The gangster was at least half right. The dodgy rental car made the 5 hour drive to Kaş without crapping out. As we drove, the brakes started making an inauspicious noise, that wasn’t quite grinding, but definitely was not good.
On the way from Muğla ili (province) to Antalya ili, I started to notice that, away from the tourism on the coast, it feels like going back in time. Farm equipment and buildings don’t look wealthy or modern. Some cars seem barely driveable, and it isn’t uncommon to see scooters carrying multiple passengers. It’s what I imagine Italy was like after WWII; partially modern but also partially underdeveloped.
Anyway, my economic speculations ended when we reached the Mediterranean coast, and the amazing 25km drive on a road carved into the cliffside to arrive in Kaş.
From our small hotel, we had a great view of the Mediterranean, which Homer described as the “wine dark sea” (οἶνοψ πόντος). That’s a peculiar description, and when I looked into it there seems to be a small corner of academic research devoted to this. Some think that ancient civilizations didn’t perceive colour as hues, or at least didn’t have words for them, but only lightness and darkness. During our stay, the sea was beautiful and definitely blue.
One day, we took the dodgy rental car, which had an equally dodgy GPS navigation system, to see Lycian ruins at Myra in the town of Demre. The car guided us to a district of wall-to-wall greenhouses; they were semi-derelict, but not the ancient ruins we were looking for. After a couple more wrong turns, we joined a convoy of cars following a truck with drummers and horn players in the back. It seemed to be some sort of celebration, likely a wedding. Then, just as we were nearly completely lost, HVW noticed a small hand written sign on a post saying “Myra ruins”. Somehow we stumbled onto it.
The Lycians, who lived in the region from about 1500 BC to 500 BC, are another civilization that I have no knowledge of. The gaps in my understanding of history are astounding. Myra is one of several surviving spots where they cut tombs into the cliffs.
And speaking of knowledge gaps, did you know that Saint Nikolas – aka Sinterklass – aka Santa Claus is Turkish? It’s true. Whoa! We visited the church (not the original one) where he served as bishop.
The same guy is also the patron saint of Russia, so the shops around the church were filled with kitschy icons and other religious tchotchkes.
When we got back to Kaş, I had two objectives: get a haircut and find postcards. On the latter, I failed.
I see it as a sign of the decline in civilized travel that decent postcards are hard to find. At the risk of sounding like a geezer, more people should make the effort to send postcards. Everyone likes getting them. It’s not the same as, and so much better than, posting pics on Facebook or other social media sites.
I was more successful in getting a haircut but due to language issues I also got a treatment of facial mud. Grey goop was smeared on my face before I knew what was going on. The Turkish barber brought a glass of tea for me and one for HVW, then went to cut someone else’s hair while the goop dried.
Eventually he returned, cleaned the mud from my face, and proceeded to administer a vigorous scalp and shoulder massage. If you ever need a haircut in Türkiye, go for it! Get the full treatment. There will be no regrets.
On our last day in Kaş, we went to the beach and HVW kinda/sorta liked it. If you’ve ever met her, you will realize the huge significance of that sentence.
It was a very nice beach, but it was a couple of hundred feet below the road. To get back to your car you need to climb the stairs in the heat, and when you get there you really need another swim to cool off. It’s a conundrum.
We loved Kaş: it supported my thesis that the best destinations are not the most well known. But we had to get back in the dodgy rental car, with the funky brake noise, for the return trip to Bogie and Angela, and then on to Istanbul (or maybe Constantinople?).
