Journey’s end

This is my final report from the Turkish front where the temperature is in the high 30s and seemingly getting hotter by the minute. Yesterday was a surreal day after we hired a private boat for the day and were treated like Royalty (unless you’re Prince Andrew).

Not only did the boat folk sail us around for seven and a half hours, they fed us stupidly well too. This was lunch.

And this was afternoon tea.

In between, we did a lot of swimming….

…snorkelling…

…and paddle boarding .

At one point, we even had a mud bath…

…have a closer look.

We’re back at the beach club today to catch a few final rays.

Then it’s a return to the villa for another splash in the pool, a last supper this evening and off to the airport at 9.30 tomorrow morning. It's been an incredible couple of weeks, starting with my pilgrimage across the Pennines to see my beloved Bannsiders play football, then to Manchester to meet up with Vanessa and the kids, a week bouncing around historic Turkey and this second week simply spoiling ourselves. Memories to last a lifetime. It’s been good to have you along.

Well trousered, sir!

Years ago when Vanessa and I were much younger and a lot less cynical, we spent a couple of weeks in Thailand. (9/11 happened when we were out there so memorable for that as well as many other reasons). Anyway, I remembered that you could get a suit tailored there for close to bugger all. So I suggested to Jamie that he might want to get one made when he was over here. That proved next to impossible in the time we had - but a pair of trousers was doable, so we went with that.

Being the man of the house, Vanessa took him to the tailor on Wednesday and was invited to return today for a final fitting. Too short, I’m sure you’ll agree.

So, he asked us to wait whilst he altered them. A bit of stitching...

…a bit more stitching on a second machine (very flash)…

…a quick iron….

…and they fitted like a (trouser shaped) glove.

He wore them out tonight and was the man to be seen with.

£20 well spent.

In the club

Welcome to the Indigo Beach Club where we’re having a day away from the seclusion of our villa. (Thanks to Coleraine’s very own Morag Haslam for the tip).

Everyone’s had a swim out to that floating platform thingy you can see in the distance and, as luck would have it, all made it safely back.

Jamie and Charlotte have also taken jumps from a great height. Here’s him.

And here’s her.

Earlier, we visited Kalkan’s weekly market where this nice belt man sold me two of his products - one for Jamie, one for me - for 1000 Turkish Lira, the equivalent of £10.

He originally wanted to charge 1200 Turkish Lira because they were leather. To underline the quality of the items, he fired up a cigarette lighter to demonstrate that they could not burn. “These, leather, very good,” he explained. Then, grabbing hold of a pair of alternative belts, he added: “These plastic, cheap shite.” So we went for the leather ones - and he didn’t get his extra 200 Turkish Lira. We ate out last night at a rooftop restaurant where, according to Jamie, the food was even better than the Nob fayre we had in Istanbul.

Tonight we’re thinking BBQ again accompanied by too much wine with a late night dip likely to follow. This time next week we’ll have been back for three days and the trip may seem like a distant memory - so we intend to completely tear the arse out it before then.

Bus w*****s III - this time it’s personal (space)

It’s day three in our Turkish villa, which we’ve just returned to after 90 minutes on a rocky beach and an even rockier ride home.

The sea was great but walking across the stones to get to it was less fun.

If only the Causeway Coast had this weather. As for the bus journey home, I noticed a sign which said it had space for 16 passengers. But there must’ve been close to double that number onboard.

Still, at least we were seven of them. We had majorly impressive BBQ last night with Vicky taking charge of the hot coals.

Sadly for her, she did such an amazing job that we’ll insist she does an encore before the week is up.

The plan is to abandon self-catering this evening for our first taste of Kalkan restaurant food. Before then, it’ll more pool time for them…

…and maybe a few of these for the rest of us.

Happy Hump Day.

Welcome to the Big Sister House

It’s 1127 in the Big Sister House and the housemates are having breakfast.

The Whites arrived at teatime yesterday after a two and a half hour bus journey from Dalyan. Vicky, Siobhain and Matilda got the keys at noon because they’re proper Yorkshire folk and were determined to get full value for their hard-earned Yorkshire pounds. The housemates are very impressed by their new home for the next week.

It’s got five bedrooms (which are already messy so you’re not seeing those), each with its own balcony…

...and bog...

…plenty of space inside…

…a jacuzzi…

….and a sun lounger for everyone.

But it’s in the private pool where the real action happens. Or did last night. After perhaps a few too many glasses of rose, the biggest (oldest) sisters decided to jump in the pool in their underwear…

…and stayed there…

…for quite a while.

Hopefully there will be no evictions this early in the game.

Bus w*****s - the journey continues

We’re about to board our trusty KamilKoc en route to the final destination on our Turkish adventure. And unlike our last two short stopovers, we’re staying there for a week. Not only that, our party - and I use that word in every sense - is about to expand from four to seven. More on that next time. Our single full day in Dalyan was busy but not too busy. Our breakfast by the river was idyllic…

…before we clambered on to a water taxi for the 40-minute voyage to the beach.

There we found sand and sea (what a shocker)…

….before a second water taxi delivered us literally to our hotel.

A first for me, certainly, and novel to say the least. The Limon Tree was where we dined…

…before a last dander through the shops.

Who knew Google did clothes?

Answer - they don’t. The next seven days should be particularly memorable and extra special fun. I’ll tell you what I’m allowed to…

For fake sake

We reached the third destination of our four-stop Turkey tour yesterday afternoon - and the five-hour bus trip from Izmir to Dalyan wasn’t remotely as bad as we feared. Free onboard snacks and drinks, comfy seats, air conditioning and bang on time. Not bad for £12 a head. We then swapped our big bus for a minibus to the Holiday Hotel, our home for 48 hours almost to the minute. And we have thankfully landed right side up.

Really chilled man running it, relaxed atmosphere and close to lots of eateries and “interesting” shops - more on that in a second. Vanessa and Jamie didn’t take long to take chilled owner man up on his offer to borrow a tandem kayak for a paddle up the river.

We then had a parent changeover so I could have a go too.

Food was bang on in the town last night - Jamie had a steak, the rest of us a variety of chicken based dishes - and then it was off to those shops.

Now, you’ll be well aware that Turkey is famous for it’s “genuine fake” items.

Anyone for a Luke Littler darts shirt?

What is arguably more amusing than the fake items are the fake shops. For example…

…and…

…and.

Top of Charlotte’s genuine fake shopping list on this trip was a pair of fake adidas sneakers. She spotted them in one particular outlet as we walked to our hotel and, after dinner, her mother called in to ask Turkey’s smallest shopkeeper how much he required to part with them. “1500 Turkish Lira,” was the answer - about 30 quid in King Charles money. "We saw the same pair in Izmir for 800,” Vanessa countered. (This was true, although she did concede privately afterwards that they were faker fakes than the genuine fakes the Dalyan shopkeeper was at that point holding is his tiny hands). He insisted he was not prepared to go to 800, partly because he refused to believe that any of us had ever been to Izmir. But, after further Vanessa browbeating, he reluctantly offered to sell them for 900. But Vanessa stood firm, politely said the price was still too high, thanked him for his time and led her daughter from the premises. Trailing behind, Jamie and I clearly heard him shriek “Oh, my god!!!” under his breath. We then headed off for a 20-minute wander around the resort before Vanessa decided to return for one final showdown with the small man with the big heart. She asked him again if he would take 800. Not only did he refuse, but he said the price had now risen to 1200 because Vanessa had walked out. But Mrs W bravely battled on before finally caving in by agreeing to pay 900 Turkish Lira - a whole £2 above her bottom line, which continues to irk. After shaking his little hand on the deal, she produced her debit card to pay the ransom. “No card, no card,” he announced. “Cash only because you’re a cheap lady!” This was quite rightly taken in the spirit in which was intended - a compliment rather than an insult - and 900 Turkish Lira in cash was duly passed over. And to underline the good nature of the exchanges, both parties - large and small - agreed to pose for post-match pictures.

The rematch is tentatively scheduled for around 9pm this evening as he’s got some genuine fake hoodies in stock which have also caught Charlotte’s eye.