Waking for a third time opposite Gemiler we were soon ferried to its Beach Resort, wherein the most anomalous sight of the trip to me, a mildly customized Chevrolet C-10 four-wheel drive conversion appeared to be living…and weird little boxes on wheels in which people were;

We were soon in a van ascending piney forests and dropping to a pleasant agricultural valley, ourselves dropped off for tea in the courtyard of an inn on the edge of what remains of Kayakoy. The town was vacant by the twenties by which time many ethnic populations throughout the old Empire had been relocated, often under “war-time conditions” and with extreme prejudice. This was part of massive nation-building disruptions and international manipulations during and after the first world war, many much more disastrous than what happened here where Christian Greeks were merely exiled to Greece in exchange for Muslim Turks, to most everyone’s sad bewilderment and worse.  The transplantation failed and the town was soon abandoned; the current government now has a development plan afoot, belatedly and cynically, to make a tourist mecca among the ruins out of it.

Drinking tea and orange juice under the arbors we heard histories tragic and diverse, then walked a path up through the considerable remains, thinking how typical such upheavals have been on these shores. Remnants and ruins all week; these are just last century’s, so we know some of the stories…but every place we’ve seen has its own, often long lost, tale of demise embedded in the stones. Arab Pirates and  Looting Crusaders…hordes from the East, West, north and South. Some bad shit, and it ain’t over yet…

From a sweet little pass above the town we walked down an unpopulated ravine to a sheltered cove and met our friend, the boat.  Commemorative pictures were perpetrated prior to the final descent and once on board most soon leapt off for what ended up, due to subsequent events, the Last Swim, then Lunch.

Soon underway after our meal the rain, which had been misting the peaks around, turned to a fast-moving squall whose one casualty turned out to be Linda’s bathing suit hung drying…as well as a small dayboat which had lost way in the storm and for which our Captain turned back; towing it straight to Fetiye, we reached home port with time to venture ashore…

..and find millions of people selling each other trillions of things, all the time and not for the last time…

We returned along the harbor to a fine final dinner and packing, with four leaving right after for Dalaman and an early flight…

Another, our excellent and intrepid guide Heinrich, left before dawn, [a dawn through which I lay sleepless as the incessant clatter of rolling luggage on the dock six inches from my head kept me quite awake from well before the muezzins’ calls], so breakfast was smaller, and though the cook had gone ashore, not noticeably different. Soon after we said our farewells to our remaining fellow travelers, the estiable backgammon master Ugur, and, again merely six, “transferred” to Dalaman airport…

…for our flight into the murkier skies of the largest city in Europe…

Is Tanbul?  Comin’ up, though weeks after the fact…

 

M