Bozcaada - Turkey's Quiet Little Piece of the Aegean ~ Derek's Travels

Despite Greece's stronghold on idyllic islands in the Aegean sea, Turkey managed to pry two little gems from their grasp. The larger of the two, Gökçeada, was a little out of my reach, but I liked the sound of tiny Bozcaada better anyway. (Pronounced sort of like Bowz-shay-ah-da, though varying depending on who you talk to.) I took another minibus back down the coast, past the site of Troy, to the harbor where I waited, finding a seat in an open air cafe overlooking the brown beach, watching the local men play cards and backgammon as they whiled away the time until the evening ferry. The crossing took less than an hour, putting me at the harbor in Bozcaada just as the sun was setting behind the largest hill on the island.

This tiny island, only about 6 miles long by 3 miles wide, consists mostly of one main town, wrapped around the small harbor and fronted by an impressive castle, described by my book as the only true sight/destination on the island. Right away, though, I got a sense as to why people come here. The village, a mix of Greek and Turkish culture, was almost unbelievably cute and quaint, with tiny cafes lining the narrow streets, sometimes wide enough for a car or two, sometimes blocked off by the outdoor seating of the restaurants or a random tractor sitting off in a corner. Small stone houses that must have been over a hundred years old sit pleasantly next to freshly painted hues of white and pastels. Locals literally stop and chat with each other from one open window two stories up to the passerbys below. A few restaurants try, in their very relaxed and discreet way, to attract your attention with a colorful painted sign or logo, though you get the feeling that they don't mind if you just keep walking, enjoying the laid-back air of the town. Along the harbor, five or six restaurants have set up tables overlooking the water, serving the fresh catch of the day to anyone who wants to stop by. The narrow, winding streets just continued for a few blocks into town, ending with a small hill overlooking the city on one side and stretching out to the other edge of the harbor and the impressive stone castle on the other end of the town. This really was a quintessential Mediterranean type fishing village with a welcoming feel, not yet converted to mass tourism, almost feeling too content in themselves to be bothered with it.

Arriving on the dock, I, being the only foreigner, was greeted by a little old man, showing me a brochure with pictures of his hotel. Not knowing where I'd stay, I decided to take a look, figuring I'd reward him for the effort of coming down to the dock to see if any tourists just happened to be on the boat. He apologized for his poor attempts at English, but it didn't matter. Just a few minutes away, he showed me to my room, which was actually the second story of a two story house squeezed between a restaurant and local shop along one of the main roads, just as picturesque as the rest of the buildings in the area. My room was also rather large with two beds, a couch and a tv, along with an attached bathroom, all for only about $25.

With the last remaining bits of light, I wandered the cobbled streets, finding my way up to the top of one of the hills overlooking the village, seeing the small town laid out in front of me. Heading back down, I stumbled upon a soccer match in the center of town, adjacent to a tree covered outdoor courtyard that was shared by two or three very basic cafes. I opted for a simple chicken kebab and watched darkness set in as the old men chatted around me and the teenagers waited for their turn in the soccer game.

The next morning, I had decided that I'd take the local bus (dolmuş) to the South end of the island where there are a string of beaches, but after talking to a few locals, I found that the service only ran a few times a day, and I shouldn't really count on them. So I noticed a sign about scooter rental around the corner and decided that was my best option. I flagged down a waiter who then flagged down the owner of the company who was relaxing in the courtyard, and I tried to explain that I wanted to rent a scooter for the day. His lack of English and my lack of Turkish didn't work too well, so eventually he motioned for me to jump on the back of his scooter, and he took me just down the road to a friend's restaurant who happened to speak English. As we chatted about prices, the scooter owner had to leave to do some painting, but I was instructed to let his friend know if I wanted one. This turned into an hour long chat about anything and everything, as I was treated to Turkish tea and hospitality while looking out over the harbor, talking to my new friend. Finally, I found a break in the conversation and mentioned that I really should get the scooter and see some of the island. At this point, the owner was long gone, so we had to call him back and go through a series of things as he tried to find the keys (which were just in the bottom of the seats, sitting there the whole time), helmets and paperwork. We never did find the paperwork, but he took me back to our English-speaking friend for an explanation, and he also vouched for me, as there was no official paperwork to hold me responsible if anything did happen to the scooter. Eventually, I was back on my way, taking the one main road out of the village, heading down along to the Southern coast. With the small population of the island, I had most of the road to myself, literally seeing a separate rabbit and then a turtle a few minutes later on the road before seeing other cars. (As you'd expect, I saw the hare way before the tortoise, but if the fable has taught us anything, we all know that the rabbit will stop for a break or a snack, and the turtle will win in the end.)

Spending about four hours on the scooter, I think I may have crossed over every single road on the small island, weaving up and down, in and around the rows of drying grapes of the inland vineyards, through the few bits of pine forest and mostly along the sweeping coast, offering scenic views of the clear blue sea below. I stopped at a few of the beaches for a bit, and while quite scenic, I don't think any of the Mediterranean type beaches can compare to the ones I've recently seen in Southeast Asia and the South Pacific. The sand is coarse and sometimes the beaches are mostly rocks, though the beautiful water still provides some amazing views. Not knowing where to go, I followed a sign that said something about a "piknik," figuring that might lead to a pleasant spot in the middle of the island. I don't know if I ever found that location, but just after passing through a small grove of pine trees, the road opened up to a vineyard on my right and a beautiful patch of wildflowers on my left, covering an area the size of a football field in red poppies, mixed with a few tiny patches of white and yellow. Stopping for a stroll, as I'd never pass up the opportunity to meander through an idyllic patch of wildflowers, I found that there were actually a few goats laying in the field as well, enjoying the bright sunlight and cloudless sky. Soon after, heading back to town, I found another vineyard next to a field of wheat, so I rode on the dirt road along the edge of the field, enjoying the prototypical view of the golden wheat swaying in the wind, with the ocean off in the distance.

Finally, I headed back to town, content with my beautiful mix of rocky beaches, ocean views, vineyards, wildflowers and wheat fields. I dropped off the key and arrived in the town square just in time to see some sort of Naval presentation playing the national anthem and another song to a group of soldiers who had come in on a battleship for the afternoon. I spent the rest of my time between my cafe in the center of town and along the harbor with my English-speaking friend, having thoroughly enjoyed my day riding around this perfect little island. As crowded as Greece and other parts of Turkey get with tourists searching for the perfect small island, I couldn't believe that I nearly had this place to myself, and moreso, that the relaxed culture and lifestyle was still intact.

(One of the cute little streets of Bozcaada town, just inland from the harbor.)

(I think this was a Greek cafe, occupying the little alley around the corner from my hotel.)

(My rental scooter allowed me to basically see every road on this tiny island. This was my first view of one of the beaches lining the South coast.)

(Some typical scenery along the South coast.)

(Bozcaada town, viewed from the hillside. What you see in this picture is essentially everything that exists in this town - a few streets of houses and restaurants, a harbor and a castle.)

(The red-tiled houses add a nice touch to the already scenic town.)

(Me hanging out in a field of wildflowers - I think they are red poppies.)

(How could I resist a stroll through a perfect field of wildflowers along the side of the road?)

(As you can see, it's all very dry here, yet it still maintains a nice hint of green. Well done.)

(Another of the beaches with the typical clear water. As it turns out, the Aegean Sea is freezing! I guess that would be nice in the scorching summer heat, but it was too cold for me.)

(The coastal road, free of cars and full of great views.)

(Hello durrrrrr!)

(Little vineyards like this one line the interior of the island.)

(Ever since watching the movie Gladiator, I've been longing to stroll through a golden field of wheat, so I couldn't pass up the opportunity here. The picture was taken with a timer and a mini tripod on my scooter.)