We drove through the old city of Antalya like bandits in the middle of the night. The taxi driver was racing around tight corners and down narrow streets, like George Clooney in The American. An elbow placed lightly on the open car window would have gone missing as we blew by Hadrian’s Gate.
Arriving at the Alp Pasa Hotel, we stepped out into the quiet and ancient street and were immediately wrapped in the sweet smell of jasmine in bloom. You could almost feel the jasmine on your face; it was so engulfing.
The concierge took Bert and Bill up to their room first and left Kevin and me standing in the open-air tile-and-stone plaza, with pieces of walls dating back to the Ionians. As we stood in silence, we could hear the amorous embraces of a couple somewhere in the rooms above. The smell of jasmine is most likely an aphrodisiac.
