One Finger Salute

I had a road rage incident here in Mersin a few months back. Full disclosure it was (kinda) my fault and I regret the whole incident but thankfully I lived to tell the tale to you guys now and, who knows, maybe my story will be a lesson on what not to do while on the roads here (or anywhere in the world these days for that matter).

Driving in Turkey can be a little *ahem* challenging at times but I can play Super Mario Kart as good as any nine year old so I feel I have the skills necessary to dodge bananas, shells or out of control turtles as I manoeuvre through the chaos of Mersin traffic.

Actual photo of driving in Mersin

So recently I was meeting a friend from Adana for lunch. Regrettably, we had chosen the weekend of the Portakal Festival which meant that everyone who had ever owned a car here in Mersin was out on the road and traffic was completely gridlocked. Neither of us minded too much as we weren’t in any great hurry, however and as usual, the impatient drivers of Mersin had all taken on their alter ego of Mario Andretti and believed that they were on the final straight at the Daytona 500.

Fast forward to 1 km from our destination… the train station in Çarşı and that’s when it happened.

We were stuck behind a car who was attempting to park on the busy road. Yes, the driver may not have had the best parking skills but as I said we weren’t in any great hurry so came to a stop behind him and waited. However, the wack job behind us in a banged-up white Fiat wasn’t as patient.

“HHOOOONNNKKKKKKKK!”

My reply (to myself mind you). “Dude, chill.”

“HHHHHOOOOOOOONNNNNNKKKKKKKK!”

Now (and mostly because my ears were actually bleeding at this point) I threw my hands up in the air very dramatically ensuring that the nut bar behind me could clearly see I was frustrated by his behaviour.

My reply (out loud but not out the window). “What the hell do you want me to do, ya bloody dickhead!”

It happened a third time.

“HHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!”

I moved forward slightly to enable the hot rod enough space to nudge into the traffic beside us. He passed. Slowly. And I did the unthinkable… I gave him the finger!

Yep, I flipped him off. I showed him the bird. I gave him the highway salute.

Hindsight and all that I knew I shouldn’t do it but on very rare occasions my Aussie-ness explodes out, and I’m drinking beer, calling people “flamin’ galah’s” and, well, giving people the finger. In Australia it’s endearing. That’s how we Aussies say hello. I swear! Okay maybe not.

Anyhow… Mad Max came to a screeching halt about thirty metres ahead, and he jumped out of his car and raced towards us like Usain Bolt while being chased by two other car occupants who were attempting to tackle him to the ground.

“Holy shit!” said I.

“Oh my!” said my more eloquent friend.

I became my very own version of Mario Andretti and floored it, swerving through the traffic in an effort to get as far away from this wack-job as possible. And then it happened.

Dude threw himself at my car, like his whole body, flying through the air at the passenger side of the car! I didn’t stop. I looked through my rear vision mirror and watched him roll neatly into the gutter, dust himself off and immediately give chase again. There was no stopping him! He was the T-1000 from Terminator 2. Holy shit!

Thankfully we lost him in the chaos that is every day Çarşı, and I dropped my shaken but not stirred friend at the train station. I drove home in a state of panic to update The Turk who immediately took me and the car to the polis merkezi to report the incident and to obtain paperwork for the insurance claim on the body-sized dent in our front passenger door.

Unfortunately, the polis was not as helpful as we had hoped and informed me I had “antagonised” the other driver so nothing could be done, in fact he had the right to make a complaint against ME! They also gave me a warning about driver safety and road rage because if you piss someone off here, the other driver could pull out a gun/axe/knife/pitchfork and really go to town.

Being a sensible kind of Aussie and wanting to learn my lesson I did a little research on road rage around the world and do you know what? In a recent report commissioned in Belgium, it seems that 77% of Australians have been subject to an “obscene gesture while driving”. Crikey! I wonder how many of them were me???

In Turkey, authorities are at constant loggerheads about how to control the trafik canavari (traffic monster) and road rage that seems to be an everyday occurrence.

The moral of my story is to never, ever give anybody the finger; you never know what type of looney tunes is in the car behind you, or beside you, or in front of you.

Lesson learned.

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I Want You

Today is a day for you guys to help me. I need your thoughts, your advice and yes, even your criticism.

My book is now completing yet another edit. I have had a few beta-readers and close friends read it and they have given me generally positive feedback. They loved my quirky leading lady (are leading ladies always quirky?), adored my Turkish hottie, and were left wanting more (always a good sign). I intend to upload to Amazon shortly (but think of shortly as a fluid term as it’s taken me forever to get here).

So, first things first.

Book cover

Ta-daaa!

Here is the proposed cover of my very first (still not quite ready) novel, Salep and Ginger. Does my cover grab your attention? Would you buy my book based on the cover? What changes would you make? I personally don’t love the font and wonder if perhaps the cover is a little dark. Would love to hear your thoughts.

Book synopsis

This has been fudged together and will clearly need an overhaul but again to any of you who love a sexy, romance give me your feedback. Would you download this novel based on this synopsis or would you need a little more? What would you change?

“Ginger Knox thought she was living her best rom-com life. She had the job, the apartment in Notting Hill (adjacent), and an honest to God Hemsworth clone for a fiancé, but when she arrived home one surprisingly sunny February day to catch her fiancé with his pristine white boxers around his ankles and his personal assistant in their bed, the tenuous facade of her life dissolved in a split second.

Suddenly single, Ginger resolved to finally become the leading lady in her own love life. And that’s just what she planned to do, until her plans were once again thrown into disarray when her flight home for Christmas was grounded in Istanbul and she finds herself stranded with the man of her dreams. Of course, it’s the same man she had recently had a near one-night stand with – and who knew he was one of the most famous men in Turkey!

Between Sydney, London and Istanbul, Ginger was resigned to the fact that she may never get her Happily Ever After, but what about her Happily Right Now?”

Getting Jiggy With It

It’s time for the big question:

How much sex is too much sex? I mean is there are point that it just becomes x-rated and unreadable? I myself still remember the first time I read a book that was borderline pornographic and I was completely gob-smacked… but I kept right on reading it (and lurved it). Would you prefer the idea of romance or do you want to see Ginger and Aydin get down and dirty? And before you guys ask no I haven’t ever read the Grey books so I don’t really have a comparable in my head.

My beta-readers were of widely differing age groups and so my romps in the bedroom proved a little shocking to some. One beta-reader refused to finish it and although I can’t find her actual feed-back she did tell me that I would find myself in purgatory very, very soon. Thankfully most of the others have been a little more positive:

“Feeling a little heart palpitation myself.  Good writing!”

“Gotta say, my lady bits are a bit ready just like Ginny’s!  Time to stop editing and go find my hubby for a little snogging of our own!  This is the BEST reaction a reader can have – wanting more – and the characters aren’t even having intercourse yet!”

Here is a little snippet. I’ve chosen this one as its as close to PG-13 as I could find. Believe me when I say it does get much, much racier.

Was this really going to happen? In an alleyway? Like horny teenagers?

A moment later we were kissing again, exploring each other’s mouths with our tongues, the desire for more, overpowering my senses. I slid my hand across the front of Aydin’s jeans and felt his hardness react to my touch as he growled in frustration. My jacket was on the ground in seconds. He turned me around, and I felt him unzip my dress and slip it down my shoulders to my hips. I turned back to face him, and he caught his breath as he gazed at me standing there in my safe, pink, boring Primark bra. I swore at that moment I would never leave the house again unless I was attired in perfectly sexy underwear.

He plunged his hand down my bra to release my breasts. I moaned as he brushed his fingers against my taut nipple and I watched in awe as he bent his head and slowly took it into his mouth. My muscles tightened, and desire rushed through me, as his tongue flicked over my rosy bud, biting and tugging it gently. I squirmed against the dampness between my legs as Aydin alternated between my breasts, sucking and tonguing, biting each nipple softly or rolling them between his perfect fingers.

Yep, it appeared that we were really going to do this.

Hit me with your feedback. Hit me with your criticism. Hit me with any positive points.

Just hit me!

Oh and if there are any publisher’s out there who want to take a chance on little ol’ me also feel free to hit me up – BIG TIME!

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Copyright © 2019 Jane Gundogan

Gülek Kalesi

Gülek Kalesi is a small castle between Tarsus and Pozantı , an easy drive of approximately 90km from Mersin. Visiting the castle is not the main reason people visit this little known ruin. The main reason anyone visits Gülek Kalesi is for the photograph. I mean just look!

Google Images

Definitely memorable.

Google Images

A little deli perhaps?

Google Images

I know!

It was decided we should visit Gülek Kalesi as one of our friends was relocating to Istanbul and we wanted one final group photograph together. We were a merry bunch as we left Mersin behind on our drive to the castle. It might have been slightly overcast but it was surprisingly warm with patches of blue sky. Winter seemed to be behind us and we were ready for the long, never-ending, fire ant on crack, summer to begin. I will admit to you, dear friends, that the weather app that I check so vigilantly every morning “might” have suggested storms were imminent and, yes, there “might have been” in the distance, the very far distance mind you, some menacing looking clouds that could “possibly” be moving in our direction, but all in all a pleasant day was expected for our drive into the mountains.

Well, possibly turned into probably which turned into holy hell we were all going to die and by the time we reached the lower hills of the Tarsus Mountains it was bucketing down but we’re a resilient bunch and wouldn’t be put off by a little itsy rain. We were making memories and the photograph would probably be amazing with the natural light and slightly grey backdrop.

We thought of ourselves as valiant explorers and pushed on through the rain, then the sleet … then the snow (a real WTF moment considering it was March), yavaş yavaş ever higher up the mountain on a road that slowly disintegrated into nothing more than a muddy death trap with potholes the size of small cities, sharp turns and deadly cliffs on either side. The only other car on the road flashed his high beams as he sped down the mountain, away from the once in a lifetime storm (a slight exaggeration on my part). I bet he checked the news that night to see if there was any information about the car filled with yabancıların that had disappeared Amelia Earhart style never to be seen again.

We finally made it to the top of the mountain and we all tumbled out of the car to take in the fabulous view.

Are you ready?

I mean it’s totally amazeballs.

Ugh!

I guess another trip up the mountain is in order and perhaps we might wait until summer really kicks in but most importantly perhaps we bloody well SHOULD pay attention to my weather app that never, ever seems to be wrong.

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My Father-In-Law

My father in law passed away recently. He might have been a colossal pain in my ass but he was also a big part of my life. I will miss him a lot.

There are so many fond memories of my father in law that I could mention but perhaps my earliest memory of him is the best as it sets the tone for our whole relationship.

It was back in the autumn of 2001. The world had gone to shit and I was in a Muslim country wondering whether I should high-tail it back to the relative normalcy of Australia. Instead, I travelled from Bodrum to the Village to meet The Turk’s extended family. It was a long twenty-four hours by bus and I was beyond exhausted. The last thing I wanted to do was to be dragged into a room spilling over with people all staring and shouting and smiling, waiting to meet the yabancı gelin. I was so nervous that I nearly threw up (which is more likely because I was also pregnant at the time). There, in the centre of the room was a tall, thin and extremely loud man who was the spitting image of The Turk. Definitely his dad! The Turk introduced me. “This is Hurşit.”

Seriously?

“What did you say?”

“Hurşit.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Horseshit?”

Hayir, Hurşit”.

“That’s exactly what I said.”

Once The Turk translated my lousy attempt at his mother’s tongue for the rest of the family my father in law roared with laughter and pulled me in for a hug. The man definitely had an excellent sense of humour but sensibly it was suggested that from that moment on I should call him Dede.

This was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Dede was a constant source of entertainment (and more often than not bewilderment) for me. He was crabby and very bloody opinionated, but he could be swayed pretty easily with a glass of wine or slipping him a few lira so he could have a flutter on the horses. He was practically deaf and spent his days shouting at the television or yelling at the family (or at anyone who happened to pass by for that matter) but when he wasn’t bellowing about the state of the world he would be singing and loved nothing more than an appreciative audience as he sang Turkish love songs in an effort to make us smile. Time passed and dementia reared its ugly head but that didn’t sway Dede’s smile or laughter, although now he spoke mostly in Arabic which made it impossible for me to understand him or to tend to his needs. Dede hated my cooking but he still ate with gusto. He could swear like a sailor and very much appreciated when I swore back at him because it meant that at least I was practising my abysmal Turkish. He was at his happiest sitting beside a mangal (bbq) in the sunshine surrounded by his family.

Over the years we had all been on the receiving end of Dede’s scathing humour. I never really mind because most of the time I totally deserved it, in fact one of my final memories was of him making me look like a bit of a galah … again.

On a recent shopping trip I had totally splurged and brought myself the most fabulous leopard print jacket along with a pair of knee-high boots. After an outing wearing my spiffy new outfit (and feeling like bir milyar dollar I might add), I returned home to find The Turk and Dede partaking in a glass of çay at my front door. He took one look at me and nearly busted a gut laughing. I knew I was just about to become the butt of one of his jokes.

“Neye gülüyorsun?” (“What are you laughing at?”)

He pointed at me. “Salak!” (“Idiot!”)

I gave him the finger. “Sen salaksin”. (You’re the idiot.”)

He laughed even harder and hit me with his cane as I passed. “Siktir git ya!” (“Fuck off!”).

The Turk watched on with glee before he too started laughing. I stormed off tossing swear words back at them as I left (mostly in English but with a few choice Turkish words thrown in for good measure). I could still hear Dede’s raucous laughter as I stomped off up the stairs.

Yep, I am really going to miss that man!

Başiniz sağ olsun (Let health be on your head)

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