One of the other campers, a German lady, travels alone with her black lab, Charlie. They are regular visitors to Cirali Beach; where ever her travels take her, she always manages to find her way back here! Currently, she and Charlie have been here for seven weeks! We intend staying just one day but one rolls into two and two rolls into more.
This is a lovely place, with its own microclimate, we are sheltered from the wind and the sun is hot. Bikini weather in November! Different campers come and go. A Dutch couple, who decided at the age of thirty to save and save for twenty years, then buy a van, give up work and go travelling. Most of the full time travellers we meet are about our age, the youngsters are generally on cycles.
Our days pass, sunbathing, beach walking, cliff walking, wandering into the "village" and for Richard snorkelling and fishing. To walk the length of the beach takes a good hour. The beach is shingle and course sand, rather than sand castles people have built imaginative rock gardens. Sparrows hop about ably assisted by busy crested larks, who scurry along hoovering up crumbs. There seems to be plenty, as bread appears the chosen bait for most would be fishermen.
Behind us is a stream that comes from the mountains, it is home to red dragonflies and blue crabs. On cliff walks it is impossible not to disturb the basking lizards, who then scuttle off to the security of a rock crevice. Most walks do include a little bit of scrumping! Oranges, lemons, pomegranates,avocados; masses of each grow prolifically.
Cirali is a place that was previously a hippy commune, this apparently changed when a proper road was put through. The "village" consists of little grocery shops, some bars, cafés and restaurants, a couple of shops selling beach wear and hippy style clothing, the rest of the buildings are pensions, of which there are many. From appearances, we would guess that some of the original hippies stayed on, grew up and/or grew older and invested in their community for commercial gain after all. The buildings are unusual, we learn that local laws prevent the building of permanent structures, meaning that the "village" is a mixture of various wooden structures. As such the buildings are very much in keeping with the rustic and hippy handicraft that is available.
As we stay, the days take on a little routine. The bin men come daily, we are impressed having previously criticised Turkey for its rubbish. The fishermen who tend the fish farm, which lies out of sight behind the headland, launch their boat twice a day as they go to tend their fish. There are regular runners and swimmers. Everyone is friendly and wave or speak. We go to the first shop from the beach, about a half hour walk, to buy fresh bread each day and sometimes surcome to the temptation of a Simit. Simits are sort of dough based O's, the size of a small saucer and covered in sesame seeds, delicious!
We spend a couple of evenings with a group of Turkish campers. We have only picked up odd words in Turkish and they know only a little English but that, together with a smattering of German and drawing pictures in the sand, we have a very enjoyable time. Ahmet is a retired teacher and Rifka, who plays the violin and looks the image of someone we know from home, his wife and their little dog often travel together.
The little dog, Daisy, looks like a poodle cross with her curly coat. She has a sweet face but this is a lie, as I found to my cost! Very endearingly, she takes treats from her owner in exchange for a beguiling kiss. I should of taken heed of the fact that Daisy was crossed with a Terrier but instead I took the treat offered to me by Rifka, I was not after a kiss or even for dastardly Daisy to take it from my hand. The moment the treat was in my hand, so my hand was in Daisy's mouth! Ouch!! What is a fourteen year old dog still doing with teeth? Her owners are mortified, I try to reassure them but as I am taken to the light, to have antiseptic poured over me (ouch again) I see for myself the puncture. My nurses head says "this wound needs a couple of sutures," my polite English head says "don't make a fuss." We have a fairly comprehensive first aid kit in Fay, hopefully, I will be able to stick myself back together later? In the meantime, the anaesthetic qualities of raki will have to suffice.
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