Take it Easy

This stop in Fethiye is exactly what the doctor ordered, a couple of days of relaxation to recuperate from travel-itis.  My first morning, I take off for the ancient Lycian cliff tombs behind the city.  I take the long scenic walk along the road just up the hill (known as Lovers' Hill) from my hotel that wends itself along the city.  The vistas are çuk guzel, beautiful. 

A Turkish flag flies high over the city, and the tombs are pretty neat, but access is closed in winter.  I wander the city and stumble upon the little archaeological museum, all two rooms of it filled with relics from and information about this very ancient region where Hittites, Lycians, Carians, and a slew of other peoples dating back till at least 3,000 B.C., populated the area before the Greeks, Romans, or Turks.

Back at the hotel, I ring up Dr. Can, with whom I have been trading friendly emails.  I hate to impose, but he seems eager to show me hospitality and this city he loves so much.  He picks me up in the late afternoon (with some fresh baked good from his wife) and drive to the other side of the harbor for a spectacular view of the city I wouldn’t have had otherwise.  We then drive a few kms toward Çalis Beach that is very popular in warmer months, especially with the Brits.  Along the way, we drive past his home, his old home, and then stop at the apart-hotel he owns – it has a lemon tree!  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a lemon tree.  So deprived. 

Dr. Can is a retired biochemist for whom since realizing his dream of moving to Fethiye 25 years ago, has turned his love of the place and interest in people, into a second career/hobby.   As he drops me off for the evening, he offers to show me Oludeniz (the Blue Lagoon) and Kayakoy (the Ghost Town) the next day.  It’s hard to say no.  Mind you, between my hearing, and language gap, I maybe only understand about 70% of what Dr. Can says, and I suspect I talk too fast for him to understand me too much at all.

It is now early evening, but this town of about 80,000 is spread out and a little sleepy, and the eateries seem to be mostly empty.  For some time, I wander along the harbour looking for a restaurant with signs of life for dinner.  I stop at a popular place that turns out to be a pastane (patisserie).  Oops. I have dessert first then, a delicious slice of chocolate and chestnut cake.  I head back out later and stop at a harbour-side café/restaurant that has a boisterous group inside. The place occupies two structures adjacent to one another, the café is more like a ski chalet with big windows, low deck chairs, a standing pit fireplace with a marble counter for guests to kick back and enjoy the warmth.  Seems as good a place to alight as any.  The party of about 20, seated at tables in the back are vocal, occasionally standing to clink glasses.  One of them, a robust young man wearing a striped sweater with little butterfly wings on his back and matching antennae, seems to be the nexus of this group as he makes a prepared speech that he mostly shouts, punctuated by porcine oinks.  I surmise they are not Turkish, given the bemused look of the Turkish staff.  Turns out they were Russian.  They sure know how to party.  

I order a meze platter, my first on this trip, and it is so good.  A spicy tomato dip, a garlicky yogurt, cucumber dip – caçik, and some delicious roasted eggplant – all eaten with bread.  The plate is huge, and I wonder how I will finish the meatballs I have ordered, which come with rice, mashed potatoes and salad.  Well, I had a little dining companion as a cat wandered in and came straight to me, spoke to me with its one eye larger than the other, “are you going to eat that?”.  I don’t want to encourage the strays around here, but assume it’s really a way of life for them too, so I relent, and start feeding it bits of my meatballs under my table.  I also throw down a piece of bread, and the kitty will have nothing to do with that.  So much for beggars can’t be choosers. 

I head off to the small, t-shaped nightlife district that encompasses two small streets.  I avoid the modern, bright neon lettering of Mango and Club Rain and head to the small, hand-lettered divey looking bi-level fish-shack inspired Deep Blue Bar.  The place is homey, not very crowded, and I hear a male version of “Time After Time” but can’t seem to locate the jukebox, then follow its sound upstairs.  I think, oh no, karaoke?   I enter a room large enough to seat 30, but it is mostly empty except for now 3 patrons and the lone musician singer on a small stage at the front of the room.  He moves onto a very, very long rendition of Elton John’s “Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word”, then Cat Stevens before I recognize the long, thrumming, opening guitar chords as he breaks into The Eagles’ “Take it Easy”.  His set includes Sting, Four Non-Blondes, Chris Isaak, among others.  It is obvious English is not his first language by some of the inflections in his singing, and some of his singing and guitar playing are mechanical, but he’s not bad and his earnestness makes up for it.  He is at his best with the more rock-inflected songs. 

I then head over to the hopping Car Cemetery Bar where a largely younger crowd is hanging out, and almost as soon as I get there, a live band takes the stage.  Their lead singer and guitarist struck an Anthony Kiedis vibe with his long hair, wiry body and high energy, and they are REALLY GOOD.  I would consider paying to see them good. 

Their first song is in English, and the rest of their set were Turkish pop standards that were crowd favorites as people hopped and bopped around in rhythm.  Even one of the local flower sellers, whom I had seen the night before at the fish market going around to tables selling bunches of flowers, was totally getting into the act.  She probably came in to sell flowers, and before long, was dancing more passionately than anyone, to the point where a man approached her and playfully started tossing her bunches of flowers all around the bar and the stage.

All the while, the television was playing the WCL – that’s the World Combat League to those of you not in the know :)  It’s a form of fighting where kicking, punching and knees to the head and body are the standard, and this particular match was between the New York City Clash and the Philadelphia Fire.  New York’s Jennifer Santiago gave NY an early lead as she pummeled her larger opponent, but NY’s men were no match for the fury of Philly’s men. 

As I considered this lively corner of otherwise, idyllic and sleepy Fethiye, it is obvious that this whole town, however it chose to spend its time, knows how to take it easy, and not to let the sounds of their own wheels drive them crazy.  Not a bad philosophy, really.