I made a last ditch attempt to find the knitting shop when it was OPEN and was finally successful. I met Ellen – the manager of this tiny little place – who prefers crocheting to knitting (particularly small, cute baby things). She was pleased I’d made the effort and we had a good old natter, despite the language difficulties. I even introduced her to RAvelry. I bought a ball of wool to complete the stripy top for Gill and Jeremy’s grandson, and Ellen gave me two buttons to finish off the star jumper.
Back to the ferry with time to spare and much hanging around in a queue to get through customs and board the hydrofoil. The crew were a bit aghast when they saw Rowenna – but I unloaded her, and the luggage was stored safely with me, and Rowenna was carted off to the rear of the boat somewhere.
It was a fast trip to Fethiye, and I was ‘fished’ for by a Pansiyon owner at the port - Oüzer offered a room for 50TL –about £13, which I was happy to accept, paying extra for breakfast. The ATM machine charged 5% for withdrawing money, which I was less happy about. I am trying to get my head round the currency exchange – about 4 Turkish Lira to a GB pound I think – and also not saying ‘Kali Mera’ to everyone. The sound of the call to prayer from the minarets echoes around the city once again, and there are more women wearing hijabs.
Back at the Pensiyon, I meet a fellow cyclist – a Brit called Mel who resides permanently in Guatamala. He shows me to a cheap restaurant where the food is good and plentiful.
Back to the ferry with time to spare and much hanging around in a queue to get through customs and board the hydrofoil. The crew were a bit aghast when they saw Rowenna – but I unloaded her, and the luggage was stored safely with me, and Rowenna was carted off to the rear of the boat somewhere.
It was a fast trip to Fethiye, and I was ‘fished’ for by a Pansiyon owner at the port - Oüzer offered a room for 50TL –about £13, which I was happy to accept, paying extra for breakfast. The ATM machine charged 5% for withdrawing money, which I was less happy about. I am trying to get my head round the currency exchange – about 4 Turkish Lira to a GB pound I think – and also not saying ‘Kali Mera’ to everyone. The sound of the call to prayer from the minarets echoes around the city once again, and there are more women wearing hijabs.
Back at the Pensiyon, I meet a fellow cyclist – a Brit called Mel who resides permanently in Guatamala. He shows me to a cheap restaurant where the food is good and plentiful.
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