Turkey -- Day Twelve -- Cirali & Myra

Friday, October 19

We woke up to a beautiful sunny day, excited over the prospect of jeep day! Actually, I was a little nervous about driving... Turkey is right-hand drive, so at least that is the same as Canada, but Turkish drivers are... well, our observations of Turkish drivers showed a whole lot of not paying attention to signs/lights/speed limits/pedestrians. I was actually worried about being too polite and being honked off the road due to my cautiousness. Knowing that drivers of all kinds do, in fact, honk at people going too slow in front, I figured I'd be pulling off a LOT.

Breakfast, our first at the Canada Hotel, was delicious, and we ate a whole loaf of bread that was served with a bowl of cherry jam and some dry grated cheese, like Parmesan cheese. We didn't get the point of the cheese, but the jam was superb.

Getting into the Samauri, we were delighted to be in familiar ground. Well, familiar except for the functioning soft top and doors, that is -- it was strange to be in a Samauri and not have bungee cords brushing the tops of our heads, or reaching for the screwdriver to open the driver's side door.

The plan was to drive the coastal road over to the ruins of Myra in the modern city of Demre, and then catch the Friday fruit & veggie market in the town of Kumluca on our way back to Cirali.

It was with great anticipation that we turned left on the highway from the road down to Cirali. We noted a gas station about ten minutes out of town as a good place to fill up on the way back in. The vehicle was given to us with a half tank of gas and we were to bring it back with the same amount in it... this seemed a bit of a crapshoot as it would be difficult to know exactly how much to put in. Oh well, worries for later!

Coming down the hill towards Kumluca presented a very strange sight... it looked like the entire delta was awash in grey sand dunes. It wasn't until we were much closer that we realized we were seeing the grey tops of glass & plastic greenhouses covering (it seemed) every square inch of the fertile soil. The thrill of seeing the blue Mediterranean glinting past the greenhouses was still present -- that's the MED!!!

Driving was fine until I reached Kumluca. Turkish streetlights are arranged horizontally, and the yellow lights appear to warn you of both impending red lights AND impending green lights. That means that if you aren't actually in motion when the green comes on, you are obviously a lazy, inattentive tourist and deserve to be honked at promptly. Which we were. Being honked at (or rather 'trumpeted' at) by a large white bus that dwarfed the little jeep made me miss the turn which would have taken me to the highway along the water. Instead, I went straight and ended up driving through the rural districts slightly inland from the highway. We were looked at very strangely as we bombed along the little roads, dodging brightly-painted trucks carrying produce. I guss most lazy, inattentive tourists still figure out where to turn left!

Fortunately, the road coincided with the highway again at Finike, which is where the windy part started. When Saban had told the drive to Demre would be over an hour from Kumluca (which is 1/2 hour from Cirali), we thought he must be kidding... it wasn't that far in terms of kilometres. We weren't considering how very, very, very windy the road was. It was 50 kilometres per hour, the whole way... much to the dismay of the giant bus behind me. I managed to occasionally put on a big spurt of speed on a straightish stretch and get out of its way, but it was pretty relieved to put the pedal down and pass me, just as we were emerging from the crinkled road onto the straight stretch beside a big bay full of fishing boats.

Did I mention that Turkish people don't just pass on the straight stretches? Yeah.

Demre is just past Kale, named for the fortress high on the cliff overlooking Demre. We took a bit of a wrong turn off the highway in Demre and ended up on a stretch of road that seemed to lead to the St. Nicholas church. Demre is the birth place of Santa and they've made some serious hay out of that particular fact, though not as much as a North American city would have. All in all, we were very impressed at how non-touristy most of the tourist attractions were.

Getting on the right road was as easy as asking passerby "nerede Myra?" and we were pointed in the right direction to the cliffs behind the town, carved into which were some beautiful Lycian rock tombs, and the very well preserved Roman theatre of Myra.

You can learn more about the Lycian culture here: http://www.lycianturkey.com/lycian_tombs.htm

We parked in a little parking lot beside a cafe where we were told by the cafe keepers that there was free parking. We thought there might be a catch and there was: the visne suyu was 3L per can! Craziness! Oh well. The bathroom was clean.

We walked up a gauntlet of tourist shops which was festooned with trinkets and shaded by trees. The greenhouses crowded close on both sides. There were little dried gourds which rattled when you shook them and were painted to look like a very folksy Santa Clause. I really wanted one but Steve was dubious.

We poked around the theatre for a bit amongst the crowds, then hiked up the theatre, around the back, down to the tombs, past some chunks of carved rock and then back to the theatre where, like magic, the tour buses had sucked their inhabitents back into place and driven off, leaving us to enjoy the theatre on our own for a few minutes before the next group came in. Even when full of people, Myra is a magical place. To ourselves, it was superb.

Walking out, I inquired as to the price of the shaker-Santas, but decided 8L was too much for a dried squash. Oh well. The ice-creams in the cafe by the parking lot were even more overpriced than the juice, so we declined them too.

The fortress on the hill beckoned, but we were advised that the hike was rather steep. That in itself wasn't a bad thing, but it was getting rather warm. Way back in the hills, though, a road made a scar across the mountainside and we thought it might be worth it to take a look.

Up and over a bridge across a perfectly dry riverbed (they were mining it for gravel), we turned a sharp left to see if we could see the start to the Lycian Way, a new hiking trail that goes some 500 kilometres between Fethiye and Tekirova. We eventually found the start of the trail, which began at the riverbank and looked to climb straight up the mountainside to meet with the road.

I am truly my father's daughter: there is something about being behind the wheel of a 4x4 that makes me want to drive it UP. We hemmed and hawed a bit, but eventually decided that even if it were a dirt road going up the mountain, we had to take the chance and do a "little look-see." Back to the bridge we went, and took a left along a little road that looked like it would lead up the hill. Much to our surprise and delight, the road was smooth and paved, and at least 1.5 jeeps wide. It was only from below that it looked like a glorified goat-track. No guard-rails though, and it would have been a long drop if we'd missed a corner. We eventually saw where the Lycian Way crossed the road, and, at a hairpin bend, we stopped and got out to look at the wide, wide expanse of greenhouses and the blue sea beyond. Standing on a newly built cement cistern, looking at the view, we heard the gentle thonking of goat bells approaching until a river of black goats flowed over the road and dropped out of sight in the scrub below, leaving only distant thonking in their wake.

A little further up the road, we came to the tiny (TINY) village of Beloren, which had wonderful timber-frame barns that looked about 800 years old. The road split here: the paved road went straight, or a rocky dirt road went right, through the village and into the hills. Really, it was no contest. We eased into 4-high and turned right. We had the intention of just seeing what we saw, and also -- if it were possible -- to find the Church of the Archangel Gabriel, which is a ruined church on the Lycian Way which is in utter ruins but still quite beautiful, according to the Lonely Planet. What the heck! We'd go as far as we made it, and hope not to wreck the rental. The few locals we saw looked incredibly shocked to see us up there.

The road was very rough, covered in large, orange, sharp-looking rocks, but at least the dry climate meant that wash-outs would presumably be not much of a problem. We took it slowly and gently, and I was glad to have the four wheel drive. We passed all kinds of dry streambeds, pine trees and others that look just like Arbutus trees only with greyer stems, a tiny little village (three houses and a barn), some tumbledown stone walls and sometimes the flashes of red and white paint that indicated the crossings of the Lycian Way.

Steve read from the L.P that we were following the 'Unbelievers Road' which was a path early Christians would take to come up to the glorious Church of the Archangel Gabriel on pilgrimage. Given the steepness of the terrain, I could see how walking up here would smack of penance.

We basically kept right, or west, and after just-not-quite-too-far (just to the next corner, ok? Ok. So... just to the NEXT corner, ok? Ok.), we found ourselves looking over a little valley just full of rubble on the ground, and we could see a few standing arches. We had found the Church of the Archangel Gabriel, just where it should be.

We parked on the side of the road below some beehives, and set off on the gentle walk down the hill towards the church.

This area had once been an important Christian centre (given that St. Nicholas was Bishop of Myra), and even from the road, we could tell the church had once been impressive. We walked down a dry and barren field of rocks and poop -- yes, poop, which was not surprising given the dozens and dozens of goats wandering around the little valley. Both in sandals, we joked that at least it was a dry poop.

We picked our way down the valley from the road to the ruin, which wasn't that far, but seemed farther since we had to pick our way through the rocks. We gave up on avoiding the poop. We passed a barking dog, and several wild-looking cows, one of which was chewing on a piece of plastic. Mmmm... tasty!

When we reached the ruin proper, it was just amazing. One main wall was still standing, which contained several arches. The size of what remained hinted at the grandeur this building would have had when complete, and to have such a structure this far back in the hills was inspiring. You could imagine pilgrims walking all the way up and catching their first sight of a fully-formed church in the middle of what is otherwise a dry and howling wilderness -- wow.

There were a few other partial walls, and some carved panels, and a well. Just lying on the ground beside the well was a carved piece of stone the size of my palm, in the shape of a leaf. I really, really wanted that piece of stone. Bearing in mind Turkey's protective (understandably) view of its antiquities, and the lack of amenities in its jails, I abstained from actually taking it and just took photos instead. I hope someone else goes up to that church and gets to stand amongst the remains of a profound structure and hold that stone leaf in their hand and have the same frisson of wonder that washed over me.

As we were poking around, a woman and her son came down to the other side of the ruins and appeared very surprised to see us. We greeted her with a friendly "merhaba" and she merhaba-ed back, and left again after a few minutes. We walked back around that direction on our way out, and found another well set up as a trough for animals, and a sick goat sitting in the shade of a wall. The locals had piled up some of the stones from the ruins to make themselves fences for their stock and we thought why not? On one hand, it's nice to have everything stay where it fell and create a monument... on the other, why shouldn't the locals use the stones for a living purpose? It's not as if they can eat monuments.

Walking back up the hill, we got barked at some more by a dog who never came quite close enough to be a threat -- silly kopek! The cows looked all goggle-eyed at us again, and the bees buzzed around again, and every midge, mosquito and blackfly in the valley had collected around us. The temptation was huge to keep going past the Church, and try to make it all the way back to Kumluca by the back road, but we had no idea how long it would take and wanted to get back to Cirali in time for another delicious dinner. We jumped into the car and zoomed back down the hill.

At the unnamed little village, a small, white moppy-looking dog appeared by the side of the jeep. We told him we couldn't take him home, and he seemed to disappear. A few hundred metres down the road, though, there was a man on a motorcycle talking to some kids on the roadside. He guestured wildly, and the little dog tore past the jeep and towards the man. He picked up the dog, and held it out to us as we stopped beside him. We couldn't tell what he was saying, and since we had been offered several cats for purchase, we declined whatever he was offering, just in case he was selling us the dog. He kept guesturing and talking in rapid Turkish, and the village kids were smiling and laughing, but we kept saying no, and eventually drove on. I suspect, after all, that he was asking us to give the dog a ride back down to Beloren, since it followed us along the road the entire way. It seemed impossible, especially as I really sped up in the straightaways trying to lose it, but it always managed to follow along behind, and would appear in the rear view mirror as soon as I slowed down again. It was some four or so kilometres to Beloren and it made it the entire way at a run. We were a little afraid it would try to follow us further, but a group of village boys in Beloren came out and ran behind the jeep themselves for a little distance, and presumably they picked up the dog. It was very cute, and very tenacious, and probably had a grand afternoon out, first following the motorcycle and then the jeep.

Back down the paved road we flew, stopping at the cistern again for a look at the amazing view, and then back into town. As we were driving along, we passed a little store with a Magnum cooler out front, and stopped for icecream. While we were getting into the car, and old man came up to us and asked a bunch of questions in Turkish, which (as usual) we didn't understand. He kept repeating 'Demre, Demre' and Steve figured out that he just wanted a ride all the way into town. He clambered into the back while I looked up the words for 'stop' and 'let me out' so that we would know where get wanted to get out. Fortunately, he tapped me on the shoulder a few kilometres down the road; we stopped and let him out, and he was very pleased and thanked us many times.

We then drove over to the Church of St. Nicholas, but realized that we were tired and dirty and midge-eaten, and didn't really want to go inside after all. Plus we thought we could still make the veggie market in Kumluca if we hurried.

This time I kept right/seaward through Finike and we followed the highway along the coast all the way to Kumluca. I had a small moment of panic when I realized that I was driving beside a police car and I didn't know the speed limit! Except when entering town, where there is a 70kph sign immediately followed by a 50kph sign, there are no speed limit signs. Certainly not one that tells when to speed up or how fast to go when you get there. I decided to drive the same speed as a truck with a man sitting in the back, though I fully expected him to get pulled over too. I should have known better -- Turkey seems pretty relaxed about safety considerations like seatbelts.

When we got to Kumluca, and drove along the main road where the market was supposed to be, traffic was quite busy and there didn't appear to be any parking. We decided we had done enough for the day without looking at some vegetables, and would just travel on back to Cirali.

The gas tank was just about empty, so we stopped at a gas station where I made a lucky guess as to the correct location of the gas tank. The attendent came right over, took the keys, knew what gas to pump (stations still carry leaded gas, as well as diesel), and I was even able to explain that I wanted 15 (on-besh) LITRES not 15 LIRA, which would have been like five litres of gas. I figured that would give us half a tank and we could put another litre or two in a little closer to Cirali.

We stopped briefly at an overlook coming out of Myra to catch the sunset colours over the Med. Lovely!

To our surprise and dismay, the gas station closer to Cirali was closed, and we figured we would be assessed a penalty for not bringing it back right at a half tank. Oh well, not much to do about it at that point.

Back at the Canada Hotel, Saban had gone into Antalya to hang out with Carrie and the kids, so his assistant and waiter served us up another huge meal of homemade lentil soup (which was divine, and I don't like lentils), fives mezes AGAIN plus salad, and then a delicious fried fish each. I thought I was going to pop, I ate so much AGAIN. Good thing we walked a bunch.

We just about had the energy to wash the poop-dust off our legs and crawl into our comfy bed. Bliss!