Don’t get shot!

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I am embarrassed to say this but Daughter is nearly 12 and never had a bike.  Living in North Sydney it was easier to walk everywhere and after moving to the suburbs our street was a cut through so was exceedingly busy.  Now living in the Village Daughter has the opportunity to ride until her hearts consent with only one little hiccup.  I had never taught Daughter how to ride a bike.  I am a terrible parent.  Parent failure 101.  I hang my head with parental shame.

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As you know yesterday The Turk surprised Daughter with an extremely early 12th birthday present (her birthday isn’t until June and we will be in Australia on the celebratory day of her birth) of a beautiful, shiny new bike.  She was a little worried about not being able to ride and also she didn’t want her cousins to see her potentially fail so Daughter and I walked right up to the other end of the village where we found a nice quiet lane and yavaş, yavaş (slowly, slowly) Daughter slowly but surely learnt the art of riding a bike.

Our first attempt was a bit of a failure.  A car turned down the street and scared Daughter witless.  She yelled at the car as it went past, “student driver, student driver”.  I was laughing as she yelled but then she started wobbling, lost control, lost confidence and stacked the bike into a wall.  I was still laughing but only on the inside.

On her second attempt I ran alongside her to give her the confidence to take off on her own.  She was doing ok.  She didn’t crash.  She kept it in a semi-straight line.  She had mastered bike riding in 15 minutes.  “Bloody kids a genius” and then “BANG”!  I heard the distinct sound of gunfire!  I ground to a halt but, of course, she kept going (having not used the brake before). “Don’t get shot” I yelled at her back as she worked the brakes.  Eventually coming to a stop at the end of the lane she fell off the bike and ran back to me.  I knew where the shot came from.  I knew which house it was.  I had seen them before with the rifle doing target practice in their yard.  I yelled through the wire fence – just to let them know that we were there.  The owner of the rifle waved hello and asked how I was.  Well you are randomly firing bullets as we are going past so I’m not that great at the moment thanks mate – and God help me he was carrying the rifle in one hand and his infant son in the other!  Daughter and I ran back to the bike and we waited a moment assessing whether the gunfire had stopped.  It had so she hopped back on the bike and again I ran alongside her until, finally, I let go.  As she rode off I yelled “Don’t get shot”.  Again excellent parenting skills.

She made it to the end of the lane when “bang” another shot ran out.  Phew we timed that well.  I ran passed the fence and back to Daughter.  Making a sound parental decision I suggested we choose another lane to ride in.  Daughter nodded in agreement and we continued down the street me walking and Daughter riding until we found an area that was a little less dangerous.

Daughter hopped back on the bike and with my catchcry “Don’t get shot” yelled after her she took off like a bull at a gate.  She didn’t look back.

Parental success.  Fist pump moment.  She had had a few stacks but there was no stopping her now – and she wasn’t shot which was good too.

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Good as Gold

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When I was pregnant with Daughter I attended at the local free hospital in Mersin for some blood work and a check up.  It was a dark, extremely dirty hospital where lines of people waited in various stages of injury or sickness.  I could not compare this hospital to anything I had ever experienced and I was so traumatized by the visit I left the country.  Yes I literally returned to Australia to have Daughter determined to never return to a Turkish hospital again.

Those who know me know my love of self-diagnosing ailments and self-medicating.  I hurt my back last week in the garden (I am getting old) and went upstairs to look through my various pills to find something to take away the ache.  As I rummaged through the plastic bottles and packages, some purchased here and others brought with us from Australia, I found some of The Turk’s pain medication that he used after an operation a year or so back.  Strong pain relief.  Still in date.  Let’s do it!  I took two pills and promptly passed out.  They were crazy strong.  I learned a valuable lesson that day.  Always be sitting down when self-medicating.  Nooooo! 

I did need to go to the doctor though has I had run out of my blood pressure tablets.  Again terror ran through my veins at the thought of going to a Turkish hospital but it had to be done.  Thankfully The Turk chose a ozel hastanasi (private hospital) which was not quite as frightening as my first foray into Turkish hospitals nor my most recent attendance at the local village hospital (another story in itself).  The doctor spoke English which was a bonus and happily told me my blood pressure was spot on.  Yah me!  The doctor also gave me a speech about “White Coat Syndrome”.  I laughed and told him every doctor I have ever met has given me the same speech.  The Turk mentioned me passing out to the Doctor who suggested that perhaps I shouldn’t self-medicate.  Seems like a good idea. 

Now it was Daughter’s turn.  In Australia I would take Daughter to the dentist every three months.  She would have a cleaning and a check-up.  It’s called preventative dental care people.  Preventative dental care.  Daughter has been complaining about a tooth for a couple of weeks and finally after my constant hounding The Turk arranged an appointment for yesterday afternoon.  Oh.  My.  God!

We walked into the dental hospital and I knew immediately that this was a mistake.  The building was dilapidated, not old actually dilapidated.  No paint, holes in the walls, dirty floors.  This is not what a dental hospital should look like.  There must have been 200 people waiting to be seen.  Daughter clung to me and whispered that she would probably end up with a highly contagious disease and started sprouting off various diseases that can be transmitted by unclean instruments.  I smiled and told her to relax but to be honest she was absolutely right. 

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On the bright side and despite the sheer volume of people there our appointment was on time.  Daughter entered the consultation room.  The Turk tried to come with her but was told to wait outside.  Less than one minute later the door opened and Daughter emerged.  What happened?

“She asked me to open my mouth.  I did.  She looked in and said there was nothing wrong with me.  She told me I was wasting her time.  So I left.”

No instruments.  No nothing just as cursory examination before sending her on her way.  The Turk blew a gasket at the doctor and she told him that you don’t come to a dentist unless you are in pain.  She said it was unnecessary to do a cleaning.  The doctor then suggested that if Daughter’s teeth seemed unclean we should buy a toothbrush.  Such an excellent suggestion!  Capital idea!  The Turk ushered Daughter out the door and threw some expletives at the doctor as we went.

But he made it up to her.  When she came home from school today he told her to get changed and meet him downstairs.

After spending a moment being loved up by Stanley and his sore leg she ran downstairs to find – a new bike!

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When The Turk asked Daughter how she was her reply to him was, “Good as gold Dad.  Good as gold!”

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My Turkish Auntie Muriel

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My mother in law had two sisters, both older than her and sadly the eldest sister passed away last Saturday afternoon.  It was expected in this case as she had been floundering for some time.  On each visit I could see she was becoming weaker and it seems that she had not been eating at all.  She was surrounded by her family and I imagine now she is with her sister watching over everyone while drinking cay and gossiping.

Again because I did not know her name (and I am quite embarrassed to say this) I called her Auntie Muriel.  In fact I call both sisters Auntie Muriel because they looked so similar.  Now both Daughter and The Turk call them Auntie Muriel too which is a little sad but I think as long as they are in their thoughts that is all that should matter isn’t it?  Perhaps not.

This time around I was prepared for the grief that was to follow.  It was still overwhelming but perhaps I was slightly removed or hardened to the reactions that followed.

I also paid more attention to the ritual of prayer which is fascinating.  I had The Turk translate a lot of what happened so forgive me if this is not spot on and other pieces I had to Google for correction.

When someone passes away in the Village they are returned to their home where the grieving family arrive to help bath and prepare the body for the afterlife.  Auntie Muriel was covered in a white cotton sheet called a kafan and everyone had an opportunity to say their goodbyes.  The Imam arrived and started the prayer Allahu Akbar (Allah is greatest).  He then proceeded to recite verses from the Koran.  I started to get lost at this point as it is all in Arabic.  The Turk (who is certainly not a religious scholar) said that the Imam did the Thana and Fatiha verses followed by part of the Tashahud verse.  He offered his D’ua which is a supplication followed by the fourth tekbir before it was concluded with a peace greeting.*

As expected Auntie Muriel was then taken by the men of the family to the cemetery for burial while the women waited back at the house.  On Sunday morning we travelled to the cemetery for another service by the Imam.

Like the call to prayer that drifts over the village 5 times a day the ceremony itself is very peaceful and beautiful to bare witness to.  Of course I do not have a great understanding of the religious aspect however it does not mean that did not appreciate the sentiment during the ceremony.  Auntie Muriel was a sweet little lady and like my mother in law she was definitely loved and respected as again there were hundreds who attended both at the house and at the cemetery for service.  Sadly I do not have a photo of Auntie Muriel on my computer but I do have a few in an old album somewhere.  I will definitely have to have a look for one so I will put up another of my favourite photos of my mother in law.  This photo was taken on New Years Eve – just a day before she passed away.

 

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I sat with the final Auntie Muriel yesterday and held her hand for some time.  She talks constantly to me and although I probably know 1 in 10 words I always smile and kiss her hand when I sit by her.  In all my years of visiting her I have yet to hear her raise her voice.  She knew how much my mother in law loved me and for this reason she is so kind, knowing that I have pretty much no clue what is going on, but she always ensures that I sit next to her as pride of place.

She is the only sister left now.

*This information was provided by my memory along with The Turk’s knowledge.  Anything posted today is posted with the utmost respect to Islam and its ceremonies. I appreciate your opinion and advice however I ask that you respect me if you feel the need to leave a post.

Absent Without Leave

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I have been AWOL the last week or so.  There is no particular reason, I have just been busy with life and better to be busy than bored I think.

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There has been a lot going on both in Mersin itself and with my life.

In Mersin local elections took place on 30 March and they were hotly contested.  CHP won in the Village but Mersin itself was won by MHP.  It seems, however, that there was one box of votes that were not counted and the shit royally hit the fan yesterday with CHP believing that they in fact should have won.  There were protests and some localised rioting (The Turk wouldn’t let me out of the house) and a recount of the votes was to take place today.  My sister in law is in the Council and a member of CHP so she is hopeful that the count will reinstate her and her and her party CHP to power.  Incidentally Erdogan’s AK Party pretty much cleaned up in most other areas and in fact increased its share throughout the country.  I am surprised at the increase in popularity taking into consideration the corruption scandals that were dogging him over the past few months along with the recent passing of Berkin Elvan in Istanbul.  No official results have yet been announced, but the tally published by Turkish media put the AK Party on around 44% of the nationwide vote to 26-28% for CHP.

Personally The Turk’s aunt passed away last Saturday.  She was my mother-in-law’s older sister and another example of just how wonderful and kind Turkish women can be.  I have also been to a wedding (which had a yikes factor of 7), took Daughter to the dentist (which had a yikes factor of 10 and a never again) and took myself off to the hairdresser which took 4 hours and two attempts before I finally walked out of the salon.  No I am not satisfied – I am blonde.  Well blonde-ish anyway.   The trip to the hairdresser had a yikes factor of 6 but I’m upping it to an 8 because I am still not happy.  Funnily enough, my sisters in law all love it and asked me why I didnt go blonder!!??

All in all a very busy week and leaving me little time to sit down and reflect on my thoughts.

 

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WTF is going on with Turkey?

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Twitter is gone.  YouTube is gone.  I am wondering how many more posts I will be able to get out before the death sentence is handed down on all social media applications.  Facebook?  Definitely.  Google?  Probably.  WordPress?  It has been blocked before so no doubt it will happen again.  Why not just close down the internet?  Even as I type this I realise that this is no doubt something that the Turkish Government has considered.

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I have had a lot of emails and messages from friends and family worried about our welfare.  I do not know what the news channels are telling you back home but Turkey is perfectly safe right now.  Mersin is safe and we are still safe.

Will it be safe tomorrow?

I just don’t know.  Council elections are expected to go ahead on Sunday and I think the outcome of those elections will bring much of what is going on here in Turkey to a head.

Also if you are interested in a little conspiracy theory with your breakfast go ahead and Google “Tomb of Suleyman Shah”.  This should keep you occupied while you are eating your Corn Flakes. 

So what do we do?

Get on with daily life.  School, home, friends, family. 

My thoughts?

Better to keep my trap shut!

We are watching history here folks.  The destruction of a country that has been blessed with so much but thanks to the corruption of a few I expect many more lives will be put in peril.  

Right now I can still blog.  I can still get onto Facebook.  My emails are working.  I will continue to update the blog over the coming days so keep checking back for updates.  

When Animals Attack

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I had my first run in with a scorpion early this morning.  At least I think it was a scorpion.  It certainly looked like one.  It might have been a mutant crab but I am going with my first choice which was scorpion. 

My Hurley Dog and I were walking along a rocky outcrop near the deniz when he started crazily barking in one spot.  Me being me and incredibly stupid gave the rocks a nudge (which on reflection is possibly not the best thing to do in a pair of thongs) and out popped this weird-ass looking mutant waving its nasty-ass looking tail stinger thingy and snap snappy claw thingys which makes me think it was a scorpion.  I jumped out of the way pretty quickly and it skedaddled in the opposite direction from the screaming Aussie and her half crazed Hurley Dog. 

I got home and reported my near death experience to The Turk who pointed out that within a week of arriving in Australia he was nearly bitten by a Red Belly Black Snake and had been bitten by more spiders, ticks, snakes and other various insects while living in Australia than he had in the 40 years of living in Turkey.  Furthermore he had been chased by an emu, kicked in the stomach by a wallaby, stung by a jellyfish and he was pretty sure that a drop bear was conspiring against him while at the koala park.  He said that if Steve Irwin wasn’t safe in Australia then nobody is safe in Australia so I need to stop whinging about one measely little scorpion – the one thing in Turkey that could (maybe) kill you! 

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I agree that The Turk copped a bit of a beating from the natives during his 12 years living in “Strayla” but does that mean that I am going to cop the equivalent while living here in Turkey?  Crikey!

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This Post Comes with a Warning Label . . .

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The Turk and I went for a BBQ at his cousins this afternoon – late lunch, early dinner, a spring fling, pre-daylight savings, pre-summer when its too hot to BBQ type of BBQ.  There was a lot of food and a lot of neighbours and family enjoying the said food as well as partaking in the home made raki and wine.  This means I have “taste tested” copious amounts of homemade wine and anything that is said in this post cannot be used against me.  I know I am tipsy as I just took My Hurley Dog around the block and walked into a truck.  It was a stationery truck but a truck nevertheless so my warning label will stand.

I am going to take a crack at the Daily Prompt.  I have never done one before (I think) so here we go.

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Whatever will be, will be.  The future’s not ours to see.  Que Sera Sera.

I have often wondered about what the future holds for me and for my family.  I have been to psychics many times over the years, mostly as a bit of fun, and usually these psychics were charlatans however I do remember going to one psychic many years ago who told me that I would not marry my Mr Mediocre.  He told me that I would travel back and forwards to a very hot country to visit my husband’s family.  Being half Italian I assumed it would be Italy and I imagined living in Tuscany a la Diane Lane in Under a Tuscan Sun  This psychic also said I would have one child – a girl.  Well I guess he was right on both counts (except that it was Turkey and not Italy), although I was devastated when he told me that Mr Mediocre was not my soul mate.  He explained to me that each soul that we cross does so for a reason, either to support us or to teach us a lesson and that my Mr Mediocre was a lesson that I had to learn and until I learnt it we would cross paths in each life until that life lesson seeped into my teeny, tiny speck of a brain.

I do not know whether I learnt my lesson with Mr Mediocre or whether we will cross paths again in our next lives.  I can say that when I returned from Turkey pregnant with Daughter he was engaged to another woman, the woman that he courted while he was with me, the woman that he went on to marry.  He also made many other presumptuous statements about our non-existent future and relationship but I will not repeat these statements as Mr Mediocre did go onto marry this Jezebel (sorry young lady) and they do have children so I do not wish to disparage their relationship (although I cannot imagine either of them would ever come across this little blog). I am pretty sure that if I did learn a lesson that day it was to never trust Mr Mediocre again!

There are many things I wish I could have changed in my life, things that I wish I had known up front.  Had I had known that my mum was going to pass away I would have asked her more questions, she should have told me more stories about her and about her life.  Had I had known my dad was going to leave me so quickly I would never have left his side.  I would have laughed when he laughed and cried when he cried.  Again if I was to learn a lesson from my parents it was to never let anyone feel forgotten and to treasure each moment as if it was your last moment together.  Finally had I had known that Daughter would grow up so quickly I would have spent more of that precious thing called time with her giving her all the love that I could have.  F*ck work she needs me more.

Right now I will enjoy my time here in Turkey.  It’s a beautiful evening (albeit a little windy) and The Turk has just called me to relax on the balcony.  He is reading his paper.  I have been re-reading Pride and Prejudice and will probably have a giggle at Mr Collins expense as I sit with him.  I will hum a little Que Sera, Sera and I will wait and see whether what will be, will be.

God I miss bacon

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Seriously.  I was sitting at my desk this morning writing an email and I swear I could smell bacon.  Thinking about bacon right now is making me drool.  Literally drool.  God I miss bacon.

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Bacon is without doubt the best food on earth.  There are not many foods that can evoke this type of enthusiasm from me this early in the morning but bacon definitely takes this prize.  So versatile that it can be used for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  It can be eaten on its own or adding it to anything else will only enhance the original dishes flavour.  Salad?  Yep throw in some bacon.  Roasts?  Spread bacon across that bad boy sizzling away.  Sandwiches?  Burgers?  Omelettes?  What can’t bacon improve?  God I miss bacon.

I don’t miss pork.  Never a big fan.  I do love crackling though.  God I miss bacon.

Ham.  I miss ham.  I miss The Turk’s pizza.  His pizza was seriously the best pizza in Sydney.  I miss ham and God I miss bacon.

I thought I had tracked down some ham at Migros a couple of days back.  They were selling Jambon which means ham in English.  Nearly wet myself.  After examining the packet I still thought it was ham.  I got it home.  I was wrong.  It was beef ham?  WTF??  God I miss ham and God I miss bacon.

There is a piggery in Antalya I could go to.  Antalya is, I think, a 6 hour drive from here (but 30 minutes on a plane).  Would that seem excessive?  To jump on a plane to purchase bacon?  Would I bring it back as hand luggage?  Would they even let me bring it on the plane?  God I miss bacon.

I hate bacon jokes.   I hate bacon meme’s.  They are cruel.  They are everywhere.  Every time I open any social media a joke or a photo of bacon appears.  It is akin to torture for a person in my peril.  God I miss bacon.

The Turk tells me I am being overly dramatic.  Yes, yes I am.  God I miss bacon.

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What on earth has Stanley been up to now?

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He has been at it again our Stanley.  This bloody cat appears to have used up another of his dokuz lives.  I found him, yet again, hidden away meowing at the top of his lungs, this time in our bodrum (basement).  What the bloody hell is wrong with him this time?  After a quick examination I could see he has broken little cat wrist.  This has got to be the clumsiest cat in the Village!

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I know how he did it too.  You may recall my brother in law Vito is building apartments that abut our home and all the Village Kediler have been climbing on the construction to gain access to our balcony.  They come sneaking into our house at all hours sending My Hurley Dog into a frenzied state leaving him dazed and confused (particularly if it is one of the cats he intensely dislikes).  I suspect Stanley was navigating across the construction work and without a tail to balance he has toppled over the side.

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Back to the vet for him today.  The Turk is going to be pissed – again.

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Oh No!

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Last night I woke at 1:30, rolled over and saw The Turk was missing from his usual spot.  I padded down the hallway to find him asleep in front of the television which was blasting a Turkish soap (no wonder I couldn’t sleep).  I switched off the television but left him there – bugger him for waking me up – and got back into bed.

Still sleep alluded me.  I could hear a puppy whimpering outside.  I got up again and opened my balcony door to investigate.  As expected the boy that lives over the stone fence has brought home yet another puppy.  In the past 4 weeks he has brought home 5 dogs.  His first effort was 3 puppies that cried all night and his mother no doubt made him get rid of them.  The second effort was a boxer dog – nice looking dog – fully grown.  It jumped the fence and disappeared sometime in the night.  This third effort is a German Shepherd puppy.  It cried most of the night and will no doubt jump the fence when he is older but perhaps the boy has learnt from his mistakes and will ensure the garden is secure.

Again I climbed back into bed.  I looked at the clock – now 3:00.  I must have dozed because I woke again at 4:15 to the distorted sounds of a cat in agony.  Holy crap!  I jumped up and spotted Kedi at the end of the bed.  He heard it too because he was standing ramrod straight trying to pinpoint the sound.  “Murroooeewwww”.  Bloody hell!  It sounded like it was dying.  I opened the back balcony door and looked over – nothing.  I went to the front balcony and looked over – nothing.  Crikey!

I was obviously making too much noise and I woke The Turk who growled at me and went to bed.  I was standing at the front door when I heard the sound again.  It was coming from right outside!  I learnt my lesson with the Village Kedi’s and I always make sure that the downstairs door is locked – no more sex in the stairwell thank you very much – but obviously one of them got past me.  Opening the door I find Stanley standing in the stairwell crying.  “Shush,” I whisper to him.  I ushered him down the stairs and out the front door.  He was a little put out and sat there with his back to me.  I shut the door and walked back upstairs when “Murroooeewwww” again.  Shit!  I ran up the stairs, past my front door to the roof.  Nothing up there but some boxes.  I stare at them.  Shit!  Shit!  Shit!

After a little investigation this is what I found –

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This little guy and another 4 like him along with mama hiding upstairs in a box.  Stanley must be the father as they all have similar gingery markings.  Obviously the loss of his tail did little to subdue his manhood.

The Turk is going to be pissed when he gets up.  Why?  The bloody cat had its litter in The Turk’s toolbox – he is going to lose his shit!  He is not a fan of the cats at the best of times but when he makes this discovery – yikes !

I think I might grab the dog and make a run for it.

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