Category Archives: Only Expats

Elektrik ve sürprizler

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The good people of Icel are not sharing nicely and now it seems we are running out of electricity.  I am not sure how a city (or in this case a province) runs out of electricity but in order to control the said good people of Icel (and maybe to teach them a lesson in sharing) they have all been put in the naughty corner by the local Electric Company who has decided to switch off the electricity to teach everyone a lesson (although they are calling it maintenance).  

Not only are they switching it off in the middle of summer they are switching it off in the middle of the day so for the next week (with the expected weekly average of 35 degree – that’s 90 degrees for readers in the US – in temperature) the electricity will be turned off for a period of 4 hours each day between the hours of 9 to 5.  You don’t know when.  It will be a surprise. 

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Speaking of surprises I find that my house is a revolving door.  There is always people coming and going.  Family, friends, neighbours.  It can get on your last nerve when you hear the door bell (which is an annoying tune of Greensleeves) constantly blasting.  Last night we had Kemal’s aunt visit and then a cousin.  Then his sister in law, brother and their two kids showed up.  His elder brother popped up to give me some paperwork (for my fiasco of a residency visa application) and finally . . . it was quiet.  When suddenly that damn doorbell rang again!  Enough!

“Kim o?” (“Who is it?) 

Again.  “Kim o?”

Nothing.  I have had enough.  I put on my shoes and stomp down the stairs to give the visitor the death stare when . . . sürpriz!  A friend and her family visiting from the UK.  Wow!  They are staying in the village with her husband’s family for the next two weeks!  I can honestly say I have never been so happy to see someone.  Not only does it mean I am not the only yabanci in the village it also means there is someone with possibly even less Turkish in the village than me!  Win, win!

They are coming for a BBQ tonight which will be amazing of course but I warned her “Don’t ring the door bell.  Knock on the door!”

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Presidential Election

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Today Turkey will be heavily featured in the international news for its historic first Presidential election.  For the first time ordinary people will decide on a post that is normally chosen by parliament.

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There are three contenders for this position.  Recep Tayyip Erdogan, Ekmeleddin Ihsanoglu and Selahattin Demirtas.  Erdogan is, of course, the current Prime Minister of the country and will no doubt win this election today as well.  Why?  Well he is the face that people see every day in newspapers, on television.  The Turk said to me that for him Erdogan is the leader of a cult which has smothered democracy.  A rock star if you will.  He is adored by his followers and his smooth talking can turn even the most hardened head.  Erdogan has allowed religion and politics to mix and that’s not on in The Turk’s mind.  The other two contenders Ekmeleddin Ihsanoglu and Selahattin Demirtas really do not have the power to pull in the numbers that Erdogan has.  Ihsanoglu was previously the leader of the International Islamic Organisation so really isn’t that well known here in Turkey.  Selahattin Demirtas is a young Kurdish hopeful but, as Turkey was at war with the minority Kurdish only a few years ago, the fact that he is running at all is a milestone for the country I think.

So what will happen from here?  Probably nothing.  Erdogan will move into the presidential position, one of his flunkies will move into the position of Prime Minister and life will go on.  His control will continue, his opinions will be flaunted (Israel and foreign interests) sometimes to the detriment of the country but for me as a yabanci living in Turkey I just hope that Turkey continues to be a safe home for me and my family.  We will see.

The Return

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Daughter and I have finally settled back in from our holiday in Australia.  Visiting Australia.  I was a visitor, a tourist if you must, visiting the place of my birth and what I have learnt from this visit?  I learnt that Sydney and Australia is a fecking beaut place to live.

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Mother nature did us a major and the weather was sensational.  It didn’t rain.  It didn’t even think about raining.  Beautiful, albeit cold, winter days.  Every day.  Fresh air.  Lush gardens.  Grass.  GRASS!  We are the only people in the Village with grass in our garden.  Grass is, of course, seen as a luxury item as everyone else utilises every inch of their land.  Deli yabanciler (crazy foreigners).

It was nice to not be on the cusp of a war zone too staying in beachside Collaroy.  Yes I gloss over Syria and its issues but Mersin is approximately 150k from the Syrian border.  We are safe obviously or I would not even think about living here but there is always an underlying threat, the knowledge I guess, that we are not too far from an area of such unrest.  Plus there is the whole Israel-Palestinian issue, the Middle East is a powder keg ready to blow and even Ukraine to the north is a mess.  Bloody hell!

Friends and family of course.  Obviously Australia wins on this front as well.  I am blessed to have some of the best friends in the world.  Friends that are always there with open arms.  What I wouldn’t do for one more boozy lunch or one more hug from my girls.  Of course this is difficult for Daughter as she has her family, her cousins that she adores, in the Village.  She has many friends in the Village but for me Sydney and Australia will win every single time.

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Speaking of boozy lunches I don’t think you can beat an Aussie Red.  Australian wines really are some of the best in the world.  I would go so far as saying that Turkish wine is swill at best and really, really expensive!

Medical care wins in Australia over Turkey as well (well duh!).  Australia has Government facilitated Medicare and even though you pay through the tooth for many things (including the dentist) visiting the doctor here is a much easier process (mainly because everyone speaks English).  So I am now drugged up for the next 12 months (my medicine cabinet is overflowing) and I have been poked and prodded and given a clean bill of health.

Shopping was a bonus too for me in Sydney.  My Rubenesque physique is now adorned in new clothes.  Oodles of new clothes.  I no longer need to wear the same jeans every single day.  My credit card did take a beating and we did have to send home 10 kilos by post but at least I now have an outfit for any occasion which is a good thing as we have at least 4 weddings to go to over the coming weeks.  Daughter’s opinion differs on this front as well as the styles in Turkey are a lot more varied and on trend.  For Daughter clothing in Turkiye is also a LOT cheaper as well.

Bacon.  Ding!  Ding!  Ding!  Winner!!!  Lots of exclamation points here.  Yes.  Bacon.  That is all.

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Sydney did have a few downsides too.  It was so damn expensive.  Food was expensive.  Clothing was expensive.  Petrol was expensive (actually petrol is expensive in Turkey too).  I guess I have had it too cushy here in Turkey with 50 kuruş for 1 kilo of tomatoes (about AU$0.25) while they were AU$4.50 in Sydney (TL9).  Plus the fresh food is not particularly fresh.  Ick!

Peak hour traffic did my head in too.  What a bloody mess.  We had a few early morning starts and fighting my way from the Northern Beaches to the City was diabolical to say the least.  It was nice to be behind the wheel again although my first few attempts at parking were a little less than successful.  Daughter likened my parking skills to a Turkish person so I really have acclimated haven’t I?

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I think I can sum Sydney up as “Real Life”.  My friends are all working.  My family are all busy (some might say too busy to find the time to see me or even call).  The cost of living is high and the stress levels are even higher.  I know that if I too were living in Sydney I would be working.  My stress levels would be off the chart (visiting my old place of work proved that beyond the shadow of a doubt) and Daughter, The Turk and I would be miserable.  Real life sux!

The Village also has another bonus (well along with The Turk).  It has My Hurley Dog.  I love My Hurley Dog.  I missed My Hurley Dog and he missed me!

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Tale of Two Cities

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It seems that I am an expat caught between my two loves, Sydney and Mersin.  I have always felt distinctly at home in Mersin but returning to Sydney, my homeland, has brought back dwindling thoughts, self doubt and mixed feelings.

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I definitely loved my time in Sydney and Daughter and I hit the ground running.  We found ourselves with a frantic social life during our visit and it became increasingly difficult to fit in all my friends when I had to share my precious, precious time with Daughter and all of her social activities.  I swear since stepping off the plane her damn mobile did not stopped beeping, buzzing or ringing with her friends constantly arranging visits, movies, lunches, sleepovers and any other activity that you can think of. The squeals and “Oh. My. God’s” that I have had to endure has been soul numbing.  I guess I don’t really notice the squeals and “Oh. My. God’s” when they are in Turkish.

Fitting everything in required precision timing.  Morning, lunch and evening slots were allocated.  Daughter likened this “holiday” to a business trip with us running from one meeting to another.  I have missed out on catching up with a few friends that I really wanted to see and I quickly realised that 3 weeks in Sydney is just is not enough time.  Friends that live on the other side of Sydney or friends that live just up the coast missed out and I feel incredibly sad.  I am thinking of two of my friends in particular right now but honestly we just ran out of time. Plus I got sick.  I am still sick.  Damn flu. Damn sickness.  Damn it!

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Have I had my bacon?  Yep.  Practically every day.  I think I have put on 4 kilos.  It feels like 8 kilos.  We did have a bacon situation that practically caused an international incident at a restaurant in The Rocks that caused Daughter to update her Facebook status thusly:

Made with Repix (http://repix.it)

We have also done a few touristy things which is nice.  It reminds me just how wonderful Sydney is.  It reminds me just how much I miss this beautiful city.

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It has been a frantic few weeks.  It has been a wonderful few weeks.  Early breakfasts, brunches and lunches, dinners and sleepovers.  I could go on.  It has been impossibly fun.  I need to go home to Mersin for a holiday from our holiday.

Now our time in Sydney has just about come to an end.  I am becoming increasingly forlorn and not just because I cannot fit everything into our suitcases.  I just want one more lunch, one more drink, one more chorus.   I am an expat torn between two loves.

 

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The Beaches

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I grew up on the Northern Beaches of Sydney, Australia.  Swimming in the ocean and lying on the sand is imprinted on me so living in a country with coastlines along the Aegean and Mediterranean seas should make me spoilt for choice however in the Village we do not often make our way down to the beach despite the fact that we live no more than 10 minutes walk away.  Why?  Sadly the Village Beach is no Blue Lagoon at Oludeniz and, to be honest, I feel a little uncomfortable swimming down at the Village Beach.  I would much rather hop on a dolmus and travel the 2 hours it would take to get to Kizkalesi or Susanoglu where lying on a sunbed in your bikini is not cause for mirth and gossip.

Right now Daughter and I are staying with friends at Collaroy Beach and I am loving being on the Northern Beaches again.  This morning I wiggled my toes in the sand at Long Reef Beach as Daughter ran along the beach with my friend’s dog which I have named “Nugget”.  The dog really is a big nugget.  It might be the middle of winter but here in Sydney it is warm, the sun is shining and Sydney has put on her best dress for our visit.

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Since arriving we have made a point of visiting as many of Sydney’s beautiful beaches as possible.  Starting at Palm Beach and ending at Manly Beach the Northern Beaches of Sydney is definitely God’s Country.

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Do you watch Home and Away?  I still remember the first episode when we met Pippa and Tom Fletcher along with all those kids who lived in picturesque Summer Bay.  Daughter pointed out a few of the more obvious Summer Bay locations before we decided to enjoy the sunshine and hike up to Barrenjoey Lighthouse. It is an easy walk from the car park to the lighthouse and offers a great view from Sydney’s most northern point.

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Whale Beach

I didn’t often go to Whale Beach as it was difficult to get to by public transport when I was young.  When we walked across the sand of this small, protected beach there was not another soul to be found.  The beach was all ours.  If it wasn’t so damn windy it would have been a rather pleasant stop.

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Dee Why Beach

Always my beach.  As a kid I did swimming lessons (badly) at the pool, as a teenager I hung out with my friends down at Dee Why Headland, climbing over the rocks to find somewhere where we could sneak cigarettes (or a kiss) without being caught.

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Manly Beach

Famous.  Gorgeous.  Once my home.  One thing you have to admire about the locals at Manly is that even in the middle of winter, even when it is a mere 20 degrees, they are still out there swimming, surfing and generally enjoying the beauty that is Manly.

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North Head

Spending time on the Northern Beaches of Sydney is not complete without a trip to North Head.  Whether you are visiting from the darkest depths of hell or a Manly local the view is spectacular.  Summer or winter this spot is the epitome of Sydney.  To anyone visiting this beautiful country you need to get up to North Head pronto.  Start your visit on a high note!

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Living in Turkey is amazing.  We are so lucky but waking up each morning and looking over Collaroy Beach is pretty damn good too.

School Concert

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The elementary school across the street had their end of year concert last night.  The concert was actually supposed to take place a week ago however it was cancelled due to a man being stabbed behind the school who subsequently died.  I guess that would make it a murder.  Yep there was a murder across the street so the concert was cancelled as the school (and no doubt the Polis) were concerned that there would be retaliation (as the two boys charged were Kurdish not Turkish).

I have never really experienced any discrimination in my life.  Women have always had rights and there was never really any racial slurring while I was growing up so for me witnessing the anger and blame being placed firmly on a group of people is a new and honestly, slightly terrifying, experience.  The history between the Turkish people and the Kurdish is lengthy and full of acrimony on both sides.  For me I watch the behaviour of levelheaded men in the village become completely irrational calling for the blood of the two boys who were charged with the murder.  I understand from The Turk that Polis attended at the funeral each day to keep everyone in order and to ensure that there was no vigilante justice against the two boys who were charged since they were juveniles and were released on bail.

Surrounded by all this acrimony it was good to see the school press forward with the end of year concert once the mourning period had ended.  Like schools all around the world the concert is a chance for the kids to show off their dancing skills and for raising some much needed funds for the next school year.  The concert itself was a mix of modern music (and by modern I mean the Grease Mega-mix) as well as some traditional Turkish music.  Living across the road from the school I have watched the youngsters practicing their dance steps for months, literally months.  If I have to hear the Grease Mega-mix again I may throw myself off the balcony.  My sister in law laughed and told me they do the same dances every year so no doubt I will be listening to it again over and over next year.

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There was a lot of choice for food with stalls including Gozleme, Icel Kofte and Tantuni.  I particularly like the fact that the Gozleme vendors set up cooking on the floor in the school hallway.  You don’t see that every day for sure.

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A raffle was also drawn with the winners getting a bike.  This was a big drawcard and I understand the school and raised enough money to purchase a new computer and perhaps even to give the school a fresh coat of paint over the three month break.

A fun night was had by all as shown here by Daughter who decided to try her hand at the traditional dancing.  Perhaps not.

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Let’s talk about Kunefe baby

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Let’s talk about you and me, let’s talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be, let’s talk about Kunefe!

I was thinking we would talk about Kunefe.  What is Kunefe you ask?  Kunefe is a crazy ass desert served here in Mersin and throughout Turkey made of cooked cheese, syrup and icecream.  “Wwhhaaattttt?” you cry.

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Yes I know.  Separately these three food items are sensational.  Cheese?  Legendary.  Sugary syrup?  Amazing.  Icecream?  Anytime.

But incorporated into one meal?  Maybe not.

As you will no doubt recall I recently became a rock star, letting my hair down and singing at the top of my over endowed lungs at a karaoke bar in Pozcu, Mersin.  After spending a few hours singing, dancing, drinking and generally embarrassing Daughter to the point that she wanted to disown me Prince William (previously known as Capt. Awesome) decided that we should finish the evening with some dessert.  Dessert?  By 2 am I was starting to lose my groove so the idea of dessert (and its subsequent sugar rush) perked me up considerably and I was ready to go and check out our next destination.

A couple of minutes drive through the back streets of Mersin brought us to an amazing little pastanesi (cake shop) just west of Carsi (near our new amazing dentist).  Even though it was very late the place was packed but when we arrived it was clear that they knew Prince William (aka Capt Awesome) and a table magically appeared.  There were no menus, there were no options.  We sat and dessert was supplied – Kunefe.

Kunefe is well known throughout the provinces of Icel, Gazienterp, Hatay, Kilis and Adana although it is served in many Arabic countries.  Downstairs you could watch them make the dessert and, honestly, it seemed like a lot of work.  The pastry chef was very generous letting me behind the counter (obviously a friend of Prince William’s as well) and explaining to me in limited English the process.  The process is long and drawn out and I will not bother explaining it – to be honest it was all a bit fuzzy.  There was a lot of work involving tel kadayif (stringy filo pastry), a butt load of cheese, huge pans and the largest wood oven I have ever seen!  If you do want to make an attempt of this amazing dessert I suggest you go check out Ozlem’s recipe.  She is, as usual, my go-to person when attempting Turkish food but this one looks a little out of my league.

If you ever find yourself at 2 am needing a pick me up and a kebab just isn’t going to do it for you try and find a pastanesi who serves this amazing dish.  Now that Kunefe has been brought to my attention I find that just about every pastanesi in Mersin serves it.  It might be a little more difficult to track down on the west coast but it is definitely well worth the search.  Your tastebuds will thank you for it.

That time our dolmus driver went bat shit crazy

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Yesterday our dolmuş driver lost his cool.  Postal.  I get it, I really do.  It’s hot here in Mersin and it is only going to get hotter.  It was 35 in the shade yesterday afternoon and when it gets hot people lose their shit but this guy was one sandwich short of a picnic crazy and I did start to worry about our safety (you will understand as the story goes on).

Just to remind you or for the uninitiated a dolmuş is a shared taxi that runs along a set route.  It is usually quite civilised.  They come along every few minutes.  There are signs on the dolmuş so you know where they are going and it is easy enough to wave them down or ask them to stop when you want to get off.  If you are lucky you will get an air conditioned dolmuş which is a blessing in this heat but if they are not air conditioned then it is a little like being stuffed into a sauna with 30 other unlucky souls.

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(Stock photo – not dolmus in question)

Up to speed so back to my story.

It all started with the driver receiving a telephone call.  Now I know I do not have enough Turkish to give you a rundown of the conversation but I can tell you that he was obviously not on time (the drivers have a very tight schedule to keep and if they run late or run early they are fined) and his boss telephoned him wanting to know where he was.  He pretty much told his boss to get f*cked and he would get there when he got there.  I had a big grin on my face at this point after all who hasn’t wanted to tell their boss to get f*cked at one stage or another.

He then lit up a cigarette.  No you are not allowed to smoke on a bus in Turkey but the sign above his head “Sigara içilmez” or “no smoking” meant nothing to him at this point after all he had already told his boss where to go.  An elderly lady complained about the cigarette so in reply he flicked it at her feet.  She got out of the dolmuş.

At the next block a young mother hopped on with two children.  She handed over 50TL to the driver for payment and this was the catalyst to the next fifteen minutes of crazy.  The explosion of expletives being thrown around the dolmuş by the driver was astounding and he wasn’t discriminating, he was screaming at everyone.  Daughter (who is well versed in expletives) was gawking at the driver with her mouth wide open.  “I think we need to get off this bus,” she whispered.  I nodded in agreement and was about to ask the driver to stop when his telephone rang again.  The driver looked at the telephone, pulled the dolmuş over, turned the engine off, got out and shut the doors behind him.  At this point I began to wonder if we were being held hostage.

A man stood up and started trying to open the door but he was unable to so he hung out the window and abused the driver who turned around and started kicking the side of the bus.  This was sensational, well except for being held hostage and all that.  The mother that the driver had abused moments earlier started crying and another passenger was comforting her.  I started to giggle (which is what I normally do when I am nervous) and I wondered if the other passengers thought I would lose my shit next.

A couple of minutes later the Polis arrived and the driver immediately opened the door.  The driver was yelling at the Polis, the passengers started to get off the dolmuş and began yelling at the driver and the Polis while Daughter and I stealthy snuck off the dolmuş and backed away from the scene.  Once we were clear we stopped and stared at each other.  WTF???

When we got home Daughter called out to The Turk, “Daddy we just got kidnapped!  Really!”

He is never going to let us out by ourselves again.

I am officially a rock star!

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Those of you who know me know that if I have had a few glasses of red wine I morph from mild mannered (scoff) Janey into a Madonna-esque power ballad diva.  I love nothing more than I sing very badly at the top of my husky (read that as croaky) voice.  I want you to know that I do not sing like Madonna, or Beyonce or anything in between.  I sound like someone has dropped spoons down a garbage disposal or maybe Axl Rose on crack (isn’t he always on crack?).  Regardless with a few glasses of red under my belt I really don’t give a feck.

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Saturday night Daughter and I went out to dinner with Capt Awesome, his girlfriend, his brother Vito Jr and Mrs Vito.  Yes Switzerland is working on bringing the family together and it seems to be working.  Incidentally and also with a few wines under my belt I announced at dinner that Capt Awesome should be re-named Prince William with Vito Jr being Prince Harry.  William, the sensible one, the one to carry the family to glory and Harry drinking raki and preparing for a huge piss up.  At this point Capt Awesome’s girlfriend pipes up, “Well that makes me Princess Kate.”  Good on her for keeping up with the international news I say!  Anyway I will dwell on re-naming the family later, back to the story.

The night started sedately enough.  A great dinner, a couple of glasses of wine poured by a waiter who really should know not to fill a beer glass with wine – it tends to make the customer tipsy or in my case pissed as a fart.

After dinner it was decided that we should go to Pozcu to a few bars.  Ummm?  OK??  We wandered down the waterfront before we found a likely looking bar.  It was packed with young, attractive Turkish people . . . and me.  I really am too old for this shit.  I had another glass of wine (this time a more sensible sized glass was provided but unfortunately the damage was already done and I was smashed).

Daughter spotted a karaoke machine on the small stage.  She started jumping up and down although I know she would never, ever hop on stage and sing anything.  Within minutes the first singer jumped up and started the night off with a rendition of “Let It Go” in Turkish.  How many times do I have to hear that song?  How many times do I have to watch that movie?  Damn you Disney, I am in a bar in Turkey for goodness sake!

Next came a young Turkish girl who sang a Turkish tune.  She was out of tune, everyone clapped along and gave her the confidence she needed and she finally made it to the end giggling all the while.

Princess Kate got up with William and they sang a love song of unknown origin (am guessing it’s Turkish).  Ahh, the romance.  Ahh, the look of love in their eyes.  Ahh, “Get a room”!

The night continued with a few more drinks.  Daughter was dancing on the dance floor having a great time (yes kids are allowed in the clubs if they are with their guardian) and then I had an idea.  I had a plan.  I got up.  And.  I.  Sang.

“Like a Prayer”.

It was bad.  It was deplorable.  It was not filmed thank God.

The whole place went wild as I was singing in English.  They sang along with me.  There was cheering.  I felt like I was Madonna.  I even did a few vogue moves.  I am beyond embarrassed.  Daughter was beyond mortified.  William and Kate were dancing along.  Maybe I AM Madonna?  I am not sure where Harry disappeared too – we lost him along the way and Mrs Vito remained seated watching and no doubt analysing my behaviour to discuss later with others.

Daughter has made me promise that I will never, ever do that again.  A cross your heart, hope to die promise.  Being in another country tends to allow you certain freedoms, allows you the liberty of doing something I would never, ever contemplate doing back in Australia.

I also will never drink again.  OK, look that last bit was a lie.  I think we all know it was a lie.  I am sorry for lying.

Moving to Mersin?

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I get an incredible amount of emails from people thinking of moving to Mersin or Icel.  Apart from shaking my head in bewilderment at the idea (just joking.  I love it here … sometimes) living in Mersin or even living in Turkey offers you a good quality of life in a cultural hybrid of East and West.  It has its history, dramatic geography and frankly in Mersin it has pretty good weather virtually all year round.

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I usually write lengthy replies about the do’s and do not’s that I have experienced firsthand living in Mersin.  I think I’ve got my reply down to a fine art, with some slight modification as the need arises.  So what are my “do’s and do nots” for moving to Mersin?

DO think about your decision.

Why are you coming to Mersin?  Is it for adventure?  Is it for love?  Is it for money?  Moving to the other side of the world or even the other side of the State is a huge decision.  So many factors.  Short term or forever?  Rent/sell your home.  Give up your lease.  Pack your whole life into boxes.  Storage or cargo?  Pets?  Bring them or adopt them out?  (I obviously brought my two fur-babies with me and frankly could not of even imagined this move without them).  Kids?  Bring them or adopt them out?  I am just joking.  Seriously I am.  Remember though there are no hurdles too high.

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DO your research.

What area do you want to live?  Mezitli?  Pozcu?  Carsi?  Mersin is a large city and Icel is even larger (which includes Erdemli, Silifki, Anamur through to Tarsus).  There is a lot of choice.  Kiralama daire (renting an apartment) in the city of Mersin is quite cheap compared to many cities throughout Türkiye.  Do inspect before you sign anything as the quality may not be as high as you would be used to and check what outgoings are included.  Also remember that it is normal for you to purchase your own appliances (yes including your stove) and even light fittings.

What school okul do you want your children to go to?  There are some great özel okul (private schools) in Icel but they are hugely expensive so factor that cost in and mostly they will teach in Türk.  Originally we chose to put Daughter in a village school to give her an opportunity to learn the language by immersing herself in it.  The teachers at the village school were incredibly helpful.  I could not fault them at all and the children were incredibly generous and welcoming.  Daughter even had a nemesis which is, in her opinion, the ultimate show of acceptance.  After two years of learning Türk we moved her to an özel okul which gave us an entirely new set of challenges to overcome.

Where will you be working?  Are you allowed to work?  This is, of course, visa dependent.  Do not attempt to work without a visa.  It will bite you in the ass.  There is a desperate need for English speaking teachers in Mersin along with German and French.  English teachers seem to earn a good living so it can be quite lucrative if you have the right credentials.

DO get the right visa.

You will no doubt be scratching your head with the paperwork, fees, requirements and general stroke inducing migraines that a brought on while traversing the myriad of obtaining the correct visa.  There are different types of visas, short term (tourism), student visa and employment visa.  An employment visa will only be issued if you have a signed job contract and a work permit issued by Çalışma ve Sosyal Güvenlik Bakanlığı (Ministry of Labour and Social Security).  This application must be done in your country of residence.

You will also need a residence permit which must be applied for within 30 days of arrival.  This is issued from the Emniyet Müdürlüğü Yabancılar Şubesi Foreigner’s Division/Alien’s Branch of the Local Police Department and as I mentioned in a previous post entering this place is like entering Mordor.

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There is a lot of supporting documentation required as well so be prepared.  For example – proof of your financial situation, copies of rental agreements or ownership of your own property and (in my case) proof of marriage.  Do yourselves a favour and photocopy all your documents at least 10 times, more if you can.  Also ensure that all documents are translated into Turkish.  Do not believe the person on the street (or on this blog or that blog), you need everything translated into Turkish.  Birth Certificate – translate it.  Marriage Certificate – translate it.  If your child is to go to school you need a document from the school confirming enrolment stamped by the Turkish Consulate in your home country and then translated into Turkish.  Incidentally it was cheaper for us to translate here in Mersin at a Noter rather than back in Sydney.  Finally passport photos.  You have some?  Get more!

DO make friends – with both expats and locals.

I know, I know I do not always take my own advice but I did talk to an amazing amount of people before I moved here on various expat sites.  These guys are already living in Mersin or in Turkey and they will prepare you for the bumps in the road (there will be bumps, sinkholes and even a few bottomless pits before you begin to feel at home here).  Living here is a great experience but it’s not always easy being an immigrant.

DO learn the language.

I wish I had.  I blame The Turk.  Of course now I find myself without the benefit of language.  Paying a bill.  Difficult!  Shopping?  Difficult!  Doctor?  Dentist?  Government office?  Difficult!  Difficult! Difficult!!!  Do a course.  Try Babbel.  Do something so you are not drowning in the deep end.  Mersin is not particularly expat friendly so any attempt to speak the native language will put you in good stead with your landlord or employer or even that bored Government employee.

DO it.  Just do it!

As for the Do not’s I only have one –

DO NOT live with regret.

Oh wait one other piece of advice that will change your life – bring mosquito repellent!  It does not matter how much you have or what brand you have, bring more!  The mosquito’s here are the most desperate bloody suckers you will ever come across.  They may not sparkle in sunlight but they are lethal from dusk to dawn!

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