The next morning word had spread throughout the Club Marmara that Californians were present. Like newly arrived exotic pets in a zoo, staff members sought us out eager to have a look at the American guests. Each staff member we saw smiled brightly as they passed and many called out “Hello California!” We had become the state.
Thanks to David’s early morning handy work, we had secured 4 stained foam loungers in a shady spot near the tattoo artist and the dilapidated ping pong table. Although this was a slightly out of the way area, it did not deter the jubilant staff members from approaching to bid us their most sincere wishes of, “Good Morning California,” or to invite us to “Come joue Volleyball California.” Fortunately my mother is slightly deaf in one ear and was spared the persistent onslaught of curious well wishers.
The tattoo artist whose sign advertised “Henna and Permanent Tattoos” and did not insist on any minimum age, was actively hustling for business and approached me no less than twice insisting a butterfly at the base of Livvy or Chloe’s bikini bottom backside would be a wise choice. It was only by sitting near the tattoo artist that I began to appreciate the amount of gold and silver teeth present in the mouths of the guests at Club Marmara. You see the tattoo artist was quite the joker and spoke French well, and so he would entreat the guests with his humor in exchange for which he was shown bright smiles exposing abundant gold and silver caps. I suppose French dental practice favors the capping of nicotine rotted teeth in these metals. Thankfully I have excellent lenses in my sunglasses so that the glare was not the least bit troublesome, although the sight itself is a different matter altogether.
Once again Chloe was basking in the glow of the Frenchies, doing flips, hanging in the hammock with her entourage, downing iced café and coca, giggling and having a marvelous time. It was only the sight of her joy that gave me the strength to carry on. (see sneaky pics i took from a safe distance of her in hammock and pool with Frenchies) Livvy and I stayed hung out with my mom and spent a fair amount of the day in the absolutely disgusting swimming pool, brimming with bikini bottomed boys and girls, and whose water was a pronounced puce color.
David and Justin went on a full day scuba diving excursion and a triumphant Justin returned beaming at having seen a Nudabranch in the wild. Neither David nor I had a clue as to what a Nudabranch was but were overjoyed as well. Apparently until this dive Justin believed they were only native to New Zealand. Folks, that is what Justin does on the web, surfs exotic sea animals. Clearly no need to check his computer cache.
After showering with my flip flops on, we left Chloe with her posse and escaped Club Marmara for dinner in town by the marina. Although I was not at all interested in acquiring a fake Prada wallet or imitation Gucci belt, the notion of returning to Club Marmara was so depressing, that I insisted on looking in every shop desperately trying to extend the time away. In the end I bought some wildly overpriced suntan lotion and finally David insisted we hail a cab and return. Reluctantly I acquiesced, thankful that we are headed back to Istanbul in the morning.
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