The Yayla

It’s still mighty hot here in Mersin with most days cracking on in the high 30’s (that’s 100℉ for you crazy hold-outs in the good old USA).  I’m not going to whine about the heat today (I know it’s surprising even me) but instead I’ll tell you about what to do when it is hot in Mersin – do what the locals do and get the hell outta Dodge.

yenikoy 7

Yes sir when the heat gets too much for a Mersin-ite they pack their bags and migrate to the Yayla and so, in an effort to be as Turkish as possible and, with the flimsy excuse of a party, a few of us expats decided to reconvene in the little village of Yeniköy for the weekend to enjoy the cooler mountain breeze and a bevvy or three.

Yeniköy is approximately 20 km’s (about 12 miles for you backwater-type countries that still use the archaic Imperial system of weights and measures – sorry I’m pointing my finger again at you Americans) from the city.  Leaving the city on the Mersin Gozne Yolu I usually turn off at the Anadolu Ajansı Hatıra Ormanı (National Forest) and take the Mersin Arslankoy Yolu up into the mountains passing Aladağ along the way (pull over and fill your bottle with pure mountain water at the fountains as you pass by).  The first time I travelled up into the mountains was a little hairy with my little car unable to take the gradient on the unsealed village roads but with the current road upgrades the drive is more pleasant than terrifying for this little Aussie bird and the views as you pass through the tiny villages and mountain ranges is spectacular.

Arslankoy 2

One of the small lokantlar worth a visit is Yeniköy Restoran Palanin Yeri which is on your right as you go through the village.  Here they do the usual mangal, tavuk ve et dishes and it’s not bad bang for your buck (or your lira).  The beer is cold, the staff try their very best and with a mix of their English and my Turklish you usually get what you ordered but the real draw for me is that after spending time in the hell that is Mersin in August a visit to this pleasant garden restaurant and it’s cool breeze (usually 10°C difference) makes the drive so very worthwhile.

Palanin

Leaving Yeniköy there are a smattering of waterfalls to visit, the most famous being Santuras (St Iris) at Çağlarca or you might like to taking in some of the hiking trails nearby.  As the trails are used by the local herders you will probably pass a goat or two on your hike as well as, although I have never seen one, the occasional wild pig.

water fall

Another 30 minutes past Çağlarca is the village of Arslanköy which is pretty much as far as you can go without a 4WD.  At 1,475 m (4,839 ft) above sea level the summer sun is quite strong up here so remember to slip, slop, slap (Aussie reference sorry to the rest of you) and the village itself doesn’t really have a lot to offer but just past the village is a lovely lake which is a very pleasant spot for a picnic (make sure you stock up before you leave as there are only a few small shops in the village for supplies).

arslankoy lake

A weekend pass to the Yalya is just the thing to remind me just why I love living here in Mersin.

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Syria’s Children

His name was Aylan Kurdi. Do you remember him?  His name is Omran Daqneesh. Will you remember him tomorrow?  All of Syria’s children have names and we should never forget them.  But we will.  Of course we will.

OmranSure we were all rightfully shocked and saddened by what has happened to both of these little boys.  Social media was again abuzz as photos of Omran dazed and bloodied spread around the world.  “How could this happen again?” we all yell from the comfort of our homes.  News anchors were crying on the television from the safety of their newsroom.  People were tearing up on the radio at the thought of poor Omran and his family.  How could this happen again?  Again?  Seriously?  Don’t tell me you didn’t know.  This has been ongoing since 2011.  Omran and millions of others are being bombed every day.  I know real life is distracting and there is a lot of other juicy news stories to cover but please don’t be so shocked by what has happened to Omran.  He is just one of millions of people who have been displaced, injured or killed in this awful conflict.  Tomorrow there will be another little boy just like Omran but perhaps he won’t be as newsworthy.

Today Omran is safe but what exactly is safe in a war zone?  Thankfully the five year old was reunited with his mother, father and three siblings but eight other people were not so lucky and perished in the air strike that destroyed his home and his life.  Will his family stay in Aleppo or will they, like millions of others, attempt to leave Syria in the hope of a better life?  And what life would they have outside of Syria?

AleppoBorders are closing to them.  Options are limited.  There is so much anger and hatred.  Today there are tears for Omran but tomorrow there will again be calls to close borders and to “send them back where they came from”.  Tell me where the feck are they going to go back to?  Omran no longer has a home.  Aylan’s family made the decision to leave in the hope of a better life.  Aleppo is in ruin, hell most of Syria is under siege.  What hope do these people have?

The Syrian civil war began over 5 years ago and thanks to internal fighting, the constantly shifting alliances between the Assad government, rebels and Islamic extremists and the ever flourishing ‘war economy’ over 13.5 million Syrians have been displaced either internally or are refugees outside of Syria.  Turkey is the largest host country with 2.7 million Syrian refugees, Mersin has over 300,000 refugees.  What if Turkey decided to shut its borders or to turn these people away?  How many more deaths must there be?

Yes we should all be shocked and saddened at the photos of Aylan Kurdi and Omran Daqneesh.  We should be embarrassed at the world and at each other that this is humanitarian disaster is still happening in 2016.  Omran’s life will never be the same.  His family’s lives (who are now in hiding in fear of Government backlash) will never be the same.  And for those of you who think they are better off staying in Syria and that the borders should be closed?  Have a good look in the fecking mirror you asshole.  You should be ashamed of yourself!

Photo credit:  Reuters

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Next Stop Masterchef

Since returning from Oz I have found that whatever Turkish that I did have seems to have all but disappeared, even my “Ben kırmızı bir kadeh sarap alabilir miyim” seems to be coming out wrong (haters don’t hate.  That is self taught Turkish right there folks).  In an attempt to throw myself back into the deep end of the Turkish language I have been watching nothing but Turkish television in the hope that by engrossing myself in the shows will help me pick up some words or retrieve the words that I have lost.  Maybe.  Maybe not.  It seems I’m never going to get a glass of red wine again am I?

broken wine glass 2

For the past week I have been watching the Olympics on TRT Sport.  I’ve seen the Aussies being annihilated in the swimming pool.  I’ve seen the Aussies crash and burn on the field.  Basically I’ve seen them feck up all over Rio.  Sorry?  You’re wondering how many Olympic medals I’ve won?  Fecking none OK!  I am a couch potato but I am couch potato in Turkish.

Anyway I’ve also watched the diving and the gymnastics and right now am engrossed in track.  Honestly that Usain Bolt is a fast feck isn’t he?  How’s this photo of him smiling at the camera as he ‘bolts’ to the finish line (see what I did there?).  And what about that poor Japanese pole vaulter whose Olympic dream was crushed by his peen.  Poor buggar. Never before has a member of the male species wished for a smaller manhood. Until now.  Turkey has won two silver so far in wrestling and weightlifting, and today Turkey’s women’s basketball are playing against Spain in the quarterfinals.

Usain bolt

But I haven’t really learned any Turkish so I turned it over to a Turkish cooking show.

Who doesn’t love the Turkish cooking shows?  They cook.  They chat.  They yell.  Dance.  Sing.  Masterchef is as boring as feck compared to a Turkish cooking show.  Today I made patetesli sigara börek and even though I already knew how to make them this time I made them in Turkish following a Turkish recipe!   Yah me!

potato pieI mean just look at these bad boys.  What did you say???  I can’t hear you over the deafening sound of my own awesomeness!

So if you need me I will again be in the kitchen attempting a Croquembouche.  I mean it’s obvious that I am an undiscovered culinary genius.  Seriously if I can chef it up in Turkish then nothing is impossible!

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#First World Problems

Daughter and I have been in Sydney for the past 6 weeks as well as a sneaky side trip to Bali with a few of my girlfriends so I have been MIA in case you hadn’t noticed (what do you mean you didn’t notice???).

While Down Under I got to spend desperately needed time with many, but not all, of my most beloved peeps (and purchased some desperately needed bras – my boobs are back in the Northern Hemisphere again) and Daughter also got to have a few catch ups, again stalked members of 5SOS and even went to see The 1975 in concert.  Sydney was definitely a win/win sitch for both of us (although Calum from 5SOS is still playing hard to get).

Bali 1Now we are back in my Türkiye and back in the Village I find that things haven’t changed.  At all.

Of course I am aware that Türkiye was on the news while I was away.  As an early riser I had the news on and was watching the ‘incident’ as it happened.  (I will call it an incident however I won’t make any further reference to it due to the current political climate here).

“Holy Shit!” said I.

“Don’t go back!” said most, if not all, of my acquaintances back in Sydney.

Coming back home I admit was a little nervous but now that I am here and have been out and about I can say that in the Village and in the city of Mersin nothing has changed.  The sun is still shining, people are going about their business and life goes on oh and The Turk actually didn’t know that the ‘incident’ had taken place.  Slept through the whole thing.  And before you Negative Nelly’s start banging on at me yes I know that Mersin is not Istanbul and that there are continued protests there as well as other cities including Ankara but, just in case you didn’t realise, this is a blog about living in Mersin.

Anyway after staring at the television for hours I realised that something that was so huge in Türkiye and that held such huge ramifications for this country as well as the rest of the world it was merely a ripple in the pond in Australia (and possibly other countries) and was only getting about 7 minutes of airtime with the Australian media.   I should just stress at this point that the home that I was staying at only had free to air television – in fact I didn’t even get to see the finale to Game of Thrones until I got home!  #FirstWorldProblems

Everybody-Loses-Their-Mind-GoTAustralia had a general election during my time Down Under and so I did my civic duty and cast my vote.  I actually received a fine for not voting in the last election although on checking with the Consulate here in Türkiye I found out there was in fact nowhere to cast your vote unless you did it by post.  Have you ever tried to send mail from Türkiye?  Has it ever arrived or did it take 6 months?  I betcha that if I had done the postal vote in the last election my solitary postal vote would have been crucial in stopping that tosser Abbott getting elected!  And did you know that this is like the 50th freaking election since 2010 – not really – but it sure seems like it.  I mean Australia change leaders like others change their undies!  #FirstWorldProblems

I took Daughter to the hairdresser in Sydney.  Now, back in Mersin a trip to the hairdresser including a wash and blow dry will set you back 9TL or AU$5 (the price has gone up in our absence).  In Sydney a wash and blow dry at a suburban hairdresser set us back AU$60 or approximately 120TL!!!  #FirstWorldProblems

I made potato kofte for dinner for a friend and after a quick trip to the local supermarket I realised that Türkiye beats Australia hands down on the cost and the quality of the fresh produce available.  Of course here in Türkiye fruit and vegetables are seasonal but after I paid AU$3 or 6TL for one (rather crummy) bunch of maydanoz (parsley) I realised just how great I really have it here.  I couldn’t even get my hands on any nane (mint) either!  I mean WTF??  It’s mint for feck sake.  Here it’s growing on every freaking street corner.  I think back to when we lived in Sydney and we always had mint on hand.  Of course The Turk would grow his own.  Duh! #FirstWorldProblems

Although Australia did win hand over fist time and time again.  Electricity is abundant as is fresh drinking water.  I had only been home in Mersin a few days when the electricity was cut and the water disappeared from our pipes.  It took 2 days for the water to come back but the electricity did crank up again pretty quickly (and a good thing too with the current temperatures here in Mersin hitting mid-40’s (that’s Celsius to you freaking Americans) on a regular basis.  Sidenote – Daughter just stuck her head out the door and asked me “When’s it winter?”  LMAO! #SydneyoverMersin

The traffic back in Sydney is as always a dream to navigate although peak hour did my head in on more than one occasion.  I love that the speed limit isn’t just a suggestion and I seriously don’t think I heard a car horn during our whole time there!  #SydneyoverMersin

Of course the biggest drawcard and the one thing that I can’t replicate in Mersin is bacon.  Sydney has bacon.  A lot of bacon.  And I ate it all!  #SydneyoverFECKINGMersin

bacon 1So now that I’m back I will probably be back to whinging about all and sundry and hating this and that again but right now I will just say that I’m glad to be home.

Oh and yes I was playing with hashtags.  They are stupid and I hate them.  I vow this day to never use them again!

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Dear Türkiye

I am not standing by your side today for I am far, far away but I know that you are suffering and I weep for you.

image1I know you must feel manipulated and bullied by those who want you for their own personal gain. Those that feel that they can control you and own you. I see you being scrutinized and gossiped about by your so-called friends and neighbours who twist their own hateful words to the world until you feel that there is no hope left. And I know there are those that wish you nothing but harm with wave after wave of attacks against your countrymen by an enemy wielding instruments of death. You have been overwhelmed by the hatred when you yourself have been so generous and opened your heart and your arms to welcome so many less fortunate. It must be hard to hold your head up high with so many wishing you harm.

Fighting for your life can be painful and God knows you have suffered. We are all witness to your pain. I know that you have tried to be strong. I see your brave attempt to take control of your future but you just weren’t strong enough today. Don’t give up Türkiye. Don’t let the hate and the negativity win.

A great man once said, “Peace at home, peace in the world”. You and I know that great man as your father Mustafa Kemal Ataturk. He once made you strong. He once made you proud. And if you just remember Mustafa Kemal Ataturk in time of pain you will become a strong and proud nation once again.

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You Can’t Choose Family

On occasion I write about something other than Turkiye and today is one of those times.  In many ways my blog is a journal allowing me to clear my head and cleanse my soul (if you believe in all that loopy stuff).  Writing down the words that I am feeling takes away some of the pain and hardship that surrounds the events and, well, I just feel better for it.

Family collageMany of you will recall that I am adopted.  I am not emotionally scarred from being adopted nor have I ever wished my life to be anything other than what I have been gifted.  I love my adopted family.  I may not always love their decisions or their choices but I will stand by my family because that is what they are – my family.

My Dad was the master of all things good and my mum, who may not have always been the best mother, was the best that she could be.  I also have my brother who, I will admit, has not always been my best friend or my biggest supporter nor I his but we have forged a relationship that (I think) is strong and everlasting.  I have lost both my Dad and my Mum now but I still have my brother who has a wonderful and extended family that I am blessed to call my own.

While I do not want to go into the details of this post (for fear of no doubt long retribution and probable legal action by the party involved) I will say that today I am closing the book on one part of my life.  This part of my life was ugly and full of anger, jealousy and hatred.  This person was a devious creation and she and her awful family have caused nothing but angst and sadness for me and my brother but today, finally, I can say hele şükür! (Good riddance!).  I hope to never cross their path again in this lifetime.

Now I plan to move forward and build an even stronger relationship with my remaining family because we are strong and we don’t take no shit from nobody!

#yeahIwentthere

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Daughter’s birthday present

I’m off to Sydney next week so this will probably be my last post for a little while.  I did want to post about my side trip to Tallinn last weekend though.

Estonia collage

First up  – Tallinn – what a beautiful city.  Having been living in Mersin where there is a population of just under 1 million people spending a few days in the relative calm of this Estonian city was a real pleasure.  The people were lovely.  The food was great (yes of course there was bacon) and the traffic was downright pleasant.  I mean people stopped for you on pedestrian crossings!  I know!!!

But why was I in Tallinn?  Yes?  …  Well …

As you all know Daughter is my very spoilt princess and I do tend to give her overly elaborate birthday presents.  You may also recall that Daughter has a love for the band 5 Seconds of Summer and believes, in her heart, that the bass player is the man of her dreams.  I have mentioned to you before as well that I thought George Michael was the man of my dreams and we all know how wrong I was about that.  Anyway as 5SOS (and practically any other band in the world) refuse to come to Istanbul to play a concert I looked for the cheapest alternative and that alternative just so happened to be in Tallinn, Estonia therefore Daughter and I travelled to Tallinn for her birthday present – tickets to 5SOS.

I knew nothing about Tallinn or Estonia.  I assumed it was part of Russia.  I thought it would be cold.  I thought I would have to eat horse or blood sausage (there was blood sausage for breakfast but I did not partake).  One thing I will say is that it was still light at midnight!  Crazy!

Arriving on the Friday morning we immediately walked over to the Old Town to get our tourist on.  Tallinn dates back to the 13th century when a castle was built by the Crusaders and developed into a large city full of opulent public buildings and merchants’ houses.  Today the Old Town forms part of UNESCO World Heritage List as one of the best preserved medieval cities surviving today.  The Old Town is one of those places where you can just get lost wandering through the winding, cobblestone streets … and that’s just what we did.  We also made a visit to Fat Margaret and Kiek in de Kok – seriously who makes these names up – before finding a restaurant and indulging in bacon burgers for the both of us.

Saturday morning came around and Daughter was chomping at the bit to be dropped off at the stadium to meet her friends and line up for sound check so I left her there while I found some similarly bored parental guardian types who were also waiting patiently for their children.  We went on the hunt for a bar where we settled in for a natter and a few bevies.  I arrived back at the stadium at 4 just in time to go inside and watch the band do their warm up before answering a few questions asked by the screaming fans.  I could feel a migraine coming on (perhaps I had had one glass too many).  Daughter had a front row, centre seat during sound check and nearly collapsed when Michael (the lead guitarist) noticed her t-shirt.  He pointed her t-shirt out to Calum (the bass guitarist and the man of her dreams) who laughed but sadly did not speak to her (the t-shirt was of Calum pulling a funny face).

tshirt

The concert itself was not as elaborate compared to the concert at Wembley last year.  I assume that it is too much to bring the whole she-bang with them while travelling around Europe.  They played a mix of their old stuff and a lot off their new album.  I laugh as I write this because of course these kids are fecking 20!  Their old stuff!  Give me a fecking break!  Daughter was happy though and that’s all that matters.

5sos concert

Returning to our hotel I went upstairs but Daughter stayed in the lobby – did I mention that we were staying at the same hotel as 5SOS?  And Adam Lambert.  And Brian May. Wasn’t intentional but it was a definite bonus.  I caught the lift up with Brian May.  I was very cool.  Smiled but didn’t go “Oh My God!  It’s Brian May!!!”  Anyway Brian May (who was also at the 5SOS concert) arrived back there at around 2am and said “don’t hold your breath for the band to come back anytime soon” but she held out.  The concierge rang me at 4 and said that Daughter had fallen asleep in the lobby.  Could I come and get her please.  Poor darling.  She got up again that morning at 8 and went back down to the lobby but, sadly, they didn’t come downstairs to meet any of their fans.  I felt bad for Daughter but at least she was inside.  Outside the weather had taken a turn and it was bloody freezing.  Fans in tiny shorts and t-shirts were jumping up and down and squealing but I am pretty sure it was because they trying to increase their body temperature and not because they were going to catch pneumonia.

So that was my weekend in Tallinn, Estonia.  I would thoroughly recommend a visit to Tallinn if you ever find yourself having a sneaky getaway.  Lovely spot.  And they have bacon.  Lots of bacon.

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Up and Away

I love to travel.  I love to experience new places and things, but, before you arrive on your summer holiday or return to the comfort of your own bed, you have to endure the 9 Circles of Hell with mind-numbingly slow queues, some serious second base groping, flight delays, screaming children (and on occasion screaming adults as well), middle seat syndrome, out of this world turbulence and basically anything else that Lucifer could throw at you to ensure that your flight sucked.  Big time!airport meet_0_0_0_0

I caught a flight from Tallinn, Estonia to Istanbul the other night with Turkish Airlines.  I really like Turkish Airlines.  The staff are good, the food is not entirely gross and the planes are in pretty decent nick.  I mean I have been on some really dodgy airlines before but Turkish Airlines is not one of them.  I’d give them a 4 star rating.

Getting to our seats Daughter immediately noticed that there was no television.  OMG!  What are you going to do for 2+ hours.  I pointed at the little screen above our heads, “You can watch from up there.”  She rolled her eyes.  #FirstWorldProblems #SpoiledPrincess

As soon as the flight started they turned on the film “Batman v Superman” and I thought “Why not?” so I settled in for the flight while Daughter listened to 5SOS.  The movie was OK.  I mean I am not a fan of these types of movies but it was better than a trip to the dentist.  Anyway 5 minutes before the movie ended – they switched it off – as we were coming into land.  5 minutes?  Seriously?  Did Batman kill Superman?  Was Lois Lane saved?  What happened to that big half mixed monster thingy?  And who was that chick that got in on the battle?  “Is she with you?”  “No I thought she was with you”.  Classic.  These are questions that I need answered.

As we were disembarking I asked the stewardess did Superman die?  She just laughed.  Apparently I am not the first to ask that question.

Arriving in Istanbul we had the extended re-mix of layovers before our flight to Adana so I settled in to people watch.  Remember the beginning of the movie Love, Actually?  I love that scene with everyone running into each other’s arms at Heathrow Airport.  Brings tears to my eyes every single time.  This is not that.  This is a bunch of grumpy, tired Turkish people (and a few random, and nervous, yabancı) all of whom would rather be anywhere else but at the airport at 1am.

While people watching I got to witness one man, angry at the world (or maybe he missed the last 5 minutes of Batman v Superman as well), grab one of those grey plastic containers as he passed through security and try to hit one of the polis with it.  Soon other polis arrived on the scene and he was dragged away.  He must have had one hell of a pat-down.  This was not in Love, Actually.

Then there was the flight to Diyarbakir that was delayed for over 2.5 hours (sorry Onur Airlines there’s a reason why I never fly with you).  People were going freaking nuts.  As a bystander it was definitely something to witness.  The poor ground staff were surrounded 10 deep with screaming Turks while just to the side was a woman holding a baby crying at the top of her lungs telling everyone that they are ‘not normal’.  She must have pushed somebody’s buttons because then everyone turned on her and she retreated to a corner.  This was also not in Love, Actually.

But the kicker was when we finally got into Adana airport at 4am and shuffled through to baggage claim.  One middle aged lady knocked an old man with a cane over while retrieving her luggage and didn’t even look twice at him.  No geçmiş olsun.  No apology. Nothing.  Yep pretty damn sure that wasn’t in Love, Actually either.

Like I said I love flying.  Love the whole shebang but being in a Turkish departure lounge after dark is like being front row at WWF Smackdown!

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No one is left behind

Those of you who are long time readers of my little blog may recall my post about Carl Frederiksen.  He was one of the old gentlemen that I would often meet in the village.  He was a kind old fella who unfortunately could not speak but he was always smiling and always so generous.

DSC06255

I hadn’t seen Carl for a little while, in fact I wondered if he had moved away.

This morning while yelling at Daughter to “hurry the hell up or you’ll be late for school” I saw an ambulance drive past.  Now I’m not proud but I rolled my eyes – another funeral.  Five minutes later the mosque made the announcement – it was Carl.

Tears filled my eyes.  He was near to 90 years old – so he had had a good wicket – but he was one of the most genuine people I had ever met.  I wondered what would happen to him as he had no family but when The Turk and I arrived at his home I was so happy to see that there were hundreds of people there to see him off.  His neighbours washed his body and shrouded him while the village men carried flowers and followed in procession to the mezarlık (cemetery) for him to be buried.  Early tomorrow I will make the trip with the ladies to the mezarlık for the prayer.

I was so proud to be a part of this village today.  Whether you are young or old, with a family or very much alone, no one is left behind.

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A White Flag

Well yesterday was certainly eventful wasn’t it?  My scrap with Mrs Vito was the talk of the town.  After our initial blow up she continued to yell and complain to anyone who would listen to her and I continued to flush my toilet so that water came down the pipe and onto her precious granite below, even splashing her workers a few times.

breaking-bad-i-won

But as you can no doubt guess from my GIF – I won.  I won this particular battle.  Thanks to The Turk.  Always The Turk.

While Mrs Vito continued to carry on outside and I continued to flush my toilet inside The Turk did what The Turk always does and stepped in behind the scenes.  After a discreet chat with Prince’s William and Harry (Mrs Vito’s boys) a hush fell over the battleground, shovels were downed and all was quiet.  It was an eerie quiet too.  An uneasy quiet before the battle resumes.  So I flushed … again.

Yes thanks to The Turk a white flag appears to have been raised by Mrs Vito (albeit by William and Harry) when their plumber arrived on the scene and immediately got started on re-routing our pipes (at no cost to us).  So how did The Turk manage to fix this family debacle?  Was the threat of a horse head in someone’s bed necessary?  No, not really.  The Turk merely pointed out that Vito and Harry (who sell maydanoz and nane to restaurants throughout the city) needs water from MY water pump to keep their produce fresh.  The Turk suggested that should our pipes not be returned to their former glory or an appropriate facsimile sorted before dark then MY pump would no longer be available to them.  Within twenty minutes the plumber arrived and within two hours I was able to poop and flush.

I won!

I told The Turk that I wanted an apology from her.  He said I was dreaming but I’m holding out.  There is officially a grudge and officially I get now why my MIL and both of my SIL hate Mrs Vito with a passion.  Last night was spent on my SIL’s terrace drinking vino and listening to them both bitch about the bitch meanwhile Mrs Vito closed all her curtains and slammed her front door a good few times.  We giggled.  I am no longer Switzerland, well maybe I am still Switzerland but this is a darker, edgier Switzerland.  This is the Switzerland of Mrs Vito’s nightmares!  Beware of Switzerland baby.

You have been warned!

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