Tag Archives: The Mersin Diaries

How Many Turks does it take to change a light bulb?

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Last weekend was The Turk’s birthday.  I am not allowed to say just how old he is however Daughter has been known to him a moruk (geezer) so you make a guess.  I looked around the Wonderful World Wide Web for a few historical snippets relating to his birthdate of 7 December to reference in his birthday card but no one really famous – well no one I knew anyway – was born (or died) on 7 December.  7 December has the ominous distinction of being the day that the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbour – 7 December 1941 – but this was to be a celebratory day and I do not want to bring down his groove.

There was no chance of a lie in for The Turk on his birthday as the electricity had blown (yet again).  I reset the system again and attempted to put on the heater but it blew almost immediately.  At 7 on Saturday morning it was 4 degrees and with no air con or heater . . . well let me just say it was cold.  So I woke The Turk up to complain and for him to let Hurley out (after all it was way too cold for me and I crawled straight back into bed).  He was very proactive about it though and by 8 am he had left the house to have a shave and to go and track down the electrician who installed our wiring.  I went to buy the bread and when I had returned The Turk had arrived back home freshly shaved and with a boy in tow.

“This is the electrician?” Thank goodness he didn’t speak English although I would think the disbelief in my tone would be clear after all the child standing before me could be no more than 18 years of age (I concede he may be an adult but no way he is an electrician).  The “cocuk (child) electrician” had a long conversation with The Turk and explained that the issue is not with the electrical it is with the air conditioning unit.  Can I holler balderdash?

So most of the morning was spent listening firstly to the cocuk electrician explain why there was nothing wrong with the wiring, and the air con people came and told us that it was the electrical system.  Now I may not Benjamin Franklin but it does not take a fool to tell you there is a problem if you are shorting out 10 times a day!  The cocuk electrician left unsatisfied however promised that his elder brother (who I was guessing is the actual electrician) would return in the afternoon.  The Turk’s birthday was definitely turning into a disaster so before any other calamity presented itself Daughter and I grabbed him and took him into Mersin for a celebratory lunch at Cigeri Apo.

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To truly experience a typical Turkish restaurant in Mersin you cannot get any better than Cigeri Apo.  It specialises in meats cooked over the coals and the menu, although very simple, is delicious.  I was pretty unsure about the choices (The Turk mentioned lung at one stage) so I kept it pretty basic with an order of beef kebap and he ordered unknown meat on the skewer.  Within minutes 5 different salads were delivered to our table along with a glass of Ayran for each of us.  Ayran is a Turkish drink of yogurt, salt and water blended into a thick shake.  Although refreshing on a hot day Ayran tastes pretty good any time of year.

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After a wonderful lunch we wandered down to Ataturk Park and hopped on a harbour cruise that was about to leave.  In hindsight this was probably a mistake as it was freezing on the harbour but it was reasonably short and we were rugged up sufficiently well.  Although the cruise did not leave the harbour it gave us views of the dull city skyline, Luna Park and the Free Trade Zone.

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Returning home the cocuk electrician’s brother arrived and he checked the circuits.  Watching the actual electrician with The Turk I started to wonder whether they would ever get to the bottom of the electrical faults.  Hmmmm.  The Turk said to me later on Saturday evening that watching me trying to control my agitation with the electrician was the best birthday present he could have received (well that and Fenerbache winning their futbol match on Saturday night).

All in all a good day for The Turk.

Village Video

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I found this video today on youtube while cruising the web.  Only a couple of minutes long and gives you an idea of the Village which, of course, is our new home.  The teacher at the end of the film is Daughter’s beautiful Turkish teacher Ipek.

And yes my neighbours do still make the bread like that and yes we still buy our domates from the vendor selling his wares from his horse and cart.

Let me know your thoughts.

 

 

The Prodigal Son

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The Turk arrived home on Sunday to much fanfare and joy (well not by me but by his family).  The women folk were up at the crack of dawn to prepare for the celebration by making all of The Turk’s favourite foods including Icel Kofte, Lamachun (Turkish pizza) and lots of salads.  I kept out of it for two reasons – one, I am a terrible chef and two, I had 8 weeks’ worth of cleaning to get done in a day!  Anyone who knows me knows that I do not clean.  I watch, I hire or I think about it but the act of cleaning never actually eventuates and in the end someone else does it for me however here I have put in a pretty good effort.  I would not eat off the floor but you would not get a foot fungus in my shower that’s for sure.  Unfortunately The Turk likes his home clean so I had the day to knuckle down and get our house ship shape and ready for his arrival.

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An hour into the clean The Turk telephoned from Istanbul, “Good news, I’m hopping on a flight now.  Pick me up in an hour”.  WTF???? It was supposed to be 7.00 tonight!!  I gave up vacuuming as I would never get it finished in time and ran downstairs to let the rest of the family know.  I had to laugh when I told The Turk’s mother as the frenzied rushing became a little crazed to finish the preparations for his arrival.  I left with Hurley in tow to drive to Adana (about an hour from home) to collect The Turk stopping enroute at Metro (Costco equivalent) to buy some alcohol for the celebration.

Changing the subject for a moment the wine in Turkey is certainly not to an Aussie standard which is a shame but there are a few nice drops (although they are quite expensive due to taxes put on them by the Government).  I am yet to find an equivalent to a nice Cabernet Sauvignon but The Turk is relatively happy with the 14TL (AU$7.00) red (which is even cheaper if brought in bulk at Metro).  If any readers can give me the name of a nice Cab Sav I would forever be in your debt!

After our alcohol run we did not even have to park at the airport as waiting at the arrivals door was The Turk – definitely early and he is usually never early for anything!  He looked tired, haggard in fact!  His flight was Sydney – Singapore – London – Istanbul – Adana.  35 hours in total!  Yes there was a more direct route but he wanted the cheapest possible flight and, well, you get what you pay for after all.

So after 36 hours The Turk finally arrived home to a night of celebration.  The food here may not be presented beautifully, in fact it is on an old table with mismatched chairs and newspaper for a table cloth, but I swear I have never tasted a better kofte anywhere nor has anyone been able to beat The Turk’s mother’s lamachun.  Of course the salads are great as they are made with ingredients grown right here (and without all the chemicals).  So much work goes into making this meal but it is done with laughter and and love.  I truly believe that you can taste it in the food.

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Incidentally The Turk did question whether I knew how to use the vacuum cleaner.  I told him to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.  He just laughed.

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Welcome home.

The Week That Was

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There were still two things missing in our home in Mersin.  One was The Turk but he was arriving on Pazar (Sunday).  The other was our cargo and I was starting to think that it was never going to arrive.  The belief that it is available has been hanging in the air since the first week of October but between then and now we have had public holidays, a mountain load of paperwork and numerous other issues with customs so when my brother in law called me to come downstairs with my passport early on Monday morning, well, frankly I thought it was going to be another wasted day before I would return home angry and empty handed.

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Arriving at the Free Trade Zone (Mersin Harbour) to collect the cargo my brother in law was advised that I was unable to enter the area (presumably because I do not have a penis) so I waited outside the gate in a small metal cage a-la Berlin Wall pre-1989 while my brother in law disappeared behind the fence (the promised land?) to collect the cargo on my behalf.   The hot Turkish sun beat down on my brow . . . wait really?  Yes really!  I sat in this cell for two hours in the sun (the security guards did thoughtfully bring me a chair) waiting for my brother in law to return but when he did it was with a huge smile on his face.  We had our cargo!  The back of his truck was filled with boxes and suddenly my dehydration dissipated – we had our cargo!

The hard part was over – or so I thought.

I stared at the boxes on Monday afternoon but perhaps exhaustion (and heat stroke) got the better of me and I just could not face the daunting task of unpacking.  I would get it done on Tuesday.

Tuesday came a little too quickly and I felt my nemesis better known as procrastination tapping on my shoulder.  *Sigh*

Wednesday.  I opened the boxes – I know I am running out of time and The Turk will be here soon.  I have got to put everything away today!  My sister in law Songul offered to come and help me but I chased her out the door.  No, this is my job and I will get it done today!

I do not want to talk about Thursday.

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Today is Friday and Songul just could not take any more!  She and her sisters arrived and within an hour all 26 boxes were unpacked to the sounds of laughter and chatter.  It seems all I needed to get this done was a little motivation and a little help from my friends.  Eğer bayanlar teşekkür ederim (thank you ladies).

My kitchen cupboards are full.  Daughter has her clothes and games.  Hurley has his bed and Kedi is playing in the boxes.  So now the only thing missing is The Turk.

Bring on Sunday!!!

The Art of Being Sick

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I should have realised that this was coming.  There were warning signs after all.  The hot days had become merely pleasant and the light breeze had become blustery. A couple of nights ago I was woken by a storm that came crashing over The Village and when I awoke the next morning could see the light scattering of snow that announced the change of season.

Yes, I should have realised that this was coming but I didn’t . . . and now . . . it’s too late!  I am sick and I am grouchy.  I have lost my voice and I have a runny nose.  My throat hurts and my headaches.  I have chills and they are multiplying (although I am yet to lose control).  I have named this concoction of evil – the Turkish Lurgy.  I have it and I am crabby. The Turkish Lurgy is ravaging my body and I am certain that I will never recover.

“Nasilsin?”  How am I?

Well, frankly I am shit!  I look like shit and I feel like shit!

Normally in Australia, I would fight through the shit (sick).  I would soldier on with Codral and go to work, drop Daughter off at school and get on with life (spreading germs as I go).  Now, in The Village, I have reverted to my alternative personality known by many as Princess Janey.  This particular personality rarely presents herself these days however if she does make an appearance people shake in their boots and run for the hills.  Daughter has lived through Princess Janey before so has sensibly decided to ignore me and went to her cousin’s house.  Hurley is sneaking around for fear of upsetting the person who feeds him and even Kedi has retreated to hiding in my wardrobe while I recuperate.

I am currently in bed surrounded by tissues and propped up by pillows.  The Turk’s mother has taken over my house and is whispering demands to family members who scuttle off to carry out her instructions post haste.  I can hear the sounds of my vacuum humming, my washing machine washing and I can detect (even with my stuffy nose) the distinct smell of chicken soup simmering on my cooktop.  Unfortunately, I am finding it increasingly difficult to be gracious, surrounded by all the kindness and it is just making Princess Janey even more grumpy.

I spoke with The Turk on the telephone, “I just want to be left alone”.  “No darling, they do this because they love you.  It is the Turkish way.”

Hmph!  And so I push Princess Janey back into the recess of my mind and I smile at my mother in law when a tray is placed on my lap.  I smile at my sister in law when she hands me some Turkish syrup with instructions to take it 3 times a day.  I smile at everyone who pops in to ask me Nasilsin? and I am thankful that they do not know the word “shit”.

I think I will throw my duvet over my head and hide under here until they leave.

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Why didn’t I realise this was coming?

Sunshine and the Old City

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The Festival of Kurban Bayran is finally coming to a close.  It has been a great couple of days visiting with family, lots of scrumptious banquets (I am pretty sure I have put back on the weight that I have lost over the past few weeks) and generally spending quality time with Daughter which has been lacking since we have arrived (mainly because she is zigging left with her cousins and new friends and I am zagging right attending Government offices and chasing down documents).

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So today we decided to travel by dolmus into the city of Mersin itself and spend the day exploring our new surrounds.  I have done this a few times while Daughter has been at school so I proudly asserted that I could find my way around without a map and that I would “NOT” get us lost!

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Mersin is sometimes known as the Pearl of the Mediterranean” (Akdeniz’in İncisi) although I would never call it that.  I have always been overwhelmed by Mersin with its noisy streets feeling somewhat claustrophobic with chaotic traffic and even more chaotic people rushing around to get to where they want to be but today, being the last day of Kurban Bayram, the city gave off a completely new vibe with most of the shops and businesses closed for the 4 day holiday.  I must say that I drank in the peace wandering through the alleys in the old city, passing through secret doors leading to cobbled passageways away from the main caddesi.  Unfortunately for me (and for my pride) it became quite apparent to Daughter that we were completely lost and, despite my objections to the contrary, she laughed loudly before pulling out her mobile and saving the day with Google maps!

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Even though many of the shops were closed the restaurants were all open for business so we stopped for chai before making our way to Ataturk Parki to soak up the sunshine and watch the endless parade of people passing by.  From men fishing, families picnicking and young lovers walking hand in hand it reminded me just a little of Manly Beach on a Sunday morning.  I felt a little bit homesick right then (or maybe I was hungry) so we crossed back near the mosque and found a small tantuni shop open for business with the waiters more than happy to practice their English on us both.

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Content with our day we returned home ready to spend the late afternoon on the couch, maybe dozing with a cat on my lap but as soon as we arrived Daughter was called to visit friends (zig) and I was called down to my mother in laws for cay and to chat about my day (zag).

I could definitely get used to this life!

Life is a roller coaster, live it, be happy, enjoy life

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Our family has been riding an emotional rollercoaster for some time now.  As many of you know my beautiful Dad passed away last year and the heartbreak and loss that I have felt has dragged me down into an abyss of forlorn.  A few of you have pulled me aside and questioned the decision to go to Turkey was merely me running from the pain that I felt but after some soul searching I realised that I am not running away I am in fact coming home.  The Village is my home, at least it will be for now.

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So over the past few weeks I have strapped myself in and held on for the rollercoaster ride of a lifetime!

Like most rollercoaster rides it starts off pretty painlessly, and I found packing up our lives was actually the easy part (although the two box allowance blew out to about 10 boxes each!), however before too long the rollercoaster started to gain momentum and my life began to spiral out of control.  From changing schools to exporting live animals each morning brought me a new set of problems that had to be solved (and after I solved the problem it then had to be translated into Turkish). Family arguments have been of global proportions and on more than one occasion I have contemplated leaving both The Turk and my daughter in Sydney and escaping to Turkey (or anywhere) alone.  I have spent countless days running between the Turkish Consulate and various Australian departments in the puerile attempt to secure a Turkish passport for my daughter however this appears to be more elusive than a “hippogriff” and I am pretty sure that I will never see one of those either!

But rollercoasters are supposed to be fun aren’t they?  So rather than dwell on the crazy of the ride I celebrate the memories that I have created over the past few weeks.

I drank to my last day working in the best office in the world (although I imagine a few of you would not agree with that statement).  I have sung (yelled) Cold Chisel at the pub, visited my favourite haunts on the Northern Beaches and have even driven past my childhood home in Cromer bringing tears to my eyes with the memories.  I have had many farewell lunches and many more farewell evenings with wonderful friends that I will miss more than I can say.  And yes I know there are many more that I did not get to hug that one last time but I have not forgotten you and will write to each of you until we can have our next hug.

And in the blink of an eye the rollercoaster has come to a halt and it is time to leave Sydney.  Time to leave this beautiful city to begin again in the Village.

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You’re Moving Where???

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I have always detested New Years Eve.  There is such high expectation to revel with other revelers, rejoice in your tomfoolery and have oodles of casual sex as we come together as one to countdown and celebrate a new beginning.  Blah!  Yet every year I would dress up in my finery ready to revel, indulge and make general whoopee  when in fact I would rather be on my couch eating pizza and chatting to my cat about our plans for the coming year (and there would be some epic adventures involved).

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“It’s going to be the best night of your life”, THEY say.  Well who the feck are they because I have always found New Years Eve to be the suckiest night of the year.  Is “suckiest” a word?  If not, it should be.  New Years Eve always sucks balls! And New Years Eve 1999 proved to be exactly the same.

That fateful evening as we held our breath for the Y2K bug to implode our world and as Jennifer Lopez was Waiting for Tonight I was, yet again, breaking up with my “Mr Mediocre”.  Yes I am stealing the idea from S&TC but I think in this case the name given to my ex is insightful and, well, he really was  mediocre at everything that he did (nudge, nudge).  It is clear to me, probably also to you and almost certainly to a psychologist, that I still have some unresolved issues with him but Mr Mediocre is mentioned only briefly so I will now move on with the story.

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Anyway, Mr Mediocre had succeeded in letting me down for the tenth New Year in a row and I found myself sitting harbour side watching the Sydney fireworks alone – again.  Around me merry people applauded the year that had ended and rejoiced with their lovers celebrating the celebration of a new millennium.  A New Millennium!  It was kind of significant wasn’t it?  2000 years ago – or thereabouts – “a child was born”.  Obviously many children were born but this one was kind of important.  As I sat drowning my sorrows I decided that I needed to reconsider precisely what I was doing with my life as, after all, not only did I have issues regarding my relationships, I also was turning the dreaded 30 in eight days time.  Crap!

Within days I had rebounded into Mr Mediocre’s arms (like I said – issues) but had also made the fateful decision to embark on the holiday of a lifetime to find myself.  Perhaps have an epiphany that would change my life forever.  This holiday was going to be outstanding too as I had incorporated good friends with amazing destinations from the birthplace of the abovementioned significant child, camel riding to the Pyramids of Giza and a trip to Petra to re-live the final scenes from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Yes, I know that scene rocked!

Shortly before flying out my girlfriend rang from Londra and suggested a side trip to Türkiye – a chance to unwind.  “An excellent suggestion.” said I.  And by the time I arrived in Türkiye to meet my girlfriend those two weeks would be well earned as I was mentally and physically exhausted from the hieroglyphics and the craziness and the heat and well, I just needed to re-boot my system.Image

On our first night in Türkiye I met who I will forevermore call The Turk.  He suggested that we spend the day on his sailing boat.  He said that we would have a great laugh and enjoy good food and have a wonderful time swimming in the blue sea.  He promised us a day to remember.  Cheesy eh?

Well as cheesy as it was we did spent the next day enjoying his food and laughing out loud at his silly jokes.  We enjoyed swimming in the sea and it was indeed very blue, almost turquoise!  Upon arriving back to the jetty The Turk suggested meeting up again in the evening for drinks however as we had both had too much sunshine and perhaps a few too many beverages throughout the day my girlfriend and I fell asleep in our hotel room before the sun had even set over Bodrum Kalesi.  I didn’t see The Turk again before I left and frankly, didn’t really think about him either.  He was merely an anecdote when recalling my adventure to others.  (I know that my girlfriend will no doubt recall this day quite differently but I don’t really want you all to hate The Turk before you get to know him so this is the story I am going to stick to).

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I returned to Sydney in time for the 2000 Olympics and then it was New Years Eve again.  A full year!  Had I grown?  Had I learnt anything?  Did my life have new meaning?  Not really but I did, finally, end it with Mr Mediocre having finally realised that he would never mature into the man that I deserved.

Fast forward to June 2001 and I find myself with friends ready to indulge in the delight that is Türkiye once again.  Walking down the caddesi on my first night I bump into – wait for it – The Turk.  Kismet?  Destiny?  Inevitability?

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Well whatever it is I now find myself married to The Turk and we have been blessed with our one little darling, my baby, the ever wonderful, always beautiful, Daughter (who is currently morphing into an obstinate teenager) and we are ready for a new adventure.

Today surrounded by boxes we are preparing for the biggest move of our lives from Sydney, Australia to a small village on the outskirts of Mersin in Türkiye.  I don’t know how long we are going to last – could be 3 months or it could be forever.  Whatever happens I will keep you updated with my witty banter and hopefully not too much twaddle.

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