Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)

[Chris_S]

[Please Note: the first few reports are a retorospective - there will a flurry of these until I get back on schedule!]

Day 1 – Au Revoir Albion

Isn’t it rather strange, that we live in what is referred to as a First World country, with First World technology and First World Planning, and you enter the World of London-Gatwick, and you then wonder just how bad the lesser Worlds really are.

But, to put this in context, Valet Parking at London Gatwick is handy and efficient, when you deposit your vehicle.  That’s assuming you ignore the 7 minute walk in the drizzle from the booking-in tent to the terminal.  Better than the Meet and Greet systems though, especially on return, when you don’t have to wait half an hour for the car to arrive at 1am and you’re freezing cold, bored and just want to get home.  The largely, it seems, Eastern European staff are friendly and efficient as usual.  Whereas in past occasions the Valet Car Park has been nearly empty, today it resembles Westminster Council’s clamped and towed away car compound. But it’s just full, therefore So far, So good.

BA check-in, at one end of the terminal, once you’ve worked out which floor it’s on (not obvious, as everyone knows where to go, as witnessed by people getting out of the lift on the wrong floor and diving back into the lift to reach their intended next destination) is Disneyesque organised queuing, but ithout the height restriction notices and ’20 minutes to the ride from this point’ signs.  What always amazes an observer is the number of people following signs to British Airways who really want Vueling (two rows behind), easyJet (downstairs) and so on.  Why they think that Vueling is another name for BA is still puzzling me.  The BA Ground Staff, standing beside a large sign saying ‘Online Checked-In, Baggage Drop’ turning away others who haven’t checked in online.  Maybe literacy these days isn’t as good as they say?

Anyway, the Bag Drop goes well, a few kg under weight (to allow for BSG additions on return, perhaps) even though we have a burden of exporting Nespresso capsules to Kalkan (don’t ask!), only to be told there will be a wait of 30 minutes for the wheelchair assistance.  It’ll be quicker, they say, if you go back across the terminal to the assistance desk just past Jamie’s Coffee, and book in there.  So there we stand, needing assistance, the mobility-impaired passenger having already very slowly walked a quarter of a mile to the check-in desk, to be told you have to walk another quarter of a mile to the other end of the terminal to have assistance with mobility.

Eventually we get to Jamie’s Coffee and there’s no sign of an assistance desk.  This is because the assistance desk signs are either a) in the roof, where you’re definitely NOT looking; or b) behind the three signs imploring you to change your Sterling into something at very good rates (this is of course relative, as they are only comparing themselves with other airport based exchanges, Shylock or other usurers.

Now this part is a confused madhouse.  It takes them an hour to get a wheelchair organised, and we make our way through to the special security lanes titled ‘Families and Assistance’.  This means our little convoy (of which there are 6 of us under the command of a frustrated, but remarkably calm, guide) join the Bedlam that is this dedicated part of security.  Families mixed up with assistance at the security arch and X-Ray machines do not work.  Absolutely.  Totally .  Doesn’t Work. The families basically commandeer the area for selfish reasons (can’t be separated, they may get lost or go off in random directions), taking up the seven bays to put their laptops, Smartphones, Semtex and AK-47s on, while people in wheelchairs struggle around them, juggling their belongings while having the mobility of a Dalek.  It’s the same on the other side of the Security Arch.  Mayhem.  It is while I wait for procedures to be completed (my wife has enough stainless steel in her leg to set the arch off from Brighton), that I notice that about 1 in 5 of the people going through are single 20-something young people, with one bag.  Someone has obviously posted on Social Media that this is a quicker route than the ‘proper’ security channels, and that the chaos means they aren’t noticed for not being ‘Families and Assistance’.

Then the assistance personnel dump you in the assistance area, give you a black box that will flash when they want you, take the wheelchair off you and leave you to shop, feed, water and de-water yourself in the Departures Hall.  How this is assistance for mobility impaired escapes me, but I think they expect you to sit there like good little people while they herd others in and out of the pen.

Somehow we manage to get something to eat (manned again by Eastern Europeans, where would we be without them - don’t really answer that), knowing that you’re going to get ‘not a lot’ on the flight and it’ll be around midnight when we get to Kalkan.  Got to keep the blood sugar levels up, as you all know.

Strangely, we bump into people we know from our Hotel in Kalkan who are also going, but on the QueezyJet flight 15 minutes after us.  We can’t even find the toilets in Departures easily, but we can find four people we know in amongst the thousands in the Black Hole of Gatwick.

Ensconcing ourselves in the holding pen when the flashing box tells us to, it’s still an hour to the flight and they want to take us to the Gate.  Not time for Duty Free, go to the loo, or anything.  A “You vill come vith me, NOW!” attitude from the assistance person. I send my partner in crime off with the guard, after confirming the Gate Number (I’m not as mobility impaired, apart from just being unfit, overweight and annoyed), dash into Duty Free to do my best with the instructions on purchases.  This all goes OK, but with all the urgency of a lazy Sunday afternoon, as I’m told about Special Offers and Discounts I don’t want, haven’t got time for, or would take me so far over the Duty Free Allowance, I’d be banged up until 2050.

A brisk walk to the Gate, and wait.  And Wait.  And Wait. And Wait.  All the Gatwick Assistance Urgency, and we’re sitting there, with the guard, for the 40 minutes before the flight is scheduled, and the aeons afterwards, since I am wondering if any flight leaves Gatwick on time, unless it’s on a BBC documentary about ‘Behind the Scenes at Gatwick’.

On board, then we wait while a nervous flyer abandons their attempts to board and we have a further delay as their luggage is offloaded, thus missing our slot and gaining another delay.

Hooray! We get push back, an hour and a half late, and reasonably effectively get airborne after queuing behind various other Airbuses, all in various colourful guises, all going off to who knows where?

Drink service.  At last!  It’s been 4 hours since lunch and you can’t get a drink due to the hanging around and misplaced urgency of the assistance team.  So you’re gasping for fluids.  Red Wine will do nicely thank you, I’ll have another later…

Some hopes.  We get the obligatory sandwich with fillings inspired by someone with no taste buds and an even weirder sense of what constitutes a snack/meal.  The cheese and biscuits were better though I suspect that the cheese may have been produced by Dunlop.  Time for further refreshment.

Press call button.  Nothing.  15 minutes later, staff, let’s not call them Cabin Crew for reasons that will become apparent, arrive.  Can I have a Red Wine Please?  ‘We’re out of wine’ (note that the flight is barely an hour old), OK, then a Vodka and Tonic please. ‘OK’, and departs.  35 minutes later, same person is wheeling the Duty Free trolley down.  Note that Call button has now been illuminated for a further 30 minutes.

Excuse Me, where’s the Vodka and Tonics I asked for?

‘We’re out of tonic’.

Why didn’t you come and tell us?  ‘Waffle, Waffle, Waffle’.  You’re supposed to be a flag-carrier and full service airline, so where’s my drink?  ‘I can check with Club Class and see if they’ve got any, when I get that end’.  No intent of actually doing so, as he, after another 15 minutes gets to Club sells more Duty Free and doesn’t check their stocks.  (I’m watching through the discreet, but ineffective curtain separating the economy from the surplus cash element). He ignores us, as he goes to the rear of the aircraft.

Call light still on.  Eventually we capture the so-called cabin crew, and ask again about the drinks that never materialise.  ‘We’ve only got Coke, Gin, and Scotch.’  Have you got water? ‘Yes’ Then I’ll have two scotch and water please.

10 minutes later (the aircraft obviously diverting to Jura to collect the Scotch) the drinks arrive.  The World’s Favourite Airline?  It won’t be for long at this rate.  I hope you read this, Willie Walsh!

Dalaman beckons, and although this is akin to the Bazaar in Istanbul in the hubbub that is the Baggage Hall, the assistance has briskly and efficiently got us through passport control, (assistance supervisor very apologetic for the two minute delay – it’s their busiest day of the year – and you feel like saying ‘You should have seen Gatwick 6 hours ago’) and to the belt, where, eventually the luggage appears.  You know the relief, grateful that at least one of the bags has made it and when the rest appear, that they aren’t going to find it in Reykjavik or Ascension Island.  Helpfully, the assistance porter has obtained a trolley – this is a first – so I can manage all the luggage, while he wheels the rest of the party to the taxi.

Which, being a Kalkan transfer organised by the Hotel, is there.  And he gets us to Kalkan at 1230am, with just a short stop for a top-up of diesel for the Mercedes-Benz Vito.

Dump luggage in room, (unpack later) then the Bar, and are followed by our friends we saw at Gatwick.  It’s a Small World.

Only trouble is, the First and Third Worlds get very muddled up in the microcosm that is London Gatwick and British Airways.  And the people up North, reckon we have a better airport experience than Robin Hood, Manchester, or Glasgow, etc.!

Now back in the Real World, a couple of weeks or so in Kalkan will no doubt put all this in perspective.


Linkback: https://www.enjoykalkan.com/forum/index.php?topic=13491.0

[Kalkan regular]

After a number of 3 times a year visit we finally mastered the airport assistance with my 90 year old dad. He bought a Diamond Rollator (you can use it as a walking frame or sit in it and be pushed like a wheelchair, it folds very well and is reasonably light). We booked airport assistance but said we had our own wheel chair. We could wheel him or he could walk from the car to check in, be pushed or sit if he was tired, after check in we had to report to the assistance desk so they knew he needed assisted boarding and his wheelchair taken at the plane entrance to be returned as soon as we exited the plane at the start of the tunnel (we didn't have to wait to be off loaded). We could go through the assistance channel even though we didn't have a worker to push him. It worked far better than going without it and having to wait for a wheelchair and 'pusher'. The plus was that he had it in Kalkan and we'd already learned where was accessible to him. He usually used it as a walker pre dinner and was happy to be pushed after dinner & drinks!

Looking forward to your other experiences.

[tortoise lady]

Just loved that!   More please.

It did make me very thankful I didn't ask for wheelchair assistance.   My knee is very wonky and at the moment walk very slowly and painfully with a stick.   Friends (and family) kept saying I should book a wheelchair.   Seeing my stick the BA staff did point out the family and assistance section but it looked very crowded and I thought it would take a long time - I was right by your experience.

Anyway my need for a nice relaxing drink in the lounge (had a pass for it) took over and we limped along (just me doing the limping) and were probably comfortably seated with drinks served and snacks while you were still looking for the assistance!   The flight was delayed for two hours so I was very glad I hadn't gone with the assistance option and could relax with another drink or two before the flight was called.

However the minute I got off the plane at Dalaman a chair was produced (sight of stick??) and we were whisked through passport control and in the lift to the carousel so that was really brilliant service.

I did wish I had asked for a chair on the return to Gatwick though as you seem to walk miles to get to passport control.   But maybe that would have meant waiting.   I look forward to hearing about your experience on the way back.

I am thankful that it is possible for me to manage without a wheelchair at airports but you have now put me off asking me one, even if I take a very long time getting around.  If it was as simple as at Dalaman I would certainly appreciate the help.     Hopefully another year the knee problem will be better.

We are back to Kalkan this weekend and looking forward to it.

I look forward to the next installment of your holiday.

[Lizilu20]

Phew I feel stressed out just reading that Chris_S!

Thank goodness you all arrived in one piece along with your luggage too - always a bonus 

I'm a bit smug here cos we always buy a glut of booze on the first service. If we don't drink it all on the plane, we enjoy it in the balcony on holiday, although we usually manage to fill our boots in flight. Then my daughters wonder why they have to hold on to me down that escalator in dalaman. I try and blame my dodgy knees 

[Blue Lizard]

Drinks are included free on BA flights....that said the tins are incey wincey tiny little things and the second round of the trolley is often left till shortly before you land so they only get half way down the plane before announcing "the drinks service is now finished"..if you are sat at the back the second passing of the drinks trolley is as rare as rocking horse poo.

[joycie]

Oh Chris just caught up on your wonderful but very frustrating for you report. Hope you a e now totally relaxed in this wonderful place. It's hot isn't it? Not complaining just saying.

[Haybo]

My gish that sounds horrendous.  My only experience like this was travelling with an 8 yr old and an 18 month old, with pushchair and all that gubbins.  I paid for priority boarding etc....what that actually meant was I go to struggle down the steps lugging said pushchair and toddler to the bus first, but when we got to the plane, i was last off the bus....haven't bothered since.  That said I think we are lucky at Birmingham, it is small enough to be a bit more personal inits service.

Looking forward to a calmer set of reports.....although BSG can get a bit stressy if there are more than 5 bags in the shortlist!

[joycie]

We inadvertently sat on the assistance seats at Brum. We got up of course when we noticed but got to say the staff were very attentive and constantly asking if people required wheel chair assistance.

[Chris_S]

Day 2 – A Reunion with the former Ottoman Empire

Now, we’ve all been there.  We arrive, we attempt some sort of organisation, and collapse into what passes medically, for a form of sleep.

Only we don’t really.  We just put it off, waking at whatever time breakfast is for you, and felt that another couple of hour wouldn’t go amiss.  But you can’t.  So you get up.

You’re in Kalkan, and although this is ‘Turn Up and Turn Off’ time, you can’t afford to miss any of it.  So you make the effort and go down to breakfast and have whatever suits you, while you rack your brains remembering who that person is that’s talking to you and remembers you so well from umpteen years ago, and you have no idea who it is.  Fortunately, there are others you know, remember, and have been going to the same place, at the same time for more years than you choose to acknowledge, thus making you feel decades older than you actually are.

Our normal routine on the first day in Kalkan is to (slowly – remember the Stainless Steel) go into the town and meander round stopping off at various locations to either say hello, consume a beverage (non-alcoholic – the sun is below the yard-arm, but it’s going up, not down) and see how many people recognise you.  This is both considerable, and disappointing, as some places haven’t got going for the day yet, and others are empty.  No matter, plenty of time, but we end up at Sunset to have a beer and savour the view across the bay, which tells us we are here.

There is, of course, a conversation with the owner and strangely, (I wish I could remember his name - see previously - He’s never done it before) it’s about politics. Not just Turkish domestic, but also the Syrian issue.  Nothing sensational here, but it’s just nice to hear a non-UK Media slant on events, without a political party bias element.

By now it’s looking close to lunch o’clock, so we decamp to, after a couple of changes of mind, to Aubergine for a Mixed Meat Pide, salad and wine.  This was just right, being enough to take away the pangs without destroying the appetite for the evening.  The killer, unfortunately, was the two for one on the wine.  Let’s just say this may have been a mistake, but it seemed a good idea at the time!

Suitably primed, and with no apparent ill-effects from the wine, the Stainless Steel one opts for a taxi back whilst the young, and fit toy-boy (!!!) elects to walk back.  Both scenarios successful with the pedestrian one booking the evening meal in Alternatif (at least we knew it had moved), Wella for the Stainless Steel One later in the week, and a military paced walk back to the Hotel. (Meldi, if you’re interested.)

This means its time for a well-deserved rest after the brisk, uphill march – no cardiac issues (this time) but nevertheless suitably knackered, before we prepare for the evenings entertainment.

This is, as mentioned, Alternatif.  Now, I’m pretty sure that the approximately 40 steps to the restaurant are more difficult than the former downhill slope to get there, but, after the meal, the 40 steps down are a damn sight more appealing than the slope back up to Moonlight from the old site.  Facts which are giving it extra brownie points to start with.

Garlic Prawns are the starter of choice – rather similar to Gambas Pil-Pil in Andalucia, which is a fave or ours, but a shade less spicy than Spain’s, but a winning starter for our personal taste, albeit when shared you tend not to get enough!

One of us had the Fillet Steak with Jack Daniels Sauce, and the other had Lamb Cutlets.  It matters not who had what, but they were both very nice.  Which makes you ponder:

Why is it that when in Turkey, I always get (damn-that’s given away who had what) a Medium Rare steak, I get a medium rare steak, whereas in the UK I’ll get anything from well done to cremated instead?  I never, or at least rarely (no pun intended), order steak in the UK because they invariably over-cook it – I once sent 4 back in one restaurant because they kept screwing it up – I was in an unforgiving mood that night)

Dessert – pass.  We’d had enough, together with the wine and VATs.

Verdict: good as ever.  New location hasn’t changed anything, in fact the music was slightly better (more by luck than planning, I suspect) and any changes were subtle and basically an improvement.

Mustafa reckons he wants to be Mayor in two years.  This could get interesting!

Now, previous readers will be aware that a good maxim of mine is:

Hydration is important.

This is still true, but that second bottle at Aubergine proved to have similarities with straws and camel’s backs.

By the time we were back at the Meldi, the copious alcohol was beginning to make its presence felt.  Not in any debilitating effect but, as anyone with years of experience can tell you, your body is telling you to stop being silly, and go to bed.

So we did.

[kalkan4eva]

Now when my body tells me to stop being silly and go to bed...I carry on. Somehow I believe my body is trying to stop me having fun, like a strict parent, so I act rebellious teenager to the parent and always, ALWAYS regret it the next day!

Loving your reports Chris_S, making me long to be in Kalkan now Autumn is on its way in UK.

Your airport experience fills me with despair...having said that we always pay to Fastrack Security at Manchester, costs about £10 but always worth it. There is no separate channel for the payers, we are lumped in with passengers needing assistance and families so perhaps the same is true at Gatwick. Certainly at Manchester you cant access the supposed "fast lanes" without a bar code or a member of staff so maybe the single 20yr olds had paid to be there...just sayin.

Enjoy the rest of your stay and look forward to more reports.

[Bob & Jayne]

Fab reports Chris_S, keep them coming! although hopefully your return journey won't be as stressful as the one out to Kalkan, but imagine it was so worth it seeing that view! 

[Chris_S]

Day 3 – Situation: Nearly Normal

If I were to say the over-hydration of the former day was unnoticed the following morning, I suspect that I would not be believed.

Well, it’s partly true.  An element of fragility was there, but was concealed by a large dose of lethargy and ‘chilling out’ around the pool.

To which, we can claim do a degree of successful implementation.

Interrupted, pleasantly I may add, by an (un)expected visit from some friends resident in Kalkan and semi-nearby environs,, and for whom the aforementioned Nespresso capsules were destined.  They must have been in urgent need of them, or the caffeine, to collect them so early in the visit (just joking, Jo ); and of course necessitated the resumption of the

Hydration is important

maxim at the bar.  Keeping away from the industrial alcohol stuff, sipping gently at an Efes (believe that if you will – it’s true – I’m not a heavy beer drinker, honest), we whiled away the time to update, make plans and generally run down any politician, and idiot celebrity that came to mind, and we ended up with a late lunch at the hotel; principally down to the previous bout of lethargy that was dominant in our actions.

And so the afternoon passed and slipped on into the evening, disrupted only by the essential update on Helen Tichener’s court case, courtesy of iPlayer, the lethargy struck again and we opted to review the Meldi’s restaurant menu.

Now, as may or not have been mentioned in previous threads, the Meldi’s food is quite good.  Certainly the steaks are as good as you’re going to get anywhere, and the fillet with mushrooms and onions was up to standard.  It was, note, cooked properly (this is Turkey, remember).  The other dish was Moussaka, and was appreciated, though possibly a tad bland.  This creates a problem, was it a tad bland, or was it you?   There’s always that chance that you’re a bit jaded and not on form and the jolly old taste buds aren’t up to it.  We form the opinion and that’s all we can do, until we revisit the dish later.

The Stuffed mushrooms weren’t bad, though, once again may have been a bit bland also – which leads us to think it may have just been us (or maybe it was the cheese?)…

Or then again, maybe we’re picky when we compare restaurants in Kalkan, or the (very, nay, extremely) rare occasion when a tyre company’s approbations are attached to the establishment in question.

Still, it’s very nice when they set the table out around the bar instead of the elevated dining area.  It can be a bit breezy up there, but there is a view across the bay and the town, so you have to take note of those benefits before you make the decision on the precise location.  Our preferred spot is by the bar, but then we are influenced by the mobility aspect and the steps/stairs up to the deck.  All in all, a perfectly respectable way to finish a lethargic (and recovery) day, as you later watch those that have managed the climb from base camp outside the Marina go straight to the bar for replenishment of something or another, or compare them with those that opted out and paid the 7-8TL to those little yellow taxis (no sign of a little Joni Mitchell in any of them).

Then, of course the comparative discussions prevail, according to wherever they’ve been for the evening.

Whether this is a bit of one upmanship, along the lines of “we chose a better place than you”, “It’s not as good (or better – we can’t tell) than last year”, or whatever, is debatable.  They are, unfortunately, largely those that don’t participate in these accounts, so their real opinions are never made public.

Midnight beckons, and, since we are still not quite up to the rigours of fully attacking the lifestyle of Kalkan extravagance, we retire, missing the dubious delights of the late nocturnal behaviour of the occupants of the Meldi Bar.

No doubt they will feature again before we leave?

[keith]

Yet another brilliant post.......we're almost getting into book mode!! I really enjoy the different writing styles that we get on here and totally appreciate everyone's efforts. We all seem to have our own routines but........the common denominator is.........Kalkan. It appears to bring out the hidden writing talents of everyone and definitely is the place if you want the ideal ambience to get the literacy skills flowing 🍻🍻

[Chris_S]

Day 4 – Situation: Normal (as it gets)

So here we are, fragility decreased, optimism high, eager to do what we do when in Kalkan.

So, after breakfast we expectantly wait for the arrival of the rented motor conveyance for a few days.  This was booked in January, direct with Adda, as usual.

Only nothing arrived.  Now this isn’t like Adda, in our experience.  Mistakes happen.  We all know that, and when they do, it’s the actions to put it right that start to matter.  So Halil, (Meldi reception) converses and they (Adda) go away and investigate (this starts to suggest that something unmentionable may have been dropped).  We decide the best place to await the outcome is the Poolside.

The outcome is 20 minutes later.  It appears the car ordered is unwell (they say!) and they deliver an alternative until the ordered vehicle can be delivered the next day.  The more cynical of you may well read an alternative back story to this account, and you may not be alone, but I couldn’t possibly comment.

But, as I said, it’s what they do to put it right that really matters, so we agreed a new financial arrangement and satisfaction ensued.

So we then decide to take a bit of time making the poolside look untidy, or untidier, by our presence until lunch.  But where will lunch be?

We have the wheels.  Let’s get those wagons rolling.  Next stop the West.  Or is that Wagon Train?  Where’s Robert Fuller when you need him? (Anyone born after 1960 may have trouble with this one…).  We’ll go East instead and do Adem’s Place for Lunch.

Here there will be a breeze that keeps off the heat a bit, and we can catch up with Adem’s woes, family life and everything else.

Adem’s it is then.  The horseless carriage conveys us, and we arrive to find ourselves the only customer.  Which, for this lunchtime we remain.  We know things are down on last season, but we have sympathy with him out there, and the lack of business.  However, I’m getting ahead of myself here.

Much greetings and welcomes, we order a lunch, appreciating the view out across to Meis/Castellorizo and watch the occasional vessel make its way up and down the coast.  Idly, I play with the GPS and find we’re 305 feet (call it 100m if you're younger) above sea level, hence the expansive view.  The breeze is up to form, thus making it, with the rustic canopy above us, a very pleasant environment for lunch.

While we wait for the Imam Bayıldı and, for the not fully recovered co-pilot, Mushroom Soup, Adem updates us with the situation regarding his human family and the changes to his ever growing entourage of animals, in addition to the vegetable crops.

Of course, we were initially greeted by daughter No.3, and served by daughter No.2.  It seems daughter No.1 is at Uni in Antalya, and the costs of all these no doubt are a concern when the economic downturn caused by the tourist reduction is taken into consideration.  All this is compounded by angina for his wife, rectified by two stents, probably quicker than the NHS at home.

His crops are rotated on his little plots dotted around, all go to supporting the needs of the restaurant, as many of you know, and he has his chickens.  I think we can all guess what they are for.

His goat, new last year has had kids, of both sexes, and this means their father will succumb to some conversion to kebabs or stew next year, and be replaced by one of his offspring.  Such is life, in whatever language you choose.

So Adem supplements his comestibles with aubergines, courgettes, chillies, lettuce, and who knows what else?  The goat’s milk becomes cheese, when not required by the kids (literal kids that is – they are goats). The chickens do their usual thing, and all this for what appears to be a quiet life, as not many people go to the restaurant these days, probably due to the location - out of sight, out of mind.

We find all this out while the meal is prepared, until Adem announces that he’s done his usual trick of talking too much and departs for the kitchen.

What can you say about the food?  Imam Bayıldı is one of those dishes like Bolognese sauce in Italy.  Everyone’s mother has the ‘correct’ recipe and which is true to tradition.  And they are all different.  Such as it is with the Fainting Priest (why does this always make me think of Doctor Who – am I thinking of the Weeping Angels?), everywhere you go it will the same, only different.  The Mushroom Soup was indubitably home made, though the recovering one found it too creamy.  Personal preferences doesn’t mean it’s bad, we should remember.

By some diverse routing, deliberate, I should add, we return to take up our very important role of making the pool look untidy, and relax. Of course, apart from

Hydration is Important

maxim being in operation, we didn’t really fall asleep.  Us? No, it just looked that way to cover the untidiness

We opt for Yelken Bistro for the evening.  This is promoted by the fact that we have our own locomotive assistance, essential when you consider the incline(s) to get there.  Inexplicably, considering the ‘quietness’ of Kalkan we pre-book, which turns out to be the right thing to do, as it is quite busy.

They’ve certainly made a good job of restoring the place after the conflagration earlier this year, and the ambience and décor round it into a smart and chic establishment.  With Fishcakes as a shared starter, to get us in the mood with the requisite hydration assistance, we then rounded it off with Grilled Sea Bass and Sultan Kofte.  The Fish cakes were a tasty introduction, and no fault could be found there, the Sultan Kofte was, I would judge, about as good as it gets (but I’m not a Kofte expert, they can be over spicy sometimes for me), and the Sea Bass was judged to be better that that served by  a well-known upmarket restaurant near Oxford that was once experienced as a treat.  Perhaps the fact that Oxford is a fair way from the sea, and Kalkan isn’t, may have had something to do with it.  As the portion control was well judged, there was just room for a shared lemon cheesecake which, like the rest, was no cause for concern, being light and, when shared, a sufficiency.

The distractions?  Oh, there were a couple.  Like the numerous and interminable phone calls by one of the other guests, who seemed to spend the entire visit walking up and down the road with mobile phone glued to ear and gesticulating invisibly to the caller (or callee). What made it more intriguing was she had the appearance of a refugee from Greenham Common in the 80s, and how she was cool in that ensemble, will forever remain a mystery.

Then of course, there were the couples disappearing into the bushes for (relatively) short periods, and then returning to the Bistro.  This leads to much speculation, varying from ‘Carry On’ scenarios to some of the uses some remote car parks are reputed to be used for.  It turns out of course, as we return to the carriage, that there’s a swing lounger there.  Another illusion shattered!  Texts and emails to the Sunday People and Sunday Mirror are erased and we move on, meeting previously mentioned friends at Aqua for a short chat, further drinks, because

Hydration is important

and we return to the Hotel, where, we find the trials and tribulations of the day mean that it is one of those quiet evenings where all is a bit grown up, and very non-raucous.

With the lightweights having retired early, and considering ourselves to be a sort of winner if any of it were competitive, we decide that enough is enough, and join them, just not too literally.

[Haybo]

Outstanding reports! Adam is having a tough year and no mistake!  Looking forward to your elegant prose regarding the next chapter of your stay!

[Chris_S]

Day 5 – The Horizon Broadens considerably…

So, we have the issue of the motor vehicle to be rectified first thing.  As you may recall, we had ended up with an alternative vehicle, no Bugatti Veyrons being available.  No Ferraris, McLarens or Aston Martins, either, so it’ll be a Nissan, then.

Trouble is, no sign of it, and like a good poacher, the wheels of Adda need a little tickle to revolve into action, and again, while we make the poolside look like it’s been invaded by undesirable travellers, we wait.

But it’s not long, and the relevant Nissan is exchanged for the substitute and AddaMan departs, after suitably modifying the paperwork.

Being a more suitable vehicle, in my opinion, for Turkish roads than the former transport, we plan an expedition up the tricky South Face of the Mountain to Islamlar for Lunch.

Already, the attraction of escaping (well not escaping as much as an attractive alternative) the coastal temperatures and humidity for the clean fresh air of the mountains, enlivens us and we set off.

Now, the image of the clean fresh air, with the gushing water may remind some of the older (sorry!) readers of the Consulate ads in the Sixties, which I suppose is probably along the right lines, especially when we arrive at the destination.

When, being the operative part.

This is where I slipped up, having got over the D400 and started the climb, it slowly dawned on me that I hadn’t checked the fuel.  Well, it was all right really, because there wasn’t any!  In true Corporal Jones style, the phrase ‘Don’t Panic!’ came to mind, so I looked for a manual to see if it would tell me the remaining range on the complicated display.  Here I was expecting a manual with the words ‘Don’t Panic’ written in Bold Friendly Letters on the front, just as in Douglas Adams’ ‘HitchHikers Guide to the Galaxy’.  Only there was no manual.

After a few presses of various buttons (and no, if you are a HitchHiker fan, none responded with ‘Please don’t press this button again’), I found the range calculation which was: ‘----‘.  I suspect this really means ‘three miles ago’ or something similar.

Being on an upward route, reversing the route to the fuel station on the D400, seemed the best option, being largely downhill, though increased anxiety when faced with an incline was not conducive to healthy living.  Especially as the throttle control seemed unpredictable.  More Anxiety; was this due to the low fuel levels?  Unlikely, but remember this is a Japanese badged Renault designed in Cranfield and built in Sunderland – who knows what translation issues have occurred?

Fortunately all those early years of getting halfway across the UK on a teaspoonful of fuel in a 1950s banger during the Arab-Israeli war, paid off and we made it to add some precious petroleum spirit into the tank.

Take two.  Where we find the throttle response is till dodgy, but do manage to get to Değirmen for lunch, thanks to the wonders of TomTom and useful signs by the roadside.

For those of you not familiar with Değirmen, it’s off what seems a track just after where what used to be Mehmets is.  On the outside of a bend its easy to miss, but we park up, just before a Volvo Estate with a family of 27 in it (or so it seemed).  Up and down the steps we go, and find it’s not busy, and we are not alone.

Even less so, when the Volvo occupants arrive.

Food and drink ordered, especially the latter, as

Hydration is important

we consume the fluids and look down the valley, where, at the end of the vista, sitting in the sea, lie Mouse and Snake.  To illustrate the effect of the humidity on the coastal strip, there was obviously a degree of sea haze on the surface, and this made the two islands appear to be floating just above the surface of the water.  If you were of a romantic novel inclination, you would almost think that it may have been Avalon in the distance, though whether there was any female arm holding an improbable sword out of it, is both difficult to see at that range, and, highly unlikely.

Nice view, though.

It was also cooler, with a nice breeze, and, dare I say it, very pleasant, atmospherically speaking.  (For the technically interested, GPS gave this as 1805 ft AMSL, or 550m).

I expect you’re waiting to hear about the food though, aren’t you?

As its lunch, we kept this to the Fried Cheese (naughty!), Fried Aubergine (less naughty!) Shepherd’s Salad (not naughty at all), plus the requisite bits and bobs that come with it anyway.

As starters, this is, in itself, a suitable lunch, but we have trout on its way, and this duly arrives a suitable period after we’d polished off the starters; except all the salad, of course.

You know the trout was going to be OK, don’t you?  And it was.  Apparently they were (allegedly) swimming two hours previously, then covered in salt, washed, cooked and eaten.  Probably why it’s so-o-o-o- much better than the stuff we buy as fresh (but frozen for 6 months) fish in UK Supermarkets.

And for all that, with the rehydration therapy (no details, but nothing silly) it was the same price as 12 months ago (95TL)

I suppose that tells you something.  Just not really sure what.

The strange thing about the human brain is the way it can process information.  I’m not talking about the involuntary things it gets us to do, sometimes good, sometimes decidedly iffy, but resolving issues if you just leave it to work on it.  This may, or may not, be assisted by the surroundings, company, conversation, food or alcohol (less so) in getting some question answered.  It may be the artiste who sang a certain song, or vice versa, who was in what and when, etc., etc.

In this case, the dodgy throttle response question was answered.  On this particular breed of Nissan the previous operator had set it to ‘Sport’ mode, which, should you ever drive up to Islamlar, is useless, as it’s concerned with Power.  As is ‘ECO’ mode, which is about minimal fuel usage.  What you want is ‘Normal’ mode, which is about Torque – the one thing you need to go up hills. (Technical Note: Power gives you speed, generally maximum, but Torque gives you acceleration.  Hence why those Turbo Diesels are so quick away from the lights, but you catch up with them later, more or less).

Pressing the right mode button, reverted to a normal car, and we returned to the hotel in more conventional fashion without the fuss getting up the mountain had been.

Where, we continued our previous skills at making the poolside untidy, with no-one else noticing, as they were all to pre-occupied with surviving the heat and filling the air with those ‘Z-Z-Z-Z-Z’ bubbles you see in cartoons.

Eventide meant a change in venue, we haven’t duplicated yet, and have some way to go before we get into the realm of repeat appearances, so the chosen venue was ‘Samphire’.

Anyone with memories that go back to last year will be aware that we are very familiar with Husseyin (formerly of Pisces), and his story, so no repeat here, but he did, as usual look after and spoil us.  Sedat also recognises us here, and we suspect he understands the relationship also.

Starter was Calamari, which they know how to cook, not being like rubber bands, but still not the best (go to Zygi, on Cyprus for that), and was followed by Grouper and Moroccan Lamb.  Both of which were not worthy of any complaint, and we can only say, enjoy them.  The Grouper, being more full-bodied is more filling than the Sea Bass and Bream, and less flakey than Cod, but not as meaty as Swordfish and Tuna.  The Lamb was tasty, with the apricots lending their flavour but not overpowering it.  You don’t need to eat all the apricots, though!  The portion size was perfect and left room for the Apricot Pie, which, even if you were replete, you’d still find room for, as it was so light.

The only option on leaving Samphire was walking downhill, the prospect of doing anything steep upwards was too daunting especially for the less mobile, so a taxi from Pirat, courtesy of the man with the radio, got us back to the hotel in time for the usual late night recollection of menus and hostelries with the other collection of inveterate imbibers and gastronomes, aka. Restaurant-goers.

Tomorrow?  That’s another day, as Ms O’Hara once said.

[joycie]

Lovely lovely report thank you.

[Chris_S]

Before I continue with this, I'm not seeing any posts after September 9th on this thread.

Even that one (Day 2) is incomplete, and don't feel any new posts will be successful.

Is anyone else having this issue, especially seeing them, as I've posted to Day 5, or is it just me?

Ultimately,  I'll re-post in new thread.

If I don't respond, PM me in case I'm not even seeing the replies.

[joycie]

Have read your fabulous posts up until day 5.

[Haybo]

I can see up to Day 5 just fine.  I hope you can carry on!