Tag Archives: love

The First Date (that wasn’t a date)

Posted on by

When we started packing up all of our belongings for our move to Turkey it became quite clear that The Turk is a bit of a hoarder.  The most unnecessary crap was placed in boxes and sent by cargo to Turkey with the idea that it would be useful to us when we arrived.

Fast forward six months and The Turk who is hasta (sick) at the moment has become a general pain in my arse because he is sitting at home and “helping”.  On a good day The Turk cannot sit still.  He always needs to be active and doing things.  This is not a bad thing and over the years I have trained him to “do” the washing or “do” the cleaning but when he is hasta he can be a right royal pain in my arse.  This morning he decided that he was tired of the boxes (that are hidden from the naked eye under the bed) and they had to be cleared away immediately.  Now!  Right now!

Image

One of the boxes contained a heap of old photos.  Most of these were of my travels but one photo that he pulled out was in a dented old frame.  The glass was missing and the photo itself was damaged and, for some inexplicable reason, has been cut up and pasted back together.  So why is this photo important?  It is, in fact, the very first photo of The Turk (introduced to me as Al Pacino – his moniker) and I together along with his friends “Antonio Banderas” and “Maradona” as well as my girlfriend Ris.

This photo was taken back in September 2000 at Artemis Hotel in Bodrum.  It our first night out – not a date (well I knew it was not a date but perhaps he did not).  It was not a successful night.  In fact it was ghastly with The Turk becoming jealous of another man’s attentions towards me and Ris and I deciding that we were going to escape then and there.  I remember us running through the streets back to our hotel fearful that this strange Turk was going to follow us.  We never went back to visit The Turk after that less than stellar evening and left Turkey happy with the knowledge that I would never have to see “Al Pacino” again.

I returned to Australia and Ris returned to London but whenever we spoke we would laugh about that night.  Nine months later I returned to Bodrum with a group of friends to spend a month with Ris.  On our first night we hit the bars on the Bodrum beachfront ready for a huge night however jet lag got the better of me and, after a few cocktails, I decided to make my way back to the hotel to sleep it off.  I was tottering down the street when suddenly The Turk was standing in front of me.  Yikes!

“Hey I remember you,” I blabbed.  “It’s Al Pacino.”

“Yes I remember you too Janey.  You left me stranded on the street with a broken heart,” came his reply.  Whatever!

The rest, my friends, is history.

Picking up the photograph The Turk walked into the bedroom and placed it on his bedside table.  “I can now remember this night forever”.

Jeeze.

My Kedi Cat

Posted on by

My Kedi Cat has lived a few lives since she came into this world.  Her first life was that of a stray.  Part feral, she and her mother lived in a dumpster bin behind a warehouse complex.  Caught they were taken to the Animal Welfare League which was where she began her second life when Daughter and I adopted her New Year’s Eve 2011.  She was a nasty little blighter.  She hated me with a passion.  Daughter and The Turk were accepted as her humans but me – nope – she would bite, scratch, hiss and attack me by throwing herself from the vestibule when I passed by.  I did not call her by her name Kedi (which is Turkish for cat) I called her “that bloody cat that hates me” or “that black cat that hates me” if Daughter was within earshot.  “TBC” for short.

Image

When we discussed moving to Turkey and taking our fur-friends I have to be honest, I did not want to bring TBC.  There are enough cats in Turkey do we really need to bring one with us?  I argued, I begged, I pleaded but to no avail.  Both The Turk and Daughter (and apparently My Hurley Dog) wanted TBC to come to Turkey too.  So putting aside the extra cost of bringing TBC to Turkey I realised that this particular cat never spends any time indoors.  In fact after we adopted her it only took her a few days before she escaped and lived in the backyard.  This of course is a new problem as we could not let her out of our home in Turkey as those Karaduvar “Kamikazi” cats (have a read about these terrors here or here)  will no doubt kill her on sight.  So what do we do?

You may recall when The Turk arrived in Mersin he immediately instructed builders to extend our balcony and it now wraps its way around the front of our apartment.  It is a good size, certainly not huge, but enough to keep My Hurley Dog and TBC out of trouble and to give them some outdoor area.  It is still not finished yet (we are now onto our second builder – don’t ask) but both My Hurley Dog and TBC spend time out there already in the sunshine, the dog helping the builders and the cat stalking birds and watching the neighbourhood cats.

Image

I must say that TBC has moved into her third life quite well.  I worried that she would try and escape or suicide off the balcony, but no, she is happy to sit in the sunshine or in front of the heater.  After her initial jetlag (she spent the first two weeks awake all night and sleeping all day) she has now acclimatised and other than a few crazed moments at 3am she is generally quite happy to sleep on my bed or sit with me, as she is doing right now, on my desk as I type my blog or check my emails.

That bloody cat that hates me has morphed into My Kedi Cat that I love.  My mother in law called her a princess and she was rarely wrong about anything.  Yes I agree.  A princess.

No Touching Please – I’m Australian

Posted on by

I have never been a big fan over overfamiliarity.  No unnecessary hugging or kissing or . . . look just get out of my dance space okay?

Here in Turkey it is in fact unusual to not be overly familiar with people.  A “gunaydin” (“Good morning”) is usually accompanied with a kiss on both cheeks and a hug for good measure.  The first time it happened I stiffened like a board but now I have come to accept (albeit reluctantly) that friends or strangers alike they will come at you whether you want them to or not.

Image

It is also absolutely acceptable to give a kiss or a hug to a stranger’s child, which would not only be be unheard of back in Australia., you would probably be arrested for it!

The first time I took Daughter to Turkey she was 10 weeks old.  The Turk did not yet have a visa and so I was taking her to meet her father.  It was a 27 hour flight from whoa to go – Sydney/Bangkok/Istanbul/Bodrum.  By the time I reached Istanbul I was haggard.  Travelling as a single mother was extremely challenging particularly with the precious little package that I had with me.  Arriving in Istanbul I had a 4 hour wait for my connection to Bodrum.  I sat with Daughter in my arms on a chair and promptly passed out from exhaustion.  When I awoke Daughter was no longer in my arms.  She had been kidnapped by the elderly Turkish lady sitting next to me who kept her for the whole flight and at one point I wondered if she was ever going to give her back.  Luckily The Turk was waiting and she reluctantly handed Daughter over to him but not before she kissed, cuddled and thoroughly examined her.

Daughter also has her own issue with the overfamiliarity.  It seems that not only do her friends in the village school greet each other every morning with kisses and hugs it is also not unusual for a teacher to hug or kiss a student – certainly not what this Aussie kid is used to and it made me say “Yikes” when I found out!

Over the past week I have probably kissed and hugged over 1000 people which, putting aside my non-touching issues also brings up my germaphobe issues.  People – keep your hands and lips to yourself.  It’s the flu season.  I have run out of my Dettol hand sanitizer and I am now having a general melt down.  The Turk is sick, Daughter sounds like she is hocking up a lung and I am running around with my Eucalyptus spray wiping down every hard surface that they touch.

Pressing the re-set button

Posted on by

2014 and so far it has been a fucking shocker.  My thoughts are a little all over the place so please be patient with me over the next few days.  Yes it is 2014.  Yes I have already had my birthday and yes that too blew balls, understandably so under the circumstances, but I need to look forward and not dwell on the first week of 2014.  If I did this then my whole year was going to be a disaster.

Image

I decided that the best way to put the first week of 2014 behind me and start the year afresh.  Should I make a New Year’s resolution?  Probably not.  I have never done it before so there is probably no reason to start now but what I do need to do is to think about what I actually want to achieve this year.

There’s the usual things like lose weight or be a better person but these sound more like New Year’s Resolutions than something that is substantial to making me a happy person.  I need to look further within myself to what I really want to do.  While dwelling on the meaning of my life I also realised that I need to –

Learn Turkish.  Just enough to get by.  Just enough.

Talk to Daughter.  Teach Daughter.  Listen to Daughter.  Hug Daughter.  Pre-teen angst.  Mood swings.  Negating my authority.  Yikes.  It’s a bitch.  Deep breath Jane, deep breath!

Be more patient with The Turk.  He’s had a tough first week of 2014 also.  Maybe give him a break now and then rather than being on his ass about what he hasn’t done.  Maybe.

Explore my surrounds.  Turkey is not a big country.  It’s smaller than New South Wales and yet I have never delved further than the beaches.    I need to say it.  I need to do it.  Here it comes . . . ROAD TRIP!

Write.  I was chatting to a friend the other day and she gave me some encouragement with my writing.  “Keep blogging,” she said, “I love your stories.”  Thanks Ris but I may need some more nudging from you over the next couple of months as I try and find my voice.

Alright so this list may not give me all the answers to the meaning of my life but it’s a start.

Hold on people.  It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Love Poem

Posted on by

I have not had a chance to write over the past few days due to a family emergency.  I will write again when time and opportunity allows.

In the meantime I was recently reading about Sultan Suleiman and his wife Hurrem Sultan.  Suleiman I was known as “the Magnificent” in the West and “Kanuni” (the Lawgiver) in the East.  He was the tenth and longest reigning Sultan of the Ottoman Empire from 1520 to 1566.

Suleiman married Roxelana, a former Christian girl converted to Islam from his harem, who became subsequently known as Hurrem Sultan.  Apparently she was a fiesty character that with her feminine wiles became extremely influential over the Sultan and over the Empire herself.  Well good on her I say.  The original Beyonce!  Daughter said he was whipped.  I now question how she knows what it means to be whipped but perhaps that should be for another day as well.

Image

Throne of my lonely niche, my wealth, my love, my moonlight.
My most sincere friend, my confidant, my very existence, my Sultan, my one and only love.
The most beautiful among the… beautiful…
My springtime, my merry faced love, my daytime, my sweetheart, laughing leaf…
My plants, my sweet, my rose, the one only who does not distress me in this world…
My Constantinople, my Caraman, the earth of my Anatolia
My Badakhshan, my Baghdad and Khorasan
My woman of the beautiful hair, my love of the slanted brow, my love of eyes full of mischief…
I’ll sing your praises always
I, lover of the tormented heart, Muhibbi* of the eyes full of tears, I am happy..

*Muhibbi (Lower) is the nickname of Sultan Suleiman in his poems)

The Little Things

Posted on by

Since moving to Turkey and more particularly moving to The Village I (along with Daughter) am learning to appreciate the simple way of life and to, perhaps, disparage what we had and how we lived in Australia.  I have learnt to not complain about things that are not perfect and instead focus on the good things that we do have (unless you refer to those neighbours in which case – watch out!).

Living in Australia Daughter was always on the lookout for something new.  Shopping was a weekly event and clothes, computer games or gadgets were expected.  I was exactly the same.  Like mother, like daughter.  I used to sneak my purchases into the house so The Turk would not have a conniption, funny thing though – he would always find it no matter how well I hid things.  Bags hidden under the bed – he would find it.  Bags hidden in the garage – he would find them.  Hell he was like one of those dogs at the airport sniffing out contraband!  I could never hide anything from him and despite his terrible ability to read English he could read the credit card statement!

Image

Here in Karaduvar it is a little different.  Firstly we do not have two disposable incomes.  We must live on a budget and admittedly we are not doing a very good job of that.  We now need to be a little more stringent with our spending habits and that . . . well that definitely takes some getting used to!

The other reason Karaduvar is different is that our friends and neighbours do not have disposable incomes.  They work extremely hard and long hours to put food on their table and to ensure that their family and those around them are warm and happy.  I watch women arrive at the bache (farm) across the street before the sun has risen and they will work all day for approximately 30TL (AUD$15.00).   These women then return to their own homes and cook dinner for their family and, after the family have had their fill they will clean their homes until they shine.  If their neighbour needs anything they will give them theirs no questions asked even if this means they will go without. There is no jealousy, there is just caring and friendship.  Is this not what life should be about?

Image

I have begun to realise that I do not need all the material things that seemed necessary at home.  I look out my window where Daughter is playing with her cousins on the street with Hurley running after them.  I recall how her entire class came to check on her recently when she had a day off from school.  This would have never happened back in Sydney.

Image

I think our little family will be happier here with a simpler lifestyle.  Look at me – I am growing!    Who would have thunk it!

Big Girls Do Cry

Posted on by

Daughter and I have had a fight.  I can hear her now in her bedroom belting out Simple Minds “Don’t you forget about me” and I just want to go in there and throw her ipod out the window.  At 11 I find her headstrong and on occasion completely out of line.  I wonder what on earth she is going to be like at 15 – which was how old I was when I first saw the movie that made this song famous – The Breakfast Club.  A movie about teenage rebellion and clichés.  It had it all.  How about the freeze frame last scene with Judd Nelson raising his fist to the sky?  “Fuck you!” Oh yeah I loved that movie!

I remember wanting desperately to be just like Molly Ringwald, pretty and popular flirting with the jocks but all the while longing after Bender (Judd Nelson).  Many would say I was probably more like Allison (Ally Sheedy) but deep down I really longed to be Molly’s character Claire. 

Image

An old friend put some high school photos up on Facebook a little while back which gave me a good laugh but honestly I would not repeat my school years if I could at all escape them.  Lonely in a crowd – that is how I saw myself. 

Image

When deciding to move to Turkey one of the factors taken into consideration was to remove Daughter from the “First World Dramas” that children seem to go through these days.  Social media, bad behaviour, general bullying – going to school is like navigating through a mine field.  It is not just a school either.  Children are pressured to be the best, the smartest, the fastest, the most beautiful and if they are not the smartest or the fastest or the most beautiful they, of course, take that failure to heart.  Can anyone say Helicopter Parents?  Children do not have time to actualize and understand a social situation before another situation (good or bad) presents itself.  The pressures that children find themselves under must be huge and we learnt the hard way with Daughter.  Two years ago I found a small gap in Daughter’s hair.  It was the size of a 20 cent piece.  Within days so much of her hair had fallen out that we had to consult specialists.  Daughter had been diagnosed with Alopecia Areata no doubt brought on by stresses in her daily life.  Two years on her hair has grown back although her curls have disappeared and her hair is now dead straight.

We recently watched an episode on 60 Minutes Australia which highlighted a young girl who committed suicide due to social pressure and bullying.  Daughter was a little distressed after watching the story and confided in me that since being in Turkey she has not been bullied nor felt the need to be the bully and “it’s been a bit of a relief to be honest Mummy”.  I forget just how much pressure Daughter has been under since moving here.  She had no Turkish to speak of and has had to adjust to not just a new language but also to a new schooling system. She has had to forge new friendships and continue her education all the while speaking this crazy ass language. 

A wonderful friend gave me some advice before we left which was that if Daughter found one good friend at that school she would be set.  And thankfully she has found not just one friend but many. 

Image

I realise that I should give my kid a break.  Maybe I will make her a hot chocolate (after all its bloody cold enough) and we can muddle through her homework together (I hate the homework) before her Turkish teacher arrives for her afternoon lesson.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Posted on by

Looking at my various social media apps I see that Christmas is approaching rapidly.  My friends and acquaintances are starting the Christmas party rounds (my favourite part of Christmas) and are no doubt burning a hole in their credit cards purchasing presents for loved ones.  I am, of course, in a country where Christmas is not celebrated readily and, in fact, will fall on a school day much to Daughter’s horror.

“I am NOT going to school on Christmas Day!” she screeched at The Turk and I.

We both tried to talk to her, to explain the differences in culture and even to explain that her extended family just cannot afford to purchase expensive presents for her and her kin but sometimes you just cannot argue with an 11 year old girl.  To be honest I am a little disappointed with The Turk.  Christmas is an important tradition to both the Daughter and I.  It is a tradition that always brought my small family together and, even though I have moved to his country, I do want a little bit of my traditions to stay with us. 

I spent yesterday on the internet researching the traditions of Turkey at Christmas time.  What can I work with and how can I make this special for Daughter without offending anyone?  Turkey may be a predominantly Muslim country however Christian traditions are well known throughout the country.  What we call a Christmas Tree is known here as a Yilbasi Agaci (New Year Tree) and presents are usually handed over on New Years Eve.  I can definitely work with this tradition.

Noel Baba (Saint Nicholas or as we know him Father Christmas) was a bishop that lived in the 4th Century in a town called Myra in Asia Minor (now Turkey).  His reputation of helping others less fortunate by giving gifts became the basis of Father Christmas and also why we hang stockings.  Another tradition that will ensure that Daughter will have a Christmas (or New Year) to remember.

I did not forget the birth of Jesus Christ either.  There is a Catholic Church in the heart of Mersin.  I passed it a few weeks ago and I made a point of inquiring about Christmas sermons.  Yes, they have them and yes, they are in English!  Another tick on my family traditions (even though we am not Catholic).

When packing up our home in Sydney I ensured that all my Christmas decorations were packed and today being 1 December I went on the search in Mersin for a suitable Christmas tree.  The Turk said it would be doubtful that I would find one but as I walked into The Forum I saw Christmas decorations everywhere!  I was thrilled.  Yes!  No doubt the marketing Gods have been hard at work within Turkey as within minutes we had located not just a tree but all sorts of decorations including fake snow, reindeer and a Santa for the roof.  The Turk reeled me in a little knowing full well that we would never have gone to this extent in Australia but I argued that this is my first Christmas away from my family and friends and I want it to be a special one.  Another argument lost so I merely purchased a small tree and some lights and, adding my already large collection of ornaments this afternoon we erected our tree and I must say it looks pretty darn good.

Image

Perhaps Christmas may not be in the same tradition as it was in Australia (after all it is usually 30 degrees and we hit the beach after lunch) but maybe we can make a few new traditions, some that she can continue when she has grown up and has her own buggerlugs running around.

Incidentally I have heard more Christmas songs today than I ever heard in Sydney. 

Bad Hair Day?

Posted on by

You are not the only one.  Everyone has them.  I have had one practically every day since I have arrived here.  But today is not about me.  It is about my Hurley dog. Hurley is a cross bichon / poodle.  Probably not the best designed dog for the Turkish lifestyle.  Regardless he is part of this family and is given a lot of love and affection from not just us but now his extended family here.

Here is a photo of my Hurley dog on any given day.  Looking a little shaggy, a little dishevelled and a little like he has been lost on a deserted island after a plane crashed and was chased by polar bears.  Wait!  Hold on a minute.  That is Hurley from the TV show Lost (which was who he was named after due to the fact that Daughter watches way too much television).  But they do look remarkably similar do they not?

Image

Before leaving on his journey to Turkey I had Hurley sent to the kuafor for a tidy up – does he not look fantastic!  A doggy day spa in Australia is a pampering for your doggy baby.  He is shampooed, mani/pedi and if you say you want an inch off all over – that is what you get!

Image

But in Turkey it is obviously a little bit different.

I had asked The Turkey (typo but now that it is written I think it should stay) to take Hurley for a tidy up as he spends his days running around in the mud on the roads and farms and, of course, we are having building work done so there is concrete and dust and, well, he just downright smelled!  So after some telephone calls The Turk and Hurley went to Mezitli (the “fancy” part of Mersin) for his doggy day spa. Should I have gone?  Perhaps.  Will I go next time?  For sure!

Here is my Hurley dog having a really bad hair day in all its glory.

Image

My beautiful boy has been butchered!  I should mention that it is getting colder as every day goes by and that of an evening it can get downright chilly.  So Hurley has now taken to jumping into bed with us and grabbing the blanket to make his own “nest” to keep warm.

I might need to buy him a jacket.

Meet the In-Laws

Posted on by

I am sitting on my balcony listening to the sounds of The Village.  Below me the most prominent sound is that of my in law’s shouting at the top of their lungs.  I wander downstairs to see what today’s issue could be only to find them sitting happily in the sunshine warming their old bones.

My mother in law, Refika calls me over, “Gel. Otur”.  Come and sit.  I sit by them and pour a glass of cay (which, to their constant horror, I put milk in).  It is quite nice in the sun but you can feel that winter is not far away and it was bloody cold this morning when I took Hurley for a walk.  I wonder if Refika invited me over to put an end to their squabble.  No, it was definitely continuing with me right beside them.  I watched them argue back and forth and although I am no expert in the Turkish language I quickly realise that the argument was about who ate the last yumurta (egg).

Image

The Turk’s parents have been married for over 50 years.  Happily?  I just couldn’t say, they appear resigned to the fact that they are married to each other (I feel that way about The Turk most days as well).  I look at my mother in law’s face.  Deep wrinkles may line her face and cloudy eyes are tired but she still smiles despite her illnesses.  Her scarred and callused hands tell me that she has worked very hard over her years and for probably little reward.  Hursit on the other hand is looking jolly and starts talking animatedly (and loudly due to his deafness) to me despite the fact that I can understand little of what he is saying.  Now retired his day is a repeat of the day before – a trip to the Jokey Club to place a bet on a horse, followed by long (an no doubt philosophical) debates with his friends and neighbours at the local tea house before returning home to his dinner which has been prepared by Refika before removing himself to watch either a horse race or the news on television.  If his horse has won he will sing the night away İyi akşamlar which is no doubt his favourite song.  Give him a few wine or rakı and you will hear that freaking song until dawn!

Watching Refika and Hurşit happily argue has made me realise that The Turk and I are exactly the same!  Every conversation that we have is basically an argument (which is what happens when you mix a Turkish man with an Australian/Italian woman) and I am the first to say that I would divorce him in a heartbeat to anyone who will listen!  Does this mean that The Turk married his mother?

Oh dear!!