Oludeniz

Driving in Turkey isn’t as bad as everyone was making it out to be.  “Turkish drivers are crazy,” I was told.  “Don’t drive at night,” they said.  “Are you serious?” asked one of my friends.  But I’ve harped on my driving adventures enough times now, most recently here.  I’ll say it again – I’m not the world’s best driver, but I’ve driven enough around the world, and enough in my home country of Pakistan, that I’m not skittish behind a wheel anymore.

Turkey was no different.  Granted, my fellow voyagers wanted to overtake my car at every available opportunity, regardless of whether I was on a mountain switchback or whether there was an oncoming truck barreling our way.  But the Turkish countryside in the south is the sort of pleasant Mediterranean environment that makes you forget traffic troubles, and focus on what the unspoiled, rolling hills must have looked like when this part of the world dominated Europe centuries ago.  Until you hit Oludeniz.

If I thought Fethiye was commercialized, Oludeniz was basically a European tourist heaven.  We had come here for the unspoiled beaches, but to get here we had to pass soulless pubs catering to tourists, kitschy souvenir shops with useless paraphernalia, and unending tour operator offices, advertising the same thing over and over again, yet still claiming to provide a unique experience.

Oludeniz’s saving grace was its beach, which is why we had come here.  Nestled at the end of the commercial strip, this pretty stip of sand hugged jutting peninsulas amidst sloping hills, which created a beautiful picture and enhanced the feeling of seclusion.  Until your sight line was spoiled by Speedo-wearing men sunning themselves all around you.

So it was a hit and miss experience for me.  Saeeda and Nuha enjoyed playing in the water – my daughter especially found great pleasure in constantly splashing my wife and I (but did not enjoy it so much when I started splashing back).  I enjoyed swimming in the water, which because of its higher salt concentration meant that I was more buoyant than normal (I generally sink in any given body of water, and am incapable of floating).  But walking around afterwards meant walking into the lion’s den of tourist traps, and it’s not like we got any sort of an authentic dining experience either.

Tomorrow we’re planning on making the 3 hour drive to Pamukkale, that interior city famous for its calcium springs and ruins of Hierapolis.  I’m hoping that that experience will be less soul-crushing.