Stepping foot in Turkey
The one arrivals terminal was teeming with British tourists, anxious to find their hotel transfer transport. Although our hotel and flight was booked through Thomas Cook – it didn’t include an Airport Transfer. So there we were, at 3:30am – having travelled for over 24hours – with no next-steps planned out.
Back in the comfy confines our apartment in LA I’d decided it would be more adventurous to wing-it when we arrived. But standing outside in the heat, bags stacked by our side, eyes droopy with fatigue, it didn’t seem like such a good idea.
As you walk out of the Arrivals terminal, you’re met with a group of cabbies, both official and unofficial. The usual array of handwritten signs were being waived by the cabbies here to meet the tourists who had the foresight to make plans. The other cabbies perched on the periphery, scanning the crowds with their hawk-like gaze, waiting to pounce on the weakest member of the herd.
We ended up in a shared cab, with another couple from the UK. They were staying at an out-of-the way hotel for a cheap week – they got dropped off first, and then it was off to Bodrum for us – on unlit deserted roads, the journey took forever – and we have absolutely no idea where we were.
About 5am we arrive at the Hotel Istankoy – at first glance – quite passable. The upshot – it was very central. Still too amped to sleep – I convinced Red to take a stroll around the town. We had no idea where we were going, so didn’t venture too far — there were a fair assortment of dark, uninhabited alleys we avoided, but the main street led us to the harbour. Too dark to see anything, we headed back to the hotel to try and sleep.