We are in a villa in a peninsula in Kas, it is hot, and we have this:
(I mean the pool, not the shark, although the shark is also excellent, in an inflatable-device kind of way). A great big stonking villa, with air conditioning and beds everywhere in which to rest your sunburnt, overfed-with-watermelon bodies.
We went on a boat trip. Note that I am not the young, beautiful Turkish girl in the photo. I am the one with plastered-down hair and ill-advised beachwear. I may not have read the magazines quite as well as I’d thought. I swear the section on “Beachwear For Pear-Shapes” was supposed to Minimise My Problem Area. It seems to have done nothing of the sort. Ah well.
Here is an ancient old lady with great boating skills and an eye for a captive market:
A sunken city and water that does not make you go “Brrrrr” when you get in. I cannot rate this un-brrr-factor highly enough.
Me on the boat, with big hat to stop the wrinkles. I hate that hat. It makes me look like Holly Hobbie’s mother. Oh, how the sartorial triumphs elude me.
But it isn’t all about me. Here are some 3,500 year old tombs.
And a sunburnt kid with a cornetto. It could be said I am a bit slap-dash with the sunscreen.
Chicken kebabs cooked for us on the boat by the jolly captain. Perfectly cooked, according to my father. Phew.
And a kilim shop.
I am in the market for a kilim, I think. It only seems right to return from Turkey with one. Which will make the Turkey Tally look like this:
5 x watermelon-bottom-trouble
35 x sesame bagel-y breads bought from the early morning bread man in a van
4 x shiny mirrored pens on a rope. For essential drawing on the baby’s arms in the back of the minivan on way to ruins.
4 x turkish pancakes. Like crepes, but, er, much more like turkish flatbread with nutella on.
1 x unnecessary cotton shawl. Bought as a kind of thankyou to this lady for walking us up a hill and giving us carob. It seemed like the right thing to do. You know.
1 x kilim. Yet to be bought.