More Dalyan

Since Dalyan is still wonderful (although sometimes the weather is not), I've decided stay here longer. What's the alternative? Well, there's Marmaris and its yacht harbor. Yeah, that's been done and it didn't take very long. There are several other regional options and I'm weighing them, but Dalyan's appeal might just keep me have until I have to go to Istanbul. Speaking of Dalyan, here is a store across the street from one of my favorite bars:

Who would have ever thought that Genghis Khan would have his name associated not only with leisurewear, but leisurewear for all? You know, when I first came to Dalyan, it was far smaller and quieter. There were only about 10 bars (there are now over 50) and the most prominent industry was selling small handmade trinkets to tourists. I called the sellers of such trinkets "souvenir hippies." They were all Turks. Most were strikingly handsome or very, very pretty. All spent much of the day barefoot, drinking tea, smoking and hanging out. Very little of their time was spent actually selling trinkets. In fact, in four visits, I haven't seen them make a single sale - except to me. If memory serves, the item ran me 75 cents.

This year is no exception, but time has passed. It's been eight years since my last visit. I can say this about myself: I look pretty much the same as I looked then. I can't say the same about the souvenir hippies. They've kind of lost their edge. The leader of the pack is this guy (I've never talked with him ever; as far as I know, he's never even looked in my direction) who looked like the Turkish version of a young Orson Welles. He was one handsome dude. Unfortunately, these days he's looking like a more advanced version of Orson Welles. Another example is a woman who used to sell jewelry on the street. She was really pretty; she had long, straight black hair and a very dusky look. She smoked constantly. These days, she has her own shop, but I barely recognized her. The hair, so lustrous in its day, is gone. She's resigned herself to a functional bob. Her teeth are all brown from tea and cigarettes. There are other examples, all aging not exactly gracefully. Time marches on, folks. I can guarantee one thing, though. The next time I visit Dalyan, they'll still be here.

I guess now is about the right time to include a picture of Dalyan's main drag. Here it is:

The weather wasn't cooperating that day. Yes, this is Dalyan's main street, but, funny thing, it's one of the only streets. Seriously, there are only about three or four others. Even in bad weather, it's still quite beautiful. Oh, and while we're at it, here's where I'm staying:

It's right there on the river. I highly recommend it.