Mediterranean Trip, Part 4: Bodrum

This is the last installment of my trip down to the Mediterranean with Jon, which is sad because it happened way back in April, but if you can say one thing about me I am thorough. I last left you in Fetihye, along the Mediterranean coast. We then moved on to the city of Marmaris (center of map, right), which turned out to be kind of a bust because we were planning on renting some motor-scooters and go around the peninsula, but it turns out you need a special license to operate mopeds and Jon and I couldn't do it. I was pretty upset; and Jon suggested that we just get out of Marmaris as quickly as possible and move along to our last stop in Bodrum (left part of map). Luckily, Bodrum ended up to be much more of a success. The city has two harbors, in the middle of which is a giant castle, used originally by Crusaders and later by the Ottomans. 

A view of the western harbor from the castle.

A picture of me and Jon on the castle, taken by yours truly.

View of one of the castle's towers, from the bottom of some steps.

Inside the tower is the Museum of Underwater Archaeology, which is one of the most best museums in Turkey. I have always been intrigued by archaeology, and especially underwater archaeology because it is soooo hot right now! I think shipwrecks are particularly interesting because they are like little time capsules, a snapshot of the past. Some of the most important work done in the field has gone on right here in Turkey, and this museum was chock-full of exhibitions on excavations that I recognized from the pages of Smithsonian magazine or National Geographic. Naturally, I got really excited. The picture here is from a display simulating an ancient shipwreck as it would be found on the sea floor, a ship's contents deposited in the sand because the wood of the ship's hull disintegrates with time. This shipwreck is very famous; archaeologists found a wreck containing dozens of large-sized metal ingots (the rectangular things stacked to the left of the large pot) that indicated a lot about trading habits in the ancient Mediterranean world.

Jon and I did a lot of other sight-seeing in Bodrum, but mostly, it was just a nice city where we could relax. We had a delicious dinner, got some dessert, took a stroll along the marina, and...we even went to a hamam!! 

I have not written much about hamams yet; I want to save that for a future post. But, basically, they are traditional Turkish bath houses. Usually, the hamam is divided into two separate parts for men and women. When I found a hamam in Bodrum that allowed co-ed bathing, I initially balked at what was sure to be a tourist trap, but my feelings were outweighed by the fact that I wanted Jon to go to have the Turkish bath experience, and I would never have sent him to the men's side alone. The hamam was run by a family; it seemed like the whole gang was chipping in to run the place, even the 7-year-old girl who handed us towels while distracted by a cartoon on the television. Jon and I changed into our bathing suits, wrapped ourselves in the towels, and were led by the mother into the hot room. There, we were given a thorough scrub-down, soaping, and massage by the owner and his older son. Because this was already an unusual situation, I insisted that the father take care of me; as a general rule I would never let a 20-year-old guy rub me down, even if my boyfriend was in the same room, actually, ESPECIALLY because my boyfriend was in the room. Of course, this did not stop the son from trying. He asked me, in Turkish, if Jon was my brother. I gave him a strange look and said he was my boyfriend. The masseuse shrugged his shoulders (like, "never hurts to ask!") and proceeded to scrub Jon down. Luckily, the father could tell I was nervous about a male masseuse (this was not his first rodeo with foreigners), and he was very professional. It was interesting watching the son scrub Jon down. I obviously have no idea what goes on on the male side of the hamam, but from what I saw that day, compared to the women's side, which is supposed to be a relaxing experience, the men's side is more like a torture chamber. The masseuse jerked Jon's head in all sorts of uncomfortable directions, twisted his arms around, and slammed his hand on Jon's back a few times, in an effort to "massage" him. To Jon's credit, he took it like a pro. As for me, even though my masseuse, the elder man, seemed to be experienced with female customers, he did some unusual things that I was not used to. When you get your hair washed in a hamam, one's head tends to disappear under a froth of bubbles. As the masseuse worked his fingers through my hair, all of a sudden I could feel his hands cover my face in suds as well. Then he, well, he stuck his finger up my nose. This came as quite a shock since I had my eyes squeezed shut from the soap, and I could not see what he was going to do. I immediately let out a shriek and moved away. He calmly grabbed my head, drew me back towards him, muttered "relax, RELAX" in English, and then continued to clean out my nose. I couldn't help thinking to myself, "it is a little hard to relax when you have a 55-year-old Turkish man sticking his finger up your nose," but I endured the experience as best I could. The masseuse clicked his tongue at me for all of the gross stuff coming out of my nostrils; like a hen clucking at one of her chicks. I need not mention that my ear canal was also subject to his wandering finger; I suppose he was concerned about waxy build-up as well. There is one thing you can say; this family's hamam offers to get you clean! Once it was all over, Jon and I wrapped ourselves in big fluffy bathrobes, and enjoyed a cold water together, sitting on the hamam's patio. We chewed on cherry-flavored taffy that the children brought out to us. Opposed to what I just told you, it was actually  a really relaxing time, and I am glad Jon got to enjoy it, even if it wasn't exactly the most "authentic" hamam in Turkey.