Kalkan, Turkiye

October 9-11, 2022

The Sea

Kalkan is our first true stop on the Mediterranean coast. Up until Kalkan, our stops have been on the Aegean coast. Daylan, our last stay, was located where the Aegean and Mediterranean meet.

A Short Stay

I had read that Kalkan was a bit more exclusive than some other areas on the Turkish coast (i.e. more expensive). It does seem a bit more upscale than our previous destinations. Kalkan is a true resort town.

Knowing this and trying to stay on budget, we planned a quick stop for three nights, just to get a feel for the place.

The Italian Vibe

Kalkan has a Positano, Italian-type feel, but with lots of bright red Turkish flags. It’s a lovely place, to be sure.

And the ocean here is simply stunning. It has that clear, turquoise blue water that is hard to beat.

The Basics

I’m dressed like a backpacker, without any trendy outfits or fancy Riviera hats. And down on the main strip, along the ocean, I do feel a bit underdressed at times. But even so, the restaurant greeters are just as friendly and just as intent on persuading us to come in and sit down for a drink or a meal. 

They don’t seem to mind my casual duds.

The Greeters

In fact, my new modus operandis is to greet the greeters before they greet me. I feel like, in a very small way, this gives me the upper hand.

I ask them how they’re doing, they answer, and then whatever else they start saying, I just nod my head and keep on moving.

These guys exist in every resort town in the world and can be a bit annoying. Their job is to get you to look at the menu and come into their establishment. They are incredibly friendly, persuasive, and relentless.

We rarely succumb to the lure of the greeter, but we always get fed, one way or another. 

A Wet Room

Considering we are in a more upscale & posh town, we were very surprised to find that our hotel room has what is called a wet room. Last time we encountered a wet room was in Vietnam, where it’s not uncommon at all.

Lots of Tile

A wet room is a small bathroom with a pedestal sink and toilet. The floor is tiled, as are all the walls, almost up to the ceiling. There’s a drain in the far corner of the room, just east of the toilet. 

The shower plumbing is right smack in the middle of the wall at waist height, with a shower wand attached. The entire bathroom becomes a shower when it’s time to get clean. 

Having an all-in-one bathroom allows for the room to be much smaller. It’s a more efficient use of space, allowing the room to do double-duty.

Don’t Slip

The problem with the wet room is that after you shower, the entire room is soaking wet, including the toilet, the floor, and all the walls. You know, like a shower would be. 

It’s like spraying a fire-hose all over your bathroom. You have to make sure to remove anything that should stay dry, the toilet paper being the number one priority.  It’s also best to remove toiletries and towels. Basically, if you wouldn’t bring it in the shower at home, best clear it out. 

Take a Seat

After the shower, the continued wetness can present logistical problems for several hours. It’s really unpleasant sitting on a soaking wet toilet seat or even making your way to said toilet across the soaking wet tile floor. 

Move It

In addition to our wet bathroom situation, our room is teeny tiny. Even the bed is small, as evidenced by the fact that Steve’s feet hang off the end.

I think the owners were trying to compensate for all the inconveniences, and we came home to quite an extravagant display on the bed one day.

Regardless of beautiful bougainvillea decorated hearts on the bed or not, we are constantly jockeying for position in this room. It’s impossible to not be in each other’s way. So, thankfully we spend almost all of our day outside, at the beach. 

The Beach

Pictures tell the whole story of the beach here in Kalkan.

The water is a beautiful, light and a clear turquoise green where it hits the beach, darkening to a brilliant blue as it gets deeper away from the shore. 

The beach is full of small and smoothly rounded whitewashed rocks that help the true blues shine through.

130 Lira

I finally broke down and bought a pair of water shoes for a whopping 130 lira, or $6.99 USD. These shoes have changed my life. Now I’m not doing the Rocky-Beach-Dance as I make my way from the sunbed to the sea.  

The Dance

No more holding my arms out at 90 degree angles, spastically swinging them in circles, while on my way to the water.  

I’ve given up on the swaying and bending in all directions to compensate for the necessary changes in balance as I try to strategically step where it looks safe.

I know longer flip my arms up and down like a bird taking flight, as I attempt to walk gingerly on the irregular stones.

There’s no more falling to one side or hopping on one foot after stepping on a sharp rock or unexpectedly sinking in a loose pile of gravel. 

Please believe me. I’m not exaggerating. It’s actually taken people-watching to a whole new comical level. 

Now only Steve, and the other occasional unprepared tourists, are doing the Rocky-Beach-Dance. 

The Cat Above

Our favorite restaurant in Kalkan is the Sini Cafe. Besides incredible food at great prices, they have both a resident cat and a resident dog on the premises.

After we ordered our dinner, our balloon bread was served.

I casually looked up and saw the outline of a mid-sized animal suspended in the fabric above the tables. The restaurant’s proprietors had used cloth to form an airy “ceiling” above the outdoor seating, in which fabric was gently draped over and under cross bars.

I watched in fascination as the cloth shifted and stretched. Whatever was in the makeshift hammock was moving. I pointed up to the lump in the fabric overhead, asking our waitress what was up there. She informed me that it was Petro, the cat. She said he is a bad boy.

Eventually, Petro decided to pop out beyond his hammock-like bed. I finally got a look at him, at least his head.

I was enchanted by and fixated on this ingenious cat in the ceiling hammock that was going completely unnoticed by everyone except me.

I just couldn’t get over the fact that no one was noticing this cat, who was hanging precariously over their heads as they ate their meal. It seemed to me that Petro could fall (or leap) onto their heads or their table at any moment.

The second night we had dinner at Sini’s, Petro was still there, hanging out, as it were.

He was still up in the fabric far above the customers as they went about eating their balloon bread, appetizers, main course, and apple tea.

Then Petro turned and looked right at me. We locked eyes.

It was our little secret. I was delighted.

WINS & LOSSES

The Coffee Connection

Nescafé

Steve loves good coffee, and was looking forward to coffee here in Turkey. Turkey has its famous “Turkish Coffee”, which sounds like it would be amazing, but we’ve come to find that Nescafé is king here. It’s not what we expected. 

Nescafé is instant coffee grounds, that you spoon in a cup and mix with hot water. It is served everywhere. It’s listed, by name, on menus. 

Nescafé has been served with every breakfast in every Turkish hotel we’ve stayed at. Yes, Turkish hotels always include breakfast. And they always include Nescafé. 

Turkish Coffee

In desperation, Steve has tried both Turkish and Greek coffee. 

The Turkish coffee, like the Greek coffee, is an interesting concoction. When it arrives at the table , the cup appears to be filled with a thick, rich liquid. But after drinking half the cup, maybe 1-2 inches down, you encounter a thick sludge. A sludge that barely budges as you tip the cup at an angle (just to see what will happen). 

The first time Steve had such a coffee, and found the sludge, he wasn’t sure if he should be trying to stir it into the coffee, but decided not to. The sludge was gritty, and they don’t give you a spoon, which seemed like a good clue. 

It’s a hearty, non-filtered coffee. I had read to not even bother asking for milk or cream with a Turkish coffee. It’s the hard-stuff and shouldn’t be tampered with.  So that’s that. 

The Turkish Bus System

I’ve got to hand-it to the Turks. They have a very efficient bus system that’s been serving the Turkish people, and the occasional tourist, since 1931. 

I’m particularly beholden to the dolmus (pronounced DOHL-moosh). A dolmus is a shared mini-bus or van that I’ve mentioned in earlier Turkey posts. 

Our trip from Dalyan to Kalkan involved some walking, three buses, two stops, and a taxi. We thought it might be a hectic day, but it went seamlessly. 

When using the dolmus, which serve short routes connecting small and large towns, there’s no schedule to worry about. Just show up and look for the dolmus with your intended destination. Get in and wait for it to fill up. 

We ended up waiting 1-5 minutes for the dolmus at two of our stops along our route.  Admittedly we got a little lucky.  The final dolmus was a 30 minute wait, so we had a quick lunch at the station. 

I wish we had such an easily accessible means of transportation at home. 

The Commune

At the risk of sounding like an old curmudgeon, we had four young British families locate way too close to us on the beach. 

At first it was amusing, listening as the couples parented their flock of children. There were probably ten kids total, ages 4-6 (I’d guess), including one baby. 

The Sunbeds

The group had secured four sunbed sets, with umbrellas, three of which were somewhere behind us. The fourth was the sunbed set only a few feet from me, front row on the beach. 

Steve was happily in Pandora-land, listening with my earpods (yes, my earpods) to some Phish or Dead song, and was basically oblivious to all the happenings to my right. 

The Eye of the Storm

The sunbed next to me was similar to the kitchen at a party. It’s where everyone ends up gathering. It was the central hub where all the children congregated. 

There was one mother on the sunbed, who was nursing her baby on and off, trying to handle everything. She was apparently in charge of the entire crew, and felt the need to talk very loudly, so everyone could hear her. 

Her assumed role was to manage the kids, their conflicts, their water shoes, their toys, their sun lotion status, and their picnic. 

The Condiments 

It was nonstop commotion. Non-stop action. And non stop picnic talk. Loud picnic talk. 

Everything seemed to center on the fact that there was no mayonnaise. No mayonnaise. None. 

The only person who seemed so preoccupied with the missing condiment was the lone nursing mom. She just wouldn’t let it go. 

If I hear the word mayonnaise one more time, spoken loudly in a thick British accent, I may have to take drastic action. 

I’m not sure what I’ll do, but it won’t be pretty. 

The Stone

Then, out of the blue, one of the children turned towards me. He was a single, solitary, tan and naked little boy, maybe 5 years old.

Did I mention all the kids were naked? Every single one? It was quite cute. 

Anyway, he approached me as I sat on my sunbed working on this blog. 

I thought he was going to say something to me, but he slowly raised his hand and dropped a very small, white stone, the size of a pea, into my Fanny pack, which was open on my lap. 

He smiled and slowly retreated, backing up on the white stone beach until he was back with his people. 

It was sweet and unexpected. It was like when the Grinch received a kiss from Cindy-Lou-Who, and his heart started to grow, just a little. 

Next Stop: Kas, Turkey