We walked around the bay into town, passing by beaches of modestly dressed locals and scarcely covered holidaymakers – what the older generation of Turks must make of all this semi-nudity is anyone's guess. On reaching town, we had to run the gauntlet of cheeky restaurant, shop and stall owners, who all had their "amusing" greetings, trying to drag you into spending your lira with them.
The number of British-style pubs seems to have increased from last year (I didn't think it was possible), and the World Cup was blaring out across town in all sorts of languages. Finally, we found a bar that wasn't a cacophony of vuvazellas, so we had a nice drink overlooking the harbour and the castle.
As the sun set over town, the Foam Party bar was just beginning to rev up the bubble bath machine, and a couple of drunk and shell-shocked Swiss staggered around town trying to come to terms with the fact that they'd just beaten Spain. With all this jollity about to kick off, we decided that it was time to go back to the ship.
We have a 6.30am start tomorrow, so we need to get to bed early.
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