Just got back from a week-long belter in Turkey! PVM enjoyed seven days of all-inclusive indulgence in Bodrum, and honestly, it felt like time slowed down in the best way. I went to touch some sand!
Most mornings kicked off with a slow coffee on the balcony, followed by a stretch of uninterrupted chill by the pool. Mojito in one hand, paperback in the other, sun kissing my face!
Barefoot strolls on warm sand, jumping over playful waves, and the kind of naps that only come after a big buffet lunch. Crypto stuff at the hotel, using the slowest WiFi life can give! There's no rest for the wicked... and crypto never sleeps!
Bodrum itself? Absolute paradise. It’s got that perfect mix of laid-back seaside charm and a little bit of Mediterranean glam. Think whitewashed buildings cascading down sun-drenched hills, boats bobbing in a deep blue marina, and palm-lined promenades filled with little cafés, buzzing tavernas, and street cats living their best lives.
At night, the town glows golden and music spills from rooftop bars and there’s always a breeze carrying the scent of grilled fish and jasmine. The food was a highlight in itself!
What to eat? I’m talking mountains of fresh fruit, grilled meats, pastries soaked in honey, and yes, the pistachio desserts nearly did me in. And the people? Warm, generous, always ready with a smile or a story.
I even squeezed in a bit of culture with a trip to the ruins of the Temple of Artemis in nearby Ephesus! Standing there among the marble remnants of one of the ancient world’s wonders was like stepping back through time. That place has stories etched in stone.
Bodrum gave me everything I needed: rest, sun, food, history, and just enough buzz to keep things interesting. Might’ve left with a slight pistachio addiction... but I also left feeling totally recharged.
I went absolutely feral on pistachios. I swear, it was like every dish had a secret mission to break my willpower. Pistachio baklava with golden, flaky layers soaked in syrup? I had it for breakfast. Pistachio-stuffed pastries that crumbled perfectly in your mouth? Two at a time.
Pistachio ice cream so creamy and nutty it felt illegal? Every night. No regrets. Halva, more pastries, even salami and cheese with pistachio! What about olives? The grilled ones where divine!
Kebabs were a daily ritual, from juicy lamb skewers grilled over charcoal to tender chicken shish, wrapped in warm flatbread with smoky peppers and a splash of lemon.
Every bite was a masterclass in balance, with bold spices, fresh herbs, that satisfying char from the grill. Even the kofte were next level, served with buttery rice or crispy potatoes and yogurt drizzled with paprika oil.
And the meze... oh, the meze. Plates just kept coming, I had hummus, ezme, stuffed vine leaves, spicy tomato salad, creamy haydari. You could make a full meal just from nibbling your way through the starters, sipping on cold ayran or a glass of raki if you’re feeling fancy.
Turkish Delight in more flavours than I thought possible: rose, mint, pomegranate, even hazelnut. Some dusted in powdered sugar, others stuffed with nuts and honey.
Then came the heavy hitters: like syrup-soaked revani, buttery kunefe with melted cheese inside, and towering chocolate hazelnut cakes that looked like they were baked for sultans. Every meal ended with something sweet and decadent and just when I thought I couldn’t take another bite, I always did.
Turkish cuisine is about abundance, generosity, and celebration. Every table felt like a feast, every meal a little event. Safe to say I didn’t leave hungry… or remotely ready to go back to plain toast.
Pampered myself in the hammam... and honestly, it was a full-body reset. The moment I stepped inside, I was wrapped in warmth and that soft, steamy haze that makes you instantly relax. The air was thick with the scent of eucalyptus and rose water, and the marble all around felt ancient, almost sacred.
First came the heat... that deep, cleansing warmth from the heated marble slab, where you just lie down and let the sweat do the work. Every bit of tension starts to melt away. Then came the real magic in the form of the foam wash.
I was absolutely drowned in bubbles, like a cloud had descended just for me. The attendant scrubbed me down with a kese mitt like I was a dusty antique! The rinse? Bliss.
Buckets of warm water poured over me like a ritual, washing away not just the soap, but the last traces of the outside world. Finished with a gentle massage and some cool mint tea to bring me back to life. I left glowing, light on my feet, and wondering why I don’t do this monthly.
But the highlight... beyond all the lounging and feasting... was the day trip to Ephesus to see the Temple of Artemis. One of the original Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, and even though only a few columns remain, the energy of the place is something else.
You stand there, surrounded by the remnants of ancient stone, and you can almost hear the whispers of pilgrims who once travelled there to honour the goddess. The scale, the history, the stories woven into every fallen block hits different.
It was a proper moment of awe, and a trip down memory lane! The glory of an ancient civilization lays dormant! It was a trip full of sun, sweets, sea, and a bit of sacred wonder. Hard to top that combo!
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