KInd of blue

On the waterfront at Fethiye

Just behind our hotel, which is beside the water at what seems to be the smarter end of Fethiye, there’s a new mosque hung about with loudspeakers. Every so often, through the day and into the night, the mosque puts out an amplified call to prayer, sternly over-riding the sounds of pleasure – young women’s full-bodied laughter, children’s squeals and watery splashes, the flirtatious chatter of drinkers perched under the shade of the poolside bar, the drone of yachties swapping yarns as they imbibe the creature comforts of the hotel, which has a marina attached to it.

It seems to me a strange partnering, that of Turkey and mass tourism, but then again, I’m new to this part of the world, and who am I to know what’s strange? People have been moving in and out of Fethiye since the 5^th century BC and I guess, as Alex said to me while we were waiting on our order from one of those ubiquitous eateries which feed tourists such ordinary food that it seems a pity to have bothered cooking it, the Templar Knights would have appreciated the Mediterranean climate after England’s too.

Today, after we’d had the ancient treasures (above) of the Fethiye museum to ourselves for an hour or so (yet another gem, conforming to the “best museums are found in small towns” rule which my well-travelled daughter swears by), we followed the museum guardian’s directions to the amphitheatre which was built by the Romans, latecomers to the area.  Or rather, we tried to follow them, but of course, lost the trail and, because the sun was cruel, decided to go back to the hotel to snooze. Then I saw it, a pile of big stones which we’d walked past five or six times in the past two days. An ancient overgrown amphitheatre, no less, littered with broken glass and butts, but still, when you knew what you were looking at, a marvelous arena, perfect for outdoor concerts and spectacles – no better spot in the town still, but it’s a ruin.

We came here, of course, to look at a boat, and that’s what we’ve mostly been doing. Our object of desire this time has been a Contest 48, owned by a British couple who came to Turkey a few years ago to sail but made the mistake of going ashore and falling in love with a country house in a village not far from Fethiye. They bought it, and now they have horses and dogs and vegetable gardens and guests from back home, and the boat, a beautiful thing with a shiny navy blue hull and an interior of great character, lies for too many months on end unused in her marina pen. It’s too early to say yet whether we will be her new owners, but she needs to be taken to sea. All boats do.

The Contest signature cocktail cabinet -  vital kit

Fethiye is a sailing hub. There are the charter yachts, lined up along the marina arms like off-the-rack clothing, waiting for customers (the place is thick with British accents).  Then, where the town meets the sea, there are the gorgeous wooden Turkish sailing boats, each a little different from the next but all essentially buxom and heavily built, stern-to against the sea wall, touting for the tourist dollar (below).  

A day floating about on the ocean is very tempting, but the company wouldn’t be of our choosing and we’ve been spoilt rotten. Fethiye wouldn’t be a bad place to start our voyage though, not bad at all.


Compare the two photos below, taken in the same week in June  – the first around the docks in Lymington, the second on the marina in Fethiye  - and then ask yourself (as we are asking ourselves) where you’d prefer to be when the European summer begins in 2012. The south coast of England or the eastern Med?

 It’s a no-brainer really. If location were the most important criterion, we’d have put down a deposit on the Contest yesterday. But it isn’t, and we’ve got more boats to see back in the UK next week before we make up our minds. Again, spoilt rotten, it has to be said, and we’re grateful for that.