Daisy Lane "The Hill"

Everything seemed to be going so smoothly, the flight was on time, we got seats together with extra leg room and had a free meal. These days most flight companies seem to be after extras all the time. Extra to sit together, extra for a meal, extra to take a suitcase with you, even extra to go to the front of the queue. Well I wouldn’t be very happy if I had queued at security only to have someone push right in front of you. This actually happened to us on the way here, we had just got to the front where we were about to take our shoes off and put the laptop in a tray when an airport official wheeled up an old lady in a wheel chair. She only got away with it because she was old, in a wheelchair and dressed like a Nun. Hope she doesn’t go out drinking and get herself arrested.

Anyway, we only paid extra for two suitcases as this is the only essential. We had already been to our local Harvester for a nice birthday treat for Claire’s Birthday. Her choice not mine; we had had such a nice meal at the Harvester in Rugby the week before that she fancied trying our local one at Loughton. Bad choice, but at least the salad and beer was good. We didn’t bother paying extra for seats together because they always put people together when you check in unless you are one of the late ones. It requires far more organisation to split people up deliberately than to put them together. If you had booked seats together and turned up late when all the together seats had gone, all that would happen is that you would get your money back after a battle. Exactly the same situation as if you hadn’t paid extra. We didn’t pay extra for a meal as our flight wasn’t scheduled to arrive until 9.30pm and on our return at 1.30am and we don’t like eating at those hours. As it was Claire’s birthday, the kind lady at check in gave us seats at the front with extra leg room which also had the added benefit of being amongst the first off. What it didn’t account for was having the family from hell behind us. Three loud kids, a screaming baby and a pair of prats that couldn’t control any of them. Just had to order extra drinks to block them out. We had just finished our meal deal from Boots, when they brought the hot food out. When offered, Claire said that we hadn’t paid extra for them and to our surprise he said it was free. OK, I lied, we don’t mind eating at that time in the evening; and UK time was 2 hours behind.

The plane arrived on time, we found our connection easily and it was only a minibus rather than a full scale coach so we wouldn’t have the wait until every last passenger had found it (even elderly Nuns in wheelchairs). Within a few minutes we were off, bang on time; with luck we might make last orders. We had travelled for about 90 minutes, just about what we were expecting when we stopped for the first time. It couldn’t have been for us as we hadn’t arrived at Kalkan yet. Wrong, it was for us; as we were the only ones going to Kalkan we had to get off with our luggage and wait for another bus. We stood at the side of the road in darkness for 10 minutes before a taxi turned up and helped us in with our luggage. We sat in a waited for a further 10 minutes while the driver went to the toilet and had a cigarette. This infuriated Claire as it was wasting valuable drinking time. Eventually we were off and I asked him how long it would take to get to Kalkan. He responded with an hour; an hour? That would make our total journey time 2 and a half hours, nightmare. We were soon to learn why it would take an hour; because his top speed was 40mph, even buses and trucks were overtaking us, even in no overtaking zones. We had been going for about 20 minutes when he pulled up for the toilet again, another coffee and another cigarette. Now he was taking the piss and it was then that we realized that he wasn’t taking the piss, he was pissed. That’s why he had been going so slowly, especially when a police car was around.

It was 1.30am before we found our villa so we quickly made the bed and unpacked a bit then shot off to the little restaurant that had told us the way to our villa for a quick one. We had just climbed the very steep hill to find everyone being kicked out and the lights being switched off. Back down the hill again with 2 stray dogs following us; good job Claire had brought our mega sonic cat scarer with her but a shame it didn’t work on dogs. Finally managed to find the hidden corkscrew so we could open the bottle of red wine that Claire had got from the duty free shop at Dalaman airport. We sat on the balcony until it was all gone; shame it was dark and we couldn’t enjoy the beautiful views from this balcony. We have 2 balconies, one from the bedroom and a larger one from the lounge. There is a small walkway balcony at the rear overlooking the pool, which almost has a Roman feel about it.

First thing in the morning, Claire got going putting up the curtains while I fitted the blind in the kitchen and swept the floors ready for Claire to mop them all. A quick walk around the local area before facing “The Hill” and to get supplies from our local Tesko. Wow, the prices aren’t cheap over here; it must be mainly tourists that inflate the prices. Maybe we will find the real prices that locals pay when we get our motor bike. The shop keeper offered to take us and our supplies home which we agreed upon. Trouble was, now we have to face the dreaded hill again to go into town for lunch and to find a suitable bar to watch the German GP at whilst supping quietly in the sun. The walk is not too bad once you have got over the hill; it probably takes about 30 minutes. We had a lovely lunch at the BarBQ bar. Claire had a chicken kebeb and local salad whilst I had sea bass without chips. Just time left to get a bike, some petrol take some bits back, buy a few bits more and back to the same bar to watch the race. Poor Lewis, but well done Mark; finally got one!

The reason for the title is that it’s the Turkish translation for Papatya Sokak where our villa is; as it is lined with flowers.