I had many, MANY comments and remarks regarding this recent post about The Turk. Most of the comments were very positive but there were a few that, well frankly, scared me out of my socks. Internet trolling at its very best.
Now I want to start by saying that I don’t make this shit up! It is just too ridiculous to even contemplate so, after a short drumroll – rat tat tat tat – I give you a new story.
The Turk left Sydney at 6 am on Tuesday morning – so about 9 pm Monday night Turkish time. He was upgraded – lucky buggar – and spent the first 13 hours of his journey sequestered in business class and enjoying all the luxuries associated with such a class. After a 4 hour stopover in Dubai he continued his flight onto Istanbul arriving shortly after 5 pm last night. Yes Australia is a long way from Turkey – and he’s not even home yet.
He gave me a quick call from Istanbul saying he was feeling a bit poorly. He had a headache and had had a bleeding nose on the second part of his journey. Well me being me I immediately started to have a freak out but he told me he was fine and was waiting on his connecting flight which was to have him arrive in Adana at 10 pm.
His brother Akan went to Adana to meet him while I stayed home and made lamachun and salads for his arrival. 11 pm came and went. Midnight came and went. 1 am, 2 am – they both came and went. His brother’s mobile was turned off. The Turk’s mobile was not yet connected so that was not working. Where the feck was he?
Had he had a heart attack and was in hastanesi? Had the plane gone down? Had they had an accident driving home through the torrential rainfall that we had over the past 24 hours? Holy crap! He hasn’t signed my kimlik documents! Yes I am sorry to say that that went through my head.
By 3 am I was completely having a meltdown. We had not had any electricity for most of the day (and all of the evening) so I couldn’t even check on the internet if there was any news that I could integrate into my over active imagination (nightmares of flights over Ukraine come to mind here).
3.35 am and Akan’s truck pulls into the driveway. Where the feck have you been?
Oh we went for corba!
God give me the strength.
Anyway this morning he hands me a Duty Free bag. Exciting. Presents. I know what you’re thinking. Jewellery maybe or some French perfume? Nope. Three bottles of good Aussie plonk.
I know I might complain about The Turk a lot of the time, alright all of the time, but … he really gets me.
Loving this blog? Please help me build my audience and share with like minded people who, like you, sometimes feel the need to kill their husband and love Turkey. You can also subscribe or like me on Facebook for all updates.