Chapter 2: Hello. Where have you been all my life?
That thud of hot air that hits you when you step out of the plane at Dalaman. It even
smells hot. As you make your way to the luggage carousels, you feel the first of many beads of sweat tickle their way down the small of your back.
Smiling driver packs you and others into his very clean minibus. You set off, suddenly wide awake despite the lack of sleep and crane your neck to see the stately mosques, fruit laden orchards and hazy mountains.
I see it! A fleeting v-shaped glimpse of glistening turquoise as we rounded that dusty bend in the road. The sea.
Tumbling out of the minibus and greeted by grinning, tanned hosts, we reach our apartment in Çalış Plajı. I explain once more to TA how to pronounce our destination, 'It's CHaliSH, not Kaliss'. He nods and rolls his eyes. Again.
It was Day 3 of our very first visit to Çalış (and indeed Turkey) and I was stood on the balcony of the apartment at about 7pm and watching the sun set. The frogs started clicking their evening chorus and there was a faint waft of Turkish music floating from a passing water taxi. 'Hello, Turkey', I said quietly to myself, 'Where have you been all my life?'.
Dolmus. Kebap. Lira. Genuine Fake. Smiling waiter. Turkish breakfast. Süt. Otogar. Paspatur. Pazar. Kordon. Efes. Lemon Cologne spray. Every time you see the letter 'c' without a comma under it, you pronounce it as a 'j'. Look LEFT when crossing the road. All the eggs are white. Yes, the cigarettes really are that cheap. XL on that t-shirt means it will just fit your 13 year old son. Tomatoes the size of your fist and water melons the size of a chubby 12 month old baby.
Beaches you cannot contemplate walking barefoot on beckon you to sit and gaze and enjoy a welcome, gentle breeze. Dogs sleep in the shadows of a tree, half lifting a paw to knock away a fly. The sun sits on your head and your sunglasses slide down your nose again as you read a prom side menu and wonder if you are hungry yet. Riding the water taxi and seeing Fethiye actually shine in the midday sun whilst you dangle your arm over the side hoping it gets splashed. The mountain tops looking like they have snow on them and turning pink at sunset. Sitting at the harbourside cafe with a çay or a freshly made limonata and discussing whether that woman is Turkish or not without staring too hard.
The week felt like it had only been 2 days long. I already missed Turkey whilst sitting on the runway at Dalaman. I started thinking about when we could next go again. I knew it had to be soon.
