Side is a
wonderful old Roman city with a Turkish fishing village built on top of some of
it. Sticking out into the sea over a
small peninsula we are amazed to find large sprawling ruins and quite shocked
to find a significant part of the site overwhelmed these days with shops, hotels,
cafes and restaurants. But at the same
time not too shocked to stay in one of those invading guesthouses.
The weather
is mostly foul and nasty and we have a good 180 degree view from our room of
the black clouds and storms racing towards us over the Mediterranean Sea. It doesn’t stop us from exploring – we dash
out in a dry spell to wander the ruined old streets and monuments that have
been uncovered. There aren’t many people
about and it feels like we have the place to ourselves. The scale is impressive and so is the price
of admission to the amphitheatre. With
raised eyebrows we retreat from the ticket office.  |
| this is as good a view as you get without paying! |
For a while
there is some decent weather and we walk the coastal promenade and remark upon
the large numbers of tourists out and about.
They are either German or Russian.
And then we discover a series of large hotels along the shore – two of
which have stayed open to provide these northern Europeans with some sun and
warmth in the run up to Christmas.
Except it’s not so sunny. From
here we should be able to see the mountains across the bay west of Antalya but
there is only cloud on the horizon.
We delay continuing on to Antalya. It’s only one more day along the main highway. Stuck in our hotel room we develop a siege mentality. We cook our evening meals on the little balcony, the noise of the stove disguised by the rain hammering the roofs.
We’ve already
worked it out. We’ve spent so long
hiding out of the bad weather that we’ll have to take the bus to reach Pam’s
before Christmas. So when we ride into
Antalya we know it’s virtually the end of the road for this year. Gayle does an unbelievable navigating job
through the city. We’ve booked an
apartment behind the long beach to the west of the city centre and the main
highway enters from the east. There are
never good road signs at junctions but Gayle’s instincts are good – Straight
on! Left at the next junction! Jump the
lights! Jump the lights! – and we reach the apartment building just as it
begins to rain. Around it there are some empty plots and out front a patch of
grass and trees. A short old woman with
an umbrella is herding a group of goats as they graze in the downpour.
 |
| looking west along the shore from the old town |
Ironically as
we’re not cycling and camping the weather now turns sunny and dry. We explore the old town nestled in a tight
band around the original old harbour.
It’s a touristy area but we’re amazed to find still a lot of the old
Ottoman-era houses looking dilapidated and unkempt – in Europe all this prime
property would have been bought up and renovated into boutique hotels. The streets are peaceful, little traffic, in
contrast to the modern city hemming it in.
 |
| crocheted by a cycle tourist waiting for good weather |
The best thing about our location is the beach park that connects our neighbourhood with the city centre – a big green park with trees and walkways and the ubiquitous cafes and tea houses and, critically, no traffic. It makes for a good walk or bike ride.
 |
| Miss, the Emperor's got no clothes |
