A Broad Abroad

Birds without wings

2011-12-02T03:01:00.001-08:00

Birds Withoiut Wings

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Written for Land of Lights Newspaper
I came to turkey on holiday in 2001;I stayed in Dalyan, fell in love with it, bought a house here as a holiday home and 2 years later I was living here. Dalyan is a village that becomes a tourist town for about 4/5 months of the year, and then goes back to being a villages and I started to learn the language, and tried to find out more about the country I was living in. Orhan Pamuk's books were interesting but a bit elusive, but I found 3 wonderfully informative books ‘In search of the Holy Mountain’ by William Dalrymple, ‘A fez of the Heart’ by Jeremy Seal, and ‘Birds without wings’ by Louis De Berniere.
The first two were brilliant; factual, interesting, well written, and I learnt a lot. I would recommend them to anyone who wants an historical background to modern Turkey. The third was a novel. Fiction, but set against the background of the birth of the republic at the end of the first world war and the coming to power of Kemal Atataurk, an extraordinary man. It was setin a fictional placed based on a real village, Kayakoy, just down the road from Dalyan, near Fethiye. populated with fictional characters who became alive as they lived through those real events.
Five years ago my sister went to a book signing in Waterstones and got me a copy of ‘Birds’ , signed by the author. It is my proudest possession. I still thought he was French until last Sunday I met Him in Kayakoy. Jane Atakoy of Land of lights, and the ladies of FIG, organised a wonderful afternoon, at Gunays gardens, below the abandoned village, where Louis read passages from his epic novel. And answered questions from an audience of over ??? people, of mixed nationalities. Now as you may have gathered I am a bit in awe, He looks quite dishy in the dust cover pic. and he has written” Birds without wings” And ” Captain Corellis mandolin” And ”The Partisans daughter” and clearly has an intellect the size of a large planet.
Well, he’s actually very English, and in a slightly crumpled linen suit, and an even more crumpled shirt, he looked the part, and he kept his audience spell bound as he read passages which bought out the humanity of the characters and the inhumanity of the times. In questions afterwards he told us of his approach to writing, and of the research he undertakes. He did not sound too enamoured of the film of Captain Corelli, (who was !), but said that there could be a film of ‘Birds without wings“, but without Nicholas Cage!
The book took him ten years from inception to conception. His research was awesome. And I guess necessary, but it is not a book about historical events - it is a book about simple, ordinary people coping with complex extraordinary times. The passages he chose had me in tears. Listening to his reading against the backcloth of the dead, abandoned village was an experience I will never forget.
I even bought one of the little pot wingless birds, and have mastered the art of recreating the bird sound from them. Which bird, Karatavuk or a mehmetcik, I can't tell . Perhaps like the two boys in the book, who were named after those birds, one Christian ,they aren’t really much different from each other.

Parking is such sweet sorrow

2009-08-29T00:25:00.001-07:00

Andrew has been sailing for more years than he cares to remember, actually more years than he can remember now. Bless him. He likes to reminisce but is a bit fuzzy after 1985. I’m the same. Memory is like that, the recent bits sort of fall out of the top of the bin, but the older bits - the words of all the songs playing in the summer when you met your first love; - who starred in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, sit snugly at the bottom and are easily dredged up. You know the sort of thing “ I remember the summer of 75, no wait it was 76, really hot , me and Elsie Ramsbottom.......” he doesn’t really talk like that but you get the gist.

Anyway we were sailing round the Ionian Isles. Some lovely names – Lefkas, Nidri, Scorpios ( Onassis’ island) Meganisi, Cephalonia and Ithica. I’ve always wanted to go to Ithica, it was the birthplace of Homer and his hero King Odysseus, and of Odysseus’ queen , my namesake, Penelope. So I had to see that and eat at Penelope’s restaurant. She isn’t the original Penelope though. After swanning off for 10 years to the Trojan wars, and spinning some story about sirens and goddesses kidnapping him, Oddy came back, didn’t like the way that she had carried on and bumped Penny off. The current Penelope’s hubby is a nice chap, sort of round and Greek looking, and I can’t imagine any Circe fancying him much, but I can’t imagine him bumping off the missus either.

We called in to Frikes, a small harbour full to overflowing with charter yachts in August, as is the whole Ionian area it seemed. We got in early and enjoyed the spectacle of the late afternoon wind causing panic amongst flotilla crews, and despair in flot captains. It should be called Fracas. Anxious wives/ girl friends nervously clutching ropes, as the skipper for a week, screaming instructions, hurtled towards a wall or another boat, to the enraged shouts of local greek boat owners. “You not anchor there“, “You go back, you go forwards, you go away”

Andrew and I of course have years of experience so we don’t need to communicate much. After 3 weeks we were hardly talking at all! Andrew’s boat is lovely but it doesn’t go too well in reverse ,he says. I don’t know cos I am not allowed to park it, it requires the special ‘parking lobe’ that men think they have in their brains. It’s next to the cricket appreciation lobe. He says his boat was made to go forwards; it certainly goes sideways OK.

We tried to find quiet places to drop anchor. Not easy in the Ionian, they mostly resemble a parking lot in Croydon, but on Ithica we found the perfect place. A bay called Sarakiniko. Just a little beach and a few fishing boats moored with a line ashore. That was our plan. Andrew doesn’t like doing it ‘cos he worries about scratching the boat on the shore. But I hopped into the dinghy and tied a line to a rock. He had anchored some way off so it was quite a long line, about 70/80m., with three fenders attached to it. We really were not going to scratch any rocks, but we did annoy an incoming fishing boat as our line was half way across the bay. So I was told off to row back whilst he reparked. What happened was not my fault, I was gathering up 80m of heavy rope and 3 fenders, watching him re-anchoring , and a rock bit the dinghy. It was a sharp little bit just below the surface, and the dinghy went “psssssssssssssssssssss”. Uhoh I thought. I started rowing out towards the boat , he was still anchoring, so I shouted calmly , “ I’m sinking’ , “what” , “I’m sinking”, “ go back , you’re a hazard “, “I’m effing sinking”.

By the time he had re-anchored, I only had half a dinghy, the seat had collapsed, and one oar and the other half were under water. Of course the boat wasn’t near to where I had tied on so I had to paddle half a dinghy back to the shore, with one hand clutching miles of rope and fenders, to find another rock to tie to.

“Not that one, that one there is better”, he shouted. “***** “ .

When I got back some time later, he was very concerned. Not about me. “My god” he said “ its an enormous gash” ,(less than a centimetre actually), “its irreparable, its too close to the towing point , it needs a specialist, we’ll have to go back to Lefkas”. We did. The dinghy repair man was very happy to agree it was almost irreparable. He arrived with his little repair outfit, explained the intricate process involved, (I didn’t understand of course) and charged 85euros. I think his hourly rate is more than my dentist gets.

The good thing of course that this incident will quickly fade from our memories.

“It was fun sailing in the Ionian wasn’t it “ , “yes, er....... when was that ?”

A Night At The Opera

2009-06-25T02:11:00.001-07:00

Two nights actually, and quite contrasting. The first, at Marmaris, was in the amphitheatre, advertised as a performance of Othello by Shakespeare, but the performance was actually a modern ballet danced to the, recorded, score from an opera by Verdi. First of course the inevitable speeches. The audience were remarkably patient. Perhaps the half hour they lasted contained some interesting insights into the work of Guiseppe Verdi, perhaps. I think there was a mention of a promise of chairs next year, but cushions would be quite ok. And would raise some money for the organisers to put on more events. Because they are a welcome and enjoyable alternative to karaoke and disco music.
This performance, choreographed by Ugur Seyrek was imaginative and dramatic. Desdemona put so much into it she had to take a shower at the end. On stage . You need to have seen it to understand, but it worked and the audience all left having seen something unique.
Next day I went over to Aspendos with some friends to see ‘Carmen’ in the magnificent 2000 year old roman amphitheatre. Our hotel, booked on the internet, because it said ‘our staff have smiley face’, hadn’t told the staff of their unique selling point. In fact it appeared they hadn’t told the staff they were running a hotel, but it was near Aspendos and the beds had towels twisted into heart shapes on them. After a lovely meal overlooking a cascading river we arrived, a bit late, at Aspendos. The opera hadn’t started but I had forgotten you do need to get there early, and most other people had. The weekend, in retrospect, involved an awful lot of scrambling up things. In this case about 200 rows to get to some empty seats. Not for the unsteady or vertiginous. The view was great, and, amazingly from so far away, the acoustics and the power of the performance meant that we could hear pretty well. Carmen is always magnificent but in Aspendos the word awesome has to be used. Not in the way it is now used to describe everything from a burger to a ford focus, but really truly inspiring awe. The colours, the music and the voices in that setting are, well, awesome.
On the way back next day we stopped off to go up the Tahtali Mountain by cable car, at 2500m it is quite a climb over wooded ravines and rock outcrops. At the top a modern restaurant gives marvellous views across the whole of the south coast. There are three restaurants so we decided to climb the stairs to the second one. It was closed, so we climbed to the top one. That was closed as well, a sign would have been helpful, but the experience was, er, truly awesome.
Then off to Olympus to stay in a tree house. I was expecting to be up in the foliage chatting to sloths and gibbons but it turned out that tree houses there are houses made out of trees, ie log (plank) cabins . Nice though, and set in lovely wooded areas behind the beach. Olympus is famous for the Chimera, the everlasting flame. So we had to go and see it. After a nice meal and a couple of bottles of wine, it seemed like a good idea. Actually after a nice meal and a couple of bottles of wine it isn’t a good idea. On the map on the wall in the village it looked like a short walk. It’s really about an hours climb up a near vertical rock-strewn track. In the dark. Emma’s feet were already resembling someone with elephantiasis (a chronic filarial disease resulting in lymphatic obstruction, characterized by marked enlargement of the parts affected, esp. of the legs and scrotum, transmitted by mosquitoes - look it up), and my flip flops were not the best foot gear. Reminded me of Blair Wich, especially the swearing, But we made it - to see a a group of semi-nude back packers roasting sausages over a BBQ. Hang on, there were lots of BBq’s going. Everlasting Barbies, Out of the ground in lots of places came flames, natural gases somehow spontaneously and apparently permanently combusting. Everyone was walking around saying it how awesome it was. And in the dark under the starlit sky ...it was.

Revenge of a ninjad turtle

2009-06-02T14:10:00.001-07:00

About 30 years ago an amazing lady called June Haimoff arrived on the Iztuzu beach in Dalyan, fell in love with it and took up residence in a beach hut. Her neighbours turned out to be Sea Turtles, Caretta Carettas. She became something of a naturalist, so when a developer started laying the foundations of an Hotel on the beach she realised the implications , bad ones, for the turtles. She chronicled her battle , against the odds, to stop the building and save the turtles nesting site, in her book ‘Kaptan June and the Dalyan turtles’.
From 1988, the beach has been protected , in 2008 it received the Sunday Times ‘Best Open Space , Europe’ award and , of the hotel, only the foundations remain . There is now though, a new building on those foundations . Completed just 2 weeks ago, the first Sea Turtle Rescue and Rehabilitation Centre in Turkey was opened , on the very site where 25 years ago that holiday village was about to destroy the environment they had occupied for thousands of years.
I went with Kaptan June, now aged 85 but still a campaigner for the environment , to visit the centre and meet Associate Professor Dr. Yacup Kaska, from the Pamukkale University , in Denizli, who is in charge . Dr Yakup is a worthy successor to June and a man of action. Noticing my car was covered in sun- dried mulberries, he told me they could damage the paintwork and promptly took out a bucket of water and a cloth and cleaned it for me, whilst his assistant Fikret showed me round. It wasn’t surprising to learn that , with the support of the Dalyan Belediye, and the help of some local business, and tank makers Armaplast, the good doctor got the centre built in just two days.
I also met the first two patients. A 40 year old male was recovering in one tank and showed the scars of being badly beaten. He had taken a hooked fish and been impaled on the hook. The beating, leaving him with a damaged shell and head, was inflicted by some fishermen trying to get back the hook. He had been left for dead, but fortunately was found by some caring people and bought to the centre.
The other inmate was a 25yr old female now called Nazli. She was found with a hook in her flipper and fishing line wrapped tightly round her neck. You can see the awful scars it left. She is not quite an adult and soon to mate for the first time and lay her eggs on the beach where she herself was hatched. It is nice to think that she may well have started life when June was battling the developers, and has been doubly saved.
The centre will be open for visitors every day between 10.00am and 6.00pm. Dr Yakup told me that they want people to come and see the centre, meet the turtles and find out more about them . The aim is to spread awareness and understanding of these amazing creatures, as well as provide a close up experience of them. Children and dads will be thrilled by them , and for mums it will also be a great experience though I can’t promise that the dishy doctor will be on hand to wash every car.
To find out about the centre visit http://caretta.pamukkale.edu.tr or email Dr Yakup at caretta@pau.edu.tr . To get details of Kaptan Junes book, and find out about her environmental conservation foundation, email me at pennysail@gmail.com

Stuck in my Gullet

2009-05-25T08:07:00.000-07:00

I have to apologise. I recently rudely suggested that gullets never set their sails. Well, in 25kts of wind this chap (pictured) put up all he had and the result was stunning to look at and I imagine marvellous to be aboard. Sorry Mr gullet captain, I think you are wonderful.
Did I ever mention I am a qualified yacht mistress. I have a certificate ! It says I am competent. I think I got it cos I admired the examiners feet. He had the most amazingly prehensile toes. A halyard got stuck and he stepped out of what I imagine were once deck shoes, and climbed up the mast, gripping it with his toes. I just mentioned it cos I have taken two weeks to get from Marmaris to Bodrum which you might think suggests something lacking in the navigational department. Well actually it was intentional. We hopped across from gulf to island to gulf, then back again.
Ironically we didn’t do too much sailing. The wind always managed to contrive to be coming from exactly where we wanted to go, but not very strong. If we tried to be sneaky and go with it, it promptly packed up shop and went home.
The gulf of Hisaronu and particularly Orhaniye are amongst the most beautiful places I have visited . Anchoring behind the island under the stars doesn’t have an adjective that can describe it. Gokova gulf I thought was less stunning but lots of pretty coves and we found one with a holiday village. Hobie cats , water skiers and trainee wind surfers fell into the water with alarming frequency and occasionally had to be rounded up and returned back to the bay by a patient ‘speed dog’ boat .
The ‘village’ was strangely attractive. Hidden discretely amongst the trees, it had manicured lawns, signs everywhere and three, yes three restaurants. Turkish , International and Thematic. Before you look at Patrick Moores guide to the galaxies let me tell you that Thematic isn’t in the nebula Andromeda. It means ‘themed’ ( of course you knew that didn’t you ?) The night we went the theme was Indian. It was reeeally bland. More Kumars at no 35 than Bradford on a Friday night, but ok and lovely views.
And today on the way back. Well I’ve just had, well I am having, one of the nicest days of my life. We sailed up from Gokova to an island off Bodrum to stop for lunch. It was idyllic. Ok the gullets and ice cream vendors , and banana speed boats, wouldn’t figure in an ad for bounty bars, but after a swim in really crystal clear waters we had champagne and feta cheese and salad and crunchy bread. The we went below and relaxed. We had to stop relaxing cos the anchor dragged, but the 25 knot wind blew us to Bodrum at 7 kts on just the genoa. It was exhilarating and my hair will recover eventually. Now at anchor off Bodrum the sun is setting behind the castle and the colours of the hills and the gullets blend into the darkening to make the shore lights look boring.
A bottle of Fleurie, some bri and Bob Dylan’s latest cd will see off the disco’s that are about to assail our eardrums. I love sailing.

OOps, I thought you said 'yes'

2009-05-21T07:06:00.001-07:00

I've just been sailing between Greece and Turkey, from Marmaris to Bodrum via Simi and Kos and the differences are quite remarkable. You can see Greece from the Turkish mainland, and Turkey from the Dodecanese islands, but they look and feel,very different places.
The Greek islands are mostly a brown, almost barren dryness, broken only by scrubby plants and grey olive trees. The towns though are a tumble of beautiful gleaming white houses, decorated with brilliant flowers, reds, yellows, blues and blue painted doors. Pretty white fishing boats bob on the blue sea, decorated with colours as bright as the flowers. The beaches tho' could do with a clean. Everywhere there are signs of their EU zoneness. New marinas, new roads,(not always finished ), lots of new cars and smart new shops. It's a lot more expensive than I remembered, and people seem a bit less interested in you, bored with tourists but happy to take the valuable euros, in the hours that suit them to open.
The Turkish coast, as you get nearer to Marmaris becomes greener and greener, pine forests reach down to the sea, and the mountains rear up in a blue haze. The Gullets that ply the sea on the 'blue cruise', look impressive but you rarely sea a sail actually set to grace the tall masts. The towns and villages, when you reach them, have an almost temporary look to them, lots of square concrete, and they don't begin to compete with nature.
It isnt so prosperous either, new cars do appear now, but there are still a lot of old ones, and most of the boats that offer trips , or are still used for fishing look a bit worn, less cared for, more used.
The shops though sell great fresh vegetables and meats, and a less international, more challenging, variety of food. Everyone is very friendly. In some places perhaps a bit too keen to entice you in, but its good natured and fun, and you feel very welcome.
The languages, given the physical closeness and the historical mixing, are surprisingly quite quite different. I couldn't even begin to pronounce fron the written greek. It really is all greek to me. Turkish letters I mostly recognise, though after five years I still pronounce them wrongly . Today Greeks vote for Turkish songs and Turks for Greek songs in the Eurovision song contest, so the ancient antagonism seems to be lessened but I realised in a flash of insight, that the language is and has long been, the cause of so much trouble. The greek for 'yes' is 'Nai', pronounced 'Nay', the turkish for ' what' is 'ne' . also pronounced 'Nay'. 3000 years ago the trojan wars were fought between Greeks and Trojans in what is now western Turkey. I bet it all happened because when Paris said ' I say Menelaus old chap. can I shag helen' Menelaus' response of ' NE!!!' meaning 'WHAAAT!!!', was taken as 'nai' meaning 'yes', The rest is history.

The Flowers that bloom in the Spring - Tra La

2009-05-09T06:25:00.000-07:00

As I have just had a big moan about trying to get an insurance claim sorted out, I thought I should try to inject a more positive note into this edition. Lets face it, getting an insurance company to pay up , anywhere, is like getting blood out of a rock. In fact, as I recently donated some of my blood to a rock, I think its even harder.
So - Its warm and sunny, I shower in hot water from my solar panel . Summer is here !! Harika; woohooooooooo; at last. I felt really sorry for the eager yachties going out in their flotillas last Saturday, in cloud and rain, and spending the next 3 days in cloud, and rain. Imagine, you spend the winter in England or Germany or Wales even, in soggy coldness, dreaming of drifting across blue seas under blue skies in sunny Turkey, and then , what do you get – soggy coldness ! But Thursday it all changed. We drove over the peninsula to Selimiye, a beautiful little harbour on the Hisaronu gulf. Deep red poppies were everywhere, green fields had a sheen of red on them. All that rain has produced a wonderful display of wild flowers, and Osmans teeth were gleaming in the sunshine. Thats nothing to do with the rain. Harbour master/ restauranteur Osman has a full set of gold teeth, which he flashes frequently.
When I first came here, having often holidayed in Greece, I couldn’t believe the greenness. When you sail in from the west, as you leave the brown islands, barren apart from the grey of olive trees, you see the land get greener and greener as you head up the Turkish coast. The stunning combination of towering mountains, blue seas and green slopes is always breathtaking.
Right thats positive enough, I’m beginning to sound like a travel brochure. Won’t do at all.
The other signs of summer are also here of course. Signs saying ‘English breakfast served here’, cries of ‘ cheap as chips’, in the bazaar, smiling waiters trying to persuade you to eat in their restaurant , just by using their eyes. And Bar street. I like bar street. I can hear it from the boat, but it doesn’t keep me awake. In fact I often wake up when it stops. The repetitive deep base thud thud, must be like a heartbeat lulling me to sleep. Thats from half a mile away of course, I doubt anyone sleeps much closer by. But thats Marmaris, and Bar Street is a fun place to go and people watch . Chubby pink English girls in tops and skirts neither of which go down far enough to cover much, but no doubt go down quickly enough at some point in the evening. Glamorous glum Russians, tall bemused Dutch, and jolly round Germans. The handsome Turkish men who loll deciding whether to go for glam glum or chubby pink, give it all an air of slight , but safe, excitement.
The marina has changed too. Everything has been varnished at least 10 times and lots of the liveaboards have set off for other places. Now the summer lot are taking their place. They tend to be slightly more elegant, there isn’t much room for an extensive wardrobe if you are living on board a yacht, and of course many are the 1 or 2 weeks a year sailors eager to party and enjoy their holiday. New Crew Save clothes and deck shoes abound. And you can hear the sound of gin splashing into tonic as the sun goes down.
To get into the spirit I jumped in the sea off Turunc this week. Voluntarily and intentionally for a change. Well I was badgered into it by being called a wimp, but Iwasn’t pushed . It was surprisingly warm, and my heart didn’t stop with the shock. Good job , as I haven’t bothered with medical insurance either.

Pussies Galore

2009-02-04T09:39:00.000-08:00

My friends think I have turned into the archetypal English middle aged spinster. I live in Turkey but I live alone, I paint, I wear gloves for gardening , I go for long walks with my dog, and I have four cats. Help. The next thing you know I will be collecting money for animal charities and working in a charity shop. Well actually, that’s what I want to talk to you about. You would think that four cats is probably more than enough , but I have just met someone who has sixty times that number, the actual number varies between 200 and 250.
Her name is Jeannie Thirkill, and she runs a cat neutering centre just on the edge of Armutalan. There, in grounds of about 6000 donum, on the hillsides surrounded by olive trees, about 250 cats live in little huts. Some are permanent residents, some are being treated for illness, and some are street cats, there whilst they are neutered , before being returned to the streets. When I visited to see if I could help, my dog bit Jeannies’ dog, but I hope she is still going to let me help. There was an article in the post about Jeannie and the work she does recently, so I won’t repeat that, but she does need help, not more cats - donations, volunteers to help in the care and maintenance of the centre, or in fund raising. If you want to help, you can contact her at : info@allaboutmarmaris.com Please help.
My cats of course are pampered pussies, and now they have settled into our new home in Beldibi, they are demonstrating their gratitude by bringing me gifts of local bird and wild life. Occasionally in pieces, Sweeet. They keep me warm at night though(the cats not their gifts), a necessity at the moment as the electricity is a bit variable. It seems that some dispute has prevented the houses being properly taken over by the electricity company, so it’s on a sort of temporary ( and expensive) basis - If other people have their heaters etc on, which they do in the evenings, there isn’t enough power to get to mine. Or, and I don’t understand why, my trip just trips, frequently. Its been like this for 3 years apparently. I find that an amazing facet of life in Turkey, the acceptance by my Turkish neighbours that things just won’t work, and nothing can be done about it. They don’t even moan about it. The expats moan of course, but like me end up going round in circles trying to find out how it can be sorted out. Then sigh and pour another beer.
When I got over the frenzy of moving I realised it was February. I hate February – Even here the skies are grey, it rains a lot, and it’s cold. I know England is in the grip of a second ice age, but it is supposed to be a miserable place. Here isn’t . In England I would of course have a cold or flu now, and I always managed to do something silly around this time of the year - get married, divorced, fired etc. I don’t have a cold or flu now but I have done something silly . I was performing one of my spinster duties – walking the dog, and she leapt lithely up some rocks so I lithely followed. It was a bit wet at the time and I lithely slipped. Unfortunately I lithely slipped backwards, and landed on my back on another rock. As I lay there whimpering , thoughts rushed through my head – the incredible stabbing pain must be a ruptured kidney or liver ? I must have broken some ribs ? I don’t have my phone! Could I crawl the half mile back to my house? Had I got my lipstick for the ambulance? I remembered the Turkish for ‘pain’ –‘agri’, and’ back ‘- ‘surt’. And ‘owwww s...t ‘ , ‘owwwww lanet olsun’.
A friend helped me back and went to the chemist to get me some pain killers and I have perfected a method of getting out of bed without screaming too much. It involves a sort of sideways roll off, onto my knees, then a slow lift from the hips, rather like praying. I get it wrong sometimes and then I do invoke my makers help. “Aaaaah God.” I’ve been told that the act of praying on your knees is actually a good way to exercise and stay supple. . Wish I had done more of it. So now I don’t just do middle aged spinster things, I walk like one ! I get ladies coming up to sympathise with me in supermarkets. I wont be doing a lot of sailing for a while, so finding ways to raise some money to help needy Kits will be a good way of occupying my time. This time of the year is the leanest for them as well.

A Moving Experience

2009-01-23T07:09:00.000-08:00

I had a crowd of friends round for a pre Xmas drink and also as a sort of farewell ‘ forgotten but not gone’ party, before I move from Dalyan to Beldibi. It was a mixed crowd of people, English,Turkish Dutch and German . There seemed to be more women than men and I realised that seven of the women there, Turkish and yabanci, had been invited as couples, but none of their partners had come. The partners are all Turkish men. Now they all speak English, most are friends of mine as well, and I wouldn’t call any of them shy, but they didn’t come. I remembered one asking me if it would be all yabanci, I said no there would be Turkish friends, male friends, but he didn’t look convinced. If they had come then they would have been in Turkish company, but the Raki that I had bought went unopened and they missed a fun evening.
I know that it has been the tradition for men and women to socialise separately, but none of these men appear to be traditional. In Britain immigrants are often criticised for remaining in their ethnic groups; that happens here as well, but there is a large element of the local culture forcing that separation, which is really sad. It rather reminded me of Yorkshire in the 1960’s, with separate bar lounges for men and the twain ne’er meeting. Actually according to the Daily Mail (this is the only time you will ever hear me quote it, ever) in Yorkshire the sexes still go out separately , but to get drunk. Wonder what it will be like here in 40 years time ?
Turkish boat owners were conspicuously absent from the marina Xmas party as well. I know it was Xmas and that’s not celebrated here, but the yabancis happily go to Byram parties . OK - most yabancis will go anywhere where there is booze. The local TV station were doing interviews at the party. Isn’t it strange that if someone sticks a microphone in your face you lose the ability to talk sensibly. I just simpered blondily, and said, In answer to the question ‘ what do you want for 2009’, “well I should say world peace, haha, but I just want to enjoy myself, and do something nice”. Doh! Bet Hilary Clinton or Mrs Obama would have come up with something a bit more meaningful. In fact I bet Page 3 girl Jordan would have come up with something more meaningful.
We all won a prize in the draw at the marina party. The Star prize was a bike, but Offshore Skipper Dave didn’t win that, he won a sailing course which pleased him no end. I got a glass hedgehog and a glass thing with an engraving of a legless golfer. It might be a para olympics trophy ? Make a nice present for someone next year I think. I know a few sailors who are frequently legless.
I woke on the boat in Netsel marina on xmas morning, to find an enormous cruise ship blotting out the sun . It made a startling contrast to the picturesque scene of the castle and its surrounds sparkling in the bright sunshine. The revellers from the ship straggled through the marina mall. Italian women in stilettos, French in hats and chic boots and English in shorts and wellies. Quite a lot of passengers stood on the quay side, I suppose they just came for what must be one long party, and weren’t interested in seeing the places that they stop at. The boat is really just an enormous floating hotel, and it could probably not bother to go anywhere, just sail it round in gentle circles, and everyone would be happy.

Then the big day, moving to Marmaris .A friend had found a real removal firm. He had never met them or heard about them but he assured me they were professional. They were due at 9.00 but turned up at 11.15 - they had had a puncture ! But the lorry was big and they seemed to know what to do. They didn’t want to walk through the gardens from the front so they built steps out of rocks so they could climb over the back wall and take everything that way. I had packed most stuff , but I needed a couple more boxes. They didnt have any. They had instead rolls of cling film. Giant cling film They didn’t take the books out of the book case, they cocooned it all in cling film and carried it out like a giant fly caught in a web. I left them to it and when I got back found that they had gift wrapped everything including the rubbish bags I had put outside, the crockery I had left for the lady buying my house , and the cat food left for Faz to feed the cats, and it was all on the lorry.
They stopped for a late lunch on the way to marmaris, then they got stopped by the gendarma check point. . They waved me through but I stopped and said it was my furniture , I explained I was moving to Marmaris and a very nice gendarme, said 'Welcome to Marmaris' and let them through. Then they got stopped by a police road block. I tried the ' its my furniture' routine again, but this time the policeman said they had to check their papers , but it would only take 10 minutes. I let lucy dog out for a stretch and she charmed the policeman. He introduced me to the police captain and when I said I was a yacht captain they took my tel number and made a date to come sailing with me. Aren;t Turlish policemen wonderful.
We finally got there at 4.00 to find the lorry was too big to get down the narrow road to the house. After much muttering and climbing over walls they all disappeared , to reappear 15mins later with a small truck which they used to ferry everything from the big truck, and then drop it over the wall at the back. They were amazing . One man effortlessly carried the bookcasecocoon on his back from the ferry lorry and up 2 flights of stairs ! They finished in darkness, but everything was in one piece apart from a box of food stuffs. They had put it intact on on the floor and when I picked it up the bottom fell out depositing a mixture of rice, soy sauce and cereals ( bran flakes and fruit ) on the floor. I gave them an extra extra big tip - they were worth it.
Before I left I went for a last walk along the Iztuzu beach in Dalyan. This time of the year it is perfect, empty of people, and unspoilt by sunbeds, umbrellas and litter. It does have a new and rather worrying sign though. About half way along. It says - ‘It is forbidden to swim in this area as it is out of control’ . On the walk back I kept looking over my shoulder to see anyone was about to attack me . No-one did. I hope I’ll be safer in Beldibi.

Lettuce from America ?

2008-11-18T13:04:00.000-08:00

It is November and I am eating strawberries grown in Turkey . If this is global warming then I am all for it. October was lovely and so far November is perfect. I haven't even lit my 'Soba' heater yet, so my curtains are safe for a while ( I set fire to them once trying to light the Soba ).
In England where I just came back from a short visit, It was grey skies and damp of course, but not cold. The supermarkets were full of perfectly formed foods from all over the world, christmas goods were on sale, but the television for once was giving global warming and environmental issues a break. Well they do have a full blown financial crisis to get hysterical about at the moment. Put the word 'meltdown' into any newspaper internet site and you get about 3 million references. Most of them now prefaced by "financial", though the ice caps get a look in occasionally as well. I'm surprised the word itself hasn't melted. (Actually you can't put 'meltdown' into the 'Sun' newspaper site, they only go up to words with 5 letters. )
I was in England on the day that the interest rates were cut by 1.5% . The news presenter on ITN, practically wet himself. 'This must be disaster' he kept on saying, his voice rising in pitch 'it must be the last chance', 'Minister , is this the last chance?'. Well, actually as rates were still 3% then it obviously wasn't the last chance, and as everyone had been saying that rates should come down, hard to see why it was disaster. But he's a journalist, and some 'expert' had probably told him it 'could' be bad, which journalists always love to hear. It must be a great time to be a journalist – lots of fun new phrases – credit crunch, sub prime lending, toxic debt, stock market plunge, meteoric fuel price rises, housing meltdown, Funny that nothing ever melts up .
Last month inflation was to be feared - fuel, food , everything going up in price. Now thats going down we have to be scared of deflation - prices going down! In some ways going back to England, although depressing, does remind me how nice it is here. The sun shines, food is cheap, and fresh, tomatoes dont have to be perfectly round, and you can get 20% interest in the bank ( how do they do that ?).
I've just sold my house so I can move to Marmaris. Yes, I am the person who has sold a house ! Apparently it is generally thought now not to be possible. Except for Emlaks selling houses in Marmaris who have a touching belief that the housing meltdown ( thats the 3million and 1st mention) won't affect here. I have looked at a few of the several thousand for rent or sale, with Lucy, my dog, and found that renters are very selective, and concerned that a dog would detract from the general ambience. The fact that plaster is falling from the ceiling and electric sockets hanging out is less important.
I guess it's a culture thing. I like cultural differences. The very word 'culture' can mean so much. It can mean the music of Mozart , and it can mean female circumcision. It can also mean newspapers on sale everywhere full of girls in bikinis, but a block on U-Tube because one site makes a passing reference somewhere to something a faceless censor doesn't like. And have you noticed a terrible disease is afflicting movie characters who smoke, on Digiturk channels . Their hands get all blurry and sort of disappear. I can understand that smoking is bad for your health and might damage your hands, but the same thing happens to girls who get their kit off. They go all fuzzy as well. Weird.
Actually a bit of censorship might be good occasionally. The power of the press is terrifying. And even more so because they have no accountability for their ability to destroy everything. To build up and tear down. I watched the US presidential elections in the UK. The media scared everyone with the spectre of Sarah Palin, lampooned mercilessly on 'Saturday night live', and presented as one heart beat away from 'old man' Mcain, And they built up Obama. Not difficult . He's Black, young and intelligent and personable. Quite the reverse of the current incumbent . But he has to take over when everything is so screwed up. And the media mob who were hailing his arrival will soon be blaming him for everything that is happening now. Including global warming .
pennysail@gmail.com

A Load of Kakapoo

2008-11-11T22:45:00.000-08:00

Gday mites. I am back from down under and recovering from winter weather. And its raining in Dalyan now . Whats going on, its only the beginning of October ? For those of you of an adventurous turn of mind House swapping, which is how I got to go to Oz and New Zealand, is a bit like time share, except that you are in control of things. I had a lovely house near Christchurch in New Zealand, to live in,. It was a sort of farm and a bit remote, the nearest neighbours were 10 minutes walk away. Actually I got that wrong. The nearest neighbours were at the end of the garden in a paddock. My first morning I looked out and saw a very large sheep. No great surprise, New Zealand has 4million people and 40 million sheep. But this was VERY large, and had a long neck. I walked out to have closer look, thinking about a nice lamb chop, when three more came galloping toward me. They were Llamas, not indigenous to New Zealand, and not a lot of use really unless you want to scale the Andes, but very curious beasts and i got to quite like them. They had seven, so I met more of them than I did New Zealand men, who are very scarce. Possibly endangered like the Kakapoo. There are only 96 of them left and they now all live on a little island at the bottom of New Zealand. They are fat, plump, very friendly birds but they cant fly. Thats why there are only 96 left.
The men on the other hand aren’t fat and cant fly , though they did invent bungy jumping . They are friendly, but seem to spend a lot of time with the sheep, so you don’t get to see them much. I didn’t see any mountains either for three days. New Zealand is full of them, If you watch Lord of the Rings, filmed there, it is covered in them. Except for the bit around Christchurch, which is mostly covered in cloud. It was rather like being in England, same language, driving on the same side of the road. But when the cloud lifted it was a marvellous sight. The Canterbury plain is surrounded by a white gleaming wall of snow. Once you get away from the plain, and on nice days, the views are stunning. Mountains , lakes , ravines, Fjords, forests that look like rain forest , alongside high snow covered peaks.
I went whale watching and skiing in the same week. The skiing was great, a lot of snow around this year, and it is weird to whizz down and find a small green parrot flying alongside you. They are called Keas. They are common in the mountains , and they have a passion for roof racks and wind screen wiper blades. The signs that say ‘Do not feed the Keas’ are a bit useless when the car parks are full of appetising rubber ware.
The whales sadly eluded me again. Surprisingly they kept telling me it was too rough to go out ( the boat people not the whales) . I thought the descendants of Captain Cook would have been made of stouter stuff. Sperm Whales live near a place called Kaikora so I went up in a helicopter to see them. But they must have heard I was coming and dived. All I saw was a (not rough at all) ocean and few seals.
They wouldn’t let me leave Oz to go to NZ until I bought a return ticket, and the New Zealand immigration lady explained that though she was sure I was very nice, they had over done the immigration thing. When I left a different immigration lady apologised for the lack of whales. That I guess marks a real difference between there and probably everywhere else. Like all other Kiwis Immigration and airport security actually laugh and make jokes. They are nice human beings!
Braving the suspicious immigration man at Istanbul I got back to Dalyan late and next morning it was great to flop in the sun and get my tan back . Amazing how it had disappeared in just five weeks. Hope the rain stops soon.

“ WAS IT SOMETHING THEY ATE ?”

2008-08-26T17:54:00.001-07:00

G’day Mites. Oim in bloody Orstralia. West bloody Orstralia. Its very flat. I drove from Perth to Albany. Almost dead straight road. Almost flat, just a few lumpy bits; single carriageway, but no worries as I didn’t see more than a dozen other cars and a few large lorries. I think I passed three towns, four petrol stations and I saw one police car in the 450k I travelled after I left Perth. I was a bit worried about running out of petrol and being attacked by wild dingos, but I didn’t see any of them either, just 3 or 4 dead kangaroos lying like large rabbits by the road side, and lots of green parrots.
I saw quite a few different sorts of parrot, had a baby kangaroo put his paws on my knee and got to prod a koala. I am not actually sure it was alive, or even real because it didn’t move at all. Apparently their diet of gum tree leaves is very low in most of the things you need to keep you spritely, so they don’t do a lot of moving. You’d think they would have found something else to eat by now . Kangaroos have got it cracked, they bound around like, well kangaroos .
I also met a Tazmanian devil , who sounded just like the cartoon character. I had better confess that these things didn’t happen in the wild. I went to a little game park. I did see wild roos tho, and a fox, but otherwise West Oz was pretty free of wild things. In fact it is probably the most orderly place I have ever been to. Everyone obeys speed limits and drives nicely. They occasionally have outbreaks of young men doing wheelies. They call them ‘hoons’, catch them and then publicly give them a severe ticking off which has them in tears.
There is no litter anywhere, I even saw a road sweeping wagon tidying up a beach. I didn’t see any cats, any beggars and very few dogs. Dogs are banned most places. They are allowed on some beaches in winter, and I was surprised to see owners carrying clubs - I assumed to beat the dogs into submission. The clubs turned out to be long handled poop scoopers, there is a big fine, possibly a flogging, if you let your dog crap anywhere.
Everyone really is friendly. I got the wrong ticket on a train. On the machine It said ‘concessions after 9.30’ it was 10.30 so I pressed that button. The ticket inspector explained slowly that I had to be a student or senior to qualify and have a concession card. He wouldn’t take the extra though, ‘no worries love’. Everyone is sports mad. The gyms are full of people - from sweating 20 somethings, to glowing geriatrics. The Olympics were shown on big screens in the towns and medallists are national heroes. Just opposite the house I stayed in Freemantle, was a large hard court area area where the whole day, every Saturday, about 40 teams played sports and crowds watched. The teams were all girls and the game was netball. The girls Olympic team wins as many medals as the boys. Overall from a population of 20m Australia came 6th in the medal table, just behind the UK with 20m population. Incidentally did anyone notice how the Saudi womens team got on. I didn’t notice them in the pole vault.
Freemantle and Perth were fun and I loved just mooching around there but I was obsessed with seeing a whale so hence the trip to Albany on the southern ocean to go whale watching. It turned out to be empty ocean watching. It is winter still, but I had great weather all the time in OZ apart from the 3 days in Albany. It was wet and windy first day and the little buggers wouldn’t come out, so as cap'n ''g'day oim Jason' said " you kin come agin tomorrer if you dont see a while terday" i didn't see any, just a few seals and some dolphin fins . They didn’t like the rain either and didn’t hang around for long , so I ‘ kime agin’. The weather was nicer, the sea was a bit rough, and we excitedly chased after reported whales but they always ducked out of sight. We didn’t have loud music playing on the boat all the time but the absence of whales may have been because we had a party of japanese tourists on board. The whales needn’t have worried the poor japs were huddled inside the boat looking sick and miserable – the whales revenge !
I was sorry not to see a whale but the southern coast is stunning, the seas are great and I took lots of pics of seals and Albert Rosses. The cottage I stayed at did have wild roos in the garden, and they produce great wine (not the roos).
I am off to New Zealand now a place where men are men and sheep have feelings too.

The Worktop of Doom.

2008-06-03T00:00:00.000-07:00

Its bank holiday in England and The new Indiana Jones film is out. Still starring Harrison Ford, now aged 145, but with his son as the action man. And still fighting the same enemies. It's set in the 1950's so its still the cold war and Russians are the bad guys, Mcarthyism still rules America and its Ok to be sexist. It struck me that things haven't changed much. Fundamentalism has replaced Mcarthyism, Communists are no longer to be feared, but instead we have terrorists, and people still get blown up, shot, or otherwise traumatised by some 'ism or other. And because it the bank holiday the tv news will gloss over news of yet more atrocities.
In Indiana Jones good always triumphs over evil of course, and lots of baddies get squished, so thats OK. But is it ?
I am having a holiday at the moment. Not that I actually do anything remotely like work, but I was really relaxing and I was watching some ants. A brave little chap had found a piece of something on my kitchen worktop ( my cleaner has gone somewhere), and told all his mates, and they were lined up to cart it off back to the nest. I carelessly brushed some away, they all ran around madly , then formed a line again to get the bits I'd missed.
So I did it again; and they did it again. Impressive really. They didn't care about being squished, they were just doing their job - getting food for the tribe ( family? nation? – I'm not sure what ants collectively belong to).
It wasn't altruism - and it wasn't unselfish either, because they both imply some form of choice. They mean that when you could decide to look after yourself, you choose to put others first, AND you know the likely outcome of your actions. In the ants case the outcome was death, but they didn't choose it. They don't fear it, I bet they don't even have an ant word for it. I doubt they dream of ant heaven either. They just do what they do, and when one gets squished , another fills the gap. And I was doing the squishing ! I'm an evil threat to Antanity. Indiana Ant would squish me if he could !
Apart from ants, species generally try their hardest to live as long as they can. Animals don't know what death means, don't mull over the existence of a god or an everlasting soul, but they do try to stay around as long as possible.
Thankfully people aren't like ants are they? People do have a word for death and, mostly, they do fear it. They may act like ants scurrying to work, or on bank holiday trips to the coast, but they are individuals, not mindless automatons.
So how come people keep wanting to die for something? That one lot are forever at war with another lot. I find it strange that people who have developed, uniquely, the ability to think rationally, when they are faced with the realisation that death is the end, they invent or develop a belief in something beyond it to take away the fear. And then they promptly do what ants do - they die for something – for their 'ism, their tribe, their nation or their religion.
Having been given the ability to think , they try their hardest not to ! And Good and Bad alike get squished daily, in real life not movies.
--
Penny

Russian about all over the place.

2008-05-09T02:27:00.000-07:00

I got fined for speeding recently. The policeman was really nice, and I should have known better – he is always stationed in the same place and I have often marvelled at people I see pulled up at the side of the road, for being daft enough to miss seeing him - then I did the same thing. But it wasn’t a bad experience; None of this being told to get in the back of the car, like they tell you to do in England now. It makes you feel like a cross between arch criminal Ernst Blofeld and one of the Kray twins. My policeman was very charming and said I didn’t look as old as my passport said I was. He told me that as I was doing over 100kph, the fine was 115 ytl. I didn’t have that – but I had a 50Euro note so he took that as payment and gave me a discount – all done very correctly and the speeding ticket, actually shows the reduction !
There are a few more police around at the moment it seems. Perhaps because the fleet is in, well one American battleship , or just more security because it’s the start of the tourist season. I know it’s the season because my boat dances to the beat of the music from Bar street. Now I like Bar street; it’s brash, it’s noisy, it’s fun and it’s not at all seedy or threatening in the way that places like London’s Soho or Amsterdam’s Rembrandtplein are. But, big BUT, disco music is fine in discos, or in music festival fields. It is very un-fine at 4.00am when your teeth vibrate, and you can hear the shouting from, presumably, megaphone hailers. There must be a way to confine or control the decibel count, so that the revellers can revel and the citizens, and more sedate visitors, in Marmaris can get some sleep.
At the other end of the ‘cultural’ life of Marmaris I went to a classical music concert – Vivaldi’s four seasons. It was lovely, and there was a packed house, though it was slightly marred by the sound of whirring air conditioning units. Hope they get that right next time. I was interviewed for the TV afterwards. I don’t think It’s the start of a film career though. The interviewer gave me the mike, then he said “lower please” so I stooped down, and he filmed the top of my head. He seemed a bit bemused by my posture – he meant I should hold the mike lower, I realised later.
The Russians are here as well as the Americans. About 250 of them are racing in yachts around the bay: And crashing into other yachts in the marina. The bay is ringing to shouts of правый борт судна*, in deep baritones. I have been rather hoping that one or two of them might crash into the American warship, that would be fun. They could battle it out in Bar street and no-one would hear them.
I always thought Boris Johnson, the newly elected Mayor of London, had a Russianness about him. Apart from his name, he has that careless enthusiasm, mixed with his upper class twitiness. I was surprised though to see a CNN report about his winning the election, and beating the evil Ken. It reported that Boris has in the past caused deep offense after labeling members of the Commonwealth "piccaninnies," referred to Africans as having "watermelon smiles"; and likened his party's internal conflicts "to Papua New Guinea-style orgies of cannibalism and chief-killing." It also mentioned that Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson (to give him his full name), although born in New York, is actually the great grandson of Turkish journalist and government minister Ali Kemal. Guess we can look forward to lots of Borisisms as the Olympics near, and a few more Kebab houses in North London .
I get CNN emailing snippets to me because I entered a key-word in their news site. To begin with I got lots about Bernard Matthews and I was deluged with emails at Christmas, then I change the t to T, and now I get the ones I want, which are about about Turkey. I got one last week showing police hosing demonstrators down at an illegal march in Istanbul. There are a few noisy DJ’s I would like to see hosed down but, it all seems a long way away from my nice policeman, giving me a discount on my speeding fine.
*starboard

What a load of Rubbish

2008-03-18T01:43:00.000-07:00

My Storks are Back – It’s spring ! The nest on top of the nearby telegraph pole is being repaired after the storms and and soon we will hear the batter of tiny beaks. It is the best time of year. In the marina boats are being hauled out and scrubbed and painted, steel stanchions are being polished, hulls washed down and the smell of antifoul and polish pervades the air. The Scorpio bar is getting busier and Grace is getting stressed.
I am still exploring Marmaris and I have just found a perfect spot. I saw it first from the sea. A little beach nestling under a large rock outcrop called ‘White rock’ just south east of the marina. Lucydog and I went for lunch at a nice beach restaurant and then we went for a walk along the waterfront. After you leave the restaurant it becomes a shingle strip. The green of the pine trees contrasts with the red of the earth and the blue of the sea. The sun glints off the beer bottles strewn over the pebbles. Some broken and some intact. The gentle breeze rustles the plastic bags left after picnics. Plastic cartons and containers bob up and down in the gentle swell. The earth in places bears the scars of fire, some with the remains of the food packaging parcelled in them to be removed later by the wind and sea.
There is an enormous amount of debate and press comment at the moment about whether or not a woman should cover her head with a bit of material ?? Why isn’t there a thousand times more debate about the way in which the environment is treated ? This wasn’t the fault of tourists, they aren’t here at the moment. The people leaving the mess; the people whose children will cut their feet on broken bottles; the people who will swim in the litter strewn sea; the people who have to put up with the despoiling of the natural beauty of their country; are the same people who can’t be bothered to pick up their litter, put in the bags they bought the picnic in and take it away to be disposed of in rubbish bins. And they are Turkish people.
Some of the tourists coming here aren’t any better, but local and national government should get its priorities right and start to educate people in how to take care of the gorgeous natural environment entrusted to them. After all it is why tourists, Turkish and foreign, flock here in vast numbers.
I have now done my offshore yachtmaster exam, under the eagle eye of Admiral Tim. As well as sailing the boat in all sorts of situations, It also required the carrying out of lots of very involved calculations – secondary ports, tidal heights, dead reckoning, EP’s, UT,LAT, PMT ?! I am sure it is all important and necessary to make me a good sailor, but I am writing this listening to the Irish folk group the Dubliners. They sing old-time sea shanties, written to give seamen, real seamen, a rhythm to man capstans, weigh anchors and sail ships in appalling conditions. There is a line in one song - ‘The leaving of Liverpool’ that says ‘If a mans a seaman he’ll do right well. If he’s not he sure is in hell’
They didn’t have plastic in those days and I bet they didn’t know what ‘UT – 1’ meant. They couldn’t tell a secondary port from a grog of rum. They were ignorant and uncivilised, but they did respect the environment in which they lived, and in which they died . Take a walk along your local beach and look at it ! You think that’s civilised - Rubbish.

Sailing is such fun

2008-03-03T00:21:00.000-08:00

When I said I would write for the Post I was in the process of buying a boat so editor, Dila, blessed be her name, called my column “The log book”. I have written twice about sailing, once when I fell in the marina and once when the propeller fell off, and It might have lead you to think that :
a. Sailing is dangerous to your health or
b. I am .
so to redress the balance I want to tell you about the sailing I did last week. It was nice.
Actually I was with three men who know what to do, Peter, Paul and Colin ( Mary couldn’t come ) so all I had to do was steer and make the coffee; And clean up the ash liberally sprinkled everywhere; And adjust the sails from time to time; And wash the floors afterwards and hose the boat down. But it was nice. It was the coldest spell in Marmaris for about 200 years. My lips were frozen. And there were strong winds of course, we couldn’t even get into Kumlu Buku to anchor. But it was nice.
We were training to take an exam so we sailed around practising man overboard with a fender (called Jim), and picking up buoys , a practise I am well used to. We’ve got the latest satellite navigation stuff on board but we will have to use paper and pencil for the exam and we have to know all about tidal effect tho’ there isn’t any here. We went to Ikincik and came back in the dark past a buoy with a light on it, but a light that isn’t marked on the charts and it isn’t turned on, which makes it a bit pointless really. I’d never sailed into Marmaris in the dark before, and I was surprised at how few lights there are for navigation so that most of the headlands are in hiding . But it was nice . Thank you P P and C.
Hope you enjoyed that nautical saga. Now more serious stuff. I caught the back end of a news broadcast “.............experts are predicting that 40000 people an hour will be dying in 10 years time” I didn’t catch what it was they were going to die of – ‘mad cowbird flue’ probably. And it might have been 40000 a year, but honestly, that phrase – “experts predict..!” Remember experts predicting that everywhere will be getting hotter. Have you noticed that since it’s started getting bloody cold, they have stopped referring to global warming and are calling it ‘ climate change’. Last week I was the coldest I have ever been here, and in parts of Turkey it was minus 30 or something. That is Cooooooold.
I thought it was a modern disease. This rush to find an ‘expert’ to foretell disaster every time someone sneezes. But In olden times they were just the same. They were called seers and oracles then . Disembowel a chicken or two and they would order up a punic war or a plague or Aunt Clymenestras sticky end. Journalists themselves are prone to a particular disease – its called ‘ Media awareness deficiency – ‘MAD’ . Its a disease of the circulatory system. Once they have it they print any old rubbish they are fed and believe that their circulation will go up.
I did get caught by it recently. I went to have an MOT at the Caria hospital. Got everything checked and found I have high cholesterol. There are it seems two sorts of cholesterol, good cholesterol and bad cholesterol. I have too many of the bad guys . So of course i went to the internet to get the expert view and scared myself silly. I just have to read an article about some disease and become convinced I have it. So I kept checking my pulse to see if my heart was slowing and came out in cold sweats at the thought of going from a sudden heart attack at my tender young age. Then the doc told me that “you are just at the top end of OK. You should cut down on red meat ( not a prob) and dairy products and .... “- Honestly he said this.”... And drink wine” . I can get pissed on doctors orders !!! That IS nice

Hi Ho Hi Ho

2008-03-03T00:15:00.000-08:00

I had just finished reading a book called ‘The Book Thief’, and had had to wash the tears off my face, then i got this email –

“HOW THE FIGHT STARTED”

“I drove into the back of another car this morning.

So there we were alongside the road and slowly the driver got out of the car. . .
and you know how, when you get too stressed, that life seems to get funny?

Yes, well, I couldn’t believe it . . . he was a DWARF!

He stormed over to my car, looked up at me and said, 'I AM NOT HAPPY!'

So, I looked down at him and said, 'Well, which one are you then?'

.. . . and that's when the fight started . . .”

‘The Book Thief’ is about Germany during the war. It’s narrated by Death. As you will gather it isn’t exactly side splitting stuff, but it is funny as well as painful at times. There are a lot of good books around recently that see the funny side of life even though they are about tragedy. The other afternoon I was on my boat writing some emails when I heard a shout. I jumped and wondered who it was, then realised that my name was being called. The voice didn’t sound panicky, just a bit urgent, Well fairly urgent really, so I ran on deck and looked around. There was just a dwarf standing on the side of the pontoon. Strangely he looked like American John, but John isn’t a dwarf. It WAS American John. He wasn’t standing on the pontoon, he was in the water, just his top bit sticking out as he hung onto the side of the pontoon.
Mm. ‘Strange’ I thought.
I probably asked if he was ok. He clearly wasn’t, why would he willingly jump in the marina in February with his clothes on. But he politely asked me if i could help him out. It was a bit difficult, he is quite big, and the vacuum cleaner he was hanging onto got in the way.
After some heaving we got him out. I had to remove his vacuum cleaner, though. I asked if he would like to come to my boat and take his clothes off, but I guess the shock of being immersed made him shy and he ran off.
I fell in the marina last year, that was in January. The friend who was with me couldn’t stop laughing ..... for days, and when I next met John I am afraid I got the giggles. He was ok, his friend the vacuum cleaner still dripped a bit though.
I think its a pity that news programmes aren’t made to have someone shrieking with laughter after every report of doom and gloom. In England they did once try to have a good news slot after the news at ten. It didn’t last long - journalists don’t do good news. They are far too important and serious to laugh at anything. Bit like politicians and religious leaders. Look at the fuss over a cartoon in Denmark. In Australia of all places they passed a law forbidding the media to poke fun at politicians , and in the middle East they have just banned any comment or criticism of either. Actually of course you don’t need to say anything - politics and religion are the funniest things around. And Dwarves of course, though they don’t scare me as well.

How far is Ararat ....................

2007-12-06T00:10:00.000-08:00

My diary has a useless usefull note for every day of the year. Today in 1974 they started the search for Lord lucan and next Tuesday was the day in 1759, admiral Hawke won the battle of Quiberon bay. However it also told me that Sunday Nov 25th in 2348 BC , according to genesis 6.9 , was the day the flood started. So they had global warming then ?
Where I live in Dalyan its happening again. My garden is a lake after 36hrs non stop, and more is forecast tomorrow. Roads are rivers, rivers are torrents and fields have become lakes. Part of the reason is that the Ariks (ditches) have been filled in to make way for development of new villas, mostly for foreign owners. There has been some muttering as these villas are mostly built on concrete platforms and are above the water, but a lot of the older turkish houses arent, and are awash. I feel sorry for the owners but noticed that the mutterers are driving around in new cars, paid for by land they sold for development building, and for work they carried out building them. And guess who filled in the Ariks, and built the roads up !
The council are now digging trenches across roads, to take away the water. Pity they didn’t think about what they were doing when they allowed the building and authorised the arik destruction “to eliminate mosquitos”.
Still if its global warming, then they cant be blamed. Mind you last year when we didn’t get much rain, that was global warming as well ! And this summer was so hot here because of global warming, and it was also so awful - wet and cold , throughout most of europe because of - you guessed it, global warming. Confusing ? I remember hot summers , and wet ones , and cold winters and warm ones. That was Ok until the experts discovered their power to scare and confuse us all. It seems that they are never wrong - they will tell us that you have to take a long term view , and go off to another conference to discuss it all. It will be in an exotic location of course, because those are the most threatened.

Well I've got news for them ! This planet started about 4.5 billion years ago, it’s warmed, cooled, warmed and cooled again a few times since, not to mention the occasional giant meteorite zapping into it . But it’s still around thanks… and will be for few more billion years. But We won’t.
We’ve been here about 100,000 years, ( bit less if you believe Irish bishop James Ussher who in 1650 worked out that the bible made the creation of everything about 6000 years ago - on oct 26th, day before my birthday)
The simple fact is that we aren’t damaging the planet, but we are damaging our ability to live on it. Or our great grandchildren’s. But lets face it given the mess we make of simple things like not over populating it, or just feeding everyone, perhaps we don’t deserve to last that long.
The dinosaurs did a better job, I bet they probably farted out more global warming gasses than we ever produce, but they didn’t have conferences about it. They might not have had the ability to reason but they lasted about 150 million years , and it was an unforeseen event, a large piece of rock, that did for them. Flatulence didn’t come into it.
The good thing of course is that though we may mourn here in our beautiful environment in the Dalyan delta, the destruction of the ditches , the levelling of hedge rows, the surging swell of hundreds of river boats, the effect we have, in global terms , won’t last that long. The arrogance that makes us think we are top of the evolutionary tree, and believe in an everlasting human soul, also overestimates the impact of what we do. Granted we have produced the music of Mozart, the prose of Shakespeare and the art of Michelangelo, which the dinosaurs probably didn’t manage, but we have also invented an infinite variety of ways and reasons for killing ourselves and other species, from the spear to the neutron bomb, and we are still doing it.
It must be great to be an expert. To know so much about so little. All you have to do is pick a theme then fit everything to it. I heard one on the radio forecasting a recession next year in the UK. He said everyone will find life harder. As it was national radio and the press and other experts are also saying it, lots of people will worry. They will probably put off buying things, taking holidays and generally spending less so things will slow down. Then of course some businesses will fail, people will be out of work, everyone will spend less, and have less to spend. Hang on – that’s a recession ! Golly arent experts marvellous, pity they never forecast good things.
I suppose that Noah was the first environmental expert. Saying that god told him was a neat idea, carries lots of weight, but without television and newspapers to spread the panic, no-one noticed I suppose - and look what happened! Arent we lucky to have the media to warn us all – I’m off to mount ararat tomorrow, anyone know where I can find a pair of Ardvaarks

WHEN IN ROME....................

2007-12-06T00:09:00.000-08:00

I drove to Cappadocia recently, a trip taking about 13hrs, with a friend who shared the driving. He was a bit nervous, he hadn’t driven in Turkey before, and he asked me for a few tips on driving, which I gave to him. We had a very pleasant trip, the scenery on the way was stunning, and afterwards he said I should pass on my hints – so here goes.
The First thing you have to remember that you are the Only person on the road, and it all belongs to you. When you have an obstruction on your side, say a parked car or a pedestrian, - you can pull out and it is up to any traffic which may be coming towards you to get out of your way.
Similarly when overtaking, particularly on bends, you can pull out whenever you want to. If someone overtakes you, you should move towards them as they go past, to see who they are.
When driving around bends -use the entire road, in fact the middle of the road is the best place to stay, it shortens the journey and it is less tiring for you to drive. It is also easier to talk on your mobile phone as there is less steering to do. One useful tip is to use the double white lines as a guide, a wheel either side is ideal, and people will often wave cheerily at you as you come towards them on their side of the road.
At traffic lights , the sequence is – green , which means GO, followed by orange, meaning GO, then red - that means GO, If someone stops in front of you at lights, you must hoot your horn furiously ,then hoot again when the count down gets to 8, so you can get away at 3.
At ‘T’ junctions you stop when YOU are level with the end of your road. That means that the front of your car is protruding into the junction, and gives you the best view of traffic braking or swerving to avoid you.
On dual carriageways and at roundabouts, or crossroads, be careful as taxis have special privileges, for them the left hand lane is for turning right, and the right hand lane is for turning left. The middle lanes can be used for either direction or for turning
Remember that Pedestrians have special rights. They have to walk with their backs to traffic; that way you cannot hit them because they cannot see you. Scooters also have specific rules, No less than 3 people and no more than 7 are allowed on any one scooter at the same time. They don’t need to give signals and when they hit you from behind it’s your fault, you should NOT have stopped, - how could they see you when they were turning round to talk to their friend behind them.
Have fun and drive carefully - iyi yolcluklar.

That Sinking feeling !

2007-11-12T11:10:00.000-08:00

It caught my eye - a report in a Fethiye paper about a group of British expats arrested in Didim for illegal gambling.
Imagine the scene. Dissolute characters sitting in a smoke filled den, pension books clutched in gnarled, clammy hands. In the corner a group of grannies perform an erotic (no erratic. Ed.) line dance. The tension mounts as a man from Izmir calls out the numbers. “On Uc, give us a smooch”, “ Doksan dokuz, big pair o………” suddenly the door bursts open. It’s a raid! Zimmer frames go flying, G & T’s hurriedly gulped down, as the sordid group tries to make a run for it. All to no avail. Off to the pen, 6 hours form filling and 117ytl fine. Crime doesn’t pay in Didim!
It does, it seems, in England, I am there for 10 days at the moment. The TV is reporting a British proposal to give shorter sentences to foreign law breakers, and then ship them back to their homeland! Sounds like a good way to encourage crooks to come here in the first place. Nip over, rob a bank, bed and board for a couple of years, then fare home to enjoy the proceeds!
There seems to be a lot of concern about immigration. People tell me you can’t move for Poles, Serbians, and Uzbekistanis. Sounds great - places develop with influxes of new attitudes, merging of cultures and nationalities. There is a forecast that the population will grow to 77m in the next 10 years. Apparently the US state of Wyoming is about the same size as Britain. That has about a 600,000 population, that’s right just 5 zeros. Not a Serb in sight I imagine.
Of course the British media love to stir this up, and dwell on the negative side. But I had to sort out some things here - bank, utilities, travel arrangements. In every case the telephone was answered promptly, my problem resolved quickly and Irhan, Vlad and Carmella were all very helpful and courteous. And in Britain there will be lots of new babies! As most of the old miseries are moving out to warmer, less crowded places, (to play bingo); I think it all sounds pretty positive.
There is also of course great media hysteria about global warming - experts are behind every doorway to tell you that you are doomed. Everyone is jumping on the environmental band wagon. M&S are going green (they’ve changed their packaging colour to that - not sure if it helps much, but good for sales!)and at my house here we have four, Yes FOUR, rubbish bins, one for kitchen waste that has to be separated from any packaging or containers, yeuk, one for recyclable, one for plastic and one for bottles.
Hang on, as the bins are large and plastic, and they have to come round 4 times to collect them - doesn’t that add to the problem?
There are even more cars now though, and they are now going to let people drive on the hard shoulder, that’s to ease congestion - and make room for yet more cars I guess. But child road deaths have diminished, mostly cos children don’t walk anywhere. They are glued to their x-boxes, ipods, MP3 s, PSP s. etc. In two generations people will have weedy little legs, large eyes and very large thumbs. I reckon with global warming raising sea levels, and with the weight of more and more people, Britain is going to sink in approx 6.7 years, Britannia won’t rule the waves, she will be under them! I still love visiting England, its history, its diversity and its culture, but I never liked bingo so I can’t wait to get back to Turkey!

First Impressions

2007-09-24T06:29:00.000-07:00

Do you know the plural of Elvis is Elvi ? Did you even know that Elvis can be pluralized ? I found out because I got a text from my sister to say that in England she was watching a Turkish contestant in an international Elvis impersonator contest. It’s sad isn’t it, that intelligent people should spend their evenings watching even sadder people wanting to be like a long-dead pop idol. I suppose that it is good when people from all nations can join together in something, instead of fighting each other, just I cant help feeling there must be worthier ways of doing it.
I suppose ELVI could stand for Extremely Laboured Vacuous Idiots . I was a systems analyst once, and that was when I discovered acronyms. ERNIE was a famous one, the premium bond number machine. It stood for ‘Electronic Random Number Indicator equipment’. My most notable effort was a new accounting system, I called it ‘Computer Reconciled Accounting Premium System’. The finance director got cross, he didn’t want a CRAP system, he said. Actually it was, it never worked properly, and we finished with BOTTOMS – ‘Back On To The Old Manual System’ !
A friend was talking recently about CHAV’s , they are strange creatures wearing hoods and permanently plugged into a thing called an IPOD. I have no idea what that stands for, but CHAV is apparently ‘Council House And Van’, and we got to thinking about a good acronym for the disparate group ( that is disparate not desperate) who make up the expat community here. I rejected ‘Sold House, In Turkey’ for obvious reasons and ended up with BERT – ‘ British Emigrant, Resident Turkey’. To be totally PC (Politically Correct) and with due reference to the EU – ‘European ….. (OK, OK you know that one), directive on equal rights, we also have BERTHAS ‘British Emigrant, Resident Turkey, Helps Animals’ , or in my case ‘British Emigrant, Resident Turkey, Happily Alcoholic
So my fellow BERTS and BERTHAS, I would like to invite you to join me and become members of a new club, totally informal of course, no committee or structure or rules, no membership fees or annual meeting, just a feeling of belonging, of being Bertish. It will be called the BBC - the ‘British Bert Club’, , and all you have to do is to pour a drink at sundown, every day, shout out, “we love the BBC”, and repeat the daily moan, which we can take it in turns to nominate. Things like – “when I first came here you could see the mountains, now its all new villas”; “why don’t they make the day trippers wear shirts”; “tattoos should be outlawed”, “one time you could buy a pide, and a beer and still have change out of 5 million lire”, etc etc.
My son and his girl friend just left, so I am writing to fill the empty space they have left. It was the first time they had been for two years, and it was interesting to hear their views on how Dalyan has changed. They actually didn’t think it had that much ! They liked the paved boulevards, were appalled at the idea of moving the market, and reawakened a liking for Pide. They didn’t think prices had changed much, and loved the fantastic view of the delta they had from the microlite trip they took. I don’t think they noticed the villas that have sprung up !
Perhaps when you live somewhere its too easy to notice and criticize change, when in reality there is still so much that is lovely and appreciated by visitors getting their first impressions.
Pennysail@gmail.com

DALAMANIA

2007-08-30T04:10:00.001-07:00

Whoever is in charge at Dalaman airport obviously doesn’t care about tourist numbers declining in this part of Turkey.
If you are leaving at the height of, and in the hottest part of, the season, you have to queue outside in searing heat, to get through security. There is a large and very impressive looking area inside, but of course you can’t get to that until you have gone through the scanners.
Once through check-in the only places to sit are in the bars and cafes. Last Monday, at 8.00 pm I went to one of the bars for a drink. No other customers and no-one was serving, though I could see two pairs of legs behind the kitchen area door. So I went to the next bar. One barman behind the counter, four in front of it chatting with him and having a smoke. There was customer there though, just one !
I wanted a G&T - , 24 ytl! that’s about £9 ! It’s the same for all the spirits . Beers were equally expensive. The barman said that the prices had been increased again this year from the high levels last year.
In the three other bars I counted a further 6 customers, and 7 more bar staff, chatting or cleaning and obviously bored. So I saw a total of 8 customers and 14 bar staff. But that evening there were a lot of flights and 8.00pm is a time when people generally welcome a drink.
The laughably called duty free shops were also pretty empty, but then my favourite night cream costs more there than it does in Boots in the UK high street.
Most of the travellers go straight to the departure gate to get a seat. These are obviously designed to dissuade people from doing that, but sitting on uncomfortable, hard. wooden ribs is better than paying the airport prices in the bars and cafes.
The tannoy system reminded me of British rail, unintelligible, and the departure staff have to shout out instructions.
How can the people who run the airport,get it so wrong !
This is time when Turkey needs tourism but Dalaman airport - the last place visited by holiday makers and their last memory of Turkey, is, I think most would say, the last place they would want to visit again.

A LITTLE BIT OF TURKISH

2007-08-30T03:58:00.000-07:00

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 a turkish friend 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 ?
She told my neighbour about my concern, great expositions and worried protestations resulted, then they both 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 !

Lost in Translation

2007-07-16T00:03:00.000-07:00

I suppose it was fitting that the maiden voyage of my new yacht - Serafina Pekkala (the queen of the witches from Phillip Pullmas ‘dark materials’) should have an all girl crew, though afterwards as I nursed my aches and pains I felt that at least one male, if not a wizard, would have been useful.
We were very international –Jutta and her daughter Lisa from Germany, Anna the Dane, and me English of Viking extraction ( I love pillage, not sure about rape).
As they hadn’t sailed before, ever, I was a little nervous, I don’t know the boat that well yet, but we were only going round the Marmaris bay to anchor behind the island and have a picnic and a swim.
Before we left I was very careful to explain what happened when we had to anchor and especially when we came back in and parked. Both Jutta and Anna have good English, but nauticalese – that’s a different matter!
“ OK Jutta the marina man will hand you the slime line, you hand him the stern line and pass Anna the slime line. Anna you take it forward outside everything hauling it in as you go, and then put it through the fairlead, haul in hard then secure it to the deck cleat. Jutta the marina man will hand you back the stern line, attach that to a the cleat, then do the same with the other one. “ easy peasy.
“Vot is a cleat please?”, from Jutta, a bemused “ Penny there are so many ropes!” from Anna. I should have drawn a diagram. Oh well, I’ll explain again later.
We had a lovely day, Anna found steering difficult, problem between left and right, they should never have changed the side of the road they drive on; but we anchored OK. I stopped Jutta flambéing lunch, (GRP plastic boats burn amazingly well), and we had a nice salad and a bottle of wine. Then a swim and a lounge feeling superior watching the day-trippers getting drunk on nearby gullets. Then off to sail as the wind picked up. Well almost. The anchor is hauled up round an electrically powered windlass. Only this one jammed after hauling up half the chain, I pressed the reset button but nothing. With half the chain up we were now drifting slowly towards a nearby gullet. Nothing for it but girl power, so the international ladies tug of war team set to work. The wine we had had didn’t help but we eventually got it all up (the chain, not the wine) before we hit the gullet, trippers looking on interestedly at the sight of three grunting, sweaty females.
The sail back was fun, the wind between the islands suddenly gusts, then changes direction, so explaining how to sail wasn’t easy, doing it wasn’t that easy either. We had to tack a few times .
“Ve are going to attack? attack vot ?”
. “Penny, why are we going the wrong way, Marmaris is over there ?”
Then I went through the parking procedure again :
“This -cleat, this - mooring rope, this -deck, this - stern, – Ok “
“Vot?”
She’s not from Barcelona, but Hamburg must be similar !
I reversed in beautifully; Jutta took the slime ( bow) line from the marina man, she gave it to Anna and gave him the stern line. Great. I breathed a sigh of relief, turned away, and then back to see Anna, lying on her back along the deck, doing a passable caretta turtle imitation, with the bow line wrapped around her leg. I leapt forward to take it from her. Anna determinedly hung on behind me, so I dragged her and the line forward.
Hauling it in was hard, as Anna was hauling it as well, but in the opposite direction to me. Fortunately the nice marina man came up, gently removed Anna from the line, gave me a nice smile and hauled it tight and secure. He didn’t actually pat me on the head, but his look suggested he wanted to.
Back at the stern, Jutta had the other end of the rope back now, and was happily holding it, as the boat drifted from the pontoon.
“Tie it round the cleat”,
“ pardon me?”,
“round the cleat, that thing on the deck”.
Jutta looked around for the deck,
I suppose when you are faced with new and slightly alarming things happening your brain reverts to your native tongue -
“ By your foot”,
Jutta looked around for her foot.
I suppose naming a boat after a witch was asking for trouble. The windlass worked perfectly later.

2007-07-04T08:09:00.000-07:00

WHAT A PIECE OF WORK IS MAN
How noble in reason! How infinite in faculty!
In form, in moving, how express and admirable!
In action how like an angel! In apprehension how like a god!
The beauty of the world!
William Shakespeare. Hamlet
Oh dear, William, you really got it wrong. I know you wrote it 400 years ago, but really ! The Elizabethan England you lived in wasn’t exactly a paradise. Heads rolled pretty frequently, not to mention public disembowelments and the odd spate of burning at the stake.
Look at today, this ‘godlike….piece of work’ isn’t doing too well is he. Africa is starving, Europe has food mountains, China is building a new power station every 10 seconds and America is ruled by George Bush !! Finland is ok, but its dark most of the time.
Still we are all terribly concerned about global warming, and we are running lots of conferences to save the planet. Have I got news for you ! This planet started about 4.5 billion years ago, it’s warmed, cooled, warmed and cooled again a few times since, not to mention the occasional giant meteorite zapping into it . But it’s still around thanks… and will be for few more billion years.
We won’t.
We’ve been here about 100,000 years, ( bit less if you believe Irish bishop James Ussher who in 1650 worked out that the bible made it about 6000 years ago - on oct 26th, day before my birthday) – ‘how noble in reason ??.
The simple fact is that we aren’t damaging the planet, but we are damaging our ability to live on it. Or our great grandchildren’s. But lets face it given the mess we make of simple things like not over populating it, or just feeding everyone, perhaps we don’t deserve to last that long.
The dinosaurs did a better job, I bet they probably farted out more global warming gasses than we ever produce, but they didn’t have conferences about it. They might not have had the ability to reason but they lasted about 150 million years , and it was an unforeseen event, a large piece of rock, that did for them. Flatulence didn’t come into it.
Granted we have produced the music of Mozart, the prose of Shakespeare and the art of Michelangelo, which the dinosaurs probably didn’t manage, but we have also invented an infinite variety of ways and reasons for killing ourselves and other species, from the spear to the neutron bomb, and we are still doing it.
The good thing of course is that though we may mourn here in our beautiful environment in Dalyan delta, the destruction of the ditches , the levelling of hedge rows, the surging swell of hundreds of river boats, the effect we have, in global terms , won’t last that long. The arrogance that makes us think we are top of the evolutionary tree, and believe in an everlasting human soul, also overestimates the impact of what we do.What a piece of work is man ? Sorry Will - great prose, but we aren’t the beauty of the world . Not yet any way.

“It is better to travel than to arrive”

2007-05-09T02:43:00.000-07:00

Obviously whoever said that had never been on a charter flight for 4 ½ hours.

I cannot understand how the airline concluded that the average passenger is about 12inches wide and doesn’t have any legs. That’s who the seats appear to be designed for. Then when you have wedged yourself into the strangely inhumanly shaped seat you have to endure Jonathon Woss or somebody warbling on about avoiding the sun and foweign food. Didn’t anyone tell them we are flying to Turkey ?

You now have to pay extra for a meal that my cats wouldn’t eat, and they eat anything. You have to specifically say you don’t want the meal, to avoid being charged extra. And of course there are now other extra s - drinks, earphones, scratch cards (why do you need a card to scratch with ?), seats by the exits, the normal luggage allowance, airport taxes , fuel supplements,, airport fuel tax supplements, tips for the pilot and crew, lifejackets etc etc . all provided at extra cost because .. ‘ we are dedicated to helping you enjoy your holiday’ Yeah.

I assume they are working on the premise that the passengers are so enraptured with the treats ahead they will put up with anything. To be fair that may be true. On most flights a large proportion are would-be Shirley Valentines : pension books clutched in hand they waft towards the handsome young turk waiting ( as he was when they met) to enrich their lives. I feel sorry for them – the waiters not the Shirleys.
And children.. I’ve nothing against children per se. I was one myself once, but the ones on charter flights are a special breed. I think most of them are having a holiday as a reward for getting through the auditions for one of those dreadful ‘reality’ tv shows. The ones about children who are beyond control, featuring parents who clearly shouldn’t be allowed to even bring up a hamster.

The journey starts of course at the airport where you all enter one big queue about 3 miles long. That makes it more fun for the staff I guess. There are normally twice as many men with loud hailers and clipboards organising the queues as there are booking clerks. That cant be an easy job. They have to look at your passport, put a sticker on your case and ask you if you packed your luggage yourself and if anyone gave you anything, to put in it . Bet that stumps Al Quaeda agents. There is more interest for them now though as they get more chance to charge for excess baggage now the allowances are less and you are allowed only one piece of hand luggage , including your handbag,. Because of ‘heightened security’ you have to put your dangerous items – lipstick, mascara, nail polish, perfume, into a clear plastic bag now so they can see them, What are the X-ray machines for then ?; have Chanel perfected a perfume bottle impervious to them ?
You aren’t allowed to be cheeky either; a posse of security men, waiting behind the baggage conveyer, (hey they could do booking in whilst they wait!) are poised ready to drag off anyone suggesting that its all a bit silly really.
In the 19th century intrepid explores carved out the British Empire travelling to far corners of the world. They suffered incredible hardships with stoicism and courage. If charter flights had existed then, there wouldn’t have been an Empire : Even doughty Victorian matrons would have broken down in tears before they got out of duty free (only twice the price) at Gatwick. .

A Tail of Two Kitties

2007-05-09T02:38:00.000-07:00

I was going as cat woman, everything black except the tail. I had managed to find a suitable piece of rope as the 'spine' but the only material was a tie belt off a nice spotted top, so I was a a spotted black pantherish cat woman. A schizophrenic pussy.
Multi cultured in the modern parlance, and so was the event. A Fashing evening. It's the occasion for Germans to indulge in a pre-fast binge before giving up saurkraut and bratworst for Lent. Probably dates back to pagan times but now its a part of the culture. We were the usual Dalyan mixture, Germans, Brits, Turks and Dutch. The Germans all threw themselves into the spirit of things, made an effort , had great costumes and thoroughly enjoyed the chance to look silly. The Brits mostly tried, but looked a bit embarrassed , the Dutch didn't and sat separately, and the Turks, well they don't need fancy dress to enjoy themselves. So they partied.
I haven’t quite figured out this culture thing . There are differences, traits , which make being with different nationalities interesting. Cultural differences particularly surround any foreigner who comes to live in a different country. some are positive, some are negative and sometimes the phrase is just a convenient excuse for poor behaviour. I recently was used and badly let down by someone who I trusted, and I thought was a good friend. Friends have said it's a cultural thing, They say “It's always happening, 'Wealthy' foreigners are here to be taken advantage of.” Well certainly in any tourist area the visitors are often regarded as fair game, with more money than sense. That happens whether its Bodrum or Blackpool, Bogota or Barcelona. But that isn't a culture thing any more than the loutish behaviour of football hooligans makes yobbism a part of British culture. Culture is often taken to be the traditions and customs that have developed over a long time. It can and should be though, a set of values, and I don't believe that anywhere has values that involve deceit, cheating, hooliganism or violence.
By contrast when I had a puncture last week. I took my car to a little local tyre/car valet place. The young man there called the owner away from his house, late Sunday afternoon, to do the repair. He arrived still chewing the meal he had been called away from. The repair would take an hour, it was chilly so he offered me his scooter so I could go home whilst he worked. His time and trouble cost me about £2.50. In my car were some chairs, I had admired them and Turkish friends had insisted I took them, they were going to get some more anyway they said !
The sorry tales of woe, the antics of yobs , don't spring from culture or race or creed. Some people just aren't very nice, but most are lovely, especially here. Miaaaaow.

Hints on Buying A yacht in Turkey

2007-02-03T10:21:00.000-08:00

There are four basic rules
1. Check the boarding ladder is secured
2. Don’t even look at a boat with a name like ‘Jessica’, it’s asking for trouble
3. Don’t take your dog with you
4. Do make sure you have with you a friend wearing a twin set , or layers of some sort
I love Sailing but I haven’t owned a boat since my divorce when I lost my crew, so I went over to Marmaris to look at a couple that were for sale. The second one was lying alongside in Netsell marina. A quite pretty Oceanis 32. Ex-charter. I had gone there with Lucy dog and a friend Joanne, with the intention of doing a bit of shopping as well. You can get some real bargains this time of the year in Marmaris.
We all went on board , Lucy was a bit nervous about the gangplank, but made it ok. The boat was a bit used but quite nice, and they said the one next to it, its twin, called Jessica, was also for sale. The broker chap just shoved the gang plank across to it at a slant. Joanne didn’t come on board and Lucy was wary, but I went on, had a look around, then heard Lucy whining and went back on deck to find she was still on shore but had knocked one end of the plank, the boat end, into the water. So I stepped down onto the sugar scoop to retrieve it. That’s the platform you jump off into the cool Mediterranean waters in July and August. You get back on by the boarding ladder which when not in use is secured up, by a piece of rope or a clip of some sort..
I had to bend down to reach the plank, so I held onto the boarding ladder, the thing which when not in use is secured up, by a piece of rope or a clip of some sort.. This one wasn’t.
Joanne who was watching said I described a very graceful backward roll into the gap between the pontoon and the boat. Then disappeared.
I have been in car accidents and when they happen everything slows down. That’s what happened here. I watched interestedly as the boarding ladder, me attached to it , did what it is supposed to do and went down into the water. I didn’t let go, so I went down with it. If I had thought I could have checked the underside of the boat. The water wasn’t at all cold. It didn’t taste too good, but it wasn’t cold. By the time I surfaced and pulled myself out, up the conveniently placed boarding ladder, Joanne had stepped down to help me out, but unfortunately she was too hysterical to help. That’s hysterical with laughter.
But her twin set came in useful, I had the cardigan, she the top, and her wrap , elegantly fringed, made a nice skirt. Bit drafty without knickers, and my sodden leather trainers didn’t really set off the ensemble, but at least I could get to the shops. The ones at the marina are really good, the Tommy Hilfiger trousers were half price, and OK the jewelled top and butterfly ear rings from a marvellous shop called Petite, weren’t essential, but I was in shock.
There are some other things to think about when buying a boat. Vat, ownership documents,country of registration, engine logs and so on. You can find out about those from lots of web sites. But NONE of them mention the importance of a twin set.

Woe to be in England

2007-01-30T01:38:00.000-08:00

OK its not April yet, though it seems like it now I am back in Turkey. Spring seems to have come early, must be global warming, or cooling or emissions, or the sunami. It’s the worst/best/shortest/longest winter for 83 years, experts say.
But a January trip to England was warm, wet, windy and woeful. I went back to sort out selling my house there. I managed to lock myself out of it, AND got a parking ticket for staying 10 mins in a zoned` area. The zoned area was outside my house. It is residents only parking.That is my fault. I organised the petition to make it that when I lived there.
It had taken me 3 ½ hrs to drive the 120 miles from my sisters where I was staying. I had locked myself out of that too, on that morning, that’s why I was late and didn’t have time to arrange a parking permit. The delay was because the QE2 bridge at Dartford was closed because of high winds (do you get low winds on a bridge ??).The winds were the worst/best/shortest/longest for 47 years experts say.
QE2, named for Queen Elizabeth II. I had watched the film ‘The Queen’ the night before, the film was funny but also sad. The queen was confused because she thought she knew ‘her people’, and how they would react to the death of Princess Diana. She says ‘… we know how to grieve, quietly and with restraint’. She was wrong it seems. I had watched the news also that night. Gordon Brown (A Scot - Is he the Prime Minister now ???) apologising because someone called Jade had insulted a female Indian film star. The country that the Queen thought was dignified and restrained, once put its idiots on public display in asylums. Now it puts them on TV in ‘Big Brother’, and publishes their ignorance to the world, which thinks they represent Brits generally.
I also watched the film ‘Borat’. Apparently Kazakhstan complained because it insults them. It is a funny film. Every stereotype is there, but the Kazakhs didn’t get it. It does laugh, but at cultural divides and ignorance and bigotry. I like the British ability to laugh at themselves, I like the cultural diversity, I liked the tolerance and quiet dignity . I hope they don’t disappear.
I didn’t like though the fact that to sell a house you don’t just have to prove you own it. Just to get an estate agent to put it on her books you have to prove you are you. Its about money laundering, which apparently having an electricity bill with your name on it, prevents ! The only people able to afford to buy houses in London now are foreigners – particularly Russian oil barons and Middle eastern potentates – in Turkey of course its Brits buying, and locals saying they can’t - , strange world ?
I came back via Istanbul . I stopped a couple of days and found myself in the middle of a procession behind a funeral cortege.. A notable journalist had been killed. Shot by someone who was probably ignorant and bigoted. Who wasn't capable of seeing the humour in differences, who couldn't tolerate a different point of view. The procession and the grief, was quiet and dignified and very moving.
It isn’t just the climate that is changing.

Soba Reality

2006-12-29T00:56:00.000-08:00

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

2006-12-29T00:15:00.000-08:00

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

2006-09-20T09:18:00.000-07:00

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

2006-09-20T09:10:00.000-07:00

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

2006-09-04T01:19:00.000-07:00

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 !

2006-09-04T01:15:00.000-07:00