Evening reflections from my hotel balcony
The Mediterranean stretches before me, a darkening blue canvas against the fading light. I'm sitting on my hotel balcony, wrapped in an extra sweater as the temperature drops. It's 5:40 pm in Antalya, and I've spent most of the day wandering through the Düden Waterfalls area.
This morning I woke early, still on that strange earthquake-induced schedule from yesterday. After a quick breakfast at the hotel, I caught a dolmuş to the Lower Düden Waterfall around 9:30. The driver noticed my map and helpfully called out my stop - one of those small kindnesses that make solo travel easier.
The Lower Düden Waterfall is quite something - water plunging directly into the Mediterranean from a 40-meter cliff. I arrived right at opening time and had the viewing platforms almost entirely to myself for the first twenty minutes. The morning light created rainbows in the mist, and I spent far longer than planned just watching the hypnotic flow of water. Something about moving water always captures my attention completely.
Around noon, I took another dolmuş to the Upper Düden Waterfall, which has a completely different character - surrounded by a lush park with caves you can walk behind the falls. The contrast between the two sites shows how dramatically water features can transform depending on their setting.
I found a small café near the upper falls for lunch - a simple gözleme with spinach and cheese that hit the spot perfectly. The woman making them worked with practiced efficiency, her hands moving almost too fast to follow as she rolled out the dough paper-thin.
The park around the upper falls has some impressive trees - tall pines and plane trees that must be centuries old. I found myself lingering on the paths, looking up at their branches against the blue sky. The park benches were positioned perfectly for people-watching, and I spent a good hour just observing families enjoying their Saturday outings.
By mid-afternoon, the temperature had warmed to a pleasant 12°C, but now as evening approaches, it's dropping quickly. According to my weather app, we're headed for near-freezing temperatures tonight. It's strange to think of frost so close to the Mediterranean, but I suppose early March is still technically winter, even here.
The time here has been restorative. There's something about the combination of ancient history and natural beauty that puts my own journey into perspective. I've been traveling for 193 days now - more than a third of my sabbatical gone already. When I started this journey, 500 days seemed like an eternity, but now I'm feeling the countdown more acutely.
I've noticed a shift in my traveling style over these months. I'm less frantic about seeing everything, more content to sit and absorb a place. Today I could have rushed to fit in another site, but instead chose to simply be present at the waterfalls, to really see them rather than just photograph and move on.
Tomorrow I'm planning to explore more of Kaleiçi. Despite having been here for a few days, I still haven't properly explored all its winding streets. Then Monday will be my last full day before catching my bus on Tuesday. I haven't decided where to go next, though I'm leaning toward continuing along the coast - perhaps Fethiye or Kaş.
The lights along the coastline are coming on now, creating a glittering line against the darkening sea. A small fishing boat is making its way back to harbor, its navigation lights reflecting on the water. The air smells of salt and distant cooking fires.
In this moment, I feel very far from Kristiansand. Not just in distance, but in mindset. Yet somehow, watching the Mediterranean evening unfold feels like exactly where I'm supposed to be right now.
Day 193 of 500. Antalya, Turkey.