Çaliþ Beach

Çaliþ Beach (pronounced "Chalish") was wonderful. It reminded us some of the Caribbean and some of Hawaii. The temperature was hot, the water was refreshing and the beach consisted of small, dark, smooth pebbles.

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The boat tour we took was fun, but it was strange not to be able to communicate with most of the other people. We were picked up in a dolomus from our hotel and it was already quite full. There were five families traveling together (we think they were related, but still aren't sure) and they made it a point to look after us. They were very kind and offered us anything they had (e.g., cigarettes, pretzels, corn on the cob, peaches, grapes). Only one of the men spoke English and it was quite minimal. He and his family are in the picture below. The two girls, Phyliss and Selin, were intrigued that we were "Westerners" and spoke English. They hung on every word we said, copied many of the things I did, practiced the few English phrases they knew and learned new words from us.

At each of the stops J and I would jump off the boat and swim around for a while. At the first stop we instinctively swam toward the beach and got to a depth where we could stand on the bottom of the sea. The surface was rocky and hard and after the water had settled from us paddling J looked down and there were black sea urchins all over the rocks. We both picked up our feet and swam away from the shallower end quickly. At the other stops we stayed out in the sea and treaded water. It was amazing how salty and dense the water was. We could tread with our arms only and stay above the surface. Floating on my back required no effort at all. The last stop on the boat tour was Red Island, which had mud baths. We jumped off the boat and swam to the shore where we had a quick walk to a few holes in the ground filled with mud (needless to say it was not what J & I were expecting). All but one were fairly dried up, but the English speaking father jumped into the fuller one (about two feet deep) and started lathering up. After some hesitation the girls, J and I sat along the rim and started caking mud on our arms and legs. Soon enough the hole was full of people all covered in mud. We didn't have our camera, so once we had cleaned off and were on the boat I took a picture of some people on shore to give you an idea of what we looked like. It ended up being a fun experience and is definitely something I'll never forget.

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J's favorite part of the mud bath involved a young English boy. He was about 10 years old, donned a black Speedo and Crocs and was a bit of a dough boy with creamy white skin. He was pushed into the mud bath (not sure by who) and flailed around for a bit before getting his legs and climbing out of the hole. He was saying something about his shoes and a few minutes later yelled in a very frustrated voice, "DOES ANYONE UNDERSTAND ENGLISH???!!?" I said yes, and then he proceeded to ask me to find his shoes at the bottom of the hole. While it wasn't deep, there was no way I was submerging myself into the mud to find his shoes. Lucky for him another Brit showed up (also in a black Speedo, however this one was on an older, fit body) who jumped into the hole and immediately fell, which made all the Turks laugh. He was not happy and you could nearly see the steam coming out of his ears. He found the Crocs, saved the day and left us to our mud.