Tag Archives: Only Expats

Sometimes being an Expat Sux!

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I can probably count the number of close friends I have had in my life on two hands.  These are the friends that I know will be there for me through thick and thin.  They are the ones with a box of tissues or a bottle of wine and they are the ones that remind me that I can have a dream and turn it into a reality and they will be right beside me to cheer me on.  These friends, these soul mates, these are the people that I miss more than anything living here in Turkey.

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Sure I have The Turk’s family.  They have welcomed me with open arms but they are not my girlfriends, the ones you tell your deepest secrets to (although I think we can all agree my life is a pretty open book – or blog).  Plus that whole pesky issue of not speaking the language makes it tough to form close bonds.

With The Turk away I have become increasingly lonely and with the Daughter at school during the day I find myself mind numbly bored.  I have come to the realisation that I must actually like him (at least a little bit).  His health scare certainly scared the shit out of me and now I am just waiting for him to get the all-clear from his doctor before he can come home.

I am told that an overwhelming sense of emptiness and loneliness is normal for an expat and the waves of loneliness comes and goes leaving you either gutted or living on a high.  Being so far away from home the onset of depression can occur suddenly, the tiniest thing will set me off and when that happens the most I can hope for is to be left alone in my blackness until clarity re-sets.  I think if I lived in a more expat friendly city I would thrive but living here in Mersin it can be an incredibly hard slog.

It is my own fault you know.  Having this blog has opened up a huge window of contacts but I squandered the opportunities that I had and did not go out of my way to cultivate friendships and relationships with people.  I was always too busy and I know how difficult it can be to form friendships.  It can be a hard slog but do you know what else I have realised?  I realised that if I don’t make the effort then nothing in my life will change.  Deep I know.

So this is what I did.  I got off my ass.  I made contact with people.  Plans were made.  Dates were set and I can happily say that I now have a great little group of friends to play with.  I have learned that I am not the only one that suffers from the blues living so far away from home.  We are all missing our family and our friends.  A support system needs to be in place for us expats.  We need to be each other’s family and to step in and be that shoulder to lean on when needed.  Coffee in Carsi?  Sure.  BBQ in Yenikoy?  Definitely.  Drinks in Viransehir?  Of course!  Also I need to be friends with someone who can get me ham and yes there is such a person here in Mersin – hello Danny Boy!

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Like I said it can bloody difficult living here.

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Paradise Found

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One of the great things about Mersin (or Icel) is that it is not usually on the international tourism wish list.  I get it.  I really do.  It is an industrial and farming province.  There is no airport and frankly no one speaks English.  It is kind of cosmopolitan and unique but its lack of infrastructure, its occasional domestic issues and now its proximity to unstable borders means that it is not really a draw card for visitors.  After all why come to Mersin when you can go to Marmaris or perhaps Bodrum for your sunfilled vacation?

For those of us living here though it is a godsend that the international tourist passes us by.  Why?  Well if you, the international tourist, go elsewhere it means that the hidden gems found along this magnificent coastline are left for the Turkish tourists which means – Turkish prices!

During Kurban Bayram the family and I travelled to Yaprakli Koy Susanoğlu and I honestly I feel like I have truly found my new favourite spot in Icel.  Susanoğlu actually is part of the seaside town of Atakent, 65 kilometres west of Mersin and only 15 kilometres east of Silifke.

susanoglu

Susanoğlu Playa itself is a nice enough beach but there is more to Susanoglu than the main beach.  You don’t want the main beach.  You need to keep looking.  If you blink you will miss it for it is not on the main drag.  It is a secret after all, locals only, and they are not going to give up its location to a yabanci readily.  You are going to have to work for it.  You will need to park your car.  You will need to stalk a Turk (as no doubt they know where to go) but, with perseverance and a little good fortune, you will come across some ancient stone stairs on the side of a cliff (not as daunting as it may sound) leading through a smallish little forest.  Through the pine trees you go until you get a glimpse of that perfect mavi (blue) sea.  Step towards that colour and know that, finally, you have arrived at Yaprakli Koy Susanoğlu, a hidden gem along the coastline surrounded by Turkish beach clubs and restoranlar.DSC00437

This place bay has the feel of a party all day long.  Families gather for picnics, girls sunbath in their itsy-bitsy bikinis while watching the boys prance by showing off their muscles.  Old Turkish men do calisthenics on the rocks before making their way to the nearest lokanta for a glass of raki (medicinal I am sure). The surrounding restaurants sell simple Turkish food, but simple can at times be extraordinary with amazing balik, kofte and tavuk dishes on offer for the low non-touristy price of 10TL.  Even more importantly the drinks too are ridiculously cheap and the Efes’ are ice cold.  The music is blasting and it is always Turkish.

susanoglu 2

No one, I repeat, no one speaks English and you will no doubt find yourself, as I did, sitting next to 70 year old Turkish lady who told me her life story.  Sure you may not understand what they are saying but they will still talk to you anyway.

I think I have found my incredibly cheap but now not so secretive paradise.

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Where For Art Thou?

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As you can see it has been some time since I have blogged.  I have taken a break from me.  Janeyinmersin has had to take a back seat for the moment with real life taking over.

The Turk remains in Sydney and is still quite sick.  Last week he took another turn and ended up back in hospital.  He is feeling a lot better now – thankfully – but there have been a few sleepless nights in the past week with calls from the hospital and from friends.

I am still fluffing around waiting on either my Residence Visa (applied for in August) or my kimlik (applied for last December!).  After trips to both the Emniyet and Nufus it seems that my visa is still “processing” and my kimlik needs The Turk’s signature on something – so that’s now put off until his doctor gives him the all clear to fly.

My days have been full as well with Kurban Bayram meaning we have had a full social calendar for the past 10 days (yes Kurban Bayram may not last that long but this family do not want to stop the party).  Other than a sneaky expat night out my days has been full and my nights even fuller.  I have said it before and I will say it again – “their ain’t no party like a Turkish party ‘cause a Turkish party don’t stop!”

Back to the blog though.

tarsus mountains

Mersin really does shine during October.  Tarsus Mountains now has a light smattering of snow on their peaks and yet the days are still hot here on the plains and the sun is still shining brightly.  Late in the afternoon Mother Nature likes to throw a little crazy at us and we are hit with some magnificent storms that blow in from the sea and dump a massive amount of badly needed rain on the village.  As happy as the farmers are here in the village, I do not love the downpours quite as much.  Why?  Well firstly we lose our electricity for days on end but also due to the ridiculously bad construction of our home when the heaven’s open I find myself spending hours – literally hours – sweeping, mopping, squeegeeing, sponging and scooping the excessive rain water that as accumulated on my roof terrace towards the measly drains at each end.  I just want to add that we are not talking about a smidge of water either, we are talking about water you could bath in (well it is above my ankles in places).

I don’t really mind, I have got to be burning off some calories as I collect my rainwater and I get up there with my i-pod blasting my playlist aptly called “Sweep and Sing”.

So what is in my “Sweep and Sing” playlist.  MC Hammer told me that “You can’t touch this”, Bonnie Tyler told me to “Hold out for a Hero” and there is even some Scandal in there “The Warrior”.  I’m not some old codger either as thanks to Daughter there is a bit of Iggy Azalea telling me to “work, work, work, work, working on my shitz”.  I had a good old laugh the other day as I was up there blasting out my usual Karaoke tune “Like a Prayer” I did not notice my neighbours sitting on their balcony enjoying the show.  They called for an encore so I found myself singing a bit of “Thriller” which included the dance moves to finish off my show.  To show their appreciation my neighbour’s wife brought me a plate of hummus and home-made chilli paste.

Teşekkür ederim!

I promise my blog posts will be a little more regular over the coming weeks.  Life has returned to some form of Turkish normalcy and I am back to my over-opinionated, now brunette self.  For proof of life I can usually be found sitting on my terrace enjoying the late afternoon rays and a glass of red.

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Kurban Bayram

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Today marks the eve of Kurban Bayram and its 4.5 day celebration.  All the households are busy with preparation for the celebration.  I am frantically cleaning as I know there will be a constant flow of guests through the door.  Daughter is crazy excited as there is no school until next Wednesday and can currently be found downstairs with her cousins while trying to round up My Hurley Dog who appears to be chasing kittens around the garden.  The Turk’s sister is arriving tomorrow with her family as well which means a very full household for the next week.

All this plus a sneaky expat get together on Saturday night means I will probably not be around for the next few days.  For those of you who are unaware of Kurban Bayram I wrote a piece last year (link below) which sums up my thoughts on this celebration.

To all my readers I say Kurban Bayramin kutlu olsen and I will be back on board next week.kurban bayram

Incidentally I don’t think the sheep are really all that happy about Bayram.  Pretty sure about that actually.

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The Turkish Moustache

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With The Turk currently Down Under having something akin to a heart attack I sit here in Mersin thinking about what could have been.  Not with him – I know how that story goes – but with other, more glorious, men.  I think we have already sufficiently covered my Brad Pitt fantasies.  I also have had similar fantasies with Liam Neeson and, OK look, I am going to admit it, Sean Connery.  I know he is old enough to be my father but damn “Sir” you are still fine!

With all this spare time and taking into account the fact that Brad is newly married to my nemesis, Liam is no doubt still grieving the loss of his gorgeous wife and, well, I think I need to pass on Sir Sean (unless you are reading this Sir Sean then “I’m willing if you are”), I decided to do some research on hot Turkish men.  Actors or musicians, after all I do live in Turkey and need to start being slightly patriotic (although admittedly the men mentioned above are not Aussie).  As an afterthought but certainly no less smashing I shall now mention Hugh Jackman and will also throw my hat into the ring for one of those young, delicious Hemsworth boys.

After making my decision to undertake this important research to bring you, my dear readers, the hard (cough, cough) facts, I set forth on this tough assignment by doing a Google search on “hot Turkish men”.  The search engine gave me 4.8 million results.  Hmm I was no doubt going to be very busy.  I then got side tracked and found myself doing a Google search on Brad Pitt.  This brought up 6.9 million results.  “Stop it Janey!  Back to the task at hand!”

I want to start by saying that I definitely have a type.  I like a man that is dark (well duh!), rocks facial hair and works well with his hands.  I should have an abundance of choice here in Turkey then shouldn’t I?  But I find myself in a bit of a dilemma.  The question that has given me many a sleepless night (not true) is this – what happens when you put a moustache on a hot guy?  I will tell you.  That hottie turns into a nottie!

exhibit a

Meet Ibrahim Celikkol.  Hottie right?  Yes please.  He is an actor who has starred in many television shows over here in Turkey but what happens when you put a moustache on this hottie?  1970’s porn star!  This guy is obviously an amazing actor or is paid a lot of money to sport that particular mo’!

Exhibit B

Burak Özçivit.  Again Wowza!  Young, handsome, great hair!  He reminds me a little of A.C. Slater but put a moustache on that mug and what have you got?  Freddie Mercury’s much younger cousin.

exhibit c

Look at the brooding hotness of Murat Ünalmış.  And then throw not just a mo’ but a full fledged beard on this hottie and he turns into what?  He looks like the guy that I brought my tomatoes from this morning.  Hold on, I think it is the guy I brought my tomatoes from this morning!

Last one I promise

exhibit d

How about Tolga Karel.  I think he is a reality tv star here.  Survivor or something.  Good looking guy.  Then there is his mo’ shot –this is a professional photograph.  He chose to rock that mo’ and undo the buttons on his denim shirt (do people still wear denim shirts?).  His stylist dropped the ball on this one folks.

The list keeps going.  As I said I am a big fan of facial hair but here in Turkey the moustache must be a sign of power, of virility, manly men undertaking manly tasks sporting manly, man hair.  Honestly they are all sporting the whisker here.  Someone please write to Gillette and ask for, like, 10 million free samples of their best blade.  That should be a good start to ridding Turkey of this evil appendix to the hot Turkish man.

Just to prove that it’s not just a Turkish male that cannot pull of the mo’ here are photos of my Brad, Liam and Sean rocking the mo’.  Brad – so wrong it’s not even right, Liam – there were some bad photos but then I can’t do that to my Liam and, finally, Sir Sean – a mo and a turtleneck.  Help me please.

rocking the mo

There are some honourable mentions though in the hot Turkish men Google search.  Starting with Kivanç Tatlitug.  Seriously, I could not find a bad photo of this guy.  Is it just me or does he remind you of a Turkish Brad Pitt.  Building up a sweat with this one.

Honourable mention Kivanç Tatlitug

How about Caglar Ertugrul?  He could be Jake Gyllenhaal’s long lost brother.

honourable mention Caglar Ertugrul

Come on people.  Give me some names.  I am happy to do the research for you guys, to bring you the best of the best to drool over but I am going to need somewhere to start.  But he has to be hotter than Kivanç Tatlitug.

hottie Kivanç Tatlitug package

Just putting that out in the universe.

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Mistaken Identity

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A couple of weeks before The Turk left for Australia he and I were in Carsi doing some shopping when he was mobbed.  By women.  Yes.  Seriously!  Well it was only two women but it was still a mobbing.  It seems that The Turk looks something similar to Cem Özer who is a famous actor here in Turkey.  Why these women chose that particular moment to mob him I do not know.  Perhaps the real actor was in Mersin or perhaps these women momentarily lost their senses but regardless they made The Turk’s day.  Does he look like Cem Özer?  You be the judge.

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There is a vague resemblance I guess.  Squint your eyes, have a glass of red and you can definitely see the similarities!

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Angina

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Yesterday I was sitting at home watching Deniz Yildisi, a Turkish soap opera which is seriously the craziest soapy I have ever seen.  Melodramatic chaos.  Seriously this show (like most Turkish soapies) has it all.  Cheating spouses.  Murder.  Bedlam.  Chaos.  It doesn’t have a psychotic doll that has come to life (ie Timmy from Passions – anybody remember that show?) but, honestly, Deniz Yildisi is some sensational, not to be missed, viewing!

kemal fish

Anyway the telephone rings.  It is The Turk – “Darling.  I am in hospital.”

Huh???

It seems that The Turk who is currently Down Under has had a little, tiny heart incident.  He thinks it might have been a heart attack.  Feck!  Now I know that I joke about The Turk and half the time I want to literally kill him but I don’t really want to see him dead.  Not at all (well maybe a little bit).  I begin to sweat.  What do I do?

I hung up on The Turk and then rang the hospital and finally was put through to his doctor who was extremely helpful.  She told me that he had had chest pains.  Now The Turk being The Turk usually ignores any type of ailment from tooth aches (ignored until it becomes an abscess which has to be dealt with on Christmas Day!) to back aches (I can still work with a slipped disc can’t I?) and no doubt he ignored the chest pain as well.  I am thankful that his friend had the sense to get him to the hospital as I am quite certain that The Turk would have ignored the pain if he was here in Mersin.  He probably would have shrugged it off and lit a cigarette instead.  The doctor then tells me that after a plethora of tests they diagnosed a chronic stable angina and will insert a stent in his heart as he has a blockage.  Ah.  My.  God!

Poor little thing.  Meek as a kitten, wanting to come home.  So the stent is being inserted today (apparently a very simple procedure) and he will have to wait 4 weeks to see the cardiologist but then he can get his ass back to Mersin.

I think I can safely say that once back in the fold of his family The Turk will never leave home again!

As easy as “bir, iki, üç”

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With Daughter now back at the village school and with The Turk in the Land Down Under I find that some spare time on my hands.  What to do?  What to do?  I could lie in the sunshine and work on my tan?  Or I could go for lunch at the Marina or Forum with friends?  Nah.  I need to do something constructive with my free time and so I decided on having some private Turkish lessons with Daughter’s Turkish tutor.

Daughter’s tutor is a cousin of a cousin of a cousin or something and is absolutely a delight.  She was recommended to us by an English teacher from one of the private schools in Mersin but we seriously hit the payload when we realised that she was related and not just some random teacher.  Bonus!  Her enthusiasm to teach Daughter has made it a breeze for her to pick up the language and Daughter loves her because she is young, beautiful and funky.  She and Daughter bonded over their mutual love of Starbucks and shopping!  If only all teachers could be Ipek!

I admit that hang my head in shame knowing that I have been in the country for over a year and my Turkish is still ridiculously bad.  I had every intention of enrolling at Mersin University and taking Turkish classes (also a great way to meet other expats) but the idea of making my way on two buses at the crack of dawn 4 days a week did not inspire me to learn.  I had also assumed that immersing in the language would mean that I would pick up the skills in no time.  Yep.  Nope.  I just did not realise it was going to be quite so hard.

alfabex

Ummm …

In just one lesson I have learned that half of what comes out of my mouth is complete gibberish and it explains why Daughter gets so darn embarrassed when I attempt to speak in public.  We end up coming to blows most of the time because she is embarrassed by me and I am annoyed at her attitude in return.  Last weekend we were on the dolmus and usually I leave it to Daughter to ask them to pull over but I thought I would have a go and ask the driver myself.  “Musait bir yer“.  I sounded great.  Well I thought I sounded great anyway.  Daughter said I sounded like I was speaking an Alien language and now, after my first lesson with Ipek, I realise I was speaking an Alien language.  I sounded like a dead set goose. Incidentally musait bir yer does not say “stop the bus” or “let me off” it translates literally to “suitable a place”.  Can you see why I am having difficulties.  Who talks like that (other than Yoda and Google translate).

I survived my first lesson by learning my alfabe (alphabet). “A, B, C’s” although I now know it is not “aye, bee, see” it is in fact “ah, be, je”.

Right, so back to kindergarten for me.

A Smile

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Each morning at a little after 7, whether it is rain, or hail, or shine, I watch a little old lady passes by my front door.  I do not know her name, I do not know where she lives, all I know is that our front door forms part of her morning constitutional.

When I see her I always smile and call out, “Gunaydin”.  She has never acknowledged me.  She has never wished me a good morning or even glanced in my direction, she merely makes her way past my front door as part of her usual morning routine.  She walks slowly but with purpose. Some mornings I see she is walking with difficulty but today I noticed she has a new appendage to help her on her constitution – a cane.  She seemed a little more sure of her step this morning but she still did not wish me a good morning when I waved at her from my terrace.

It is difficult to win over the old ladies in the village.  After their initial curiosity of the yabanci amongst them I have generally been ignored.  A few teyzer will say good morning and one or two of them will even ask me to join them for çay but on a whole I am left alone these days.  That suits me fine.  I am happy in my solitude and it gives me more time to write.

I do wonder, however, what I have to do to win this little lady over.  A smile, that is all I am asking for.  Maybe tomorrow.

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To my No. 1 Fan

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Did you know that humor is a great stress reliever and research has shown that being funny is actually a sign of intelligence. I’m pretty sure I’m a fecking genius.

I also think I’m a pretty nice person. I like to think that the whinging that I do on my little blog is taken with a grain of salt.  I like to think that you, my loyal readers, are mature enough to discern between my take on living in this crazy little world and understand humor for what it is.  Well maybe not! 

no 1 fan

Last night I received this email and when you read it try reading it with the voice of Yoda in your head (my request will make sense in a moment) –

“Janeyinmersin,

I think you are the bitch. if you are unhappy so living in Turkey why do you not just leave.  I am sure that it don’t want you here.  Go back to home in England.  England deserve you.  You are the bitch. Divorce you I am.”

To this person who provided an email address that bounced back (let’s call him “Yoda”), to Yoda I reply –

Dear Yoda,

I have never denied being a bitch (although I wonder are you trying to say “You are the bomb”?  If you are trying to say “you are the bomb” then thank you and big kisses to you).  I appreciate your sentiment but just in case you are in fact calling me a bitch I will say that you are in fact 100% correct.  I am a bitch and I have been called a bitch many times over the years.  I do appreciate your ability to immediately recognise a bitch.  Kudos.

I also appreciate that you obviously spent the time to use Google Translate to write your kind comment to me.  I should use Google Translate to reply to you as well however then my readers won’t get to enjoy my sarcasm and wit which is so obviously lost on you.

It is truly endearing to find a reader who has spent as much time as you obviously have Yoda reading my blog as you obviously know many intimate details about my life.  Firstly I must tell you obviously I use the word “obviously” way too much.  Obviously!  Secondly, I must say that I do love England and I bet England would love me too.  It has so much to offer.  Harry Potter, William and Kate live there, even the Beatles originated from there! But one thing that did not originate from England was, in fact, me! I am not English.  Perhaps we can play a game of Guess my Nationality?

Should I make it a visual game?  Alrighty then.  Below are 3 pictures.  See if you can guess where I am from?photovisi-download

Did you guess it Yoda?  I bet you did because you are obviously smarter than the average Jedi Knight.  I mean look at Luke Skywalker.  He was a bit dumb, he didn’t even realise that Leia was his sister!  Ewwww.  But just in case you did fail your Jedi Knight training the answer is – “I come from the land Down Under, where women glow and men plunder” also known as “Stralya”.

Finally (and just in case this message was from The Turk) – no you cannot divorce me.  You love me WAY too much!

Again thank you for reading my little blog.  Click like below if you enjoyed this reply or even like me on Facebook so you get all my updates.

Yours sincerely

Janey … still in Mersin (and fecking loving it)

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