water is cooler than yesterday. As I start swimming, my entire body immersed into the water except for my nose and up, the first boats announce themselves with their distant "patapata" (puhtuh-puhtuh) as my dad would call them when I was a child, imitating the sound of their tiny engines. I look up, these early tours bring visitors to the west shore, where the hills on which the king tombs have been carved rise high up to the sky. Once they approach the shore, the engines are shut down, as if to salute the kings of old. After a half hour visit, during which their tour guide will tell them all about Lcyian history, the visit will be completed and they will turn around and head upstream to the mud-baths. I swim up and down in the "elbow groove" the "lake" creates in front of a line of 5-6 mini-hotels, otherwise my head could easily get chopped off by one of the shuttle boats!

King tombs in the early morning sun
When I go up to take a shower, my brother is up and awake, too. We enjoy our breakfast at one of the tables-for-two right on the deck a few feet away from the water. It is such a pleasant feeling to be so close to what is most precious in this town. As we have our breakfast we start discussing what we want to do today. We resolve Saklikent (hidden town), which is a beautiful canyon, 18 km long past Fethiye is too far away for this trip, which will take 4 hours of driving. Gocek, on the other hand is a small, pleasant coastal town, which we both know from our youth but neither has spent any significant time there. It is lovely to observe that my brother is very relaxed about our travel/vacation plans, tolerates and welcomes any idea that comes with the spur of the moment. I ask myself why in the world I never did this with him before. It is very pleasant to vacation with him. As much as I try to make him feel comfortable and well taken care of as an able (big sister), he does the same for me that leads to a great harmony, which I anticipated would be the case, but I am still pleasantly surprised. The verification is still welcome since this is our first trip together, after all. 

My brother and I relaxing in the courtyard of our hotel in Dalyan

We get on the road and enjoy all the vistas on the way to Gocek. Gocek turns out to be mainly a yacht harbor and refuge. It has a deep and very well protected bay with lots of twists and turns of the peninsulas and islands blocking the way to the surf of the Mediterranean to enter into the bay. As we stroll along the shore, we come across a shuttle boat with a dozen of people, clearly ready to take off, to where, we don't quite know, we just hear "to the beach". We are in, my brother rushes back to the car to get our swimming gear, I stop at a nearby market and get couple of peaches and a big bottle of water and in a few minutes we are aboard and on the way to open sea. We pass multiple little coves, each one of which houses for the moment a yacht, or a boat, or a blue voyage team, or, who knows what else... It looks like everybody has their own private beach, it is wonderful to know that it is only temporary and in the afternoon, some other group from the world's citizenry may enjoy each of these unique and beautiful beaches and coves.

Gocek, a haven for yachts
Our captain Bulent finally delivers us to a distant cove as wild as can be, with pine trees coming down to a few feet of the water. There appears to be a make-shift facility to serve the visitors with sunbathing chairs, umbrellas, tables for lunch, etc. My brother and I move away from the small crowd and head toward the woods. The pine trees are leaning toward the sea, the branches are almost touching the water. Yes, we are in the woods, but the woods is in the sea. Where else can one find this? This is our kind of place. We spread our beach mat and get ready to enjoy the beautiful day. I jump in the water right away of course. In just about 10 feet, the under-footing drops into a hole, which I discover later on as I explore the underwater near the shore that the bottom of the sea drops like a wall at some point into that hole. Who knows what kind of story it has.

Our little cove in Gocek Bay with pine trees hagning down into the sea

We do learn the story of the make-shift facility, though. The man, who runs this facility tells us he "bought" this cove from the government in the context of a very controversial law the savage, neo-capitalist parliament and government of Turkey litigated and has been executing recently. Until recently, all shores and forests of the country belonged to all people; no more.... All of the most precious lands, islands, peninsulas, and forests are now for sale! Our shuttle boat captain Bulent and his friend Ahmet will later tell us that two of the many beautiful islands around Gocek have been sold to two very rich entrepreneurs in the near past and the fishermen cannot fish in the most productive waters anymore, around those islands. “Money doesn't respect any religion other than profit” is verified once more, hence, why even the non-fundamentalist wealthy have been supporting the fundamentalist AKP, in power in Turkey for the last ten years.

The make-shift cafe on the beach, privatized by the Turkish government exchanign environment for profit
I ask them why the people of Gocek couldn't rise up against these sales, knowing he answer all too well... What could they do with only 4000 population? Instead of answering the question they give me even worse news of what is happening in the coastal line of Turkey: AKP is eliminating the municipalities of the coastal lands since none of the coastal towns votes for AKP.  This is the beauty of coming from the coasts of Turkey. On the coast, faces are turned toward the horizon, to new lands, to new comers… We all agree that that is why coastal people have always been open minded, tolerant, welcoming and eager to intermingle with different cultures, ethnicities, and ideologies. Fundamentalism, on the other hand dictates intolerance, othering, rejection and encourages bad-mouthing among other malicious methods of dividing and conquering. How can coastal people vote for AKP and how can one expect AKP to do what is best for the coasts and coastal people of the country? It was sweet to feel I could discuss all these political issues with the simple but extraordinary men, the captain of our tiny boat and his friend as well as with Ayse, a 20 year old female college student we will pick up at a bus stop on the way to Ortaca, who also happens to be from Ortaca, returning home. My brother will make fun of me after we return to Izmir: Sister says “Hi” to somebody, poor guy responds to her not knowing he will have to tell her his life story in the next 10-15 minutes. This is new to Turkish people, I know, but that is what being from one land and taking root in a totally different one did to me. I am delighted that I became a landless woman with two lands to claim.

Gocek offers a beach per yacht, almost...
As soon as we resolve that the owner of this facility was one of the opportunists, most likely with close ties to AKP, we feel good about not giving any business to him! I bet he is dreaming of making a lot of money and chopping the pine trees reaching out to the sea to put up a small hotel first, then a larger one, he clearly doesn’t look like he would worry about the environment. Our corner of the woods is a paradise. However, the most impressive experience of my day will come from underwater: As I am swimming toward the exit of the cove, I see through my goggles, something shimmering in the water. When I pay more attention to what is ahead of me, I am stunned with the breathtaking visual. Think of a D shaped "frame" extending from the surface of the water all the way to the bottom of that hole with the straight line of the D was aligned with the surface of the water, and its curved belly filling the distance between the surface all the way to the bottom of the hole. This is not just a frame, though, it is a solid D about 5 feet long and 6-7 feet deep formed and filled with a school of fish! Hundreds, no most likely thousands of small (3x1/2 inch sized) silver fish swimming side by side with such artistic elegance is what fills the frame of D that I immediately get fixated on. I can’t move any more, I am hypnotized; I just lay on top of the water that is on top of the D, with minimal effort to move my head sideways occasionally to take a breath. I just sway along with the school of fish as I recall a similar memory from the Madeira island (Portuguese territory, off African shore in Atlantic).

I wish I had had a camera to picture what I saw, which was very close to this...

Portuguese invaded this uninhabited island several centuries ago and started bringing their people to inhabit and thus, claim it. However, this volcanic island, despite being surrounded with water, had no beaches. Solution: Bring the sand from Sahara to create beaches. Two problems arose, one soon, the two beaches they created were covered with scorpions, the eggs of which were carried all the way from Sahara! Two, the surf was washing away the sand. For the latter, they put up an underwater divide reaching down to the bottom of the cove to break the force of the surf. Here I am swimming toward the open sea and come across this heavy-duty, thick net rising from the bottom of the seat toward the surface. To explore this structure I start swimming along, when I notice a similar shimmering. As I pay more attention, I discover the shimmering comes from again a school of fish, thousands of them on the outer surface of the net trying to either pulling food that has stuck against the net or simply to get in… I recall spending my entire afternoon swimming along the net and watching these curious creatures. 

Most pesants in the farmer's market are women in Ortaca
At 4 pm, Bulent, our captain returns to pick us up. After saying our affectionate good-byes to Gocek and picking up Ayse from the bus top, we head to Ortaca, with two goals in mind. I had worked in Ortaca for one month as a locum tenant 20 years ago. Among other pleasant memories from this town, I had had the best ice cream made with "gum", the extract of the gum tree that grows in these parts. None of the ice cream with gum flavor I had since then came even close to what I had had in Ortaca. I want to find that store and test if the ice cream will taste the same. Ayse is very helpful with that, she tells us, yes indeed the store is still in town, Roma ice cream (Yes, I recall now, it was indeed Roma Dondurma) but it has moved to a larger space. Good news, they must have done well, then. 20 years ago, it was a family with two daughters running the place with no outside help. I know that I will learn much more this time around having become a Turkish-American. As soon as we enter the store, I recognize the store-owner, he verifies that the place I am looking for is indeed his. His wife apparently doesn't need to work in the store any more, the daughters have married and moved away. I notice some nostalgia in his voice and on his face... He is working with "outside help" now. Not having had lunch, we both are all too ready for our treat. I am delighted to discover nothing has changed with his ice cream, it is still the best of its kind. If one has to go to Ortaca, Roma Ice cream is the place to see, even if you have only 15 minutes.  

The funniest, self-explanatory picture I took in Turkey was this, a dog looking into a veterinary clinic!
The second goal of my visit to Ortaca is to visit its huge farmer's market held on Fridays (we learned from residents in Dalyan). Sure enough, I find beautiful cotton textile at the market, made by women from the villages as well as copper artifacts for multipurpose use. Knowing that I will have very little time to shop for gifts for my people in the USA, I buy lots of goods to take back home at the market. We also replenish our fruit reserves with more fresh figs and peaches. By the end of my trip, I will have eaten close to 4 kgs (more than 8 pounds) of fresh figs. In August, in Turkey, there is nothing better than fresh figs, at least 2inches in diameter, each, and peaches. I recall affectionately an American family I met on a plane about 5-6 years ago, who were going to Bursa, the home of best peaches in Turkey, just to have peaches there! I am not that foody, but, if I come close to a place where best of something is available, I will take the extra inch to try it. And I did a lot of it during this trip in Turkey. My brother stops by another pastry shop to get a very special dessert, called "sarma", which is the most favorite one for both of us. It is a version of baklava, better known in the west. However, to make sarma, each filo dough is layered with ground pistachio and pistachio oil along with butter and rolled into ½ inch diameter, then cut into 2 inch-long pieces before treating them with syrup. No wonder I will gain three pounds before I leave Turkey and will have to exercise like crazy for a month after I return to Iowa City! All in all, it is another fantastic day that I will top with swimming in the lake in front of the hotel again. Tomorrow will be our last day. We don’t exactly know what we will do, probably will take it easy by taking one of the shuttle boats to Dalyan beach and enjoy both the Mediterranean and the lake alternatingly.

Another spectacular sunset before our eyes in Dalyan

TURKEY AUGUST 2013 -4- DALYAN: I HOPE TOURISM DOESN'T DESTROY ITS AUTHENTICITY

DALYAN: I HOPE TOURISM DOESN'T DESTROY ITS AUTHENTICITY

8. 1 2013

My brother Mehmet came to my hotel in Mugla around 9:30 and we took off for our true vacation. Having become the expert of the area, I impress him with the Sakar Overlook Terrace, I can’t believe I have been to a place he hasn’t been yet! I had Turkish coffee only along with delicious vistas on this very place two days ago. Today, in this crisp morning breeze, we enjoy a delicious breakfast together, looking down at the spectacular Gokova Bay from the highest hill surrounding it. The view today is quite different than it was two days ago. It seems like the bay is steaming, the entire scene covered with a light veil of mist. I am just a bit disappointed that Mehmet can't see the full details of the bay and the mountains around it, but I can also appreciate that the current scene is much more lyrical and somewhat surreal.

Iztuzu Beach Ordinance in Dalyan

Once we are satisfied both visually and gastronomically, we get on our way to Dalyan, an ancient Lycian city, famous with its 8 km long beach, where two kinds of sea turtles breed, the famous being carreta carettas, and finally with its king tombs. As a result of strong collaboration between the German Greenpeace organization and Turkish environmentalists to protect one of the very few breeding grounds on earth for these creatures, a legendary success materialized starting from the 1970s, when tourism was booming in Turkey and sure enough, hotel industry had its eyes on exploiting this pristine beach to fill their pockets till they would burst. Courageous and dedicated environmentalists  of multiple nations resisted this huge appetite and eventually prevented the construction sites take over the breeding grounds of caretta carettas. To date, the Dalyan-Iztuzu beach is open to public from 8 am to 8 pm and no more. Lovely local boats carry loads of people from Dalyan down the fresh waterways piercing the marshland between Dalyan and the Mediterranean, 8 kms downstream, to the beach with a promise of taking all of them back home to Dalyan before dusk. From that point on, the beach is left to caretta carettas and their cousins, every evening till after dawn to enjoy the nature as they know it.

The pine trees and the sea providing an unforgettable beach experience in Iztuzu

The king tombs carved into the hillsides to the west of the water looking down on the waterway, in fact will be right across from Kano Hotel where we will be staying for three nights, rise uphill, as if they guard the city and its marshland and waterways. At night, the tombs are lit from below in a very artistic way that almost takes me on a journey through time with lots of imaginary scenes and figures of Lycian days filling my fantasies. The tombs are only at the entrance of an ancient city hiding behind and on top of the hills downstream to the west of the water. Once I had visited the city itself and climbed all the way to the top of the fortress, won't do it this time. This visit will involve lots of relaxation, reunification with the Mediterranean and the Aegean, and discovering where my borther is at this stage of his life.  

King tombs right across from the deck of our hotel

We arrive at Kano around 1 pm and are met by Hasan Bey (Mr. Hasan), who is Kaya Bey's partner; together they co-manage this tiny hotel with only ten rooms, which are all booked way ahead of time especially during this high season. Hasan and his wife Canan have an 11 month-old daughter. Their story is interesting: They came to Dalyan to vacation last November and decided to stay, which led to his taking over the management of Hotel Kano with Kaya Bey. We will meet Kaya Bey and his partner after midnight when we return to the hotel from our tour of the city. Around 1 am, they go into their "chicken coup" as he calls it on the small boat tied to the "dock" in front of the hotel. I am sure I will learn more about them tomorrow. 

I will be disappointed early in the evening when we walk through the main street to find out Dalyan acquired a "downtown" since my last visit, be it 2 blocks long and wide and how crowded this pretentious four blocks are: Very unlike Dalyan of my memories. I will be even infuriated after dinner around 10 pm to discover, the 3-4 bars around the little square are capable of creating an enormous audio-visual pollution, imitating Bodrum and Marmaris. I will try to calm down my nerves by trying to feel thankful that this pollution reaches across only 2-3 blocks beyond the square, no more. Our hotel, Kano, certainly is a safe haven close to the east end of town right by the water and right across from the king tombs. The solitude and serenity the tombs and their residents have been enjoying for couple of millennia is almost contagious. When I stepped onto the little deck, it feels like I am in a different time and space, which is true. Kano in Dalyan is a special place for sure. As soon as we are invited to the courtyard by Hasan Bey, I order Turkish coffee and Mehmet a glass of sparkling water. It's been more than ten years since I haven't come to this place, last time was with my mother, when she was in good state of health. I recall how much she had enjoyed being here, especially when my class mate Can and his family were running the hotel, it was both vacation and socializing with her peers without my strict father around. She was happy, so was I, seeing her smile almost like a little girl.  

Iztuzu Beach with the blinding reflection of the sun

Once we are established at our hotel room, we change into our swimming suits and head toward Iztuzu end of Dalyan beach by car. As soon as we check into the recreation area and spread our beach spread underneath one of the pine trees within ten yards of the water, I ask my brother to go swim, knowing he wouldn't swim as long as I'd like to swim. He takes the offer and returns in 15 minutes chuckling about how the water was at least 30 degrees Celsius. I am skeptical, but he is right! When I let myself into the water, it feels like lukewarm bath water. Once I reach the depth I’d like to be in, I start my regular breast strokes and head toward the exit of the cove, as i always do, in these secluded Aegean beaches and coves. Slowly, trying not to cause a ripple, enjoying every single soft movement of my arms, hands, legs, and feet, occasionally putting my head under the water to cool off a bit more. I've always felt, I am evidence that human kind came from water, I feel such unity with salt water once I disappear in it. With the silent confidence I receive (certainly he is not aware of that) from a gentleman, who is swimming in the same direction as I am, 50 yards away from me, I dare going out a bit further than I usually would while swimming alone. After a while, I notice, he is swimming back to the shore, I decide to be sensible and turn my face back to the beach as well. I am now able to see the face of a huge boulder at the east end of the cove from the seaside, the ragged, wild face, I wish I had had a camera with me...

The boulder from the seaside has much more grandieur

I get scolded by my poor brother of course, when I return to our shade under the tree. I didn’t realize I was gone for so long: it had been 45 minutes, it looks like he was able to follow me throughout. I feel a bit embarrassed, the next swim is not vertical/out, but rather parallel to the shore line after swimming out to a comfortable depth and distance... Every time I come out of water, I am hungry like a beast: We devour the fresh figs brought from Aydin, Turkey, that we had bought from a roadside vendor in the morning on the way to Dalyan. After the last swim, we both take a nap for a while on our spread under the light breeze coming from the sea. When I wake up, I find the sun quite a bit down in the sky, very close to the horizon. We leave with the comfort that nobody will be able to watch the sunset on this piece of land but the carretta carettas, thanks to courageous environmentalists of Turkey and Europe.

Notice the evil eye on the wall

After washing up at our comfortable and clean but small hotel room, we start looking for a place to eat. After touring the “entire” city (8-10 blocks altogether), we find a restaurant run by a husband and wife, who had moved from Mardin, out of all places, a southeastern city in the Kurdish section of Turkey. Mehmet and I agree in the end that we made a good choice since their food is great, fresh, and generous served with such hospitality. We take a long walk through town after dinner and rediscover the authentic parts of town and make plans on where we may eat the following two evenings. Our choices are certainly places that are frequented by the locals, places that are at a distance from the touristic quarter. I am looking forward to learning more about the stories of people that we will meet tomorrow and the day after.

Sunset in Dalyan

TURKEY AUGUST 2013 -3- GOKOVA A PLACE IN TURKEY EVERY MAN MUST VISIT

TURKEY AUGUST 2013 -3- GOKOVA A PLACE IN TURKEY EVERY MAN MUST VISIT

7.31.2013

Last day in Mugla for the training activities. Mugla is a vibrant place with many brilliant thinkers, who feel for their community and its problems. My dear colleague and friend Betul and I have tried our best to understand the strengths and weaknesses of this lovely place to be able to guide them to the best of our ability toward the most effective model of intervention on managing sexual crimes in Mugla. We both trust, with the dedication of the team, they will find their way to what is good for Mugla and its victims.

                                       Azmak at Gokova Bay

In the evening, Betul and I want to visit "Azmak" a fresh waterway opening to the Gokova Bay, full speed, which I've heard of for couple of decades now, but have never had the chance to visit before into its depths. What we discover is so consistent with what we see from up above, the Sakar Overlook Terrace: Gokova is an expansive plain through which rushes multiple small creeks and brooks some of which materialize only to handle flood waters. Azmak on the other hand gives Gokova a feel of a delta right where it reaches the Aegean. We know that it is lined with cafes and small, cozy fish restaurants, hence hope we may make it our evening destination. One of the conference attendees is kind enough to give us a ride from Mugla to Akyaka, which is the authentic village through which Azmak runs before joining the Aegean.

One of the boats carrying visitors into Azmak

Apparently the "in" thing to do in Akyaka is to take a boat ride from the beach into the depths of Azmak to visit the Aquarium, as the depths of the water remind everybody of with its purity and crystal clarity.  As we are marveling at this phenomenon, even at the very beginning of Azmak, I also start watching our "captain". He seems to be a man of experience through some harsh seasons in his life. His face is full of wrinkles and his skin is as dark as can be before he would qualify for being of African decent: There are quite a few of them around Mugla, whose ancestors were brought to Anatolia during Ottoman time to build a railroad and a train station in Dalaman. The historic train station still stands, and the descendants of the African slaves melted into the community, some still carrying their sweet chocolate color It is great that there has never been any discrimination against them at least during the last century.  

Deliyurek, the captain of our boat on Azmak

I approach the captain to chat him up a bit. His name is Deliyurek: "Crazyheart". He's been living in Akyaka for the last 15 years (since I moved to the USA, apparently). He is originally from Yatagan, Bozoyuk village, an hour or so up north. I wonder if it is the village where one of my cousins worked as an elementary school teacher years ago. He doesn't know her. I ask him when he gained this nickname, it is becoming to an adolescent, but who knows he might be a surviving adult with severe ADHD! He declares people started calling him Deliyurek 10 years ago. It is clear some drastic event must have led to this. He seems to be eager to talk and I go one step further and ask him "What was it that rewarded you with this name?" with an empathetic smile. He isn't ready to go much further than that. His answer is "Well, I was crazy you know, fighting and things like that..." I get the message, this is where I need to stop. He probably is embarrassed with what happened.

Bushes swaying gently with the wind of Azmak

He must have been one of the "delikanli"s. Delikanli is a term used for youth that act impulsively and get into trouble from time to time, the literal translation being "whose blood boils". Deliyurek looks like he is at least in his forties, making me quietly curious about what kind of fighting he might have gotten into that got him his nickname. I will never learn the answer to this question, at least not this time. I then, recall my dear friend Don's comment on "Turkish men never grow up beyond adolescence", certainly doesn't apply to all of them but at least to a lot, it does. I tell him about my blog and he delightedly gives me permission to use one of his photographs that I take as he subtly poses to my camera, to post it on my blog. He also tells me about a Turkish author, Canan Tan, who had written a book on Akyaka and used his story in her book. Perhaps he wants me to learn about his story via Canan. I will try. He is delighted  that his story will become part of another writing, he doesn’t know mine doesn't have any literary value like Tan's work.

Underwater vegetation seen from up above through crystal clear water of Azmak

We finally arrive at a point, he tells us the depth of the water is 7 m, around 22 ft or so. This is the Aquarium. There are underwater lilies, weeds reaching toward the sea with the current, other vegetations with enormous leaves along with coins thrown into the water, most likely by visitors, hoping these clear waters would do some good to them. Betul is very excited about the photographs she has been taking, so am I, although I certainly know that her photographs will have much more art value than mine. Deliyurek informs us that the water of Azmak is drinkable and draws water with his bucket to pour over our feet and legs. I don't feel comfortable drinking it, but as everybody else does, i also wash my arms with Azmak water, which indeed is refreshing... Azmak is a generic name used in reference to fresh water pouring into salt water, I learn. But Deliyurek reports, this waterway is also called "Kadin Azmagi", the Azmak of the woman. We debate over what that might mean. Could it refer to feminine reproduction, breast milk, or what?

                                               Sunset on Azmak

The answer will come later on from our bus driver, Berat (we will take a bus from Akyaka to Mugla at the end of the evening) when I ask his opinion on how Azmak became known as the Azmak of the woman. He tells us he grew up in Akyaka and when he was a child his grandparents called it Azmak, period. There came a time and a British woman moved to Azmak and lived along this water for some time. The locals then, started referring to the section of Azmak where she lived as the Azmak of the woman. Where there are no streets and numbers that works in the countryside! However, through the years people started using Azmak and the Azmak of the woman interchangeably to refer to the entire length of Azmak. I warmly think about how welcoming the people of Akyaka must have been to this woman that they didn't mind dedicating a section of their precious Azmak to her, however, nonspecific the reference might be. Berat complains about how he dislikes the fact that too many people have become aware of the beauty and serenity of Akyaka and Azmak nowadays, which leads to overcrowding of his beloved village. We agree. About 15 years ago, when I last visited Akyaka, it was nothing like what it looks like today. He blames internet for this. I don't doubt it. He asks me to come back in the winter to appreciate Akyaka in its best. I promise I will.

Orfoz restaurant almost in the water on Azmak

  At the end of our tour with Deliyurek on Azmak, we identify a restaurant called "Orfoz" named after an enormous fish at risk of extinction in these waters. We decide to come back to it to have our dinner. Once we say our goodbyes to Deliyurek, we start walking along the water to go back to Orfoz for our dinner. When we arrive after half an hour of savoring the waterfront, we are extremely happy with our choice. The personable staff offers us a small table right by the fence on the terrace. We are situated across from a boat over which a willow tree is hanging like an umbrella. Between the boat and us is an enclosed little pool carved out of Azmak, full of watermelons, honeydews, and melons to cool for the customers. Environmentalism of Turkish peasants! Ducks are visiting the fruit pool often. There are two tables right in the water, and their "residents" have rolled up their pants to above their knees, dangling their feet into the water as they are enjoying their raki and delicious food. This is how much at peace people of this land are with water, fresh or salt.  

Ducks are as curious about the watermelons and melons dropped into water to chill for customers of Orfoz Restaurant

  We order an eggplant salad, fried vegetables with yogurt, sea beans, and a green salad loaded with arugula before a two pounder "sinarit" fish to share. Everything is so fresh, vegetables are prepared so well with the right amount of oil, lemon, garlic, and everything else, our gustatory buds are satisfied to the fullest. The fish comes fried, our waiter Burak offers to remove the fish bones and prepare the fish for us. I try to be as pleasant as possible with my instantaneous "Nope", I can't allow that, that is why I crave for having fish in Turkey: to be able to explore the most intricate parts of the fish, where I will not be criticized for using my hands while devouring it. He smiles, it is clear,  looking at our attire (we came down here right after the conference), he thought we were Istanbulite elites, who wouldn't get their fingers "dirty". He understands, we are his kind of people. We thoroughly reduce the fish down to its bones as the night moves on, our anatomy skills back through 30 years since all three of us are physicians. Just as we declare, we are full, Burak insists we should try the helva dessert, their specialty. He doesn't sound at all like he wants to add more to our ticket, he simply wants us to learn about their special dessert. Now I go along with my friends, who'd like to try it. My goodness, I can’t say I regret having ordered it. It is indeed out of this world. They have filled pastry dough with tahini helva and baked it, the dough is crisp and molten helva is pouring out of the pastry as we cut into it. He is very happy that we are delighted with his choices, both the fish and the dessert.

These are the skylines I take back home when I leave Turkey to meditate with the eye of my mind

All in all, another very productive day that tied into a meditative evening. I will think of Mugla and Gokova very fondly when I return home. Past midnight, I am ready to collapse to bed to wake up in time to meet my brother the next day, who will be coming down from Kusadasi to pick me up for our three-day vacation in Dalyan, another wonder of Turkey.

Three pretty happy women reluctant to leave Azmak

TURKEY AGUSUT 2013 -2- MUGLA: ITS COAST, ITS CULTURE, ITS FOOD, ALL SPECTACULAR

MUGLA: ITS COAST, ITS CULTURE, ITS FOOD, ALL SPECTACULAR

7.30.2013

First day of the two-day conference in Mugla. It is great that a community task force consisting of the governor of Mugla province, the district attorney, law enforcement, social services, relevant university staff and the Mugla branch of the National Institute of Legal Medicine is very interested in creating an acute sexual assault response center in Mugla. The morning is dedicated to discussing the victim and perpetrator profiles, rather the lack of such and helping all attendees understand that sexual assault is a crime, no matter what the surrounding circumstances may be, it is a display of violence and a means for power control.

I am happy to share with the audience that even in the USA, until lately, it was believed, just as is the case in Turkey that well-behaved, decent females would not be sexually assaulted. I invite everybody to understand that as much as it is female's responsibility and right to keep herself safe, it is also and more so male's responsibility to hear and understand the word "No!" or "stop!" whatever a female might have done before that. I can see it is uncomfortable for the male members of the audience, some of whom are religious conservatives, to hear this.  As I declare "There is no scientific evidence that 'once a male is aroused he cannot stop, thus, provocative female is responsible for rape!'. As long as a man can stop when his child wakes up in the middle of the night while having sex with his wife, so must he be able to stop when a woman, any woman including his wife tells him to stop." I observe many men move uncomfortably in their chairs: Do they feel I have invaded their bedroom? Who knows… I also see, though, satisfied sparkles in the eyes of all the women in the auditorium, even those who are covered.

Later on, we deliver lectures to convince the audience on the need to organize services available through individual agencies in such a way that victims of sexual assault can be managed in a humane and scientific manner. Looking at the majority of the audience constantly taking notes, I can tell what we share with them is needed and hits the target. After a full day of general professional awareness building for sexual assault today, tomorrow we will focus on working with the leaders and trainers-to-become for the agencies that are the core partners of the task force. We hope, the trainees and participants will leave this conference with a plan on the next steps and will become the engine of the entire movement after we leave. 

SAKAR OVERLOOK TERRACE 

                             Only a portion of what I was able to see

Once the professional aspect of our day is over, our hosts take all the instructors to Sakar Seyir Terasi (Sakar Overlook Terrace), Sakar being the name of the pass from Mugla down to Gokova.  It is breathtaking, spectacular, mind boggling as my dear friend Nukhet would call the experience. The entire Gokova Bay stretches before our eyes like a tame beauty, with her arms and legs reaching into the heart of the land as deep, piercing inlets and coves. From such a distance, with no ripples or waves visible, it feels as if the Aegean and its surroundings are a still-life painting. The water evaporating over the surface of the entire bay is hanging over the sea like a veil as it gradually fades toward the tops of the hills surrounding the bay.

I walk away from the chatter of our group and stroll all along the terrace for an arc of 240 degrees or so and savor the surreal serenity of the bay and the surrounding delta for half an hour. When I return to the group, it is Turkish coffee time. After I am done with my cup, I turn it upside down in its saucer for my hostess to read my fortune! In Turkish culture, we like to say, "Don't believe in fortune reading, nor live without it." Even scientists are cut some slack to exercise their cultural upbringing from time to time, just for fun. What is most significant in what she tells me, and she tells me very little of any relevance (what else would I expect, she doesn't know anything about me on a personal level) is that “What you have wished for is going to come true” (just because, the coffee grounds is so thick, it stuck to the saucer after waiting for some time)... That is good enough for me, we laugh.

Finally, the crew heads to a dinner, sponsored by the British consulate in one of the resort towns that will bring together all the key players of the task force including one of the local representatives, who represents Mugla in the central parliament. The dinner is held in one of the old, authentic coffee shops in this particular area of Mugla. Apparently, Karabaglar (Black vineyards), as this place is known as is established in a low land valley. Due to its valley structure, there is a constant insensible draft and it is cooler in the summer than Mugla itself. As a result of this fact, people historically built homes on their farmland in this region to move to during the hot summer months. Each family built, at the entrance of their acreage, in front of their homes, a large patio, where they spread tables and chairs under natural awnings, created by trees and grape vines, and other climbing bushes. Although they called these patios coffee shops or "kir kahvesi", in the old days, these shops had no commercial meaning since their sole purpose was to allow socialization of the families, who cultivated the land during the day and came together in the evening to drink and chat and sing and play musical instruments.  

One of the Kir Kahvesis in Karabaglar, Mugla

As tourism started playing with the authenticity ideas, Karabaglar has become a recreational, fun place to go to for many decades in Mugla region. The decedents of the native families, who did not want the agriculture aspect of Karabaglar but loved the “Kir Kahvesi” aspect of it, turned their homes and patios and front yards into true cafes and restaurants and started businesses as the family did where we will have a lovely dinner.  This restaurant is one of those old coffee shops converted into an open air country restaurant, not very fancy, but as pleasant as it can be. I am sure, they have also expanded the space used to host guests. And the food: it is to die for. After an exquisite lentil soup, multiple dishes of mezes (vegetable based appetizers) are served followed with a slowly (over 5-6 hours) baked lamb shank dish served with rice and topped with tahini helva and fruit. 16 hours of work is finally over at 11 pm. I am exhausted, but satisfied, I can now collapse to bed and will sleep soundly with the touch of my jet lag.

TURKEY AUGUST 2103 -1- FOUR ADVENTUROUS TURKISH WOMEN

FOUR ADVENTUROUS TURKISH WOMEN - 7.29.2013 Turkey has always been full of surprises for me despite the fact that it's been my land of origin and I have been visiting this land several times a year every year. Perhaps, it is because, every time I return, I do lots of things with local friends, colleagues, family, who evolve as the land does and discover, in the process, new things about this fully alive panorama for me to enjoy along with them.

My teaching activities this visit are organized to be held in Mugla, the vacation heaven of Turkey and in Izmir, my hometown. The adventures of the first week of my stay this time, will start with two of my colleagues from Izmir picking me up from my brother's home. Dilek is a forensic medicine nursing academic and Hulya is a forensic medicine physician, two delightful, strong willed, and adorable women after my own heart, I will discover, soon. On the way to Mugla, we swing by the Izmir airport and pick up Betul, my dear colleague from Ankara, who is one of the most dedicated leaders in this field playing a crucial role in materializing some of the major projects in Turkey for the last 10 years to improve the child protection system.

As always, it is a very pleasant drive down to Mugla with one mini-stop in Aydin, where Dilek is originally from. Dilek apparently decided to bring a sweet touch to our trip: She asked her mother to pick fresh figs (Aydin figs are the best in the country by the way) from the huge fig tree in their backyard that, we learn later on, rises to the terrace on top of the apartment building, the family lives in. Her plan, not to delay our arrival to Mugla turns out to be to pick up a basket of figs from her mother while we wait in the car for her return. i am a bit confused with this plan. In Turkish culture, it would be very appropriate to stop by and pay a brief visit to the family if we are to accept such a lovely gift from them. In fact, it would be the right thing to do. Hulya is gracious enough to ask us if we'd like to stop by and visit with Dilek's parents a bit as if she has read my mind. Both Betul and I jump on the suggestion. Dilek is ecstatic.

We start climbing up the stairs, to meet a genuine Aydin woman in her daily attire, which is a cotton dress with long sleeves, down to below her knees, with her "yemeni", very lightweight, semitransparent head scarf, Turkish women throw over their hair and tie on the nape of their necks from behind their ears. She is waiting for her daughter at the door, with the basket of figs, ready, almost at attention, her face is nothing but a big smile. Unaware that three more women are coming up, for a split second she is surprised, but let alone being upset with this, the "oh, my..." expression turns into a visible delight and enthusiastic welcome the next moment. My heart is filled with affection and appreciation. I murmur to myself "This is Turkish people, homes open to any visitors, any time of the day, whether they are ready for it or not, as long as the visitors are ready to accept, appreciate and embrace them as they are."

                                        Dilek's mother Ayse

Ayse is her name, we learn as we enter the house with profuse "thank you"s for accepting us and preparing figs for us. An even bigger smile spreads to her chronically sunburned face, easing the wrinkles surrounded with her yemeni. we are led into a cozy, pristine-clean living room after taking off our shoes at the entry, Turkish style. She tells us right away, in tears, about a young woman from her neighborhood that died unexpectedly the previous night. We are all ears, Dilek knows the young woman, too. she tells us all about the rituals that will follow now for about a week. Dilek takes our "orders" for Turkish coffee, I want it medium sweet. as she disappears into the kitchen, her mother tells us how she met her husband, how she grew up never knowing any ethnicity but nomadic turks of Aydin, whose ethnic title is "yoruk". Dilek was her only child and she and her husband dedicated themselves to her and her well-being. our coffee, is served in typical small Turkish coffee cups like espresso cups. Very well done, we all agree, and I take a picture of the mother and daughter.

Dilek and her mother, a perfect picture

Unfortunately, we don't have enough time to have our cups "read" to us, no fortune reading today. Ayse hanim (Lady Ayse) sends us away with her blessings and a large basket of figs, the best I have eaten for a long time... We arrive in Mugla in couple of hours. our hostess meets us on campus... After making a plan for the next day, we take leave to go to our hotel, I, thinking, I might have couple of hours before dinner to catch up with sleep and deal with my jet lag. But my Izmirite friends have other plans for us! I should have known better, Izmirites just can't get enough of salt water wherever they go, including this one. As soon as Dilek hesitantly tells me she and Hulya were planning to go to Akbuk, one of the many coves along Gokova peninsula, I perk up, Resmiye the first, my grandmother, wakes up in me and without even thinking, I say I am in, we make sure we take along our basket of figs!

The first of the three 3-kg basket of fresh figs I will devour over ten days

At that point, our understanding is that, we will go for an afternoon swim, enjoy some sunset time and come back to Mugla in time for our 7:30 dinner rendezvous with Yasemin, our hostess and her assistant. Soon, it becomes crystal clear that all four women in the car, after stopping by a shop to buy a swimming suit for Betul, who had no idea, Izmirites would drag her to such an adventure, in fact have the same adventurous spirit. We are all thrilled with the prospect of being back on the Aegean, this time just to enjoy and savor it. The road from Mugla to Gokova is one that everybody should cover at some point in their lives. It is one that meanders first up to the top of a pass over the bluff covered with gunluk and pine trees, then thrusts itself down to the sea level with the same switchbacks, eventually to follow the coastal line as if it is in love with it. As it becomes clear that this trip will not be as short as I thought it would be, being one of the primary guests Yasemin was making plans to treat to a dinner, I propose calling Yasemin early on to ask her how she would feel if we couldn't make it to dinner in Mugla tonight. She knows us and the region all too well, she understands. "I want you to be where you will enjoy our land the most" is her comment, I am grateful for this understanding permission, we all are. Now we can enjoy every minute of what will follow. Dilek is visibly more comfortable now that time constraint is off her shoulders.

We eventually come to a secluded cove, that looks and feels like a small lake, surrounded with gunluk and pine trees all the way to the beach. no development is good news, there are only make-shift cafes and couple of small campsites. People around us are all my kind of people, I can tell, environmentally conscious, don't care about five-star hotels and their pools and animations, clearly all they want is to be in the nature, to be part of the nature, and let it go.... We talk to the cafe owner at the end of the cove, claim a table, order tea and coffee and let him know we will have fish and "mezes" after some time of swimming. He is pleasant. His main server, Mustafa, my older brother's name-sake, is a law school student, who is working here for the summer. He is happy. Everybody seems to be happy here, how can they not be? This is heaven on earth, one of so many such heavens around and along "these waters". I tell him jokingly, "So you are having the best vacation of your life and getting paid for it, huh?" He chuckles, too. He knows he has it good here.

The mezes in the fridge of our make-shift cafe in Akbuk

He becomes our friend as the afternoon dwindles into the evening. We gradually move to the beach. I jump in the water and head out toward the entrance of the cove. Deep, deep, salt water is a totally different phenomenon, when it comes to swimming. You feel elated as if you've acquired light wings and the water takes you away without much effort. Heading toward the horizon is such a liberating feeling, but I soon discover, it is more so on the way back since I now swim toward the sun, setting behind the hills that are leaning toward the water at the deep end of the beach. I follow the path of the sun's shimmering reflection in the water, even though, the residual rays of the sun are blinding my eyes in a loving way.

Close to sunset, the cove is unforgettable

Once the sun goes down, the ripples over the surface of the water die down as well, as if they also know time to go to sleep is approaching. I take many pictures of the cove to catch just the right one. So does Betul with her huge cannon, the real photographer of our group! We have a healthy, enjoyable, pleasant dinner with meze platters and Laos fish, a delicacy of these parts, thanking Yasemin for being so understanding to let us let it go... When we are ready to leave, we leave a part of us behind, knowing we will probably bring our loved ones here at least once.



4-lb'er Laos (fish) we shared

 

 

The four adventurous Turkish women