Coast Turkey
Bodrum has all the pleasures of the Med with an eastern feel
EUROPE’S timeless dreams of the East come true in Turkey. From the moment I set foot in Istanbul, the domes of minarets are on every orizon, the call to prayer of the muezzin floats on every warm breeze.
Deep, brown eyes regard me calmly from passing burkas. The scents of saffron and coriander mingle. The endless commerce of the souks rumble out on to the streets as way below, busy water traffic criss-crosses the mighty Bosporus.
I’ve flown down to Bodrum, both a peninsular district and a busy port city, often known as the jewel of Turkey. This peninsula, which, like a cat in the sunshine, stretches from Turkey’s southwest coast to the Aegean Sea. I’ve come here for a week to inhale the mysterious riches of Asia, but with a difference.
The flight connection from Dublin through Istanbul means I need to buy a visa for $20 – they only take cash in euro or dollars; they do not accept debit or credit cards – in order to get from the international to the domestic terminal. Leave yourself plenty of time – don’t book a tight connection.
Years ago, I sailed into Bodrum, and ever since have been dreaming of returning to this unspoiled corner of the Mediterranean.
It’s an oasis of palm trees, of vats of olives, of pyramids of delicious baklava, and cooling jugs of Turkish wine.
This time, I’ve swapped my forward bulkhead bunk for a different option. I’m staying at the Mandarin Oriental, Bodrum, an unrivalled property, located on a lush, 60-hectares landscaped estate with guest rooms, suites and villas facing west to Paradise Bay.
This is bucket-list territory.
ONCE in a lifetime everyone will stay in Mandarin Oriental, Bodrum. Three excellent restaurants, an award-winning spa and gym, swimming pools set in fragrant gardens, and a white sand, tide lapped beach are just some of the backdrops.
Service is friendly and flawless under a blameless, blue sky. Guest transportation around the property is provided by a fleet of chauffeur-driven golf buggies.
As soon as I’m shown into my quarters overlooking the sea, which comes with its private swimming pool, I just know that when I get home and it starts to rain my default fantasy will be this Mandarin Oriental.
I spend the first two days soaking up my sumptuous surroundings. There’s a great temptation not to venture out, just to stay here and be pampered. But I’ve booked a sailing trip out of Gumbet, 20 minutes south of Bodrum, so I have to drag myself away.
The morning is fresh and sunny, and long before I reach the sea I can inhale the ozone.
In the marina at Gumbet, I meet Murat, my skipper for the day. Murat grew up in Denmark, but returned home a few years ago and now lives on his gulet – a traditional Turkish single mast schooner, made of wood, and measuring about 20m in length.
This morning, ten passengers including myself are each paying €40 to sail all day along the coast.
The stern deck is broad enough for everyone to sit around a table. The well-stocked bar and fridge are included in the price.
We drop anchor in little hidden bays around Görecek Island and Kargi Gulf, and swim and snorkel off the boat. Murat cooks us a chicken lunch, followed by cake.
Turkey’s economy struggles these days and its currency, the Turkish lira, has weakened. West meets east here, and the democratic values we take for granted at home are often absent. People grumble about politics; but then they tell you how in Turkey, whose Ottoman Empire once ruled much of southwest Europe, Western Asia and North Africa, it’s best to think in centuries.
In shops and restaurants, the value on offer when compared to similar venues in the EU is notable.
Next morning, after a breakfast of fresh fruit in the garden of the Mandarin Oriental, I head for Gamusluk. I hop on a dolmus, a minivan that can take around 25 passengers.
A dense network of these minivans traverses Turkey. There are stops on most roads; a dolmus trundles along every ten minutes. The fare is less than one euro.
A warm mist rises from the sea. I’m looking for a famous restaurant on the beach in Gamusluk. It’s called Sogan Sarmisak, which means onion and garlic, and the people who’ve recommended it to me have drooled when describing their meals here.
After a ten-minute walk along Gamusluk’s charmingly rickety seafront I arrive at the front porch of a tiny wooden house no more than three paces from the tideline. This tiny eatery is run by Sevinc Ulucanlar, who each day creates miracles such as stuffed courgette flowers, homemade humus and pumpkin tart.
Sevinc also gives cookery lessons and is writing a book telling how it’s all done. It’s a timeless setting,
defined by peace, excellent food and good company.
I spend the next morning in the centre of Bodrum, near the port, and not far from the town’s main bazaar.
Facing the moored boats are the statues of Herodotus, known as the father of history, and of Maussollos, whose massive tomb further up the town has given us the word mausoleum.
Nearby, in the Mustafa Pasha Mosque, all is cool, silent and peaceful. When I arrive, noonday prayers are being said and I am shown to a bench at the back beside several old gentlemen. The recitation of the Koran reminds me of the Georgian chant in my old Irish boarding school.
On my final day, I forsake the dolmus and, in a car provided by the ever-hospitable Mandarin Oriental, pop over to Yalikavak, on the west coast, an exciting new development of marinas, shops and restaurants.
Turkey is such a mix of the old, like Gumushluk, and the very new, like this. A mixture of east and west. We have so much to learn about this great, mysterious country whose people are a joy to meet.
Bodrum is a great place to begin.