June 2nd - 7:00 AM
Location: Unknown
Woke up to a chilly, rainy sky (all day I guess)
I said goodbye to Datça İskele Mahallesi late afternoon yesterday, hopped on the Otobüs and blindly recited to the driver where I’m heading, which is … I had no friggin idea. How did that turn out? AWESOME!
Here’s the deal, I outlined on the map a vast area of where I wanna be next, and kept checking for accommodation. The map does not show where a house/ room is exactly, only the geographical spot, which is the goal anyway. The search went on - high season crisis, until two days ago when I spotted a bedroom for rent in a lady lawyer’s house. It is a 3-minute walk to the bay, with a near bus stop, and along the Carian trail (opportunity for hiking) AND … in a semi-secluded spot. The downside is I had to stock up on food from the center and carry it along, but that’s besides the point
The “bedroom” turned out to be an understairs storage area, which the owner (who is conveniently
traveling), did not even care to “convert” into a bedroom, she merely dumped in a bed along with a chest of drawers and a closet, while all the junk remains there still. The room cost as much as the flat I rented in the center (high season). Now it’s only for 8 days, but I seriously don’t give a damn about the junk or the Airbnb profile stating there is an AC in the room while in fact what the owner meant – replying to my angry message – was a ceiling fan …….. IN THE LIVING ROOM.
What matters now is, I am alone in the house as my “host” is busy - spending my money - sailing around on her boat, the house has a small but super cute garden with a hammock which I soooooooooooooooooo enjoyed last night, and as I write this today I am staring at roses and lemon trees instead of walls or someone’s else’s head at a random café’. The most beautiful bay is 3 minutes’ walk away and the Carian trail with its rugged beauty is within reach, what more could a girl ask for?
So, after the initial disappointment yesterday, I dumped my stuff (I rarely unpack the first day), cleaned a little (the place was dusty, and there was cat poop on the bed -I swear- but the cat is an adorable silver Scottish shorthair so I forgive her),
I cooked (I had to unclog the kitchen sink first, I mean what the hell) meals to last 2-3 days: some köy tavuk (village chicken), chicken liver and hearts, and a few veggies. I am ashamed to report that I ate the whole thing! Now other than the obvious gluttony, this meant a trip to get supplies. Boy have I ever tasted chicken so good (chicken is not that tasty to begin with). First, it was not white in color, it was surprisingly fatty, I mean the pan was swimming in fat, which I used to fry the liver and veggies and then dip in the chicken. It was hearty and flavourful and juicy, nothing like the bland rubbery stuff that put me off chicken for eternity. I finished off with a bag of dried sour cherries that tasted like a dream (yes I looked pregnant), and then headed outdoors to explore the area.
Quaint and pleasant, a belt of lush mountains …. 3 minutes into my stroll I reached the bay … ruins scattered around, creating a unique ambiance. As I zoomed in, I was seized by such beauty that I literally teared up.
To name a street after a person is a universally accepted way of publicly honoring that person’s achievements. Bertolt Brecht is the street name where my later-to-be abode in Datça (mid-July – October) is nestled. Now unless you have lived in Turkey for a reasonable amount of time, you would not understand how rare this is, because as far as a universal truth gets, Turks generally don’t speak a word of English, don’t give a damn about what’s happening outside their own backyard (Turkey is ranked 6th in the world as a travel destination), and it’ll be nothing short of a miracle even for the well-educated/ cultured to know who Bertolt Brecht is. There is a good reason I call it “planet Turkey”. It is a world of its own, Turks set the rules of the game, hell they’ve invented a new game, and they play by it.
But wait, there is more; every single street in the WHOLE area is named after a famous writer; William Shakespeare Cad. Gibran Kalil Cad. Even – and that blew my head off – Aisha Razem Cad (a Jordanian poet). Fabiana told me that at first, cab/ bus drivers would not believe it when she told them where she was heading. Nevertheless, I, a self-proclaimed and by-trade writer, am renting the house of an American writer, in a street named after a German writer, in a secluded peninsula, cutting both Aegean and Mediterranean in planet Turkey.
A few days ago …. Location: Datça Iskele
Mr D: outside your comfort zone always young lady
Lana (partly dead, but 10000% elated) agree … but man those pull-ups were murder
Mr D: I keep mixing things up, always pushing the limits, goal is to be ready for ANYTHING, jump of a wall if need be.
Lana: How are you 60? I just don’t buy it.
Mr D: I am actually 63
Lana: hell no … I knock on the …. Bench!
Ushering a heavily, yet artistically tattooed, earrings-clad guy nearby
Mr D: you need to get yourself a tattoo! He owns a tattoo parlor
The fish dinner that never happened
As pathetic as it may sound, I have not had fish or any sort of seafood in Datça, which is a shame because fish there is uber fresh and you can buy it straight from the boat if you like, which I do. But then, I have only eaten outside twice, the usual “ev/ ana yemekleri” fare. But I’m craving fish, so I thought to myself let’s follow the lead of those who know.
Jacques Cousteau: check the eyes too, see those look fresh, while those not so much so … those look good, take them
Lana (now imagining butter dripping from my sautéed fish dinner) I wanna take what you are taking
Jacques Cousteau to the balıkçı: beş
The fish dude weighs the 5 creatures and they total 5200 tl.
Lana (speech bubble) tell me that ain’t so
Jacques Cousteau: so how many do you want?
Lana (speech bubble) OMG your fish dinner costs more than my rent!
I was about to say something but I swallowed my smartassness, I thought why be a jerk Lana, let him have his fish lunch in peace.
Lana: i am heading to the gym now (true and as it happens, my gym is next door to the fish store) so I will leave this till later.
Later at the gym, training my ass off … a WhatsApp message from Cousteau
Jacques Cousteau: Lana don’t forget your fish, I picked them by hand for you and told the guy to store them in the fridge, head there after the gym. Bon Appétit!
I struggled ....I’ll let you on a HUGE secret of mine: I cannot hold my tongue, I can never hide ANYTHING, and spilling the beans is like my life’s purpose. People, because I am pretty strong and confident assume I am canny and composed, no one knows how raw, spontaneous I am. There was always a joke in my family that every morning I swallow 10 “honesty” pills. So this is hard man.
Lana: Thank you … a sunflower emoji (ya know a sunny cute vibe)
A trivial fact: I use lots of flower emojis, picked randomly (mostly what appears on my screen) …. I do love flowers, but just like I love fruit and all things nature, I don’t have favorites, but if I had to pick it is Lilies and Daisies, those were the ones I would always pick fresh to adorn my house along with whatever flower/ herb smelled good! I don’t ever remember picking sunflowers, I was always put off by their smell/ or lack thereof!
To be continued ....