A day in Marmaris, Turkey

About a month ago I receive a phone call from my father, a close friend of his who had been offered a Mediterranean cruise has fallen ill, nothing serious, just a bad flu that will prevent him from leaving. By now, close to departure, the trip is no longer refundable and his family, like him, is sick in bed.

marmaris

My father's friend now believes the trip will be lost when, one cool April morning, he remembers us. I am very hesitant about the offer, I have to start an internship the very day before the scheduled disembarkation date. I allow myself to be persuaded and persuade my boyfriend to accompany me, and after about two hours of various second thoughts we realise that it is an offer that cannot be refused: twelve days, eleven nights, outside cabin with balcony, all inclusive (excluding drinks), Greece, Tunisia, Cyprus... we accept!

Departure is scheduled three days later from Venice. After three long days of preparations, studies, shopping: we are ready! The rendezvous is on the train that takes us to Venice and, after various travails, we arrive...
It's mammoth! The ship is bigger than my apartment building!

- 15 decks
- 2,000 sqm of public areas,
- 5 restaurants
- 12 bars
- 2000 cabins (approximately)
- Over 1000 crew
- Two swimming pools
- A wellness centre
- A fully equipped gym and who knows what else!

We set off from Venice, first day in Bari... packed lunch with burrata and tarallini. Second day of eternal, exhausting sailing. I even learn to play tennis. Day three Volos, day four Piraeus, Athens; day five Crete, Knosso; day six Cyprus...in short, we sail around the Mediterranean until, one fine April morning, we arrive in Turkey in the unknown and wild territory of Marmaris.

I don't know if it was due to ignorance, but I was completely unaware of the existence of this place and with me most of the ship.

The crew assures us, you will be ecstatic... and so it was. Greece in comparison is nothing more than a crowded region bathed by the sea. My boyfriend and I wake up early to enjoy the whole morning out.

After getting up early, we are treated to a healthy and hearty breakfast: croissants, milk, coffee substitute, jam, fruit salad and a small salami sandwich. The breakfast room is surrounded by a huge window. As we sip our coffee, we see land in the distance amidst the encroaching waters.

When we arrive at the sandwich, we realise that we are surrounded by a silent myriad of uninhabited islands and islets overgrown with vegetation. In the distance we can even see a snow-capped peak. The archipelago is so numerous and dense that the ship seems to have to flap its long sides first to the right and then to the left.

What from afar looks like a promontory reveals itself as we approach it as a collection of small tongues of land that hide and amplify in size from one another. Finally, the captain begins the harbour access and parking manoeuvres. The landscape of Marmaris upon disembarkation, at around 08.00 in the morning, looks desolate.

Only a few taxi drivers who knew that a huge boatload of clueless tourists would arrive were waiting for us like a wolf waits for its prey. After haggling a bit with him, we manage to reach the centre of town for the modest price of 5 euros for a fifteen-minute drive.

No one seems to be waiting for us. We enter the shopping area to see the bazaars but the shutters are all down. Only one man is starting to clean his leather goods shop. We approach. The man greets us with courtesy and consideration. We are his first customers of the day and he wants to give us a present.

Meanwhile he inquires about us. When he discovers that we are the first to disembark out of about 4000, crew included, he convinces himself to let us go and gets on the phone. In a few minutes, what am I saying minutes, in a few moments we hear the roar of dozens and dozens of shutters opening wide. Every shopkeeper competes to catch, to grab, the customer.

Someone even takes us under his arm to accompany us in front of his shop window, of which he is particularly proud. The man had warned the others, his possible competitors, that the tills would be filled that day. I withdraw twice from the ATM. The bazaars are full of designer labels, most of them Italian. All proudly fake. Shoes, bags, suitcases, clothes, jewellery, watches... everything. And all of excellent and valuable quality.

I buy presents for my family. Two watches, a Rolex and a Patek Philippe, two Lacoste, a traditional Turkish dress and two tea sets with glass cups...and two bracelets depicting the Turkish eye, which is good luck, for my niece. My brothers confided to me that they had never had a T-shirt with such soft fabric, not even their real Lacoste had surprised them so much.

My father sports a watch on his wrist that, if you buy it original, is worth about 30,000 euros! We stayed in the shop for about two hours to buy this watch. My boyfriend put on about 20 of them, if not more, to check their quality. All of them, if we don't count the Chinese copies that the dealer himself strongly advises against, after this time still work...the winding holds up.

The shopkeeper is very nice and warm and is pleased and satisfied that we are entertaining in his shop. He even offers us tea.

He calls the clerk at the corner bar and has him bring us first a typical and tasty apple tea (you must try it, it's delicious) and then a red berry tea that you only drink after dipping a couple of sugar cubes in the glass.

The only downside is the plin plin...they are highly draining and, therefore, diuretic! I know, in fact, even the watch shop's bathroom! After buying, the watchmaker's wife shakes my hand and gives me a kiss on the cheek...how nice.

We finally get the urge to see more and...ah! I forgot. We also buy a Kodak camera, complete with case and memory card, at a price about half that of Italy. It works great, for those who were doubting it.

With our backpacks full of present and, after writing and sending postcards, as is obligatory in these cases, we start to work up an appetite...we meet a guy from the ship's crew, whom we hardly recognise without a uniform, and who recommends a little restaurant where we can find refreshment...indeed!

We thus leave the commercial part of the city and discover its landscape. A small gulf encapsulates its essence. The colours are all those that should be in nature: green, yellow, blue, light blue, brown, and the buildings try not to violate these rules and not impact on the environment. At most, someone has a white building.

The smell of the sea is intoxicating, but it is still a little cold to try to get wet beyond the calves. A walk along the seafront makes us think how one should live there, without too many cares, too many worries, too much stress... and the cost of living for us Italians is almost comical.

Too bad that in a few years they too will adopt the euro.

We finally find, for our stomachs, the little restaurant. It is a tavern with tables and umbrellas on the seafront. Its name is Divella. Its owner, who is also very expansive, when he understands our nationality tells us that he did a two-year Italian cooking course in London (?) and that he loves everything that comes from our culture.

I state that in Marmaris, a small Turkish town, at school they learn to speak fluent English and French, they learn German at a discreet level, just to be able to make small communications. They don't learn Italian even though we often find people greeting us with a few words. So much for troglodytes! These at school give us a lead (as we say in Rome)!

After a sumptuous meal (I had to give up a grilled fish due to the scarcity of my finances after the morning of shopping, but it would have been worth it just to see the specimen caught) made of all kinds of meat, chips and spicy onion (!!!), it was time to go back. Too bad this day ended so quickly. There is more than one good reason to return to Marmaris and discover some other jewel of Turkey.