Days 34-36: Akyaka, Turkey

Tuesday 11 October (Day 36)

SMACK SMACK SMACK.......SMACKSMACKSMACK

I woke up to the startling noise of bundles of grapes splattering on my canvas tent early on Saturday morning. Grapevines seem to be commonly used as sources of shade along the Turkish coast- and they were resourcefully used for additional tent shade in Butterfly Valley. They certainly make for picturesque photos...but man, as soon as it gets windy, they make an absolute MESS, not to mention the noise. Imagine the loudest rain you've ever heard while sleeping in a tent and amplify that ten times. Suffice to say it was an early morning thanks to the grape smacking and gusting winds. The valley became a wind tunnel and the sea covered in white caps by 8am.

Grape smacking aside- I quite liked the novelty of an intense "tropical" storm. The problem was that it was likely to bring rain, rendering the sole trail out of the valley useless, and halting all boat traffic to and from the valley due to high swells. The folks living in the valley for months at a time were sure the rain would be there by mid-day, if not sooner.

As much as I liked the spot, I wasn't prepared (namely in having enough underwear or deoderant) to stay another night. I inhaled my breakfast, packed my bags, said my goodbyes and sped off onto the trail out of the valley, racing against the rain clock. The trail in and out of the valley was relatively short, but incredibly narrow and predominantly rock- so getting stuck halfway up in a downpour was really going to leave me in a pickle. Not to mention the wind- I had visions of getting blown of the side of a cliff in a powerful gust. I kept telling myself, "Just don't look down...and hold on tight."

I made it up quicker than it took me to descend (sweating buckets) but beating the rain by a mere 20minutes. I sorted out my bag back at the Pansion overlooking the valley and caught a rammed-packed dolmus back to Fethiye. I had no real plan at this point, but knew that with poor weather on the way and predicted to last for 2-3 days, I didn't like the idea of being stranded in this tiny village. While I had no firm reason to believe I could be stranded as yet, my instincts proved right soon enough.

While chatting away to a lovely couple from Victoria on the dolmus, the van came to a sudden halt. We all jerked our heads to the road in front of us- it was littered with football sized rocks, with more falling from the cliffs above. You know those "rocks falling" hazard signs.... well, I've always wondered what good they do- other than being generally aware, there isn't much you can do if rocks start raining from above. In any case, there weren't any such signs along this weaving, cliff hugging road, but the rocks were most certainly falling. The driver weaved into the other lane to avoid the biggest ones and we slowly bumped over the scattered debris. Who knows how much longer the road would be passable.

The Canadian couple were asking about where I would be headed next- but as of yet, I had no plan. Cappadoccia was an option, but having lost pace for two days when I was ill I was short on time to make the 12hour trek inland. Pamukkale was another region with good hiking, and of course, I could always return to the coastline and hope for wind.

Once at the bus station I inquired about the travel times from the bus depot. While the agents spoke good English, there was sustained confusion when I asked about how long it would take to get to Pamukkale. The problem: the bus company's name was "Pamukkale." They kept reassuring me that, "yes, this is Pamukkale," and "yes, Paumukkale bus." I eventually gave up and conceded to go back to the coast- I craved more kiting, even though the weather wasn't looking promising. While waiting for my ticket to be printed by the agent, I watched as one of his colleagues set out four small plastic cups, filling each with pop from a large bottle of pepsi he had just bought. He handed a cup to the agent on his right, one to an agent standing behind him, and then set one cup up on the counter in front of me, smiling.

"Oh! Thank you," I say. My goodness...this hospitality ceases to amaze me. He then proceded to offer the final cup to another woman standing at the opposite end of the service counter.

I caught a bus to Gokova, a town about 2hours away from Fethiye, back along the coast toward Izmir. It was yet another high tech bus, equipped with wifi and movies. The bus attendant (like an airplane steward)  walked down the centre aisle and paused at my seat as we approached the two hour mark.

'"Gokova," he said, loosely pointing ahead.

"Yes," I replied. Ah, I guess he was letting me know my stop was coming up soon. That's a bit odd, I thought.... usually it is announced. Maybe this guy was just being particularly helpful.

I zipped up my bag and shifted to the edge of my seat, as if to show the attendant, Yup, I'm ready to go!

Within seconds the bus pulled over quickly, and the attendant waved his hand to me, stepping down onto the road and looking up at me impatiently.

Right. I looked out the big windows before stepping off: it was pouring rain, and I was not seeing the usual signs of a bus station. I saw a boat shop and some sort of tea hut.

There was no question this was Gokova, the attendant had already confirmed as much.

I stepped onto the muddy shoulder of the road and the attendant swiftly opened the bus compartment to pull out my pack. I swung it up onto my back,

"Thank you," I said as I tugged the hood of my raincoat tight against my face.

He gave a small smile and quickly stepped out of the rain and back onto the bus.

I turned to scope out my surroundings... Where the hell was I?

The bus pulled away, and I took in the small intersection- a boat shop on one corner, a tea hut opposite. Yup, that was it.

Three men sat under the shelter of the tea hut smoking cigaterettes engrossed in animated conversation.

'Worst case scenario....I can always ask them for help,' I thought to myelf, 'Even if they don't speak English....they'll do something for me.' Without even realising it, it seems I had come to depend on the Turkish hospitality.

I stood under the semi-shelter of a towering eucalyptus and weighed my options. I knew there was kiting in Gokova, but this hardly seemed like a town, and I certainly couldn't see any water. There wasn't even an indication of which way a town centre might be. Yup, I was going to need to ask the tea hut men.

I sauntered over and paused to the side, still standing in the rain, waiting for a break in their conversation to put my query out there.

The one facing me saw I was waiting, and when his friend paused, he nodded his head toward me,

"Dolmus, Gokova? Akyaka?" I asked hesitantly.

The man with his back to me, dressed in a wool sweater and navy trousers with a bristly black beard turned,

"No doulmus," he said.

My face immediately took on a look of disappointment...maybe there was some desperation in there too.

He stood up to face me,

"Taksi," he said, walking passed me and toward the road.

I followed him. I had come to trust Turkish strangers like none other. But it was clear he was helping me. We crossed the quiet street and at the carpark for the boat shop, he yells toward an auto garage, hidden behind two big vans. Out comes a man, wiping his hands in a rag, dressed in a grease-splattered yellow checked shirt.

He explains something to the man, tilting his head toward me on occasion. I stand back just watching, but half smiling, hood fit snuggly around my face, rain pelting down. Either they are plotting to rob and kill me or sorting out how to get me into town.

Fortunately it was the later. Turkish hospitality.

Soon enough I was in town, but the driver spoke no English and didn't know where I wanted to go in town, exactly. I didn't either. He pulled up to a barber shop and a younger man with earrings and a goatee sticks his head in the passengers window.

"Hi, where do you want to go? This is my friend," he says, pointing to the driver, "but he doesn't speak English."

"Hi. Well, I did want to stop at the kitesurfing school in town. So this is probably good here, if we're in the town centre?"

"Yes, the kite shop is there," he said, pointing just up the road.

"Great, this is good then," I say, reaching for my bag.

"Where are you staying?" he asks.

"Ah... well, I'm not sure yet. Do you recommend a pansion? I have the name of one in my bag..."

"No reservation?" he asks.

"No..." I say. It's the dead end of their busy summer season- I knew there was no need for one.

"Just one minute," he says, stepping away from the car.

The driver of the car gets out and takes a seat in one of the chairs out front of the next shop over and is handed a cup of Turkish tea.

I was now sitting in this stranger's car on my own. The rain was still pelting down. My bags were strewn about me. And I wasn't quite sure what this guy was trying to sort out. I was perfectly content finding my own accommodation... but hey, if he was willing to find something for me, by all means!

The guy with the earrings and goatee had made a few phone calls and poked his head back in the front passenger's window- "How many are you?" he asks, holding the mouthpiece away,

"One."

"Okay. How many nights?"

"One or two?"

"Is 40 lira okay, bed, kitchen, shower?"

"Yes, that's fine with me," I reply.

'Wow. All you have to do is roll up and the work will be done for you!' I thought....

I thought too soon.

A small woman with dark hair came to collect me five minutes later and we walked 50m up the street. We turned down a small corridor off the main street. We passed a tattoo shop- I glanced in to see a man with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, bare shoulder under the light of the needle.

ZZZZ...ZZZZZ...ZZZZZZ.

We stopped not five feet further and the woman opens a glass door to reveal a double bed in a small room, with floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides, facing the footpaths. On the right was an awkwardly placed and half put-together breakfast counter. It looked liked a bed was dropped into a strip mall office space.

I looked around skeptically.

She looked at me optimistically.

I'm pretty easy to please when it comes to accommodation, but it was when she shut to door and I could still hear the ZZZZ ZZZZZ     ZZZZZZZZZZZ of the tattoo shop next door that I knew it would be worthwhile to find something else.

She spoke no english, so explaining that I didn't want the place was difficult to act out in getures...but I eventually got the message across in a friendly, but firm manner. I wandered back to the main street and settled in at an internet cafe to find somewhere to crash.

I was having trouble loading the map to one spot I'd found and asked the owner to come take a look as all of the notifications were coming up in Turkish.

"Can you tell me what this says," I ask, pointing to the browser notification, "Or...do you know where this place is?" I inquire.

"This place? Yes, of course, it's my good friend! I can call him, and he can come pick you up? It's just up the street, but with the rain..."

"Yes, please, that would be great!"

Minutes later the young son of the owner pulls up and I toss my bag into the boot and off we go, the rain still pouring down. I'm led up a short, wide staircase where he opens room 1b. Rather, flat 1b. It seems that for 10lira more than the glass-walled, tattoo shop room, I would be getting a full-on apartment! And that I have- with a balcony overlooking the swimming pool, a spacious living area and kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom.

I'm about to spend my third night here in Akyaka, having wandered the nearby mountains on meandering dirt roads, swam in the warm sea, and watched the endless rain from beach hut cafes. Despite the lack of wind and incessant rain, it's been a quiet, indulgent few days of reading, cooking, running, swimming, and yes, dancing to Jackson 5 in my very own Turkish living room.