Breakfast, the most important meal of the day

Remember when we went on holidays?  Sigh, I do.  I remember thinking 'Oh Jesus, I can't take the heat'.  I could so very much take the heat right now.  It's a balmy 19 degrees here in my back garden and I want to be sitting beside a pool somewhere in a sultry 38 degrees.

Was hoping to win the Euro Millions last night but, shame, I didn't.  Thankfully no one I know won either.  I can handle not winning but i couldn't handle someone I know winning.  I'm mean like that.

Anyway, when we were in Kusadasi, the lovely BIL took us off up the mountains to try this little restaurant he knew of.  Oh God, but it was fabulous.  We'd had a Turkish Breakfast in the town and it was lovely but it was expensive.  The breakfast in the mountains was amazing and expansive.  It just kept on coming.  We went back a second time as I kept dreaming of the filo cigarillos (stuffed with cheese - homemade of course) dipped in their own, homemade, marmalade.  They tasted every bit as good as I had imagined.

Basically everything that you put in your mouth was made by the women of the house.  From what I can gather, there were four generations working that amazing place.  The grandmother, her daughter, her daughter (and her husband) and then their daughter was toddling around getting annoyed if her mammy looked at any other child.  They also make you feel like you're the most important person on the planet.  It's nice when you are looked after so well, also lovely when you know that your host and hostess are also loving it.

It's the kind of venture I dream of.  It's sort of like that 'Good Life' you dream of every now and then.  I know though that there is no way I could do what they do.  Everything you eat is grown on the land or else the base ingredients bought in and turned into something delicious, like bread or apple tea.  Every tree and plant in the place has a purpose.  There are peach trees, lemon trees, walnut, hazelnut and cherry trees.  There are chilli's drying everywhere and the chickens give it socks in the back yard.  There were even swallows nesting in the eaves. I could have stayed there for days.  One of our breakfasts there lasted over four hours.  We had those filo cigarillos I mentioned, as many jams and chutneys as you can possibly imagine.  Big, fat, flavoursome tomatoes (the way they used to taste when you were a kid.  The way they still taste if you grow your own.), Some sort of curd cheese with tomatoes and parsley and God knows what else chopped into it.  Then there was the dip that BIL said we wouldn't like because it was too hot.  It wasn't that hot, he lied so he wouldn't have to share.  I think it was made from yoghurt, garlic and chillis.  

Then there is the bread.  Oh, but the bread.  Fresh out of the oven and made for all those cheeses.  Goats, sheep and cow!  There were also eggs, however you liked them and unlimited tea.  Oh, and I mustn't forget the orange juice.  Freshly squeezed orange juice.  I'm drooling here as I type.  I'm going to go back there again, soon.  If only to sit in the shade and watch the swallows feeding their young and admire the view.  Yeah, the view and the quiet.  Sigh.

Just remembered, when we were driving home there were trucks out gritting the road because it was melting!  I swear.  It was so hot the road was sliding down the hill.  Wish I was there.

 Yeah, that's no. 3 enjoying a cup of Turkish Coffee, coffee so strong you could 'trot a mouse across it'

 You could have a table or you could sit in one of the booths.  We chose the booth as we could really relax

 

JADE..................................squeak

When we were away I begged everyone to come to the beach with me 'just one more time, pleassse??'  But they all said 'no'.  I alone am the only one who really likes beaches.  Himself despises sand (as does the sister) and the kids had had enough.  So I decided I was going to Jade Beach.  The brother in law (BIL) had said it was beautiful but expensive??!  Either way, I had seen it on our way to Ladies Beach and it looked gorgeous, they'd built pier type things into the sea so you didn't have to touch sand.  All the sunbeds were white and wooden with huge yellow parasols (Himself kept insisting that I was wrong in calling them umbrellas.  Apparently an umbrella keeps the rain off but parasols keep the sun off.  Pedant.)

I got up bright and early on the Saturday morning, considered waking Fi but as she had only gotten into the house at 5am and it was only 9am I thought she might not be best pleased.  Off I toddled to the taxi rank and off to Jade I went.  I was dropped at the entrance and paid yer man and asked him to come back in three hours.  

Then I was charged 25TL to get into the place???  Wha'??  I also had to go through a metal detector.  I've paid less to get into gigs and clubs.  With less security too.

Eventually got to the sunbeds, having first passed through the beautiful avenue of flowers, past the outdoor rooms (think big decked areas with upright posts, all white of course, with white muslin billowing prettily and a massive chandeliers hanging in the centre.  Oh, and above big, white, leather sofas).  Past the uber hip bar and finally past the even hipper dj area.  

I selected a sunbed right at the end of the prom and moved the umbrella/parasol so that my legs might eventually get tanned enough to match the upper part of my body but yet keep the upper part of my body, in particular my poor knackered, burnt, nose out of the sun.  I shimmied out of my sarong and shimmied (in my retro 50's swimsuit) down to the steps into the sea.  

Right.  If they do away with the sand and set it up so that you end up stepping into 3 feet of water it also means that you don't get to inch your way into the water slowly and avoid all seaweed it means you immediately step onto the frickin' seaweed and I hate stepping onto seaweed.  Not the normal floaty stuff you get but the stuff that's actually growing on the seabed and may have stuff living in it.  

 Note:  I once went snorkeling off the coast of Africa (cackle, Tunisia) and nearly leaped back onto the boat when I found myself surrounded by feckin' fish.  Ugh.

I ended up swimming out to deeper water by swimming in a foot of water (to avoid standing on seaweed) to get away from growing stuff and potential fish/crabs/things that bite only to realise there is something that feels like not having fun to find yourself in the sea.  Alone.  With potential fish.  Swam for a while, felt like a saddo so doggy paddled back in.

Settled myself down, took some photos of the views and my toes (I love tanned toes) and ordered a coke.  Then cancelled the order for coke as it was going to cost 8 euro, ordered a water instead.  Healthier after all.

I got stuck into my book and, about 40 minutes later, I looked up.  I really, really wish I hadn't looked up.  Suddenly I was surrounded by The Beautiful People.  Surrounded.  

Surrounded by people who tanned evenly, they all had the skin of peaches, bums of peaches too now that I think of it.  

I really wanted to get back into the sea because it was unbelievably hot.  Somewhere in the region of 43C (you can bake at that temperature, cakes).  But I couldn't bring myself to walk past them.  I've since learned that the place is a favourite haunt of rich Turks.  Turkish yuppies?  

Christ.  There I am, feeling so out of my happy place.  

All the women are wearing electric colour bikinis, mostly consisting of string - I'd need a tow-rope.  I'm wearing a retro 50's pair of togs.

Their middle bits go on for ever.  My middle bit goes on for ever, only in a round/beach ball type of way.

They are the kind've women who go into the sea, swim, and yet come out looking cool and collected and their hair is still sleek and blow dried looking.  I look sodden just sitting on the sunbed.  And my hair is a disgrace.

Ugh.

They, The Beautiful People, never seem to sweat.  My ears were sweating for Christsake.  They wear make up in phenomenal heat without it dripping down their faces.  I wasn't even wearing make up and my face was dripping down my face.

Stuck it out for as long as I could and then looked at my watch. Fuck it anyway, I'd only been there an hour.  I had another two hours in the hell hole before my taxi came back for me.  

Decided that no one was bothered with me and slunk back into the sea.  Stayed there, in the sea, for an hour rather than have to slink back past TBP again.  So, by the time I did slink past them, I was wrinkled!!!!  There's no winning, is there?  

Jesus.

Finally it was time to leave to meet my taxi driver so I squelched (seriously, I did) off the sunbed.  Wrapped my sarong around me and put on my flip flops . . . .  only, y'see, I'd left my flip flops in the sun which meant that by the time my brain had registered the fucking searing heat of my shoes I was already in the midst of TBP which resulted in my dong the 'hothothothotfuckinghot' dance in the middle of them all.

I also squeaked.  I was so hot my body was squeaking as it rubbed against other bits of itself.  

I was definitely not one of the cool.  beautiful.  people.

But I was the one giggling the most.

photos my own

 

 

photo source