Soba Reality

Last winter I spent a fortune on wood for my stove,(its called a SOBA in turkish) And I was always popping out for more logs , And burning myself in the process, AND it was stone cold every morning as I scurried down stairs dressed in 7 layers like a bag lady, cuddling cats to keep warm . Use coal I was told – its cheaper and lasts all night. So I got some, and I was off.
Glass of wine to steady nerves, a layer of coke, then some paper, then wood then more coke. A couple of tutusturucu ( turkish firelighters, write it down before you buy them , its impossible to say , and no one EVER understands ) Set light , wash hands, lot of smoke , then - nothing.
Ok, take out top layer , more paper , put coke back, scrub hands , shout at the tututusturucu, try again. Sit back with another glass of wine.
More smoke, it felt warm, but10 mins later. Nothing.
Ok, take out top layer, more paper, more tutusrtrustucucu, glass of wine, chuck in match. Smoke, flare of flame Nothing.

Wash hands, attempt to remove grubby marks off sleeve, aha - brainwave - ive got some lamp oil, sort of pretty pink paraffin in a bottle, it works on barbies, pour a bit in, nope, no reaction, so then a bit more, chuck in match.
If you have a nervous disposition stop here.
A fireball leapt from the soba and across my room, to the curtains 2 metres away. They were fairly new , white with gold embroidery. Nylon, very inflammatory nylon. The blaze was spectacular, Floor to ceiling, a large cushion joined in , and bits of melting nylon dripped down the windows. Lanet olsun !(means 'oh s....t) Lanet bloody olsun. Whats Turkish for fire ?
I froze, wondering how to tell Joanne I had burnt her house , the one next door to mine, down, in the inferno. I ran to the kitchen , filled the nearest container – my juice jug - already half full of orange juice , with water, rushed back and threw it in the direction of the flames. There was a pleasant smell of orange groves, and some hissing. Realising I was standing in a pool of paraffin - I had dropped the bottle, I leapt out of my slippers, ran back and got more water. Incredibly I put out the fire.
Phew. Another glass of wine , then I reviewed my work. One curtain with its lining disappeared ,a few entrails hanging from the curtain pole, and a large congealed lump of it, rather Tracy Erminish looking, on a very singed cushion., the other curtain missing a large ‘ bite’ out of it. The back of my settee a bit singed , but otherwise ok. Tiles cleaned up beautifully too
Lessons learnt – buy the brown tutusturthings, the white ones don’t work, get some small bits of wood, buy a fire extinguisher, or a fire blanket, and paraffin lamp oil is excellent cleaning material !

PROPELLED TO DISASTER

Well strictly speaking that was exactly what didn’t happen. The propeller fell off ! Better start at the beginning. My friend, lets call him George, a keen sailor like myself was staying with me in Dalyan. We decided to go on a trip and hire a yacht for a few days. Eileen and her son, William, aged 11 going on 30, fancied the idea of a ‘luxury cruise’ as well. Eileen’s husband Neville, a lugubrious Geordie, didn’t. Something about rather having his eyes pulled out, but he told them they should go , ‘it will be a once in a lifetime experience’ he said. Canny lad Nev.We found a nice boat, a one year old Bavaria 42, very swish, gleaming woodwork, bristling with the latest technology. Easy to handle though and George and I between us have about 50 years experience afloat. Anyway it’s the med, sunshine, warm water and a nice Meltemi wind to blow us gently to idyllic coves and harbours.We had done the usual Ekincik, Datca, Bodrum trips so decided to head east to Kalkan and Kas. Easy two days sailing . We set off from Gocek at 10.00 on a calm sunny day, in July. My Turkish coastal waters book says the winds off the seven headlands off Patara on the way to Kalkan , can be ‘flukey’ and the seas ‘disturbed’. Might be something got lost in translation . At 12.00 the wind picked up and the seas did get disturbed. Well choppy. Well actually ‘rough’ could be the word. William didn’t use any of those words, or if he did we couldn’t hear him, from the depths of the toilet he had his head down. He really shouldn’t have had all that yoghurt and honey for breakfast. George said we should reef down to have less sail, “better now than later- reef down and you wont drown” ( he can be a bit tedious at times). He handled the ropes and I started the engine, as the wind was flukey, coming from a different direction every 2 minutes, and now a good 18 to 20knots, getting to force 6 . My yachtmaster teacher said ‘when a 6 is about , never go out’ .It’s a male sailor thing , they have an old seamans saying for every occasion - ‘never pee when the wind in the the lee’ (I made that up). Another old sailing thing is always check the ropes before you set out, particularly to make sure the running ropes have a knot at the end to stop them going free. One of ours didn’t. It flipped happily over the side as George let it go. And underneath the boat. As the boat was going forward , the rope travelled backwards, laws of physics decree that. Sods law decrees that it then wraps itself around the propeller, so it did. The engine stopped. My heart did for a few seconds as well .We tried pulling it (the rope, not my heart,), reversing the engine, cursing it, but no use. So we had to cut it, and rig another one But we had sails and good wind and we were only 2/3 hrs away from Kalkan. The headlands at Patara have a funny effect on wind , there are seven of them, and they seem to throw it forward. It went from 18knots to 20knots to 25knots , and by the time we reached the turn round the last headland at Kalkan it was 30 knots .That’s nearly 35 mph or 55k ph. A real gin and tonic spilling, mad hair making, gale force wind. Still once we were in the shelter of the hills in the bay at Kalkan it would die down. We had reefed everything down, and in-mast reefing on the mainsail is wonderful, so I was actually enjoying the sailing. William wasn’t moaning so much and did I say that Eileen had found the second toilet by now? I checked they were ok and George called the charter chap to ask for some assistance. We could anchor off Kalkan and they could meet us. Birsey degil, no problem.Shelter ? Not Turkish Hills. They don’t stop the wind, they accelerate it. As we turned into the bay a gust of 35kts hit us, and it stayed between 30kts and 40kts as we raced towards the harbour. Brake . Boats don’t have brakes – they don’t have a saying for it either apart from lanet olsun (Turkish for ‘oh s…t’), Where is the boat that is coming to meet us, is there anywhere we can anchor, can we risk going close in a 40kts wind.I told Eileen and William to come on deck and put on life jackets. That cheered them up.I could see the whites of the eyes of people on the breakwater when a boat at last appeared. They threw us a rope, to tow us in. We let everything go to be towed in They threw the rope back. Ooer. Then a man in a rubber suit appeared, jumped into the sea and 2 mins later appeared waving a piece of rope triumphantly. A diver, we were free. The engine started and after that all I had to do was park 42ft of plastic boat between a rock and a large ghulet, in a channel about 43ft wide. With helpful screamed contradictory instructions from two portly chaps on shore. Piece of cake.The diver said the propeller was fine. It was, most of the way back 2 days later, but it fell off somewhere near Fethiye. The charter man towed us in, and charged us for a new propeller.. William said he liked sailing. Eileen didn’t. C. 2006 Penny Blackmore

Aaronautical Delight

Just another day in Paradise. At 10.00 am on this particular day I had a handsome young man in front of me, taking me to heaven. Well just over a 1000 ft in that direction. I was securely strapped into the rear seat, bit like on a motor bike pillion, behind Aaron , 28 yrs old from Guildford and the pilot of the microlite aircraft we were flying over the Dalyan delta, in Mediteranean Turkey.
I had donned snoopy goggles, earphones and mike, and a helmet to start the flight. ‘Roger bravo tango ready for take off’ I said , no idea what it means, then, it took I think about 15 seconds, and we were up in the air. Aaron banked the aircraft with what looks a bit like a large handle bar, and we turned towards the beach. Bandits at one O-clock. An army helicopter had thwocked into view but turned away, then we climbed towards the south. It is stunning flight. The blue of the sea contrasting with the golden stretch of the sand of the Iztuzu Beach. Its sunbeds looking like a row of melon pips in front of the cluster of huts. Hole Island looks almost white against the sea, with a gullet parked alongside, and, look look, a turtle paddling along just off the sand bank.
We turned back towards the delta and headed over Lion rock, guarding Kaunos. The amphitheatre looks as impressive from the air as it does from the ground.
On the ground Dalyan seems to be a mass of new houses, in the air at 1000ft you realise that it isn’t. It is still quite small and a little blob in the landscape of reed beds, marsh and salt stained fields, surrounded by green hills and forest.
I had seen the sign ‘ ComeFly ‘, so I did, and I didn’t want to come down. But after 15mins Aaron headed towards the airfield, it looked quite small and as we descended the hot air came up to meet us. He had said it would be bumpy as the wind was at the top end for flying, but it seemed easy and we touched down and stopped in a few yards.I can’t wait to go again, where can I get lessons ?

Bird Flew shock

If you are going away for a bit, and have animals , cats, a word of caution. Be careful who you ask to look after them. Choose someone with a sense of smell and at least a modicum of peripheral vision. !
I came back from Christmas in England to find my house in darkness. Oh well another power cut, bit late , it was 10.30, better dig out the candles. I noticed a few feathers lying around, curious I don’t have a budgie. I do have 4 cats, and a 5th guest feeder, left in the care of my friend , lets call him Norman, to feed and tend.
After half an hour I noticed the other lights around were on, mine still not. Aha , I found the main switch – off – must have been lightning ? I turned it on and screamed, not a shock, well it was a shock. I was in a pillow factory – feathers everywhere. Upstairs the landing was a sea of down. The cats had had a bird in. I think it died in the bathroom. Oliver Stone would have loved the scene, a wing in the bath, a leg on the bath mat, everything , towels, bottles, shampoo, toothpaste, strewn around , chaos, The torso and head were on the landing. One leg and one wing missing, presumed consumed, unless it was a paraplegic pigeon.
The degree of Rigor Mortis suggested death had been a few days earlier. Norman apparently hadn’t noticed anything on his visits. Well I hadn’t asked him to remove body parts had I ? ‘Oh’ you may be asking , ‘and he didn’t notice the smell either’. Well the bird smell wasn’t noticeable. That was because of the other smell that overpowered it. The power must have been off for some time as well. The vegetable soups I had made in some quantity before I left and frozen , along with some fish , weren’t frozen any more. Marie Curie would have loved the inside of my freezer, life had started in the veggy soup ! I probably have an antidote to bird flu .The moral of this tale -? Either don’t go away, ever, or don’t have cats, or ask a girl friend next time .

A little bit of Turkish

Is a Dangerous thing !

Eric Morecombe famously said , when told by Andre Previn that he was playing the wrong notes. ‘I am playing the right notes but not necessarily in the right order.’

Let me start at the beginning. I have a dog - Lucy, . You might have seen her around. White with brown patches, matches my curtains that’s why I chose her, big feet, nice eyes. Very clever, bit naughty and a slight tendency to bark at passing folk. She likes to sit outside my gate and see off marauding cars , scooters etc. She means well and wouldn’t hurt a fly really, but I have had to occasionally extract visitors from bushes and behind trees. That’s why when my neighbour called to me and said ‘Lucy’, I assumed the worst. I know a bit of Turkish, I discovered early on that ‘hiyar’ means small cucumber and is not to be said to boat captains, you say ‘hayir’ to mean ‘No’, so I get by. I got her gist. “Lucy”, “kopek” (dog) , “cocuk” ( child) with asthma ( choking mime holding throat) , with pregnant mother ( round belly mime) and the beladiye ( the council) Oh no! Lucy had frightened a child who had had an asthma attack and its pregnant mother had complained to the authorities. Lanet Olsen (B….y hell).

I resolved to keep Lucy locked up, and tried to explain that. But the reference to the Beladiye worried me. So when My friend Begum called, I seized the chance to go round and find out what the outcome of the complaint was. Would they remove lucy, take her into care ?

Begum told my neighbour about my concern, great expositions and worried protestations resulted, then begum started to laugh. I had got the right words , but they were definitely not in the right order. There had been a doggie friend of Lucy’s round, a pregnant dog, a dog whose collar was too tight and she was in danger of choking. The neighbour was thinking of asking the Beladiye to catch it to help it, but on seeing me had tried to enlist my help. No pregnant mum, no choking child, definitely no complaint. Oops , took me ages to explain to Lucy why she was tied to my balcony railings for so long. penny b

Gorusurus !