Antalya Antics: Humidity, Hijinks, and Hilarity!

Always getting picked up last on tours has its perks: less time on a cramped vehicle, more time to get ready, and more time to sleep. However, seeing a group of tired faces looking back at you, thinking, "we had to pick you up," can be disheartening. I'm used to it now, but this was my first pickup in Antalya, and I could easily tell it was one large family. My assumption was that they were four sisters since they had similar facial features sitting towards the front and their children (literal mini versions of them) tucked at the back of the van. At first, I thought they were scared of me, but it turned out to be one of those trips where the people with you make it significantly more memorable and entertaining.
As soon as I heard the voice of one of the women, a light bulb went off in my head, "Oh my God, they're Australian! Stay calm". I was tempted to immediately ask about their encounters with snakes and spiders, as I always do when I meet an Australian, but I decided that saying "Hello" was still a work in progress. About twenty minutes into the journey, we switched to a bus and headed to the cable car on Olympus Teleferik.

The drive to the cable car was breathtaking. The shimmering sea dotted with boats and ships, bathed in the golden sunlight, created a picturesque scene. As we approached the mountain, a majestic red cable car descended gracefully towards us. After receiving our tickets in the queue, we eagerly awaited our turn. The entertainment from the Australian family, particularly Nesrine and Maro, began on our way up. As the cable car reached its checkpoints, there would be occasional shifts in momentum that caused jolts in the cable car. Maro, in particular, reacted dramatically, screaming and curling up in fear as if her life depended on it. It was quite a spectacle, and everyone, including Nesrine and her family and the other tourists, couldn't help but laugh while still marveling at the beauty of Olympos. The tour guide could not hold back his laughter either. The view stretched for miles, with rocky mountains looming in awe-inspiring size. At the second checkpoint, Maro, realizing her initial scream wasn't sufficient, grabbed Nesrine's dress for added support, still squatting in fear. I couldn't help but wonder how that was supposed to stabilise her more than the sturdy metal pole screwed into the floor. Her sister joined in the theatrics, squatting and exclaiming in Arabic—I caught the word 'Dolphin,' and from what I gathered, they likened themselves to a dolphin show. Their antics had everyone's attention, and we continued to laugh all the way up, hoping Maro would survive the ride without fainting or crying.

As we reached the summit, our phones were out in full force, capturing every angle of the breathtaking view. We spent a solid hour just soaking in the scenery, still amazed by the sheer beauty of Mount Olympos' stunning surroundings. A professional photographer happened by and snapped a few shots of me. Considering I'd been on a bus for two hours and my beard was a bit wild by then, he did a decent job. Out of the twenty-six photos he took, my face only looked somewhat presentable in two. Maybe not a stellar job, but I'll take the blame for my rugged appearance. Suddenly, screams pierced the serene atmosphere. I turned around to witness a man being slingshotted into the air like a human projectile. "Why on Earth would anyone do that?" I mused to myself.
Okay, I admit, I'd totally be up for it, but my mum had strictly forbidden any risky activities this time, despite us being thousands of feet up a mountain. Moments later, we watched in awe as paragliders gracefully leapt from the summit, soaring away into the sky. Paragliding in Turkey sounded amazing, but I wasn't ready to overshadow my previous experience in Interlaken just yet—I knew nothing could top that.

We descended back down in the cable car, this time with applause instead of screams. At the base, there was a chance to pose for pictures with a sign statue of the mountain. This is where I unintentionally became Nesrine and Maro's personal photographer for the rest of the trip. It was refreshing to meet a motherly figure on my solo adventure, and that's exactly what happened when we introduced ourselves. I got the usual "I thought you were Indian but you understand Arabic" comment. I took it as a compliment, I tried learning Arabic once... did not work. Until we boarded the bus, we chatted animatedly about our travels and plans and whether I came alone. The Australian accent is like music to my ears especially when it's spoken formally so this three to four minute conversation was quite fun.

We arrived at 'DinoPark' ready to eat and eager to witness the infamous Turkish Ice Cream vendors play their tricks. One child couldn't handle the banter and burst into tears, but that didn't stop the vendors from teasing him further. I couldn't help but laugh and I did not feel sorry for him at all which sounds horrific but honestly it was amusing. After grabbing a quick bite, we were given half an hour to explore. Naturally, I headed straight for the bunnies, goats, and pony area—surprise, I suddenly wanted a pony. Soon enough, I bumped into Nesrine and Maro again. By this point, they didn't even need to ask me to take their picture; I'd just automatically extend my hand and grab their phone—muscle memory, right? They were particularly enthusiastic about the gigantic, rubbery dinosaurs, even more so than the kids, which made the whole experience even more enjoyable. At one point, I caught Nesrine climbing the scales of a dinosaur with zero hesitation - I wisely refrained from snapping that photo. Being an accessory to dinosaur abuse wasn't a charge I was willing to face. The urgency to capture every dinosaur in sight before our time ran out was both comical and frantic. Once we circled back to the real animals, we split up. I headed back to the bus, while they wandered off to see the pony, oblivious to our tour guide's increasingly desperate calls to leave on time. That's when I offered to fetch them, and when I found them, they were still in high spirits, requesting that I walk backwards and record them singing. I have no idea why I agreed, but I didn't regret it—their joy was contagious, and they were clearly in their element. God knows what they were singing. Thirty seconds into our departure from DinoPark, someone on the bus shouted, "Oh my God, the flowers!" We were treated to a breathtaking sight of rich pink flowers clustered along the roadside, prompting Nesrine and Maro to demand a photo stop.
"Abi! Come!" they called out, half-jokingly, I think.
Nevertheless, I saw it as a instruction and I happily rushed from the back of the bus to capture their moment together, while the others inside chuckled at our excitement. Those flowers were definitely worth stopping the whole bus.

Our next stop was a Lower Duden waterfall in the Lara District. What fascinated me most wasn't just the sheer force of water emptying from a forty metre cliff into the Mediterranean Sea below, I have seen way too many waterfalls at this point, but the fact that it marked the end of a rainbow. My first thought? Checking if there was a shiny pot of gold somewhere in the sea. My inner child was so excited to see their end of a rainbow. Attempting to capture the moment with my selfie stick, the sun made me blink uncontrollably, turning my video into a comedic attempt at fluttering eyelashes—definitely not my best look. It looked like what women do when they blink whilst wearing those giant fake eyelashes. We encountered a few colourful parrots, while most of our group, seasoned travellers, suspected some sort of scam, one woman's startled scream scared off any dubious intentions but only because her scream startled the parrot. I believe it was Maro who screamed again. At this point her frightened scream was embedded in my brain. Feeling adventurous, I climbed over the fence to get closer to the edge for better pictures and videos. However, I soon realised that looking photogenic wasn't exactly my strong suit. Down below, just a few feet from where the water met the sea, a man stood fishing on a giant rock, seemingly unperturbed by the crashing waves. Whether he was contemplating life's challenges or simply enjoying himself, only he knew. He was minding his business and nobody was bothering him. On our way back to the bus Nesrine and I admired the rush of water beside us in the stream very quickly, we struck up a conversation about war in the countries we were originally from; Lebanon and Afghanistan, sharing our aspirations to visit those countries someday.

When you search 'Antalya' on Google, the images of Old Antalya City and the bustling harbour with ships lined up are just the beginning of what this vibrant city has to offer. That was our next stop! Walking through the streets, our knowledgeable tour guide painted a vivid picture of the city's history, pointing out how buildings have transformed over centuries—from churches to mosques, and even repurposed into lively bars before eventually falling into abandonment. The rich tapestry of old architecture welcomed us warmly, with charming coffee shops, elegant hotels and restaurants, cats lounging in windowsills, and souvenir shops tucked in between, each adding to the city's nostalgic charm. During our stroll, I struck up a conversation with a fellow traveler from London, originally hailing from Mauritius. It was delightful to hear him and his mother effortlessly switch between French and British accents and languages, a testament to their diverse cultural background. We exchanged stories about our travels—where we've been, dream destinations we hope to visit someday, and our most cherished travel experiences so far. These interactions are always memorable in a unique way because we didn't exchange information or names until almost the end of our leisurely walk through the streets of old Antalya. It was a wonderful blend of sharing anecdotes and gaining insights into each other's wanderlust-filled journeys.

Once we boarded the boat, the day had grown significantly warmer. The sun shimmered on the beautiful blue sea, stretching into the distance, and despite our initial exhaustion, we found ourselves thoroughly enjoying each other's company as time flew by. As the boat set sail, the scenery became increasingly captivating. To our right, towering mountains loomed behind a veil of clouds, resembling floating mountains from a fantasy world. On our left, guests at beachside hotels soaked up the sun, waving back with smiles as we sailed by. With lively Turkish music playing at full volume, the atmosphere on the boat was delightful. It was then that Nesrine provided not one, but two memorable and humorous moments. First, she decided to climb onto the edge of the boat for a few pictures, just like a couple of others were doing. However, as luck would have it, the waves suddenly picked up, causing the boat to sway. While most people would have calmly held onto the railing and descended, Nesrine opted for panic mode, screaming at the top of her lungs as if the waves had a personal vendetta against her. The wind intensified, and still instead of climbing down, she squatted and continued screaming even louder, reminiscent of a startled seal. Her voice cracked under the strain, but her sister managed to snap a few pictures before helping her down. I couldn't resist asking Maro to capture the chaotic moment in all its glory. Half the boat was now watching with amusement, and I found myself in stitches, unable to contain my laughter. I made sure to let them know that their contagious energy had made my day far more eventful and entertaining. The rest of the boat trip was filled with shared laughter and fond memories of Nesrine's unexpected acrobatics on the edge of the boat.

After the boat turned around, I decided to ask Nesrine to film me while I stood on the edge, since the waves had calmed down a bit. I was grateful that she agreed, but little did I know what awaited me when I checked the video later at home. For a good thirty seconds, I struck random poses, even daring to stand on the part of the edge that everyone else was too scared to try. However, upon reviewing the footage, I discovered that Nesrine had accidentally double-clicked the record button. The result? A video that captured absolutely nothing.I couldn't help but laugh at the situation. I vividly remembered Nesrine confidently stopping the recording and saying to me, "It came out well," only to find out that nothing had been recorded at all, adding to the collection of humorous chaos on this trip.

On our way back, the humidity was starting to get to us, but we knew it was our last stop. Climbing back into our van, we began our journey back. I've been on many trips around the world that have been made unforgettable by the people I shared the experiences with: kayaking in Pag with HrVoje, quad biking with the Bengali family in Agadir, and now, I can proudly add to that list, "Exploring Antalya with a Lovely Lebanese Family... From Australia!".