The Mediterranean Coast

We spent three nights at Onur Motel in Faralya on the Mediterranean coast of Turkey. When we arrived, the owner of the motel pointed to himself and said Mike. We therefore assumed that was his name. We were mistaken and discovered halfway through our stay that his name was in fact Onur. We are still unsure of the explanation of our first meeting. We were treated to a delicious homemade Turkish dinner. Yay!
Our first night was a very noisy one. Between the very loud insects, roosters, and calls to prayer, I didn't feel like I got to sleep at all. The next day, we went in search of a different brand of malaria medication. After reading the frequency of the side effects (hair loss, hallucinations, depression, anxiety, hearing loss, etc.), I really wanted to find the alternative.
We took the minibus into the main town only to find that the brand of medicine we were looking for was unavailable in Turkey. One bonus: we found some awesome earplugs which blocked the "ooch ooch" (Onur's imitation of the insect's persistent noise).
We bit the bullet and took our original medicine. So far so good! We still have all our hair and I was already talking in my sleep before we took the medicine, so Im chalking up weird dreams to changing location every 3 days.
We recovered from our fruitless search by relaxing back at the motel. We sat up on their terrace, used the internet, read and enjoyed the cherries and gum (?) that were brought to us by Mike/Onur.
The next day, Brandon went diving and saw two octopi. Turns out the hectapus charm that he bought in Istanbul worked! I 'snorkeled' which consisted of looking at water and sand. Brandon thinks he got made fun of a lot by his dive leader and buddy because he would hear his name, some Turkish, and then a bunch of laughing.
Our last day, we tried to hike down to Butterfly Valley. It was more of a climb down a cliff which had ropes to help you down the harder parts. When we got to the part with the rope, I decided to turn around. Brandon said that if he had been there with his friend Matt Friar, he would have kept going. Sorry to not be as daring as Matt, but glad to be alive, I found us a restaurant in the next town called the Olive Garden. It was right on a cliff, overlooking a beautiful beach, and the food was delicious!
Onur drove us to the airport and when we shook his parents' hands goodbye (they help run the place and his mom does the cooking), I couldn't help but feel just like I was leaving my grandparents'.
Onto Jordan, but first a Turkish ice cream at the airport.