Banana County

Alanya- Anamur

Distance: 33 km
Time elapsed: 2:05:00
Average speed: 16 km/ hr
Max speed: 41.6 km/ hr
Temp: 45 C
Weather: Hot day, but we biked in the cooler evening


They appeared sometime just before Alanya, huge swaths of densly packed muz (banana) plantations covering the hills all the way out to the water. East of Alanya, in the Anamur region (Anamur City most widely known for them) banana fronds can be seen everywhere, along with huge bundles of the yellow fingers dangling from roadside stands at least every mile or so. We bought our first bundle from a ridiculously awesome woman near the ocean.

Huge bundles of muz for sale roadside


Stopped for the bananas, stayed for the peppers!


Banana plantations all the way out to the water

After leaving our treehouse camp on the beach, and taking a short tea break at a nearby gas station, Chris and I began a long day of hills- into the mountains!!

Super comfy treehouse camping

The first stretch of coves proved beautiful as expected, then, coming around a final bend the town of Gazipaşa hit us like a slap in the face. Large plumes of burning garbage (and toxic smells of plastic fires), desolately dry landscape, industrial warehouses and enclosed banana mega greenhouses... By far the most depressing town I've seen so far.


La di da di da...! We have a LONG way to go still...!


BEFORE reaching Gazipaşa... loads of bananas!!

One thing we keep noticing are the banners advertising crop brands, such as F1 tomatoes or whatever their name is. I presume those are GMO varieties of seeds sold along with the necessary fertilizers and pesticides. Although most of the produce is delicious I can taste that the tomatoes are not natural, and I seriously wonder about the overall agricultural system. Maybe I'm just cynical.


Tomato patents

Finally past the town we began climbing uphill in the dead heat. Everything seemed to be brown and radiating staleness. On a whim I stuck out my thumb and a truck pulled over, graciously picking us up.

Our driver friend, Yusef, had the most startlingly clear blue eyes, reminding me of the Afghan girl Steve McCurry captured for National Graphic, only topaz blue instead of green. He took us for a tea break at an outdoor stall along the cliffs, filled with old, very curious men. Otherwise there was nothing along these mountain passes, just endless steep hills. Later we pulled over near some men resting on a cushioned platform. We didn't understand why we had stopped, but they beckoned us over to sit, and, without hesitating they filled up a soup bowl and tore apart strips of delicate, fresh tortilla. We sat with them an hour or two, Chris showed them his drawings and we generally conveyed who we are and what we're up to, all the while sipping bottomless glasses of piping hot çay.


Yusef and anonymous logger friends relaxing on the roadside platform

The men finally waved goodbye, suddenly starting for the hills where they are loggers. I was surprised to see the rest of the mountains are being heavily razed, stripped of their thick pine forests.

We left on our own from the platform, climbing hills and sailing down, passing many more logging zones, until the road finally descended toward a small cove with a few houses and outdoor restaurant. Swimming time!

Jumping into the cool clear water is such a luxury after 25 km in the
afternoon heat. I had been listening to an NPR story earlier about the east coast shark population, telling Chris about the increase in sightings (either people are reporting more often with better communications or the protected seals are flourishing and drawing in more predators, it's debatable) when all of the sudden a diver popped up from the water a few feet away. Chris, blinded without glasses, got spooked, it was all too hilariously perfect. The man stood up to walk ashore, carrying a spear gun and wearing a belt full of fish around his waste.


Behlul and his balik catch

I called a friendly merhaba! to him, commenting on the balik (fish). After talking awhile he asked where we planned to go, and when we said Anamur he happily exclaimed Come to my house!

Entering Anamur's valley

After finishing our swim and rinsing off at a nearby fountain, we tackled the last 25 km to town, an exhausting feat. Although it gets cooler in the afternoon the humidity is still draining, I feel like I'm wearing one of those full body sauna suits. We couldn't reach Behlul, our skin diving friend, from the gas station at the edge of town, so instead we walked down to an empty stretch of beach and rested on the sand, admiring the early rising moon.

Anamur moonrise, empty beach

The second time we did reach Behlul and got directions to meet him, in
the actual town 5 km down the road. Behlul took us to his house, where we met his wife, Arzu (means desire), and sleeping son, Rua. They call him the 'double child' because he has so much energy, something we learned later is too true!


Dinner on the balcony with Arzu

The first night we also met their friend Kadir, a very charismatic man who grew up in Germany and speaks impeccable English. They all turned out to be so lovely and hospitable, we ended up staying 3 days, enjoying many delicious meals on their balcony and stimulating conversations about life, politics, religion, food, and a million other things.

We had such a good time with Behlul and Arzu-- seriously such awesome people-- it was hard to say goodbye. I'm already looking forward to my next trip back here to see them, along with a string of other wonderful friends.