Looking for Boredom in Bodrum: A few Days on the Coast in Turkey

May 30, 2002

Bodrum, Turkey

Dear Friends and Family:

24 hours in Bodrum and I feel as I am coming back to life. Turkey feels like such a different world from Russia. When I came into the airport last night, I asked the taxi dispatcher what was the fare to Bodrum. “48 million Lira,” she replied. About $35 with the tip was my calculation. “And how long does it take?” I asked. “About 30 minutes,” was her reply. It was exactly that--48 million Lira and 30 minutes. The taxi industry in Turkey is regulated, unlike that of Russia.

My hotel was also a delight. I had selected the Marmara Bodrum from a book of “small luxury hotels” to which the Guanahani in St. Bart’s (where I visited in March) is supposedly a member. I say supposedly because the book here refers to a different hotel in St. Bart’s that belongs to their chain of very expensive hotels worldwide.

Bodrum is nevertheless very beautiful. This evening at 10 pm, I am sitting in the outdoor restaurant, typing on a table of hand-painted tiles, overlooking a valley of lights and a 11th century castle. According to the hotel brochure, Herodotus was born in Bodrum and Caesar passed by. Bodrum today seems to be the holiday resort of very affluent. The highway from the airport was a divided four-lane highway with only one stop-light. As we approached, I noted a mansion on the hill. That mansion turned out to be my hotel.

Every corridor, every wall, every table, every umbrella seems to have been designed to be part of an Architecture’s Digest photo. One of the walls dates to 340 BC and I have an idea which one. The taste is none of European, or Asian or American but a combination of all. A dedicated D.J. provides music for the 12 speakers in three sizes around the pool.

I must be the only single person in the hotel. I feel surrounded my couples and groups of friends. My cute 18-something waiter seems to have decided to look after me, bringing me an outdoor heater, a shawl, two swinging candles and a pencil-flashlight with which to read themenu.

I haven’t decided which I should take of the 13 different types of massages the hotel [aka spa] offers. I can’t possibly do all of this, as you suggested, but one might be very nice.

Will have to stop here. I have moved down to the pool. I generally touch type but occasionally need to find keys that I rarely use and there isn’t much light by which to find them.


June 1, 2002

It’s my third night in Bodrum and I still haven’t moved more than a few hundred yards from my room to the pool to the dining room. Every corner seems to have been developed by my artist friend, Sunita, from the tiles on the patio tables to the figurines on the wall to the photographs that indicate the men’s room (a vested banker-like man with glasses and a French maid’s apron) and the ladies (super-senior women in a billiard hall in front of a sign that says You Must be At Least 18 to Play).

As I sit over a bowl of pasta, touch-typing in the evening light, my young man has brought me a second plate piled high with bread. The Turkish group downstairs is laughing at jokes that I can hear but don’t understand. And the D.J. continues with music that blends into the night.

I spent the day and into the evening writing my report on governance of the Russian banking system. “Still reports?” asked my young waiter as I type over the pasta. He must think that any work on a computer is work.

“You work for Bank?” he came back and asked. Our local office in Ankara had made my hotel reservation and he must have found out. “Turkish economy ok, or problems?” he asked. “Still problems but beautiful country,” I responded waving at the glittering valley below.

This hotel was meant to be party-central. On the schedule for room rates, there is a tariff called “Party Animal” which presumably is the largest suite. The music system feels as if it is prepared to belt out large volumes of sound. And yet the rooms next door barely hear the music. But the party animals aren’t here. I found a few quiet Turkish tourists, some Americans who talk about their doctor visits over dinnerbut feel quite lonely. This is a place built for romance but none is to be found.

Have been accumulating my emails on this trip. From Bodrum it is necessary to call Istanbul to obtain an internet connection. That costs $3.50 a minute (it seems that the telephone company is still a state monopoly). I have already run up a $100 charge and I am trying to keep my phone bills under control.

June 2

Just a note to say that I leave this afternoon for Ankara via Istanbul
on this clear sunny day. It’s been a lovely few days but now it’s time
to do some serious work.

With warm regards,

Sue