Tag Archives: expat

A Little Bit of Everything – and a lot of Nothing!

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I have found it difficult to blog recently.  I didn’t want to jump straight back into my usual humour after the last few posts about the refugee crisis.  It seemed rather insensitive.  So I gave it a little rest and for those of you who ‘like’ my FB page I have just been putting up some political and humorous links about Türkiye.

So I will ease into it and just spit out a few little tit bits to get us started.  Is it ‘tit bits’ or ‘tid bits’?  ‘Tit bits’ sounds wrong.

First up, it is Bayram right now.  For those of you who don’t know what Bayram is here is some lay person information.  Think of it as Bayram for Dummies.  When I was pregnant I brought Pregnancy for Dummies and it was extremely helpful.  Thankfully so far this year it has been a quiet one.  Do you remember when you were kids and you would have one Christmas at home and then the next at some other relo’s house?  This is what appears to have happened so far this year.  Everyone in the family has disappeared – except my father in law.  Never my father in law.  We still have to make the obligatory trips to extended family members and, of course, there are the constant trips to the fecking cemetery, but I think I am going to get through this Bayram stress free!  Finger’s crossed though as I don’t want to jinx myself.  Iyi Bayramlar!

baby goat

Next up on my list is this – I don’t think it is every going to rain in Mersin again.  EVER!  There is the potential for a good rain.  There are dark clouds, really ominous clouds.  There is even excitement but, sadly, no follow through.  The sun comes out again and the never ending heat continues to taunt us.  LIKE A BITCH!  And it’s been raining fecking everywhere in Turkey right now.  Bodrum has had flooding.  Marmaris has storms.  Even Adana has had some crazy downpours.  Don’t get me wrong.  I am still a summer girl.  I hate the cold and generally I hate the rain as well but after a rain free zone of some 120+ days I really need a downpour to take the edge off.  I need a fix.  Yes, yes I know we had a storm after that recent earthquake but that was more of an addendum to the earthquake and, anyway, that was more wind than anything else so it doesn’t count.

So I am still waiting.  And it is still motza hot here.  And I am kinda over it.  And of course I will complain about the cold soon enough but right now – I just want a little rain!

On the bright side school goes back on Monday after 8,765 days off (well it seems like it anyway).  That is 8,765 days of Daughter loving Calum Hood (from 5SOS), dreaming about Calum Hood, talking about Calum Hood and hating absolutely everyone and absolutely everything else.  That means you!  And me!  And definitely The Turk!  When I was 13 I was going to marry George Michael.  I didn’t.  But I am holding out that Daughter gets her dream wedding to her dream man.  I mean they both love Hawaiian Pizza so it looks like they could be a perfect match!  So if any of you happen to know Mr Calum Hood let me know would you.

calum 2

Finally I am still holding onto my dream of becoming the next J.K. Rowling (or more correctly a Turkish-inspired Jackie Collins – ooh la la!) and have been plugging away on completing my first novel.  I start.  I stop.  I delete.  I start again.  But I am pushing myself this time thanks to a little bit of encouragement from a friend here in Mersin.  So if I disappear I will be back.  I should probably keep going while I have the enthusiasm.

Oh and speaking of my blog I was recently contacted by a mainstream news channel to give an opinion on the freedom of press in Türkiye.  Thank you very much but I as I said to them I am merely a little blogger and not nearly as knowledgable as I could be or should be to give an opinion on pretty much anything.  Plus I kind of like being anonymous (I know I am not really anonymous) but I don’t want to get blocked (or worse) so I’ll just keep smiling and writing about kittens and unicorns! I was totally chuffed at being noticed by them though.  For those of you interested in seeing the report the link is here.

So that’s it for now.

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Humanity is Lost

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I had an early dinner last night with some friends high in the hills behind Mersin.  In our group were 3 little boys who ran around having fun and just being kids.  They laughed, they played, they ate a hearty meal and then they left with their families to return to their warm, safe homes.

Aylan

I too returned to my warm, safe home where I sat on my terrace and opened my social media.  The one photo that was shared over and over again, the photo that filled my newsfeed was of a young boy, in a neat red shirt, blue pants and tiny, tiny shoes, no older than those that I shared my dinner with, lying dead on the beach in Bodrum.  It seems that humanity has lost folks.  This is it for all of us.

Just take a moment to look at the photo.  Really look at it.  This is the world we live in.  This little boy has been identified as Aylan Kurdi and right now should be safe in the bosom of his family and not lying in a body bag waiting to be expatriated back to his homeland for burial.

Aylan along with his mother and his brother perished as they attempted to cross the Mediterranean Sea between Bodrum (Türkiye) and Kos (Greece) in a small dingy.  They have become a statistic, one of more than 2,600 people who have died trying to cross to Europe from Türkiye in 2015.  This is the most deadly migrant crossing point in the world and this figure is only going to get higher.  Those who do make it across to Greece then find themselves in another country that is unable to cope with the sheer volume arriving on its shores – let’s not forget that Greece is in the midst of an economic crisis.  But they are still the lucky ones as they are in Europe now and their dream for a new, better life for them and their family is possible.

In Türkiye there are over 1.7 million Syrian refugees currently seeking asylum.  When the fighting in Syria began Türkiye opened its borders with the expectation that the conflict would be short lived and the refugees would return to their homeland.  Five years on and the conflict is ongoing, if not worse, and each day brings more waves of people fleeing for safety.  The Turkish Government is working furiously to support the refugees but the huge cost is taking a toll on the country with resentment building between the Turkish people and the Syrian refugees.  Turkish people are well known for their generosity but with so many Turkish families living below the poverty line there is building anger that any Government funding be directed towards helping their own people and not those who should not be living here in the first instance. Türkiye also has the constant struggle with maintaining its borders, ongoing issues with its neighbours, the very real threat of terrorism and the recent disruption to the cease fire with the PKK.

I have always been quite opinionated about refugees and asylum seekers in Australia.  The Turk had to jump through some pretty big hoops before he got residency and I believed that anyone wishing to enter Australia should jump through those same hoops but since living in Mersin my eyes have been opened to the suffering of these people running for their lives.  My selfish behaviour, and the behaviour of so many of us all over the world, is the reason that little Aylan Kurdi lost his life yesterday.

Did you know that in Australia boats filled with refugees can be towed back into international waters by the Australian coastguard?  How about the fact that David Cameron has said that the UK cannot take in any more refugees?  Is Aylan one of your “pests” David?  Probably not eh?  Did you hear that in Germany a planned asylum centre was burnt down?  In Macedonia there has been fighting at the border crossings.  In the Czech Republic police have been marking and numbering the refugees with washable ink (hello WW2) and, of course, in the Mediterranean the bodies of baby boys are being washed up on Turkish beaches.

Feck people.  We are all living on this earth.  Together.  What is wrong with all of us?  We failed this little boy and we failed his family.  He is lost to the world now but perhaps with this sad photograph doing the rounds on social media the doors will be opened for others that are running for their lives.  I know my opinion has changed.  Perhaps yours will change too.

For those of you who want to help the Migrant Offshore Aid Station is dedicated to preventing migrant deaths at sea and Save the Children is distributing essential items such as nappies, hygiene kits and food.  Give what you can.

From Save Kobane: Even the sea could not carry the heavy burden of this child’s lifeless body, so she returned him to us, to be a testimony of our failure as human beings.  

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Wordy wisdoms by The Turk

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After a string of messages from you guys about The Turk’s most recent blustering crapfest in “Grow The Feck Up” I realise that he really is a wealth of ridiculous quotes and is constantly sprouting off nonsensical crap.  I really do not utilise his blathering often enough and, as I have been hasta and confined to the couch for a few days, I have had the opportunity to experience more of The Turk than any sane person should have to.  Thankfully I feel the need to share absolutely everything with you so you will appreciate a few of his most recent crapalicious spewings about life, love and everything in between.

kemal collage

Daily conversation – Him:  Has the dog done a bok?  Me:  Yes.  Him:  Was it big?  Me:  Would you like to see it?

Stupidity – People are being stupid today.  I will not speak to anymore of them.

Professing his Love – Him:  Darling, I lurrrvvveee you.  Me:  OK.  Him:  What do you say?  Me:  Thank you.  Him:  This is the reason why I will leave you for Cameron Diaz.  She will appreciate me.  Me:  I think she just got married.  Him:  I hate you.

Religion – You should pray to Beyonce.

A compliment – Him:  You look nice.  Me:  *smiles sweetly*.  Him:  Imagine how good you would look if you were thin.

Movies – Him:  Where is Al Pacino?  Me:  What are you watching?  Daughter:  Twilight.

His funeral – If I die (me:  If?) can you play this on repeat.  (It was “Party in the USA” by Miley Cyrus).

Walking through our salon – Him:  Did you make me çay (tea)?  Me:  Do you see çay?  Him:  You are a good wife.  Me:  I know.  (Wait 10 seconds).  Him:  Would you like çay?  Me:  Thank you.

Watching me while I yell at him – You look like that girl from The Exorcist but with nicer eyes.

Squeezing my bum – Your ass is like a pillow made of fat.

Pride and Prejudice (the BBC miniseries) – They stare.  They talk.  They walk.  What is this never ending pile of bok?

To Daughter (on love) – All men are assholes.  Daughter:  You’re a man.  Him: *shrugs*

After reading these back I realise that The Turk may just be as mad as a hatter!  I might have to make this a regular post because these few juicy snippets are only over the past few days.  Imagine if I really started to pay attention!

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Mum’s Doing a Lamb Roast

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We recently got Digiturk and I have been watching the Home and Entertainment channel, sometimes in Turkish and sometimes in English.  It was a rare occurence to watch any of these shows back in Australia and now I find myself with an addiction that cannot be quenched and sadly that addiction is – cooking shows.  I know.  I need to find a support group.  Like most addictions I cannot get enough of it and worse still it has resulted in me attempting to replicate whatever I have seen on the screen.  Desperate attempts at ridiculously difficult cakes, fancy pasta dishes and over the top dinners generally results in a messy kitchen, inedible food and a very grumpy Turk.

food collage

Yep all I have really achieved by subjecting myself to this new addiction is the realisation that I really am a crap cook and really, really miss good western cooking.  Here in Mersin it is hard to have this desire for western fare fulfilled.  Don’t get me wrong there are a few good western style restaurants in the city but their dishes are not quite to the standard that you would get in your home town.  For me it is a roast dinner.

Side note – Aussie readers.  Who remembers this commercial of Naomi Watts (before she was famous) “Mum’s doing a Lamb Roast”.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tt1YV9Bj72c

To follow in Naomi’s footsteps and in light of my drooling desire for a good roast last night we feasted on a leg of lamb with all the trimmings.  We had potatoes and oodles of roasted garlic.  I made a mint sauce (which kind of sucked) and finished it off with peas and carrots.  Finally gravy.  Yes I had some gravy sauce squirrelled away for such an occasion.  I heard the moans in the audience – no I cannot make my own gravy although I have tried on many, many occasions (my mother would be so disappointed in me).  Yes I used the juices, I added the flour and the Vegemite (probably an Australian thing) but my gravy always tastes horrible and lumpy and doesn’t thicken so gravy mix I will continue to use until I become Nigella Lawson.

Speaking of Nigella and again as a cooking show virgin I don’t really know how these things go but honestly this chick is sexing up everything that crosses her plate.  The episode I watched yesterday had her sprouting these beauties “This meat is so soft in my mouth”.  The Turk turned to me in surprise and said, “I bet her husband prefers when the meat is hard”.  Not sure who is more inappropriate Nigella or The Turk!

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“Grow The Feck Up”

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There are days when I just cannot do it.  I just cannot “adult”.  It’s a thing you know.  I used to go through it on a Monday morning when I would be getting ready for work.  I would morph into the petulant child.  I become bitter and mean.  I would stand in my living room in my pyjamas and I would stamp my foot.  I would sulk all the way to work while sitting on my bus.  I did NOT want to “adult”.  Now it happens to me when I have to go into a Turkish Government office.

adult

You may all recall my recent yabanci post; well this is my follow up.  Shortly after that post we lodged my Residency Permit for renewal.  Now I am not going to bore you with all the idiosyncrasies with your RP.  Go to YellAli or Doc Marten for all the information as these are my “go to” websites.  Anyway, we lodged my RP.  We had everything that we needed.  We went over the documents – twice.  The Turk checked it.  I checked it.  His brother checked it (the smart one).  It was perfect.  Done and dusted.  The appointment date was easy to get and I went for my appointment on Tuesday morning.  I knew I had to “adult” but, as mentioned above, I spent my morning sulking, stamping my foot and, well, sometimes I can be just damn difficult.

And I know I have to be on my best behaviour when we get there.  I know that I need to smile and say teşekkür ederim and wish them a merry day despite their gruff behaviour but, honestly, when you know you are going to be ignored, talked about, ignored and spoken to in a manner that is nothing short of condescending and finally, ignored, it makes it very hard for me to “adult”.

Before we stepped through security The Turk whispered to me, “Don’t act like a bitch.”  Awwww.  He knows me so well.

Up to the 3rd floor we went.  We found our door – can you feel the excitement?  The Turk knocks.  In we go.  We stood at the counter while three men sat diligently ignoring us while updating each other on their scintillating personal lives.  We stood.  Patiently.  I counted to “87 Mississippi” before The Turk clears his throat to get their attention.  We have an appointment.  Without even stopping their conversation, without even looking up, one of them did the head flick (you know the one) and “tskked” us before flicking his wrist indicating we go to the desk on the right.  At this point I laughed out loud.  I had to.  How fecking rude is that?  Would this fly in a Government department in your home town.  No it fecking wouldn’t!  I stared at him and said, “Well aren’t you an ass”.  Of course, no one understands so that works out well for me.  The Turk gave me the death stare that would make Emperor Palpatine tremble in his hoodie before turning to the appropriate desk where sitting behind it was a woman who had, by her appearance and demeanour, obviously just caught her husband in bed with a supermodel.  I mean she was practically catatonic.  You could literally taste her despair and melancholy.  Seriously her aura would be a big black cloud of death!  For the sake of this post she will be known as Misery.

Documents were handed over and hurried conversations were had.  Not to me of course but between The Turk and Misery.  After a few false starts (that had us running to the other end of Carsi to obtain additional documents) Misery gave us the all clear and said we were good to go.  The new ikhamet should arrive in 4 weeks.  Yah!!!  Petulant child clapped her hands and skipped out of the building.

Friday morning we were called back into the Government office.  “Don’t wanna”, said I as I wanted to go to the beach with my friends.  Again my other persona of petulant child appeared.  I stamped my foot.  I sulked all the way there in the car.  I was NOT going to “adult”.  We got there.  Before we walked through security The Turk warned me, “Grow Up”.  Alright that was a lie.  What he actually said was, “Grow the feck up”.  (see how I keep this PG-13 after all feck is much nicer to read than FUCK isn’t it?).  I sighed.  Okay.  I can do this.  Taking The Turk’s excellent advice (and knowing that I wanted to get this done so I could go to the beach) I put a big, fat, fake smile on my dial to which The Turk sidelines me with, “Is that your Bitching Rest Face?” Yes.  Yes it is!  We were first through the door on Friday morning.  First through the security check and the first ones up on the 3rd floor.  We were ready for anything.  We sat.  We waited.  It was soooo fecking hot that my ass was sweating freely but I still kept Bitching Rest Face on my dial.  Finally we were called back to see Misery (who was only slightly less miserable in our second encounter).  She pointed at the last page, “Işaret”.  Signature.

Oops!

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Fantasy v Reality

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Well it is that time of year again when I hear from those who have fallen head over heels, met their one true love and are looking at moving (or perhaps have already moved) to Türkiye to live the fantasy with their beloved.

Holiday romance

This is the epic love story isn’t it?  This is the love story that The Bard wrote about centuries before, a love more powerful than Napoleon and Josephine and a love that will last through eternity like Jack and Rose.  But just before you go packing your bags and dreaming of a new life in Türkiye with your true love let’s go over what you are getting yourself into – a little bit of a reality check shall we say.

For the sake of this post I am going to assume that you have met your true love in Marmaris or Fethiye or Bodrum (like me).  A holiday romance (like me).  And for the sake of this post I am going to assume that you are female (although no discrimination intended guys).  Finally for the sake of this post I am guessing that your man does not live permanently in Marmaris, Fethiye or Bodrum and instead comes from a small village some 18 hours away (or 12 hours or even 4 hours) where he will return to his family home for the winter months (again like me).

Right – let’s get started.

Can you imagine a life living in a quaint Turkish village?  Would you be happy living with your in-laws, his family, literally surrounded by hundreds of people and yet somehow being incredibly lonely?  Are you ready to immerse yourself entirely into a culture that is incredibly foreign and can be relentlessly unforgiving at times?

Take off the rose coloured glasses people.

Look again at that quaint village?  In daylight what it might really be is a bit of a dump.  If this place was back in your homeland you wouldn’t be caught dead living here.  Right?  Am I right?  I’m right.  Electricity comes and goes.  So does the water.  And speaking of water, is it safe to drink? Maybe.  And those people around you?  Are you merely a slave to wait on them or perhaps you are seen as nothing more than a yabancı and generally get ignored from morning to night.  I am not saying that they are going to treat you like that so don’t start losing your mind and writing me horrid messages, I am saying they might be.  It happens.  You, as the gelin, may be expected to do a lot of running around for the fam bam.  Be prepared for that possibility.

What about that lifestyle you were after?  Do you picture yourself spending your days on the farm, perhaps walking through the quaint village, arm and arm with your love, waving to your neighbours and having time to smell the roses?

That’s not roses you are smelling people – its horse shit, or cow shit, or goat shit, or … well you get the picture … and it is everywhere!

Are you designed to live on a farm or did you grow up in a wing at Buckingham Palace (or in my case Manly Beach).  Trust me when I say the sounds of chickens clucking and cock-a-doodle-dooing is like a jackhammer to my ears and I believe that meat should be purchased from a supermarket and not retrieved from your driveway after Baa Baa was slaughtered before your very eyes.

But you will make allowances after all you will be together with your love.  It will be wonderful.  A happy life.

*Cough, cough*

As long as you realise that he has been working away from home for over six months and, now that he has returned home, he will no doubt need to get another job to continue to support his family (and you) for the next six months until the summer season re-starts.  Work can be scarce for many here in Türkiye.  He will no doubt work extremely long hours leaving you at home with his family or maybe all by yourself.  Perhaps he will disappear for hours to the local cay ev for cards leaving you to stare at the four walls making you feel like your home is your prison cell.  Of course he will need to visit all of his extended family and you will be dragged from home to home like a show pony.  Are you ready for that?

Don’t get me wrong people, I love Türkiye but I arrived here in The Village with my eyes wide open.  I had travelled here every year for a decade before we made the decision to pack up our lives.  I knew what I was getting myself into and I still find it difficult.  Every single day.  Difficult.  If you think that this is going to be your very own Shirley Valentine or Eat, Pray, Love then do yourself a favour and unpack your bag right now, get on the telephone or on Skype or Whatsap and nut out some ground rules for you and your love.

He will need to support you 110%  I don’t mean financially, I mean emotionally.  You have moved here from your comfortable home, from a country that is your mother tongue and you have left your family and your friends behind.  He cannot get angry at you.  He must not get frustrated or ignore you.  You will have questions.  Hundreds of them.  I still do.

You will be lonely.  Thank God for Facebook (don’t diss me I mean it).  Find expats groups.  Find likeminded people.  I know this might be difficult in the small village (I’m the only one in our village) but look in the neighbouring towns.  Some from our expats group here in Mersin come from small villages in the mountains or even from neighbouring cities to spend the day with friends.  Offer to help at the local school.  Your English is a gift to the teachers here.

Really, really do your research.  Find out where you will be living and what it means to live in that area.  If it is a teeny, tiny village you need to throw yourself into that lifestyle wholeheartedly.  Find out what allowances you will need to make – culturally that is.  Will you be living in a conservative area?  Can you do that or do you want to wear your cut-off shorts and to hell with them all?!  Perhaps you will be living with his family.  You will have no privacy.  They will come and re-arrange your drawers or walk into your room unannounced at all hours.  Boundaries.  Draw that line in the sand and make sure he (and his family) abides by it.

Finally a little bit of advice for your partner from me –

This lady is your true love.  She has moved here to be with you.  Don’t make her regret that decision.  Do the right thing.  Treat her with the respect that she deserves.  Treat her like a fecking princess!  She IS a fecking princess!! Spend time with her.  Don’t disappear for hours on end leaving her to your family to entertain.  Help her settle in to her new environment.  Please don’t get agitated at her when she is unsure of herself or of what is going on around her.  Understand the difficulties that she is having with the language barrier or the culture.  Most importantly don’t be a complete douche or you will lose her forever!

Now breathe … and go pack those bags!

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Shake, Rattle and Boom

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You guys might recall that I have the unique ability to not feel any earthquakes here at all.  Little or large, up until this point I have felt nada.  But last night … well last night was a doozy and at the time I was pretty sure it was right underfoot.

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Let me paint you a picture.

It was a hot and humid night.  Too hot to sleep.  I thought about putting on the klima but I hate that background droning in my ear so instead I tossed and turned in bed, so much so that The Turk went and slept on the terrace to capture the sea breezes (and no doubt to get away from me).  Midnight came and went.  1am crept past me and I was still listless, The Sandman had not visited and I was knackered.

Moments after the clocked ticked over to 1am an eerie silence immersed The Village.  The neighbourhood dogs, who are usually so vocal, stopped barking and even My Hurley Dog who was sleeping on my floor sat up and started whimpering.  Then it hit.  The wardrobe started banging.  My Hurley Dog looked at the wardrobe and I looked at him.  Outside I could hear the sound of objects falling.  I sat up and the bed started vibrating like one from a cheap Vegas hotel.  I laughed … I mean my bed hasn’t seen that much action since before The Turk’s heart attack … until I realised what it was.  “Shit.  Earthquake”.

I called for The Turk but he was having his own 30 second dance party on the terrace so I grabbed My Hurley Dog (who either wouldn’t or couldn’t move) and I ran clumsily down the corridor to the terrace. By the time I made it out there The Turk had lit a cigarette and mumbled, “Deprem”.  Uh huh.   We watched as the neighbours all came running outside and started babbling to each other.  Dead set you would think that John Cusack just drove past in a limo with the door ripped off.  People here go bat shit crazy!

Seriously though it was a 5.2 and it was in the sea between here and Adana.  It was felt down in Limonlu which is about 70 kilometres from here as well as in the mountains in Yenikoy.  As it was so close to Adana they really copped it with one friend saying her 14 storey building was swaying (and she’s on the top floor – yikes).  No damage at ours although the madanoz and nane boxes ready for delivery to restaurants tomorrow all fell over next door which caused a good 10 minutes of yelling and gesticulation before they were upright again.

I went and made a cup of tea and The Turk and I sat on the balcony for a few minutes watching the show when a slight breeze picked up.  I thought that perhaps it might cool down a bit but no, if anything, it was hotter.  I looked at our temperature gauge – 30.2 degrees and its 1.49am.  Lord!  And then it hit.

No not another quake but the electrical storm to end all electrical storms.  Mother Nature was throwing everything she had at us and within seconds our electric was cut and the entire village was thrown into darkness.  Blacker than black.  The rain started and The Turk started cursing (he had washed the car earlier in the day).  Again we watched another fox in the henhouse moment while all the neighbours went running back inside.  What’s worse to a Turkish person?  An earthquake or a little rain on your head?  Definitely the rain, after all you might get grip!  People probably went inside and put on a sweater or three!

Right now I could be controversial and suggest that building a nuclear power plant in Mersin (or in Türkiye for that matter) is a ridiculous idea what with all the earthquakes and shit but because I am trying to stay away from controversy so I don’t get blocked I am going to say this – unicorn and kittens!

But I must admit Mother Nature put on a hell of a show.  Both a matinee and a curtain.  Well done Madame for an eventful evening but I really need to get some sleep now.

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Just a Bit of an Anti-Climax

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So for approximately 36 hours I was an outlaw.  I lived on the edge.  I fought the good fight.  I took the red pill and I got a glimpse as to just how far that rabbit hole actually went (sorry nerdy Matrix reference) but, well, now it is all just a little anti-climatic because I am back baby!

MatrixBluePillRedPill

After being locked out of blogger heaven the “powers that be” or the glitch police or the little internet gerbil allowed janeyinmersin.com to return to the web-o-sphere.  From what I can determine certain words send up alarm bells from websites run from within Türkiye and they automatically get blocked under Article 90 of the Constitution.  Obviously all my posts about dragons and wizards fall within that category.

For the foreseeable future, however, I will keep my blogging to stories about kittens and sunshine and unicorns.  That should make the “powers that be” happy.

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BLOCKED!

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Yep it seems that my humor definitely does not translate into Turkish because as of last night JaneyinMersin.com has been blocked in Turkey.  I am up there with Twitter, Blogloving and FunnyorDie.  Frankly I think this is the highest accolade I have ever received being blocked by a Government!

internet-protest

Hopefully in the coming days sense will prevail and the powers that be realise that I am but a stupid Aussie who runs off at the mouth on occasion.  They will see that I am merely an over opinionated, middle aged woman who could hardly be a threat to national security.  I mean really!

Look don’t get me wrong perhaps it is not the Government that has blocked me, perhaps it is merely a glitch in the system and I will come back online completely on my own and if that is the case then … oops sorry to the powers that be.

So for those of you “outside” I will continue to blog in my sporadic way but for those of you within Türkiye, well you can’t read this anyway so doesn’t really matter what I wanted to say does it?   LMAO!

Oh and just to really be difficult go ahead and share my blog to your friends so my voice gets carried just that little further today.

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My Most Hated Turkish Word – Yabancı

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This community service announcement is coming to you from my balcony with a glass of red in my hand to calm my frazzled nerves.  It is just on 7.30pm and its 33 degrees (Celius people not that crazy Fahrenheit that only, like, one country in the world still uses) and I am trying to enjoy the mild ocean breeze wafting over our ev.  I have had a crappy day and it all comes down to one word.  A word, I believe, is possibly the worst word in the Turkish language (and that’s saying something ‘cause a Turk can tell you to go and feck yourself in so many unique ways).  The word that has become the bane of my existence is … Yabancı.

meditation

Just breathe Janey.  Breathe!

For the uninitiated the word Yabancı simply means “foreigner”.  According to Google translate (my Bible) it also means “alien”, exotic”, “outlandish” and a few other words but basically a Yabancı is anyone that is not Turkish but can also be used for someone who is not from Mersin or not from The Village so it can be a very diverse word when it puts its mind to it.

Yes people today the word Yabancı has been tossed around more than a football at the Superbowl or a Frisbee at a family barbie and I am not taking it anymore!

We all know that my Turkish is crap.  I have not mastered the language and, despite thousands of liras worth of lessons, I am possibly worse now than when I started (that is not true at all).  BUT I can understand enough to know two things – 1. When they are talking about me; and 2. When they are talking about me.  Alright I only know one thing but I only need to know one thing and I do KNOW WHEN THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT ME!

So the point of this rant?

It is time for me to renew my residency visa.  “A residency visa?” you ask, “Why would you have a residency visa when you have been married to The Turk for what seems like a 1000 years of servitude?”  Why indeed curious reader.  Well the reason that I did not get a kimlik (Identity Card) back when was simple – pure laziness on our part.  Not just me but The Turk too.  We just never got round to it.  “But why don’t you apply for your kimlik now?” Why not?  Well I did actually apply 22 months ago and now 22 months later I am still waiting on my kimlik.  Everything has been lodged.  I have had my interview waaayyy back in March it is now just playing the waiting game but I tell you this right now – if I do not have my kimlik by this time next year I am moving back to Oz!  Yep I’m putting a “used by date” on this shit!

Alright so I am babbling again – back to it.

So now we find ourselves moving into Year 3 of our time here in Türkiye and I need to renew my residency visa yet again.  I went to the bank – they needed paperwork from the Nufus.  Got it.  Back to the Bank, got my statement.  Too easy.  I went to the sigorta and argued the toss with them for a good 2 hours about my place of abode.  They needed proof from the Nufus.  Got it.  Got the confirmation of insurance (oh and thank youto the FB group Doc Martin for your assistance in this regard).  Alrighty then.  Proof of address.  Easy.  Tapu.  No for some stupid, idiotic reason of which I cannot truly understand I needed to go to the Nufus and get proof of place of abode – yet fecking again!  Back to the Nufus for the third time in this week.  Well the past two trips had been relatively easy even though The Turk tends to talk too much and unintentionally irritates the Government employees with his banter but regardless they were pretty straightforward trips up until today.  TODAY.  Feck my life.  For whatever fecking reason today’s employee decided that my address wasn’t correct on the computer and sent The Turk and I backwards and forwards the bloody office like a tennis ball at a Grand Slam.  The word yabancı was tossed around often and every single time I heard it I shuddered.  Not only was yabancı tossed around there was also Avustralya tossed around like a shrimp on a barbie.  At one point I actually counted the number of times the word yabancı was used in one minute.  It was 11.  11 times!  11 times by three Government employees.

Here’s what you need to know people.  Yes I am a yabancı.  Yes I am from Avustralya.  Yes I live here.  Why?  Because I fecking want to.  Give me my fecking document.  Just give it to me.  NOW!

We arrived at the Nufus at 9.15 am and we left at 12.22 pm.  The Turk has suggested I take up meditation before I lose my fecking mind.

Feck.My.Life!

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