Akyaka, Turkey
Dear Wills,
Now I know you’re quite important and obviously pulled a few strings to keep the rain off on your wedding day. Wasn’t the forecast for storms and thunder? Did you pull that trick they do in China and North Korea when they’re having big military parades and get really upset if it’s going to rain? You know, send up the military planes with salt and silver nitrate and blast the clouds to buggery so they empty the rain elsewhere rather than on the poor sods marching up and down to prove how mighty their armies are.
Perhaps that’s what all your secret flight training’s been for recently, to make sure Kate’s dress didn’t get soaked and the public didn’t traipse home before you’d had a chance to seal it all with a kiss on the balcony.
Anyway, you obviously sent all the rain down to the Med instead of the Mall which meant we had to stop our sunbathing and find other things to do for a couple of days. Wasn’t very sporting of you I must say but I think you’d approve of what we did.
First off we thought we’d go for a proper big wash in boiling hot water. When we’d been to Istanbul a couple of years ago we’d headed to Cağaloğlu hammam in the ancient part of town for a bit of scrubbing action so we thought we’d give it another whirl. Fortunately we’d hired a car for the week – sadly without a chauffeur but we all know you can drive ‘cos you had a spin with the missus after you’d got hitched in that Aston Martin which was a nice touch. Even if it did seem to have a pile of recycling tied to the back of it but well done on setting a good example and taking out the trash.
So we drove to Muğla which is the capital city of the province of Turkey we were in. Must say, wasn’t much to recommend it as a town to visit although Coman found a lovely shirt in a nice boutique. Not quite a patch on your uniform which was dead smart but you wouldn’t want to be traipsing round the Med like that, you’d work up a right sweat!!
And that’s exactly what we did. We found this ancient hammam called Vakiflar. Must say, I was a bit suspicious when we turned up. Looked more like a dodgy sex shop out the front but we were beckoned in by the owner who swore his uncle owned the one we’d been to in Istanbul and insisted on showing us round, pointing out the little wooden changing cubicles, the be-cushioned tea-drinking areas and the natty plastic slippers which are de rigeur.
Well, once we were inside we couldn’t really leave without being stripped and given a little multi-coloured tea-towel to wear as a loincloth. The burly hairy masseurs led us into an ancient domed room full of marble slabs that was hazy with steam, and then pointed to a door marked sauna. What, you mean there’s somewhere even hotter?!
In they thrust us and left us for about twenty minutes to wilt in silent perspiration. I lost almost half my bodyweight in sweat, which considering it was pretty much beer and wine coming out was probably the closest I’ve been to a detox since I lost the key to the drinks cabinet for three long weeks in January.
Finally they let us out and Coman was led to one slab by a silent man with enough hair on his shoulders to weave a football pitch while my hirsute brute introduced himself as Hussein and laid me on another roasting altar before grabbing a glove made of sandpaper and exfoliating me with such force not only did I lose most of my tan but nearly half my tattoo as well.
Hussein fancies himself as a chiropractor so I got a couple of pulls, twists, cracks, tugs and wrenches which was an unexpected bonus, although I was thanking God I’d got comprehensive travel insurance. I could be worng, but I’m not sure Hussein is a licensed practitioner – his main topic of expertise seemed to be the English premier league (”Ah, you from London!! Chelsea, Arsenal, the Totting Hams, yes?”) and working up enough suds to clean a fleet of transit vans.
Once we’d been through the scalding car wash and hosed down in the freezing shower afterwards, Hussein and his mute partner swaddled us in towels and cloths and pointed us in the direction of the lounge outside where, looking like we were auditioning for the local nativity play we were introduced to the local MP who was next in line for the gruelling punishment. I’d suggest you round up any treasonous blighters and send ‘em over to Hussein, they’ll be pleading for mercy once he’s finished with them!!
Of course it’s not just sweating it out at a hammam that’s a handy alternative to the beach. There’s horse-riding as well. Now, sadly for you they don’t seem to set off in pursuit of a little fox with a pack of dogs at their heels and watch them tear the poor blighter to bits (although, seeing as our garden back home is now home to five of the ‘darlings’, some kinda control may soon be required), but they do have a damn fine riding school just down the road from Akyaka.
You could take Kate there for a fun day out!
from: http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/williamluff/7/1304231286/tpod.html
