Turkey--First Impressions and Last Resorts

After an uneventful four hour Corendon Airlines flight from Schiphol to the seaside city of Antalya, from which 9mg of melatonin and a pre-flight Westmalle Tripel yielded a mere 90 minutes of unconsciousness, I stumble through customs to the tour representatives waiting under the canopy outside the brand-new terminal.

"Orfeus Park", said the rep. I had not noticed the Orfeus Park in my numerous trawls through the hotel brochures for the Turkish Riviera. Having brought the Corendon catalogue, I looked it up, and saw that it had "4.5 stars.". I was too tired to resist at the moment-but I had paid for 5 stars, and not 4.5...

The hour-long ride from the airport followed an imposing ridge on the left, over which a Turkish sunrise was brewing. Much was new along the road, including the petrol stations of a recent former client jostling for position against mostly local competion.

The Orfeus was more of a disappointment than a shock--it bears much more resemblance to an old-school mid-tier suburban motel (albeit with a bigger pool and buffet) than a top-tier mediterrenean resort. If I had wanted a three star, I'd have had no complaint, and indeed, if pressed, I could stay here and make extensive use of the pricey but prevalent excursions offered by Corendon. But since Corendon 'upgraded' the place to 5 stars sınce the annual brochure's last printıng redress was not to be expected.

Still when the opportunity presented itself to gun for an upgrade, the visit of the Corendon rep offered brief hope. Alas, all of the rooms in the Corendon stable were, as the Turks would say, occupado.

So, rather than spend the day surrounded by the ubiquıtous kinder of the Orfeus' preponderance of German guests, I hopped one of Turkey's famous 'Dolmus' minibuses to the nearby market town of Manavgat. Manavgat, aside from being near a waterfall which prompted a two hour bus+boat trip with yet more German tourists, is a busy but not terribly consequential sort of place, best known for a covered market selling a wide variety of crappy counterfeit goods. In short, the Turkey I love.

There are many things I adore about this country--an attractive and confident population, a sense of self-containedness one finds in a country of 70 million plus, the residue of decades of protectionism and state ownership (lots of funky locally made cars, mostly Fiat knockoffs), the sports fanaticism, evidenced by the more abundant than usual Turkish flags and national team logos from their better-than-expected run in Euro 2008.

As for the turbulent politics, the unavailabiliity of English language news in these parts makes me a bystander as the military and the Islamic-leaning (but rather tame) ruling party duke it out in the courts....

With the prospect of jostling tattooed teutonics for pool or beach space lacking much appeal, I book excursions for the next two days, one to Antalya and the other a boat tour from Alanya, the main tourist town. Both were most enjoyable, the Antalya trip marked by a purchase of a Swiss watch made in part because I fell for the watch and in part because I fell for the lovely Birsen, the saleswoman who counts an encyclopedic knowledge of her native Belgium among her charms. Still, thanks to my Blackberry's ability to summon "watches at Amazon.com", I was able to secure an extra 30% discount over what was offered, making it a deal to, well, write home about.

Midway through the boat ride on Saturday, I decide to depart from the Orfeus on Sunday for Antalya for the trip's duration. I know that it's not good form to write off EUR 200 in food, drink, and lodging, but I have had nothing to do in the evenings other than listening to teutonic tots singing "Zam, zam, goolie, goolie" to each other through my non-soundproofed windows, or to be the only guy propping up the bar while the German men were pouring cola into beers and taking them to their respective family tables (I never figured out whether the cola beers were for the menschen or the kiınder--and wasn't about to ask). The garden cafes of Antalya seem more promising, even if I have to pay EUR 2 for a local brew.

But first, I decide to spend this evening in the town of Side.

Side begins inauspiciously--a dense conurbation of mid-rise apartments, hotels and resorts with random looking retail establishments. Suddenly, a spot of greenery emerges and after confirming 'antik Side' with the driver of the minibus festooned with Muslim prayers but lacking in shoulder belts, I disembark and follow the crowds. The ruins that unfold are eyepopping. Gates, columns and suddenly, a full blown amphitheatre. Relics and retail thrive side by side in Side, so soon comes the usual carnival of brand knockoffs, jewelry shops and kebab stands.

Seeing the doner kebab spıit rotating against the backdrop of a wood fire, I yield to temptation upon reaching the Ugur Doner place on the main drag. I order the Iskender, a tomato-sauced doner dinner. Best I've had in a decade, and a full meal including soft drink and salad comes out to EUR 8. They even threw in a turkish coffee after I gushed about my meal, then dragged me into the kitchen to take pictures with the kitchen staff.