Blog #30.  July 17th
By the Sea in Ancient Kaunos!

Everything is better under water.

My Turkish Airlines flight to Dalaman Airport from Nevsehir, in Cappadocia, was again delayed, only 40 minutes this time, however the driver from my Dalyan hotel was waiting with a sign with my name on it.  After a 30 minute drive from the airport, I arrived  in Dalyan at the MandalInn Hotel.  The proprietor Burak, about 40 years of age, spoke excellent English.  He had been on staff of vacation cruise ships for over 8 years and had been all over the world.  On his IPAD, he showed me numerous pictures, including pictures of Alaska, glaciers, and Caribou.  He was an ardent scuba diver and loved to spear fish.  He was immediately helpful when I told him of my desire for snorkeling.

Gradually, over the course of the 9 days, I learned that he had multiple family members in the town.  All Burak had to do was make a call and he could arrange anything I was interested in doing with someone in his extended family, all of whom were inexpensive and quality businesses.  His family members owned excellent restaurants, a tour agency, and some owned and operated tour boats.  One wiry, dark skinned, small graying man, with sparkling eyes, Captain Ali, of Ozalp Cruises took me on two, day long cruises out to nearby islands, caves, and rocky crystal clear bays.  On both cruises, almost everyone were Turks on vacation, so I had excellent opportunity to practice and hone my Turkish.  These day trips lasted from 9:30 or 10:00 AM to 6:00 or 6:30 PM.  The boats carried about 30 or so guests, with a crew of Captain Ali and his stout and sturdy wife.  Usually one or two young Turkish men helped with the lines or small tasks.  In the morning, we would slowly motor west 3-4 km, along the Dalyan River, past the magnificent Lycian tombs carved into the side of the cliffs, and on through wetlands and islands of rushes, to pass the long sand bar that constitutes the beach for Dalyan.  It is very shallow for hundreds of meters off shore.
As we emerged from the wetlands and passed the sand bar beach, we were met by groundswell waves that caused a bit of sea sickness in a few people. Soon, however, we turned north or south and followed the coast line to a small bay or sheltered area in which to swim, snorkel, or climb up the pebble and rock beach for bathing and for the children to play.  All three of the cruises had young children and babies with their Turkish families.  They were included and looked after by everyone on board.  In each case, the children and the infants were placed on/in some flotation device and played vigorously in the water, screaming and fussing, then getting used to it and gurgling and laughing playfully, screaming again when taken out.
I found delightful opportunities for snorkeling, following the rocky cliff edges where the fish and underwater critters are found.  We would swim/ snorkel for 45-60 minutes, then move the boat to another area for more water play.  Around 1:30, the Captain and his wife would complete the cooking of a delicious seafood lunch with salad, bread, and desert, enough to fill up everyone.  Then, they would move the boat and anchor it while people napped and let their meal settle or went for another swim.  Two more times, as the afternoon wore on, we stopped for a dip and snorkel around off-shore rocky crags  and shoals.  Coming back, after a long day in the sun, on and in the warm, crystal clear  Mediterranean Sea, I was high, energized, and filled with joy.  As I described in a previous blog, I got a dopamine burst in the reward center of my brain, that said “I want to do that again!”
My second trip out was the “twelve island tour”, which was a more substantial introduction to the area waters.  We were picked up by a van and bused to Goycek, a beautiful bay town, about 15km south of Dalyan.  From there, we boarded a large schooner, perhaps 45 feet long, carrying about 50 people.  We threaded our way through multiple small uninhibited islands, shadowed by several other similar boats that cruise this popular spot.  In a similar manner to the first cruise, we anchored at a series of sheltered island bays for swimming, snorkeling and water and/or beach play.  Midday was another large and delicious repast.
Many of the younger folks, sunned on the unshaded forward surface, while I and others remained under the awning for shade from the intense sun.  These were very hot days, 95-108 degrees on shore, so being out on and in the water was a great way, the only way, to enjoy the day outside.  During the 9 days that I stayed in Dalyan, the temperature climbed steadily, the last several days were over 100 degrees with a very hot wind.  From mid July until mid or late August, the heat reaches its maximum for the year and the hotels are full.
Before I departed Dalyan, I enjoyed one more snorkeling cruise; it was so delightful, the best!  On another day, I took a small minibus (dolmush) 4-5 km down from the Dalyan beach to a  more substantial beach, called Ixtuzu.  Hundreds of Leather-Back Sea Turtles nest along this expanse of beach every year.  There is a “hospital” for treatment and rescue of injured or ill sea turtles, named Carreta Carreta.  There is a worldwide organization for protection of sea turtles, of which Ixtuzu is a  significant monitoring site.  The students and professionals patrol the beach with its nesting sites all night long and place protective wire screens around the nesting spots to prevent them being crushed by humans or machines.  I visited the sea turtle “hospital” and was given a detailed tour by a young woman pre-veterinarian student from England.  She introduced each of the sea turtles under their care by name, Rogo, Merri, Charlie, Tamoo, etc. They were kept in large tubs, 8 feet deep and 12-15 feet in diameter.  These turtles weigh 40-90 pounds and live for up to 120 years.  They were endangered, but now, with multinational cooperation, are making a comeback.  This genus, species, of turtle only have 2-3 other  nesting sites in the world, one on Crete, and one on the north coast of Tunisia whose population has nearly been destroyed.  Boats run over them and propellers lacerate their protective shells.  Pollution in the water causes weakness and loss of appetite, as does also accidentally swallowing plastic bits, or fish hooks.  Most devastating of all is the destruction of their sandy beach egg laying nest areas by building condos, humans stepping on the nest or driving over them etc.
As some of you may know, Sea Turtles are a totem of mine that often tend to show up when I am snorkeling or swimming, especially in Maui, though the Maui turtles are “Green Sea Turtles”, a different genus and species.  In one of the tanks, they did have one Green Sea Turtle, being treated for an infection with abscess under its shell.  This was an unusual turtle to see in this area and the injury was a rare, previously unseen problem.  The veterinarians had successfully treated its infection with antibiotics, but the abscess was filled with gases released from the bacteria, now caught in a “pocket” beneath its mid shell.  This caused the turtle to float and be unable to submerge more than a foot or two deep, very briefly, then pop back to the surface.  This both endangered it by its inability to dive to escape from boats, and by its inability to dive and feed on the underwater vegetation which constitute its diet.  A number of veterinarians had consulted on the problem and no solution had been found.  Apparently, sea turtles rarely survive anesthesia which is required for invasive surgery or instrumentation.
It was interesting to learn a little about turtle physiology.  Sea Turtles have a 3 chambered heart and their circulation can bypass the turtle’s lungs and tolerate very high levels of CO2, before oxygen deprivation makes them need to come to the surface to grab a breath of Oxygen, usually, two breaths before they dive again.  Adult sea turtles can remain underwater without oxygen for up to 12-15 minutes depending upon their activity level.  Sea turtles are ancient creatures, having existed for over 200 million years without significant change or evolution.  They are slow moving vegetarians who live over a century.  Recently, the genus of the largest tortoise on earth, whose habitat was an island in the Galapagos, became extinct.  These gentle, ancient creatures are threatened by humans around the globe.  They have essentially no significant natural predator, except careless humans or humans blindly enjoying “turtle soup” and making things out of their shells.
On another day, I paid the 4 liras round-trip to the women who row the boats across the river, a distance of less than 100 feet.  From the opposite side of the river, I hiked along a path that led to the ancient ruined city of Kaunos, which was at its peak of power and influence 1600-1200 BC.  On the way, I climbed up the edge of the cliff as far as I could toward the Lycian tombs carved in the rock resembling Greek temples, with columns supporting, and lintels over the entrance.
The ancient population of Kaunos were Carians.  Later inhabitants were called Lycians, including during biblical times.  St. Paul visited Lycian areas on his missionary trips through Anatolia.  They were a fierce people who resisted both Greek and later Roman occupation more than their neighbors at Ephesus, Pergamum, and Aphrodises.  As a result, they were massacred and marched away as slaves when they were finally overwhelmed.  The death blow to this people, however, was first, the gradual silting up of their sea port, which weakened them as a seafaring mercantile nation, followed by a malaria epidemic in the newly forming wetlands in 300 AD, when the city was abandoned.

I hiked about 3 1/2 km to the substantial ruined city with its walls, its large theater, public buildings and temples.  There were ruins stretching all over the surrounding landscape, fortification on high hills and residences in the lowlands around the central city.  Even though I got an early start, The temperature reached 100 degrees, with intense sun, before noon.  Walking back, despite hat and strong hydration, I noticed the beginning of weakness and heat injury.  I had stopped in a shady spot to drink some more water along the hike back to the river crossing.  Abruptly, a Turkish man, perhaps over 70 hears old, came around the bend on a small motor scooter.  I was surprised and gratified when he offered for me to get on the scooter behind him.  It was a blessing to ride several km back along my route, in the approaching noonday sun and heat.  “Guardian angels” seem to  appear when unexpected but needed.

The following day, I stayed close to the hotel swimming pool or my room with its wonderful air conditioner.  Except for the increasing heat, I would love to have stayed longer in Dalyan.  It has been “discovered” by Turkish families, who flood the town in the summer.  Fortunately, it has not been overrun with international tourists as yet, as similarly beautiful coastal town like Bodrum, Fethiye, and Ayvalik have.  And the influence of the world wide turtle protection has managed to stop and prevent the attempts to build large tourist hotels and resorts on and near the beach.  The hotels in town are almost all unique, family owned, small, local businesses.  They are multiplying and there are many very good restaurants, ticky tacky tourist shops, and tourist agencies cropping up, more each year.  Walking down the strip, small main walking thoroughfare, I and other tourists were beset by clever Turkish touts every night, trying to pull customers into their restaurant or shop.  They are pushy and clever and a nuisance.  Staying in the MandalInn, a block off the main street, two blocks from the river was quiet and relaxing.  Burak manned a bar in the evening for his guests and held court, telling wonderful stories and weighing in with insightful well stated opinions on a wide variety of world and local affairs.
The day before I was to depart, I asked to have a bit of laundry done.  When it was returned, the laundry lady had not finished drying the whites and promised them later that night.  After collecting them, I realized a tee shirt was missing, but it was by then after 10:00 PM, so I resolved to check on it in the morning.  In the morning, the laundry lady, who spoke only Turkish, is also the breakfast server.  When I communicated my request to check for my missing shirt, she became upset and seemed to believe that I was accusing her of taking it.  I tried, with my limited Turkish, to ask her just to take a look to see if there might have been an oversight.  During my visit, she had been a lovely, smiling, helpful presence, a pleasure just to share a greeting and a smile or practice simple Turkish at breakfast.  Now, she was visibly hurt and her body language was closed.  I was chagrined and did not feel the old tee shirt was that important, even though it was one of 4 shirts that I was traveling with.  I was comfortable letting it go and tried to tell her so, preferring to retain good will rather than depart with such a minor thing as a conflict.

A young Turkish man who spoke some English came Into the breakfast room and translated for me.  He told me she was certain that there had not been that tee shirt and perhaps I had left it somewhere.  I have left and lost things along the trip, and am rarely totally sure that I am right; I make mistakes too often:~>).  So, not believing it to be true, I acceded to the possibility that I might have lost it myself and returned to my room to finish packing.  I was feeling preoccupied and upset inside about this minor matter as I prepared my bags.  Just as I was scrutinizing my room to make sure that I had not left anything behind, Burak knocked on the door and handed me my tee shirt, saying that it had been misplaced, which is what I suspected had happened.  The most troubling part of the matter was the lady’s certainty and unwillingness to consider the possibility that she might have made a mistake, so that she took offense rather than check for it.Burak then offered me a ride on the back of his motorcycle to take my bags and me over to the minibus station about 5 blocks away, to which I had planned to walk.  I quickly grabbed my bags and met him in front.  First, he hauled my bags over to the little bus stop, then he was back to take me there.  As hot as it was, already by 10:00 AM, I was glad not to have to carry and pull my baggage through the streets.

So, all was right with the world and I boarded the minibus, heading for a nearby town, to the main bus station from which I had a seat on the bus reservation to the town of Seljuk, near to Efes (the amazing extensive ruins of ancient Ephesus, the Ephesians),with one bus change along the way, en route.  As I was riding out of town, it dawned on me that I had left my passport and money belt in the small safe in my room; I still had the key.  But, I was already a few miles on the way of the 18 miles to the bus station and there were 10-12 Turkish people on the minibus also traveling to the main town.  Realizing that the driver could not turn around and it did not seem wise to get him to let me off along the side of the road with my baggage, miles from Dalyan in the sun and heat, I sighed and realized that I would have to take a minibus back to Dalyan as soon as possible, but that I almost certainly would miss my bus with my reserved seat.I realized that I had been preoccupied emotionally by the minor tee shirt affair because of the interpersonal aspects of it, and then interrupted in my departure process by Burak’s offer to take me and my bags to the minibus stop, right then.

So, I forgave myself for the oversight, once again reminded how easily I can forget something or make a mistake (as in previous blogs, I have mentioned that Richard Rohr says, “we all need our daily humiliations”), a good reminder never to be too sure that “I’m right” or that I know for sure…..  I returned on the next minibus to Dalyan with all of my bags and left them with the bus stop ticket taker briefly, while I walked back to the hotel.  I tried to slip into my room and leave the key in the room safe where it was supposed to be.  With money belt and passport in hand, I began to return to the minibus stop.  Burak saw me and reproached me for missing my bus seat reservation, saying that I should have called him and he would have driven the 18 or so miles to bring my papers to me.  I believe he would have.  He was that helpful.  But I never even considered that option, taking responsibility for my own mistake, and not wanting to bother him or rely on his help.  And I was embarrassed.

In any case, I was back on the road, on the minibus shortly, but too late for my 12:00 noon reserved seat; that bus had already left.  Burak had called them for me to cancel the seat reservation so that someone else was able to get on.  When I asked about the next bus, the next two departing buses were filled, so I learned that I would need to wait until 3:00 PM for a seat.  Needing to watch my bags and having no place in this small town that I wanted to go, especially as the temperature was passing 100 degrees again, I sat in the  tiny bus station waiting room for 3 hours, until my bus was ready to leave.  Fortunately, there was a fan going in the room where also the station agent was manning the phone and dispatching customers to various routes.  He spoke no English at all and seemed unable to understand or to ignore any of my fairly decent efforts to communicate in Turkish.  While I waited, I snacked on bread and cheese and an apple that I was carrying.  And I typed on my IPAD a large part of one blog.  When it got close to my 3:00 bus, I asked the station agent to let me know when it arrived.  As people were coming and going on buses, I saw no announcements, signs, or indicators that their bus had arrived or was departing.  The station agent ignored me and seemed not to register my request.  I was apprehensive as the time reached 3:00 and I saw no sign of my bus.  Fortunately, a young village Turkish man understood my request and communicated it to the agent (another “guardian angel”).  The agent nodded, looked bored, and motioned for me to sit down.  About 15 minutes after 3:00, he made a movement with his head to point toward a bus pulling in.

I boarded and was on my way to my final stop in Turkey, a small town called Seljuk, for a visit to the ruins of ancient Ephesus.  When I arrived at the hotel in Seljuk, I realized that I also had left behind in Dalyan my electrical converter plug, which is essential to recharging my IPhone, IPad, IPod, camera, and toothbrush:-). I had left behind at least 2 electrical converters along the way, but been able to replace them, as the hotels I have frequented almost universally have spares that others have left behind…..

REVELATION MUST BE TERRIBLE                 David Whyte
Revelation must be Terrible

with no time left to say goodbye.
Imagine that moment staring at the still waters

with only the brief tremor

of your body to say you are leaving everything

and everyone you know behind.

Being far from home is hard,

but you know at least we are exiled together.

When you open your eyes to the world

you are on your own for the first time.

No one is even interested in saving you now
and the world steps into test the calm fluidity

of your body from moment to moment

as if it viewed you could join it’s vibrant

dance of fire and calmness and final stillness

as if your place in the world mattered

and the world could neither speak

nor hear the fullness of
it’s own bitter and beautiful cry

without the deep well of your body

resonating in the echo
knowing that it takes only that one,

terrible word to make the circle complete,

revelation must be terrible knowing

you can never hide your voice again.

Sayings from    Rumi

Be grateful for what comes, because all has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
Where there is ruin, there is hope for treasure.
Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.

A thousand half-loves must beforsaken to take one whole heart home.
Roar, lion of my heart, and tear meopen.

Are you jealous of the ocean’s generosity?
Why would you refuse to give this love to anyone?
Fish don’t hold the sacred liquid in cups!

They swim the huge fluid freedom.

Please note:  I am sorry;  this blog word processor has begun creating formatting errors that I have not been able to fix. This is my third blog that has defaulted to strange word combos and two line lengths combined into one on the poetry.  I am working on it, but want to continue to publish my blog along the way, in the meanwhile.