TURKEY
Kaş Türkiye
July 2024
The morning began with a stroll down from our little house to the port, ready to board the ferry for a day trip to Kas, Turkey.
The ferry service, departing 10 AM and returning by 4 PM every second day, along with the crossing only 20 minutes away and priced at just €25, makes it the perfect destination for an easy day trip and little adventure.
We made our way through passport control—little more than a simple metal cabin—and boarded the Meis Express, set for Turkey. Having heard countless stories about Kas from my partner, who had done this trip many times, I was eager for my first experience.
Upon arrival, we passed through Turkish passport control, where I received my first passport stamp for Turkey.
Excited, we wandered along the harbor in search of coffee, the sun already beating down and sweat beginning to form.
Not far from the port, we found a shaded café with fans overhead. We ordered iced coffees and began our walk up the bustling streets, heading toward the market I’d heard so much about.
To my surprise, the streets of Kas reminded me a lot of Bali, with their cracked, uneven roads and puffing car engines struggling to climb the hills. The air was filled with the sounds of honking horns and revving scooters. Along the way, we passed old automotive shops with rusting cars and buildings that looked like they might collapse at any moment. In the distance, green mountains stood looming over the busy city. People sat on curbs, smoking or selling small trinkets to passersby's.
As we neared the market entrance, a lady sold rose-gold pots, pans, and jugs, her trinkets gleaming in the sun.
Nearby, two men were selling whole watermelons out of the back of a truck, using Turkish carpets as a cover.
Another man did the same from the back of an old station wagon.
Men wore small hats, many women covered their heads in a scarf and cats and dogs lay lazily around the streets.
Entering the market, we found ourselves beneath a massive white tent. Inside, we wandered through endless stalls offering fresh fruit, vegetables, nuts, grains, spices, and, of course, Turkish delights. The market was far larger than I had imagined, also selling trinkets, clothes, bags, and shoes.
Although I wasn’t in need of anything, I couldn’t resist browsing the colorful stalls. A pair of baby blue Crocs caught my eye, and despite my general belief that crocs are a crime against fashion, I bought them for a laughable $20. The vendor assured me they were real, but the price told me otherwise.
While Harry Mclarty, Luca La Ferla, and I were content to browse the market for fun, Sophie Berry was on a mission—searching for a Goyard bag, that looked somewhat 'real'. After combing through every stall, her disappointment was evident and she admitted defeat.
We decided to leave the market and began hunting for a place to eat, our stomachs rumbling after the morning’s walk. Choosing a different route down to the harbor, we passed numerous stores selling colorful Turkish lamps and vibrant trinkets, the streets overflowing with textures and colors that seemed to beckon from every direction.
Many of the shops were draped with Turkish flags, and a little boy sat with a dog on his lap at the entrance to one store.
We passed street signs pointing in every direction, guiding us through the maze of streets. We peeked into a few restaurants, but they were unsettlingly quiet, making us unsure where to stop. Scooters buzzed by, one of which include a dog riding along at the feet of his owner.
Eventually, we chose a restaurant and sat outside on the balcony, overlooking the harbor and mountains.
Berry couldn’t resist comparing the photos she’d taken of the Goyard bags at the market to images of the real ones online.
The boys enjoyed a few beers, casting amused glances her way as she focused on looking for subtle differences between the two.
After going back and forth, indecisive about whether to buy a bag, Berry finally decided after lunch to return to the market for one last attempt at finding her bag.
We ordered several plates to share: charred halloumi on a bed of salad, pita with hummus, and kebabs. The food was simple but tasty.
We retraced our steps, passing the same station wagon with watermelons, which was now unmanned. The market had quieted, with the afternoon sun scorching overhead.
One woman seemed dozed off in her chair. Other vendors were sitting around laughing and chatting with one another.
We continued to follow Berry as she walked purposefully through the market scanning each stall searching for a Goyard. Her earlier excitement was once again fading, as stall after stall continued to disappoint. Her steps quickened, yet her expression revealed her frustration building.
We had all pretty much had it, when she finally came across a bag that met all her criteria. The vendor eagerly demonstrated the bright orange bag’s durability, performing a “scrunch test” and showcasing various ways to wear it. Berry and Mclarty began bargaining with the seller, pushing for a two-for-one deal before settling on a price for the bag alone.
Grinning from ear to ear, Berry happily handed over her $40 note in exchange for her new 'real' Goyard Bag
I noticed sweat pooling on La Ferla’s back through his shirt as he stood with Mclarty helping him choose a matching wallet to Berry's new bag.
As the market began to wind down, a cool breeze swept through the tent, providing much-needed relief from the heat. We begun making our way back to the harbor, eager for an ice cream before catching the ferry.
Walking, along the street we passed by groups of men, gathering around small tables, focused on board games, speaking rapidly in Turkish between puffs of cigarette smoke. Their laughter echoeing down the streets.
Women sat quietly along the sidewalk, dressed in scarves, patiently holding out jars for small donations. A couple passersby's occasionally dropped a few coins into the jars with nods of acknowledgment.
Mclarty decided to stop for a quick haircut, and although the language barrier was a challenge, a helpful customer getting his beard trimmed translated for the barber.
The barbershop itself felt like a scene from a movie, with scissors-shaped drawer handles and shelves packed with shaving brushes, clocks, and trinkets.
We watched and chatted as Mclarty settled into the chair, getting his hair trimmed by the barber. We couldn’t help but laugh when the barber suddenly leaned Harry forward, his face looking shocked and without warning, the barber splashed water over him, catching Harry—and us—by surprise.
Pressed for time, we made a final stop for ice cream. My partner had been telling me for ages about a Turkish ice cream trick, where they serve it on a metal stick and playfully flip it around. I hadn’t understood his story, but I was astonished to see it in action.
Berry was up first. The vendor scooped the ice cream, stuck it to a metal stick, and teased her by flipping it in and out of her hands. We all burst into laughter, particularly Berry, who looked like a kid in a candy store.
We hurried back to the ferry, walking hastily along the now quiet harbor.
We handed over our passports one last time, boarding the Meis Express for our return journey. The quiet hum of the engine begun as the boat pulled away from the dock and we watched Kas grow smaller, into the distance. We all leaned back in our seats, tired but content.
As we arrived back at Kastellorizo’s tiny port, we passed along the colorful houses and a navy ship anchored. As the ferry came to a stop, the crewmen, rushed back and forth, tying ropes and securing the boat.
As we made our way back home, Berry was still beaming over her new bag, and the boys couldn’t help but joke about trying it themselves. All it all it was a good day.
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