Electric Fethiye
Peter Hoskins
It’s one of the most striking natural harbours you’ll ever see. A dramatic bay, which courses back in on itself to form an almost complete circle. The walls of the bay are the sun-baked foothills of the Taurus mountain range. And the turquoise waters belong to the Aegean sea. We’re in southwestern Turkey. More specifically, we’re in Fethiye.
This market town and port is built on a bedrock of rich history. The ancient Lycians founded their civilisation here, some 2,500 years ago. And the Persians, the Greeks and the Romans have all left their footprints in the dusty earth. Thankfully, fragments from this past remain. The Lycian rock tombs, which gaze dolefully out from the hillsides, are especially haunting. But I’m sure history junkies will also enjoy the crusader castle and Hellenistic theatre which stand defiantly in the centre of town.
Much of Fethiye’s daily routine has also stood the test of time. Each morning, a small flotilla of fishing boats heads out into the bay, to return a few hours later with their nets stuffed and with turtles lolling in their wake. And every Tuesday and Friday, farmers come from miles around to sell their produce in the town’s crowded marketplaces. It’s a sight worth seeing, as Turkish lira are exchanged for outsized tomatoes and jars crammed full of leeches.
None of this charm has escaped the outside world, and tourism has squirmed on to the scene in a major way. Downtown Fethiye is a cluster of hotels, restaurants and bars. And their menus invariably feature a ‘Full English’, composed of ‘Tesco bacon’, ‘Asda sausages’ and ‘HP Sauce’. Lovely jubbly, as many of the store owners would put it, while they hawk knock-off football shirts emblazoned with the names of Ronaldo, Rooney and Torres. The sorry erosion of a native culture? Or signs that Turkey is entering a buoy ant, Western-looking future? Probably a bit of both. But, either way, I found the whole set-up oddly comforting.
Besides, there’s still plenty of what might be called the ‘real’ Turkey left. There are the markets and fishing boats, of course. And when you stroll away from the town centre, things become appreciably more authentic. Shops soon stop selling their wares under English names and at inflated prices; the hammams become less gaudy; and there’s a goat in every garden. You can always be sure, too, that the image of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk will be radiating from every free inch of wall space. An almost divine presence.
Amid all the Turkishness, and all the Britishness, there are the bastions of I-don’tknow-what. Of these, Home Club deserves a special mention. Set above the shops in the centre of Fethiye, Home Club advertises itself as some kind of expats’ bar. But the dingy atmosphere, the helicopter hum of fan blades, and the faded Coca-Cola posters (on bamboo walls) all make it feel like a retreat for American GIs in Saigon, circa 1970. Throw in the place’s owner — the veteran of a thousand fights, whose leather face is offset by a broad moustache and criss-crossed with scars, and who insists on playing pool and chess with the clientele — and there’s only one possible conclusion. Home Club is the jewel in Fethiye’s crown.
Personally, I could quite happily have spent my time shuttling between Home Club’s pool table and either of Fethiye’s two air-conditioned cinemas (there’s nothing quite like watching Hollywood blockbusters with Turkish subtitles, and intervals for power cuts). But for those whose taste for adventure stretches beyond the baize and the silver screen, one of the joys of Fethiye is its proximity to so many other worthwhile destinations.
Want to check out where luminously tanned Russian millionaires park their yachts? Then head over to the nearby resort of Giicek. Alternatively, you could take a short bus journey to Kaya Kiiy or Ölü Deniz. The former is an abandoned Greek village, and a haunting reminder of more recent Turkish history; while the latter is a deservedly famous beach, said to be the most photographed spot in Turkey. And that’s before we get on to Saklikent, Kas, Pamukkale or the wonderful Roman ruins at Ephesus.
Who knows? You may even be treated — as I was — to one of the occasional storms which punctuate Fethiye’s monotonous sunshine. Purple clouds come howling down from the mountains, and unleash sheet lightning across the sky. If that happens, I’d recommend you head to the seafront, grab a fish sandwich (balık ekmek) from one of the boats moored there, and just watch it all unfold. The rain is wonderfully refreshing. And the subsequent sunset burns crazy pink.
So there you have it. Fethiye — historic, confused, connected, electric. I can’t recommend it highly enough.
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