Marmaris Hotels
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Marmaris - Yorkshire Pudding Hellhole
Entry 65 of 235 | show all | print this entry |
My last morning and early afternoon in Rhodes, and Greece for that matter, were relatively uneventful - except for the word 'Malaka'.
Yet again I overheard locals using it in conversation as if it is a normal thing to say in a public forum.
For the uninitiated, Malaka means 'Wanker'.....
(for the uninitiated in Australianisms 'Wanker' means 'Jerkoff')
I have heard children being called Malakas. I have heard bus drivers call their passengers Malakas. I have been called a Malaka by an angry hotel worker at two in the morning. I have heard it used 5 times in one outburst of conversation in an internet cafe (by a fat Malaka no less - whoops sorry....)
It seems in Greece it is quite acceptable to call someone a wanker. It is almost a term of endearment. Statements such as 'Nice talkin to you, Wanker!' or 'Say hello to your Mum for me, Wanker!' or 'Pass me the Dolmades you Wanker!' are every day converse. It is a little strange.
Mike the pension owner wished me well as I headed off towards the port to catch the ferry to Marmaris in Turkey. In typical Greek style it is chaos trying to get your pre-booked ticket. Only two Malakas working the desk with dozens of Malakas pushing through you to get their boarding pass first.
Onboard, the catamaran ferry can only be described as like being in a tupperware container in a washing machine.
On my arrival in Marmaris it is clear that I have arrived into package tour holiday hell. The streets appear filled with European families and couples, with signs for 'Real English Pubs' and 'Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding' abundant. I am booked at the Youth Hostel which is above the town bazaar, crammed in with shops and other similar hotels. Outside my window are a handful of other windows for other residences. It is very squishy.
Marmaris is 'Can I ask you one question?' or 'Can I shake your hand?' territory. These are the standard approaches by the t-shirt and clothing shop salesmen in order to get you into their shop or into a position where you can't escape without them chatting to you. They seem offended when you ignore them. Probably calling me a Malaka in Turkish at a guess.
Thank god I have only booked two nights here. I am keen to leave after only half an hour.
This town has beautiful surroundings, but appears soul-less from any form of Turkish tradition or familiarity. It is a 'holiday' town, not a travellers town, which is all fine and good but not really my speed on this trip. I am more inclined to see the combo kind of town - half tourism half interesting. I feel like I am the Turkish Gold Coast.
An evening walk reveals shop after shop selling the same ol' same 'ol. Restaurants feature Michael Jackson impersonators or Chinese cooking a 'with real Chinese Chef'. Braided Hair and Fake Tattoos are the norm, as are beer guts and obesity.
God help me please.
I have a restless night's sleep. Perhaps it is the heat as there is little breeze blowing through the window. Perhaps it is the couple in one of the near windows, shagging noisily at 3.44am. I didn't know whether to clap them when they finished, or comment on their rhythm.
What is there to do in a town void of soul? Apart from shagging....
Ok, I am bagging this town. There are some positives.... The external view is quite beautiful. You can not actually see the open sea because of the curved coastline and islands. The beach is not great here though.
I wandered round the Marina area and up the slight hill to the castle - which was closed. Hmmm 11am. I decide to catch a midibus from Marmaris around the coast to Icmeler, 8kms away, where it is allegedly less touristy and the beach is more impressive.
Umbrellas and Sunlounges. Everywhere. I have not seen so many packed in so tightly before. These people are crammed in like baking sardines. How can they find this enjoyable in the slightest. The Europeans have no idea.
Rather than join the throng, I instead lay on a jetty. There are some unusual sights indeed. Remembering that I am now back in a predominantly Muslim country, with many Western visitors, it is interesting watching the swimmers.
In front of me are two Muslim women, decked out in full neck-to-knee Kermit-the-Frog-green swimsuits, complete with matching head coverage, clinging to inner tubes. Next to them floats by an overweight Western women on a Lilo, in string bikini bottom and no top.
Talk about contrasts.
Time can not go quickly enough here. If not for some decent Turkish Pide, with no Yorkshire Pudding on the side, I would have gone nuts.
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| 65. | Marmaris - Yorkshire Pudding Hellhole - Marmaris, Turkey Aug 20, 2005 |
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