Sleeping in an air-conditioned cabin was hot and stuffy, despite the open windows. I grabbed a blanket in my arms and climbed onto the deckhouse roof, where the most intelligent passengers were sleeping. A fresh breeze swept over their faces, sniffling with pleasure, while the captain stood at the helm, leading the ship somewhere into the night and humming something Turkish.
– Merkhaba! – He said hello.
“Hello,” I replied sleepily.
Up to the morning flashes announcing breakfast, I dreamed baleen Turks dancing on the bowsprit and singing in the voice of the chief editor: “Tire-tire-opa-opa-tire-nai …” When the Turks were hoarse, the Regatta was already in the bay Chayakzy near the town of Peace.
This city has two symbols: the ancient stone necropolis and the church of St. Nicholas, better known to us as Nikolai Ugodnik. To get to the necropolis, you must pass along the road barricaded with souvenir shops. Some of my colleagues, hitting the kingdom of Turkish knick-knacks, completely forgot about the original purpose of the trip. However, men did not consider a gilded belt of fidelity, elegant, but no less reliable. The most zealous adherents of the patriarchy even offered women passing by to try on this design. Women giggled and reluctantly resisted. They were more interested in obsidian figurines of Satire with a phallus almost the size of its owner. I also liked the costume of the dancer, which even allowed to try on.
The dinner was held under the contemplation of the flooded city of Kekova, which sank under the water as a result of two earthquakes in 140 and 241 years. The island of Kekova together with the sunken city has been declared a national park, and therefore it is forbidden to stand here, much less to swim with or without an aqualung. About 20 years ago, our skipper heeded the pleas of tourists and stopped the ship so that they could take photographs. For which he had been working for two years in prison. We also had to absorb all the fun on the go. On the first: chorba soup (cold sour milk with cucumbers) and the ruins of an ancient temple in azure waters. On the second: eggplants baked with tomatoes and cheese, and a stone basin filled to the top with sea water.
Attentive Odessa Andrey noticed that the heat subsided to 40 degrees. This temperature seemed to him most favorable for taking as many degrees inwards, and he ordered raki (Turkish anisette). Another name for crayfish sounded much more tender, but no less mysterious: lion’s milk. I also decided to try. The least risky comrades were limited to local beer “Pilsen”. A colorful pirate-looking cook, the owner of the sonorous name of Duraley, brought glasses and poured vodka, saying: “Your mess is beer, your mess is raki.” In my mess, that is, it’s called a glass in Turkish, he splashed vodka on two fingers, poured ice to the top and poured cold water on top. The crayfish, so transparent, acquired the color of milk before her eyes and frantically smelled aniseed. Zhahnula in one gulp. The internal temperature came in complete harmony with the outside, and the ruins of the Kekova amphitheater, past which we swam, seemed very close to me. Under the watermelon, I strengthened the temperature balance.
The yacht anchored in the Uchagyz bay, above which the Kalekei fortress towered on the mountain. There was no road, or at least a path leading into the fortress. To get to it, you need to have the skills of initial climbing training and the lack of fear of height. It is better to have sneakers with rubber soles on their feet for a stronger connection with stones, since a good half of the way was necessary to climb up almost steeply steep. But, honestly, it was worth it!
From the gorgeous panorama opening from the fortress tower (500 meters above sea level) to the bay and nearby rocky islands, drowning in the violet abyss, caught my breath, for the first 5 minutes I could only gasp in delight. And only then was able to look around.
Right and left picturesquely grew into the ground ruins of the ancient town of Simen. I sat down to relax in a small amphitheater with 150 seats, carved into the rock.
To the right of the amphitheater deep into the mountain there was a barely noticeable stroke, half filled up with boulders and ending with a rather spacious grotto. Bats have found shelter in it, hanging in black clusters from a high and dark arch.
We returned to the ship along a gentle path winding along the other side of the mountain and going through a fishing village. There we were attacked by a flock of homonating Turkish women. They insistently offered to buy handkerchiefs with hand embroidery. I managed to get rid of them, jumped into one of the souvenir shops, where they sold colorful sundresses. Rugging thoroughly, I chose one with silk embroidery. The hostess has appointed a price of 14 million lire, but willingly reduced it to 12 million (about $ 20). Moved by her courtesy, I also bought a weighty candle, more like a small aquarium – starfish, shells and algae were floating in a yellowish solution.