Flip through the latest issue of Gulf Weekly.
The best aspect of being a journalist is meeting new people from all walks of life. Culture, religion, wealth, social standing … it’s all irrelevant when they have a story to tell.
Couple this with the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of driving through the most scenic mountains in Turkey with a brand spanking new Volvo XC60, and you’ve got a recipe for a very special media trip which will live long in the memory.
The good folk from the Swedish marque and its exclusive distributor in Bahrain, Motorcity, flew myself and a handful of other eager motorists to the southern coastal resort of Marmaris for two days of petrol-infused bliss.
Surprisingly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after an overnight flight, we were collected at the airport by the friendly Turkish team who would turn out to be much more important than just our guides. More on that later!
We were soon chauffeured away in our wonderfully shiny, sleek SUVs, offering us a chance to take in the beautiful scenery with its rolling green mountains and formidable rock faces whilst enjoying the supreme comfort of this beast of a machine.
The improved leg room over the previous model was certainly appreciated after a night of flying, as was the automatic climate control and sculpted leather seats.
The first stop was a quaint restaurant by a river bank. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about press parties, it’s that they LOVE to feed you. Seriously, if I was to sum up the general itinerary of one of these to the uninitiated, it’d go something like this: eat, drive, eat, drive, eat and drive.
Still, when the food is this good, I’m not complaining. Cheese and tomato aficionados would have had the time of their life judging by the vast quantities of it on offer, but luckily plenty of chicken, kebabs, salads, breads and the most amazing honey I’ve ever tasted were also sampled.
After declining an offer to have a go on the restaurant’s rope swing that propelled out over the water (my clumsiness is mythical, I didn’t fancy spending the rest of the day drying out), it was finally time to get behind the wheel.
Three versions were on offer, the Diesel D4 (190BHP), the turbocharged four-cylinder engine T5 (254BHP) and the T6, packing an additional supercharger to produce 320BHP.
Of course, for my first experience, the boy wanted to play with his toys. Into the glossy silver T6 it was, for more than two hours of driving as we scythed our way through the plethora of Turkish villages and towns.
My driving partner for the trip, former-GulfWeekly assistant editor Charlie Holding, paid me the biggest compliment of all by nodding off for most of the journey … although I dare say that was thanks to the comfort and smoothness of the car rather than my driving skills.
However, he certainly woke up for the last leg, a short 10km drive off the beaten track to the hotel, which seemed to go on forever as it twisted and turned its way along a cliff edge. Health and safety standards are perhaps not as stringent in Turkey, as the absence of barriers laughed in the face of such regulations.
Without daring to think what my poor mother would be saying were she the backseat driver, I made sure to test out the high speed cornering and traction of the car on these roads, which I must say was truly excellent. Not once did I feel like I wasn’t in control or headed for an Italian Job ending re-enactment.
Once we finally reached the gorgeous Golden Key Bordubet Hotel, I took the opportunity to take a small boat out to a private island and catch some rays on the sunbed before the evening presentation of the car and (yet another) feast.
After retiring to my room and watching some midweek Champions League football in Turkish (in other words, with the mute button firmly pressed), I had a breakdown at the prospect of having to be up at 6am. As anyone who knows me would attest to, that’s usually the time I’m going to sleep as opposed to waking up, so I was terrified at the thought.
After what seemed like five minutes, the morning wakeup call rang through the room (cheekily, the phone was placed at the other end of the room from the bed so I HAD to get up to answer it), and I somehow collected myself for the day ahead.
What a way to start off, too. Kayaking! Whether this activity was proposed under ‘team-building’ or ‘haha, this will definitely wake them up’, I’m not sure, but it turned out to be a hilarious experience. Even if my cramped knees didn’t agree!
Rowing out onto the sea in formation, with the morning sun glistening on the waves and a light breeze in your hair, made you appreciate the natural beauty of the world. However, after being asked to pose for one group shot too many, including in a circle which took about an hour to set up, we disembarked on the shore and picked up a bicycle to pedal back to the hotel.
It’s been years since I rode a bike, but the old adage is true. You never forget how to ride one … although some of the other members of the group mysteriously did when they were faced with a steep incline and got off to push.
However, it was all in good spirit, and the company is one of the best parts of these trips, as much as the driving. Motorcity’s marketing manager Mirela Micic was always on hand with her boundless optimism, whilst new friends were made from locations as glamorous as Malta and Lebanon.
After a quick shower and refresh, it was time for the main event of this peculiar triathlon … more driving!
This time, it was Charlie’s turn to snake his way through the lush greenery as I bonded with our Turkish friend, Sahli, and our guest photographer whose name was entirely unpronounceable. Conversation was difficult, with two Brits who couldn’t speak a word of Turkish trying to communicate with two Turks who couldn’t speak a word of English.
However, we found common ground in German heavy metal music as I handed over my iPod to them and they exclaimed their love of Rammstein as thundering guitars and pounding drums hammered through the Bowers & Wilkins speakers!
We were very grateful for their Turkish later on though, as we had a heart-in-mouth moment with the local police. To be fair, it was entirely their fault for telling us: ‘Go fast, no police’, right before a police checkpoint. Cheers guys!
Neither Charlie nor I had our driving license on us as we were pulled over, having left them in the hotel, or our passports. Fearing a week in the deepest, darkest cell, we were talked out of it by the same men who had gotten us into the sticky predicament. Supposedly speeding is fine if you’re glorifying Turkey with nice words afterwards!
After another few hours of (more careful) driving, multiple stopovers for more cheese and tomatoes, Turkish coffee and amazing views, we bade goodbye to our beautiful adopted baby in a tearful farewell.
One final banquet on the hotel’s private island somewhat inevitably turned into a party that went on late into the night. May as well make the most of the special Volvo hospitality while you can!
Unfortunately, with a return flight in the morning, there was barely time to grab 40 winks, before shovelling down an omelette and a croissant and heading to the lobby to hitch the bus back to Dalaman Airport.
I’d have loved one final ride in the car, but it wasn’t to be. That’s testament to how much I loved it, and appreciated the chance to drive it through such a gorgeous location. Thanks, Volvo!
