A lot happened while I was away and a camera (or two) was present at almost all times, so expect a long read and a whole lot of photos ahead. Before I begin, however, let me supply you with one or two key words that sum up the week. They might not make a lot of sense, but they are for the most part the essence of the holiday: Palace of Wisdom, mosque o'clock, Ishmael, STOP MOTION, "Compelling and Rich", Curly Shirley, Mega Macs, Purple Jeeps, KOs, Mr Chunks, "Go away, Murray", one two three four uno dos tres quatros, "Sort it out, guys", drag shows, thumb wars, fish bowls, bear skins, beat boxing, flip-flopping, towel whipping, poptart tossing, glove slapping, boat riding fun.
On the first day we were lazy and lounged about the pool all day long. I say lazy; it was actually a pretty well deserved rest. We didn't reach Marmaris until three/four in the morning and Gaz and I decided that staying awake for the rest of the night was a far better idea than going to bed. We waited on the balcony (henceforth known as the palace of wisdom) for the sun to come up, but due to the fact that the town lies nestled in a bowl of mountains this took several long, cold hours. Eventually we deemed the time late enough for breakfast (six o'clock or thereabouts) and headed down to the poolside restaurant. Eating and sunbathing ensued and it wasn't until early evening that I returned to my room to get ready. This was proceeded by cocktails at the hotel bar and Amber and Nia's frequent pool dunkings (which were in turn followed by exuberant jumping on Paris' bed). We walked down to the seafront in search of dinner, dodging restaurant proprietors as we went. It was by and large impossible to walk a hundred yards without a dozen or so throwing themselves into our path and peddling their gastronomical wares. We settled for one of the many like-minded Italian establishments along the way and then carried on in search of cheap fishbowls. Along the way we discovered an outdoor gym (near identical to the one in Rhos), upon which I lost my balance and badly banged my ankle, a drag show, which had it's entertaining and it's definitely-not-so-entertaining parts and a row of shishas much to Gaz's enjoyment. Finally, we concluded the evening with fishbowls and a teensy bit of risk taking as we secured a table in a Chinese restaurant for the following night. I have a distinct feeling that there was very little sleep on the second night also.
Wednesday presented itself in much the same fashion as the day before and I spent most of the day reading my new John Irving book next to the pool. In the evening we returned to the Chinese restaurant to find that our money had not been swindled from us and that our table had been lavishly decorated in honour of Martika's 'birthday' (a technique that we would come to use frequently throughout the holiday). On the whole the food was disappointing, but there were a lot of cheap drinks to make up for it. Foolishly, I decided to match Gaz when it came to cocktail drinking, which somewhat accounts for the state I was in during the remainder of the evening. We had 'birthday' cake after our meal and then got up to dance to the YMCA/video the others dancing to the YMCA. Only Brits, only on holiday, I guess. There was also, in no order that I can remember, thumb wars, orange fights, unexplainable tears and the infamous poptart incident. But despite this and because of this it was probably my favourite night of the whole holiday :)
On Thursday (after a fairly comfortable night spent wrapped up in bearskins on the boys' floor, due to the fact I was locked out of my room) we went in search of day trips and day trip offers. Martika in particular, was very vicious on the subject and she had us traipsing backwards and forwards between the various kiosks for the best part of the morning. It was no doubt for the best, as she succeeded in obtaining a very busy schedule for a very reasonable price. After lunch we took a mini bus into the centre of Marmaris where we visited the market and the shops along the sea-front. We tried Turkish Delight in a shop called Aladdin's Cave and had afternoon drinks outside a restaurant called "Why Not". Why not, indeed. Later on we went for Turkish baths in the spa of a nearby hotel. It was a slightly surreal experience as we were led to an underground chamber and set upon by hotel employees. First we were submitted to the heat of the sauna, where Gaz began to melt and then we were led into the bath room, which was in essence a large marble slab covered in foam. Here, Gaz was picked from the ranks of bikini-clad girls by a short man we later named Ishmael and a vigorous rub, slap and twist ensued. Next, we were taken to a different room where oily Turkish men administrated massages. Gaz, it is safe to assume, was scarred by this experience also. In the evening there was a bit of a debacle involving kebabs and restaurants and eventually Gaz locked himself away in his room. When Hannah and I went to investigate he drew us in with his pink bouncy ball and pleasant conversation and then chased us away with his stinging whipping towel. At one point, I locked myself in the bedroom, while Gaz followed Hannah out onto the palace of wisdom. I dread to think what our neighbours thought when they saw Gaz wielding his towel in the air and Hannah screaming away on the balcony floor!
The next day we took advantage of Martika's bartering skills and went on our first boat trip. We secured sun-loungers on the top deck and then proceeded in burning for the rest of the day as the boat chugged slowly around the bay. I got far too into my book and as a result I didn't leave the boat at a single stop, although Martika went as far as to jump from the side of the boat into the ocean and the others too pattered onto dry land from time to time. The furthest I got from my berth was below deck, for food and free drinks and to complain about my sunburn. Which by the end of the day was painful, oh-so painful. In the evening we ate dinner at Gaz's favourite restaurant (probably because he was known to its owners as James Bond, Action Man, etc. etc.). There were more sparkling cocktails and Paris's food, having emerged from the oven steaming, was taken on a grand parade around the restaurant floor.
On Saturday we woke early in order to take our second boat ride of the holiday. Although we tried, Amber and Nia could not be persuaded from their beds and so the remaining seven set out alone. Rather than our usual mini bus we were ferried from hotel to harbour in our very own purple Jeep. An exhilarating ride ensued as we sped past our fellow motorists, did wheelies around a lamppost and as Emily, in the doorless front passenger's seat, held on for dear life. Health and Safety friendly it was not. Eventually we reached the boat unscathed and settled ourselves aboard the top deck once again. Once we left the port however, I decided I would rather not risk further sunburn and so set off to the chilly lower deck. This second boat trip involved slightly more effort than the first. When we reached Dalyan, a little after lunchtime, we left the big boat and boarded several smaller, speedier vessels. Aboard these we rode to Turtle Island, where there was neither sight nor sound of any turtles. It was a nice stretch of beach all the same and I had a great big swim (until fear of sharks foreshortened it). We then took the small boats through the rushes to a health spa masquerading as a mud bath. The mud bathing process went like so = cold shower, roll and frolic in the muddy waters, scrape muddy slime from the walls and rub all over, get out, wait for mud to dry, take lots of photos, another cold shower. The big boat ride back to Marmaris was something of an adventure, but one that I alone was awake to appreciate. The sea was so choppy that Mr Chunks reared his ugly head on more than one occasion (not helped by Paris and Gaz's constant chant of "Mr Chunks, Mr Chunks") and I was momentarily adopted by the British couple sitting behind us, who took pity on me for being 'the youngest' and 'abandoned' by my friends. (Abandoned that is, until they told the others to buy me a drink by way of apology, whereupon Gaz was able to raise his head long enough to object [and strongly]). Eventually we made it back to the safety of the mainland and once our stomachs had settled we set out to dinner. After wandering the length of the harbour we settled upon a pleasant restaurant called Purple Rain, who served the best darn lasagna in the whole wide world. After our meal we sat outside with our customary fishbowl and when we grew cold we were provided with purple fleecy blankets.
Sunday was our last officially official day and so we decided to spend it as wisely as possible: in pursuit of lie-ins, McDonald's and water-park fun. While Hannah and Grace, et al woke early and went gift-shopping I stayed in bed until midday. When the shoppers returned we assembled and set out on our mighty quest: to defeat the Mega Mac. Our minibus dropped us off at the water park and as soon as our driver had disappeared round the corner, we crept back and began walking the way we had come. At McDonalds the term 'super size me' took on an entirely new meaning as between us we struggled our way through six humongous burgers, nine gigantic portions of fries, two shovel-fulls of chicken nuggets and enough Coca-Cola to drown a small nation (a single plastic cup was larger than my head, don't you know). Afterwards, we waddled back to the water-park, questioning somewhat our idea to gorge and then swim. At Atlantis water-park we threw ourselves wholeheartedly into wave surfing (foot cramp), stripy-penny-thing spinning (head banging) and water sliding (the infamous K.O. incident, as follows). It started off so well. Hannah with Paris. Jess with Gaz. Hannah with Jess. Jess with Paris. Down the slide Paris and I flew and out the other end, safe and sound. Fun by the barrel-load. Then it came to Hannah and Gaz's turn. We waited and we waited. Then from somewhere in the very depths of the slide we heard a bang and a clatter. Silence for a moment, then a shout of, "Oh God!" rang out across the park. Moments later Hannah flew boatless out of the slide, clutching her head, followed closely by Gaz, also groaning in pain. We stood a little longer, aghast at the carnage before us, then all of a sudden the rubber ring shot from the tunnel mouth. At once we rushed off in search of aid, only to be confronted by a lack of English and a cruel game of charades. Eventually a bilingual conclusion was reached and Hannah and Gaz were marched to their deaths/recovery at the hands of a round-the-back cave room and two white rubber gloves filled with ice. Concussion? Bruising? Possibly. Hitting Jess with icy-latex slaps. To be sure.
Our holiday culminated with a day of sunbathing, postcard writing and last-minute sovenier shopping. I spent a large portion of the morning sitting on the palace of wisdom point two with Gaz and Paris, listening to them 'beat-box' and recording Paris' amazing Murray impersonations. In the evening I took picture after picture in an attempt to fill my memory card, but with no such luck. Still one thousand five hundred/two thousand photos isn't that bad. 
