11-15 October
Tuesday and Wednesday spent in Akyaka continued at a leisurely pace- swimming, reading by the sea, and wandering the few forest trails in the area. I checked out Wednesday afternoon, and as I was faffing with my bags in the pool courtyard area, I was invited to join the owners for tea at their poolside table. I had been picked up by their son and brought any of my questions or inqueries to him during my stay, but had always smiled and waved to the people I assumed to be his parents, and the owners. They spoke no English beyond "hello" and "thank you." The man understood the basics, if I had a question, but that was about it. I sat with the couple and another woman, the cleaner, and sipped my tea in silence.
Awkwardness is a tension create, consciously or not, and for the first few minutes- I felt awkward. I was fully disabled from engaging in meaningless pleasantries; the weather, where I was from, how long had they been in Akyaka.
They asked a few questions- in Turkish- until it became I really didn't understand Turkish. The husband did artfully inquire, "Akyaka, finish?"
"Yes!" I replied excitedly, "I leave Akyaka this evening. I am going to Mugla, and then Istanbul."
He nodded, smiling.
Offers of more tea came in Turkish, which I quickly learned to decipher and sat to enjoy three cups with them before gathering my things to head to the beach for the afternoon.
I returned around dinner time to collect my bags and catch the bus, and as I was taking care of final packings odds and ends, the woman came over with a plate of tomato rice and beans, with fresh bread and grilled tomatoes. It was delicious.
I cease to be amazed.
The bus to Mugla was smooth, as was my transfer to the 'luxury' coaches I had come to know. This time I had two seats to myself and with room to sprawl out, I slept like a baby for the 12 hour journey.
I was awoken by the bus attendant, a young man, who motioned for me to take off my eye cover thingers and look out the window. At first I thought we were nearly there, and he wanted me awake and ready to get off right away. Not so- we were still 30minutes from the station- he was simply encouraging me to take in the view of Istanbul that swept out around us while we crawled through the morning rush hour traffic.
I dropped my pack at the airport and then had a day to enjoy more of Istanbul. Fall had clearly arrived since my last visit to the city not two weeks prior. I sat in a park with a coffee, reading and watching tourists go by. I walked for ages, wandering the streets- for curiosity's sake, but also to keep warm. I had a tasty doner for lunch and then made my way to a Hamam to pass the rest of the afternoon in the warm, steaming baths.
After a soapy and relaxing two hours in the Hamam, I had a delicious dinner at a place nearby- a Lonely Planet recommendation I had looked up the day before; rice with beans and beef. It sounds so simply, but it was spectacular. One of the waiters was quite friendly and spent much of my two hours stay sitting opposite me and chatting. He offered to show me a great shisha courtyard not far from the restaurant, once his shift was over.
He let me off paying only half of my bill, and pointed me down the street to a black wooden door under a small archway. I stepped in and found myself on the top step leading down to a massive courtyard, surrounded by tall stone walls on all four sides, filled with banquets and tables, shisha pipes poking up here and there.
On the front wall a CSI-esque Turkish drama was projected under the night sky.
The waiter joined me not long after and while his English wasn't fantastic, he made for interesting conversation. He grew up in a tiny village in the eastern part of Turkish and was of Kurdish decent. His father owned a shop and his mother stayed home to raise him and his seven brothers and sisters. In the summertime he was a mountain guide in the east and he came to Istanbul in the winter to serve tables with his uncle and cousins. He didn't have a passport and had never left Turkey.
By 9:30pm I was getting weary and said thank you and farewell- now in Turkish AND Kurdish. I got a tad lost trying to find the metro; at one point wandering in a arguably sketchy looking area, but finding my way not soon after. I was back at the airport, sleeping bag in hand, and curled up on a cushy, armrest-less benches and dozing off. It was the first time I had PLANNED to spend the night at the airport- with enough commitment to get my sleeping bag out too. Aside from being woken at 3am by the cleaners who needed to relocate my "bed," it was an otherwise entirely comfortable and sound sleep. My valuables were in bag storage, and I was surrounded by other like-minded travelers. I would do it again in an instant. I was doubly encouraged having found this website:
http://www.sleepinginairports.net/bestof.htm
The flight to Munich was uneventful and I spent a day adjusting to the chilly fall weather and wandering through much of English Garden taking in the sprawling park and its lovely fall colours. That evening I flew to London, where the temperature dropped further and I arrived in Cambridge at Jose's (a classmate from the program who has stayed on for his PhD) doorstep in the wee hours of the morning. We excitedly swapped travel stories as he had spent some time in Indonesia before buckling down as a student again.
The city is bright and crisp, with fall fully unfolded. And of course the tourists. I went for a run today and while stretching on the Queen's back I literally got stepped on by a group that wasn't looking where they were going! Tourists aside, it is wonderful to be back for a few days.... where do I sign up for another year?
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