This was my first experience of European travel - so if I sound naive, I was. 

This was our very first bridge holiday, and took place in April, 1985. I didn’t know any of the regular bridge players who were going on the trip, and Pauline, the organiser, who was the bridge teacher at my centre, offered to fix me up with someone called Audrey, who she warned me was a bit of a character, and nobody else would room with her. Luckily, I convinced a woman called Pat to go and be my partner and roommate on the trip.

We approached Turkey via the Adriatic coast and it was a beautiful clear sunny day. The view was breathtaking and we were all so excited to be visiting this paradise. As we flew lower to land at the airport in Izmir, I noticed how dry and poor the countryside looked- almost like semi-desert. We are so used to seeing our green trees and fields and flowers everywhere in the spring. Flowers were hard to find - maybe the odd rose or geranium when you really looked hard.

First stop for many of us was the Ladies’ Room. There was an embarrassed-looking Turkish man standing in the middle of the passage near signs which signalled ladies to the left and gentlemen to the right. He felt it was necessary to give further directions after he had determined what gender we were by pointing us in the right direction. The Ladies had two stalls. When one became empty the girl who came out said, "This doesn't work. It’s awful. There is no point in even trying." But desperation makes people less fussy than usual, so I waited my turn and when it came, went into my cubicle. What I was confronted with was an enameled depression on the floor with a smallish hole somewhere near the centre. The idea was to squat and aim and hope for the best, but judging from the splashes allover the side bits and the walls, my predecessors in the room had not got the idea. But I managed it, and even felt proud at my lack of splashing.

Then we got our luggage, mine was hardly identifiable because the 1abel had come off. But luckily it was recognizable by the dirty spot on the back. Then we went into the lounge and were told that our bus was waiting for us the parkway across the airport so we proceeded to carry it out to the bus to be stowed there for the.1 l/2 hour ride to our destination, Cesme. It was hot by this time but nobody was complaining because we were all so thrilled to see the sun, but as we waited on the bus, we got. hotter and hotter. Finally it emerged that the delay was because somebody had taken the wrong suitcase and somebody from the other bus was missing a case. Eventually all the cases were unloaded from both busses and everyone had to reclaimed their own luggage. The funny thing was that the suitcase the person had taken in error didn't look anything like the case they ended up with. But finally all was sorted out and we got under way.

We were all very interested in the drive to start with. Izmir seemed a big sprawling city with lots of shops along the road that seemed full of heavy equipment - all looking rather run down and depressing. The houses were not particularly attractive - in fact many looked very poor. The whole atmosphere was of poverty.

Then we turned into a shopping street and saw all the various goods displayed on the pavement- much ooing and ahhing over the carpets, copper, and leather goods so proudly displayed. Bargains, we thought. Just what we've come for.

As we left the town to go down the peninsula to the seacoast, the road followed the line of the sea for some time, making us hope the bus had good balance, because a few feet to the right and we would be in the water. There didn't appear to be any protective wall or fence. When we started climbing the hills, our poor bus struggled. The roads were narrow and we had to stay behind various vehicles for quite long distances before having the energy or the space to pass them. We saw only one small town in the distance, and few houses or farms. The occasional peasant farmer or more likely his wife, we saw tilling the fields which looked so dry, dust so much in evidence. They were dressed in long skirts and head coverings- just like the pictures of peasants we'd seen with the odd donkey well burdened down with a load of whatever they had been harvesting. The bus driver had managed to get some air circulating in the bus and we were all feeling pleasantly hot and tired, keen to get to our hotel and have a hot bath and a long drink.

When we entered Cesme finally, we stopped outside the travel agent's office and picked up Caroline, who was young, blond, pretty and well tanned, but not seemingly very experienced in the ways of Turkey having only been in the area a few weeks.

We dropped a few passengers off at each of two different Pensions, and turned around and went up a steep hill to our hotel-the Kaptan. It. was impressive, standing above the town, but. we were not too impressed by having to lug our own suitcases up about 40 steep marble steps. Nobody seemed available to give us a hand so we struggled as best we could. On arrival in the lobby we had a good look around. There was a small lobby desk where a strange looking young man was having great difficulty finding our keys. One section of the room had couches and chairs, but the largest part of the room was set with tables and chairs for dining, with a small bar area in the far corner. The whole area was perhaps 20 by 30 feet, with the stairs and a little kitchen area coming out of part of that space- and that was the entire living area. We wondered where we would play bridge, but were pretty sure we would have to make do with the dining tables and being mixed in with everyone else, which is just what did happen, despite Pauline having specifically booked a separate room, and having paid extra for it.

When I got to the desk, there was my name, Day, with the room number 304. But before I had a chance to go to the room, Audrey, the one who I had been intended to room with originally, reappeared having been to her room and found it wanting. “There is no balcony in my room.” Audrey had a loud voice and a presence that made itself felt. I quickly took my key, rushed up to my room, found a balcony, rushed back, and told Audrey that I would swap with her. We'd both paid for a balcony so I was as entitled to it as she was, but I was so relieved not to be sharing a room with her, that the loss of the balcony was a small price to pay for not having to listen to her aggressive voice night and day for a week. I pitied her new roommate. She was a small, quiet meek lady who was certainly no match for Audrey, and who I'm sure would also have foregone the balcony had she been able to change roommates as part of the deal.

My roommate Pat and I then went to explore our newly exchanged room - 101. The key stuck in the door and gave us a bit of trouble as it would continue to do for the entire week. The room was smallish, 10 ft by 15 ft maybe, with white painted walls unrelieved by pictures of any sort, and a window with a view of a cliff about 15 ft behind the hotel. There was a single blue drape on the window. We had twin beds, separated by bedside tables, each containing one small drawer. Pat's bedside table also had a small stool under it, the lid of which lifted up, and it turned out to be empty and bottomless. What a good place to keep shoes she said. That’s it, Pat. Think positively, I thought.

The rooms also contained a wardrobe with sliding doors. Unfortunately it stopped after about two feet so as to accommodate a radiator underneath, meaning that any dresses hung up in the wardrobe would drag on the floor. But since we had only four hangers between the two of us, not many dresses were expected anyway, I guess. We put about 10 blouses and trousers on one hanger each, and three dresses, two cardigans and two coats on the other. The small drawers just about took our underwear, and the rest of our stuff stayed in our suitcases or piled up in the corner. Never mind. This is fun. We'll just go and have a hot shower and all will be well. We let the water run awhile - it sometimes takes time for the hot water to get into the taps. But after five minutes, we decided that somebody else had beat us to it and got all the hot water for the time being- we'd try it later.

The toilet we were relieved to find was of English type in design- in other words you could sit on it and it flushed. There was a small plastic bin with a push open top next to the toilet. We had been warned that the plumbing would not take paper, so we were to use the bin for all toilet paper. I think we hadn't really registered what this was going to mean, and we made several mistakes before we got the hang of this rather unpleasant way of disposing of the paper. But when in Rome and all that. We vowed to play the game according to the local rules. We would not be the guilty ones to block the toilets with our humble paper.

Now unpacked we felt the need of liquid refreshment. But what to drink with the gin I had brought? On the advice of the ladies next to me on the plane we had kept two small plastic bottles that came with the wine for future use, and also an extra plastic glass. That we now indeed needed as our bathroom was supplied with only one glass. But we were warned off the local water for drinking and having that drink was getting to be a matter of great importance. So I volunteered to go and buy some bottled water and tonic. When I reentered the lounge/reception/bar/dining/ bridge room several people including Audrey were sitting around happily drinking beer bought at the bar. The amiable waiters - a bunch of young handsome men aged from 18-25 or so were very willing and eager to help.

"I'd 1ike some water and some tonic," I said, and they produced a large plastic bottle of water out of the open-top fridge. “No tonic.” I offered my 10,000 Turkish lire note - the smallest I had, and caused no end of trouble. The cost of the water was 1,500 and they just didn't have the right change. In the end I bought two bottles just to make it a little easier for them. I expect each of the 36 of us presented them with a similar problem.

The boys wore red and white striped short sleeved tee-shirts. They were all good-looking slim boys, certainly giving a very good first impression of Turkish people. Having secured my two bottles and eventually my change, I raced back to 101 and greedily poured our first drinks in Turkey. "Not so much gin for me", said Pat. "All the more for me," thought I. It did taste good too. I could feel myself relaxing. We had arrived. We had found the hotel and our rooms. We had some water to drink and beds to sleep in. The sun was shining. What a nice holiday.

The next step was to go down to dinner. Because we had come so late, they delayed the dinner to accommodate us. We had been told the usual time for the evening meal was 7:30, but this first night, we would have it about 8:30. So bit by bit we all found places around the tables, feeling hungry, looking hopefully for some sign or smell of the culinary delights we had been promised. Our handsome waiters were all on cue. Before long, we all had knives. Five minutes later, we all had forks. Then came the salt and pepper, followed shortly by the bread - a huge mound of sliced bread that we all sampled without waiting for side plates, butter or napkins. The bread was good- homemade with a heavy texture but a nice wholesome taste.

After about six slices of bread, we got spoons, but still no food. It was about nine when one of our group closest to the kitchen spotted them coming and we nearly cheered as the boys came in. Each boy carried two bowls of soup; each trip taking several minutes.

"Has no one told these poor chaps about trays?" someone asked. But in good time we were all served. Tomato soup, homemade with a grating of cheese on top.

Delicious. Just what we had anticipated.

Then our faithful friends came to clear away the empty bowls and eventually on came the second course - a salad. I had read that two of things to stay away from were salads and fresh fruit which couldn't be peeled. Why? Because they would be grown in ground fertilized by the products of our toilets which we had so carefully not put paper into. Also, because if they were washed at all, they would be washed by the local water which we had been told was not safe for us to drink. And obviously some of the water would cling to the lettuce, etc. But was I brave? Yes, I ate my salad, without murmur. No salad dressing for it - only a lemon wedge. But it tasted good. When you are hungry you don't look too carefully at your vegetables’ origins.

Still hungry and still favourably impressed, we eagerly awaited the main course of the evening. The piece de resistance - the cuisine which made Turkish food the 3rd of was it the 2nd (depends on which book you read said Caroline) best food in the world. By 9.30 the wait was over. On it came. But what was it?. On first glance it looked a lot like sausage and chips. Granted it was presented as one might have expected, after all it had taken a long time to create this delicacy. It was arranged tastefully in a sort of bonfire pattern with the thin elegant chips in a carefully arranged circle and with the five small sausage looking a bit like meat (but what sort of meat?) spaced equidistant to make a sort of three dimensional star pattern.

"It looks cold", somebody said.

"It feels cold", somebody else added.

"It tastes cold too," we all replied. Well, never mind. I expect it was because we upset their routine by arriving late. It's bound to be hot tomorrow. And we still have dessert to come. And come it did, in time. Cherries and strawberries - perhaps not the best quality ever to be seen - but only the odd few rotten ones. Tasty too, and if you forget about how they were grown and washed, almost quite nice to eat. What a good meal! We rushed upstairs to have more gin.

We had sort of thought Pauline would forego the bridge she had promised for the first night since we had arrived late and were all so tired. We also had sort of hoped for a stroll into the town to see what Turkey was really like. But bridge she had promised, bridge we were paying for, and bridge we would get, if we liked it or not.

By the time the dining tables were cleared and the green cloths uncovered ready for the games, we were resigned, bridge it would be.

A few hours later, we were very ready for bed. Time for just another quick snort to ensure a sound sleep and we settled down on our rock hard beds. Most people had rock hard pillows too, but I have long since learned that bringing a pillow from home is a very good way of filling a suitcase. So I slept well. I like a hard bed. Our beds had a sheet and a cover which Pat described as Teddy Bear material - brown fuzzy fake fur. It was too hot on that first night with it on, and too cold with it off. So with various trips to the toilet due to all the booze and periods of throwing off or pulling up the fur, the night was not quite as silent as we'd hoped.