If you want a sunbed and brolly on the edge of the sea you must arrive down on the beach as early as possible.

It was the first morning of our August fortnight in Icmeler.
After a light breakfast in our apartment of coffee,toast and cereals,we packed the bags ready for our “First Day At The Beach”.

Now the bags we take to the beach are Huge, having to hold 6 towels,
2 each, various grades of sun oil ranging from 2 for me to total block for Mrs Genes nose, snorkel and mask for Andre, lilo for the Rhino to play in the sea with and the obligatory reading books for Ann.
We also take two x two litre bottles of water that I have frozen in the fridge overnight, and these will keep iced all day if kept out of the sun.

Last visit to the toilet then we are on our way yours truly laiden up like an human pack horse.

We have decided to spend our first day on the stretch of beach in front of the Kontes Hotel,so having walked past the Prince Apartments on our right, sauntered passed the Efendi Hotel also on the right with the Etoil Hotel on the left, we arrived on the Promenade.

A voice shouts “Sunbed Sir”, and an arm with open palm is thrust in my direction which I grasp and shake vigoriously.

“How much for the beds” I enquire.
“A £1 sir” is the reply.
“Can I have one near the waters edge ” I ask.
“I have saved these just for you” he says as he escorts us to three beds and a brolly right on the waters edge.

How do they do that?
How did he know I that I was coming on that day?

He wiped the beds for us, gave us one of those cute little pots to put our rubbish in and told us if we needed anything to give him a call and that he was there to make our holiday a memorable one.

We exchanged names and I offered to pay for the beds.

“You pay later ” he says.

Another friendship has been forged.

Gene

I remember one morning in the middle of August when the temp at 7-30 am was 35 degrees.
I was walking round taking my pics of bars and had finished up at the Julian Forest Apartments, these are the very last apartments right at the back of Icmeler with the mountain has its backdrop.
I started my walk back and because of the heat my small bottle of water was gone.
Has I neared the village I remembered a tap were the villagers get their spring water from so headed in that direction.

Has I aproached the tap it was being used by a Local farmer who was filling up his large water containers.
Now by this time my throat was like a rasp and my tongue twice its normal size through the lack of fluids.
I stood in line.
The farmer looked at me and we nodded to each other and with my only bit of Turkish croaked through my parched throat “Merhaba” he smiled and replied with the same word back and then reached for my water bottle and promptly filled it for me then handed it back.
He must have seen the tension in my face as I was waiting in line.

I thanked him, then took a drink of gods wine.
Instantly I was refreshed and resumed my walk, thinking about this small act of kindness shown to a complete stranger.

Moral of this story is Either take a Bigger bottle of water or dont walk so far.

Gene

The last meal has been served and the last Efes drunk.
Most of Icmeler is closed down now for the winter, all our favourite waiters and friends back home with thier families.

But as I sit here in Derbyshire on a cold wet and windy night, feeling a sense of excitement and trepidation as I look foreword to my holiday in April.
I wonder what is the attraction in Icmeler for me?

Is it the early morning walks along the promenade,
were the smell of jasmine is still in the air, the sea is like a mill pond, hardly any movement except for the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore, the sea still resting before she receives her daily guests to enjoy her watersports.
Or is it the early morning walk up into the old village were the distinctive smell of hot earth wafts the air, changing to the smell of newly baked bread as I pass the bakers shop near the mosque.
Walking round this tranquil scene horses,goats,hens and geese busy themselves feeding, and in the background can be heard the incessant rhythmic sound of the crickets.
May be dinner time spent under the wellcoming shade of the trees at the Erdem cafe on the promenade, were a few beers and a tuna sandwich is taken while watching the world pass by.
Could it be when Icmeler dresses up for the evening, with her flashing lights and inviting bars, when she opens up her heart for us all to enjoy.
One ingredient not to be missed from my thoughts is the friendlyness and hospitality of the Turkish and Kurdish people who during our visits make us so wellcome.
I know it doesnt do for us all to like the same things and my memories will be different from yours,everyone has moments they remember which make repeat visits compulsive.

The thoughts of someone feeling meloncholy on a winters night.

Gene