'Burası Türkiye!' 'This is Turkey!'

Shit Happens

. . to misquote Donald Rumsfeld.

We wandered back up here to the cabin today. The plan was to catch up on how the garden has been doing since we were last here two weeks ago when J planted a whole load of stuff. It’s been cold up here, here is a photo posted by our neighbour yesterday.

Not only has it been snowing but there was the ominous sound of a digger at work near where we source our spring water for the cabin. We should have gone to check what was going on right away, but we didn’t. An hour later and all that was coming out of the taps was a gurgle!

We girded our loins and set off to investigate. Seems some local has bought this particular bit of ravine and decided to pull the mountainsides down to create a flat area. In the process the digger has ripped out our pipe, ‘disappeared’ the filtration system and may well have done in the water supply to the beach cafe and another of our neighbours.

It’s ironic really because over-winter the garden watering system suffered some freeze damage and had only just been repaired!

I know, I know! This is not how it is and it’s just some ‘cock-up’ pic from the internet that I’m using for effect. But you know and I know that when people hire in blokes with diggers there is a disaster just waiting to happen. Guaranteed!

Anyway, when we pointed out the end of our ripped up pipe the patron said he was just as shocked as we were. He has assured us that it will all be sorted and we’ll be back in business within five days! Well, that’s what he said!

I’m not so sure because a short while ago the Forestry Technical Services people arrived together with a minibus full of Jandarma. Work has now stopped and the technical guys are remeasuring to ensure that all is as it should be. Our plumbing neighbour is well on top of the job and says he’ll get us fixed up with a temporary arrangement until things are sorted properly.

Meanwhile, we are stocking up on big bottles of water from the spring around the lake and an old bucket has been pressed in to service as we revert to the time honoured boating practice of ‘bucket and chuck it’! Always remembering, of course, to empty the contents down wind!

a finely crafted example of the basic shipboard item

As it says in the header of this blog ‘Burası Türkiye! This Is Turkey!’

Alan Fenn, re-enacting the life style pre-Thomas Crapper.

 

 

'Burası Türkiye!' 'This is Turkey!'

Me Payamlı, You Jane!

Looking for the Okçular walking and cycling guides? Then click here.

Our mountain plot is on the outskirts of our village in an area known locally as Payamlı (Pie-am-ler). Payam is the old name for the almond, badem in modern Turkish. The ‘lı’ bit on the end just means ‘with’ so Payamlı – with almonds. And with almonds we certainly are!

Yesterday friend Jane rang up about something totally unrelated but I was telling her about the almond blossom anyway. She got a little excited and wanted photos, then got mardy when she remembered that my phone hasn’t even got a camera let alone any ‘smarts’! So, using ‘other means’, here are some shoddy pics from my ancient compact camera to calm her down. The real thing is quite enchanting – like a pale pink haze over the whole area.

What is amazing is that, whilst there are a few cultivated areas planted up with almonds, the majority are just growing wild along the hedgerows and between the fields. Such is our delight in these beauties that we bought a couple today and planted them in our garden.

The thrill of arriving at our plot and immediately spotting that some of our very young trees are in leaf, in bud and in flower. J and I got a real kick out of that! In the main we haven’t a clue what we’ve planted, but with mixed nuts, raisins and assorted fruits our breakfasts are sorted!

So, Jane, this post is really for you. I hope it inspires you to drop by for a visit sometime soon. If you do it soon I won’t have to send more photos as the almonds turn more pink. That said, without television, what else would I be doing?

Alan Fenn, with Almonds up in the mountains.

'Burası Türkiye!' 'This is Turkey!'

Oh, Bugger!

I really hate this getting older stuff, I really do! Well, not actually getting older, that’s alright. It’s the decrepitude. It’s the chickens of misspent youth, the years of abuse in the gym and playing at being a parachute soldier coming home to roost that are the pits.

you’d never guess we were categorised as fast moving light infantry

Carrying loads like this is what started the rot. Followed by years of macho denial as tears and sprains in the gym took their toll on knees and back. (I’m only showing this to remind myself that I was once a fine young specimen)

‘You’re stubborn and stupid,’ J used to say (and still does) ‘and I have no sympathy for you! You never know when to stop!’ Which is only her opinion and not exactly true. Anyway, J is from Yorkshire and everyone from Yorkshire is opinionated. I mean, look at Geoffrey Boycott for one. I don’t know why there hasn’t long ago been an independence campaign so that England can detach itself from that lot. At least then we wouldn’t have had to put up with his boring cricket commentaries and his even more boring batting!

Watching Boycott ‘chase’ runs was on a par with watching paint dry!

But enough of all that, I need to get back on topic. Where was I? Oh, yes! Decrepitude!

One knee in particular has been pretty troublesome for a long time. It has a history of falling apart, being operated on, generally fiddled about with and dishing out some eye-wateringly painful reminders of its existence in my life. About a year ago it also decided that a bit of gout would look good on its résumé. My excellent bone  surgeon sorted it out with medication and all seemed well. Then about couple of months ago it started to make a comeback and so I started back on the medication. It had no effect. Zilch! It was back to the bone doctor.

What he soon discovered was that along with the gouty crystals there were deposits as a side effect of one of the heart medications that decrepitude requires I consume on a daily basis. So, that prescription has been changed and there are even more pills and creams to add to the cocktail and for three weeks there will be ‘WD40‘ injections into the knee.

Oh, bugger! would seem a pretty appropriate response to all this except for one thing. In the space of just a few days the pain has been relieved and last night I got the first decent night’s sleep in quite some time. Living here in Turkey means instant treatment and being contributors to the social insurance scheme the bulk of the costs are defrayed by the state health-care system. Beats the hell out of the UK and most any place else in the world if your chickens are coming home to roost and crapping all over the place!

Roll on Spring, and let me get at that patch of stony ground up there in the mountains!

Alan Fenn, grinning like a Cheshire Cat here in Turkey.

'Burası Türkiye!' 'This is Turkey!'

Count Your Blessings

My mother used to say that a lot. ‘Count your blessings, you little sod!’ she would say, with the emphasis on the ‘little sod’. This was usually in response to my bemoaning the fact that my measly pocket money would never run to a sherbet fountain and a Matchbox toy.

sherbet

either, or

matchbox

The ‘Aladdin’s Cave’ where I pondered the imponderable and suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune is no more. Felton’s News Agency in what passed for the High Street, Minster, Sheppey – news, fags and sweets to the left, toys to the right. Now it shares the same fate as the rest of the planet – ‘We’re doomed, Mannering! Doomed!’

minster-closed-down-shops

But I digress! Where was I? Oh, yes, blessings and the counting of said.

What got me thinking of ‘blessings’ was chance meetings (and believe me, they are ‘chance’) with various, mostly British, ex-pats. Conversations invariably run to what is wrong with the government; the new road between Ortaca and Dalyan or with the way things run here in Turkey compared with . . It can be eye-glazingly  depressing!

glaze

Very occasionally someone will show that they have some understanding and concern for what is being perpetrated in our region by NATO/FUKUS and yes, Turkey. I find it amazing that there are people from the UK living here where they are called ‘ex-pats’ who are complaining bitterly about the, always ‘illegal immigrants’, getting into the UK and taking the jobs and scrounging benefits!

Me? I’m happy to describe myself as an economic migrant and thank you Turkey for taking me in!

Just over twenty years ago I was told I couldn’t work any more after being diagnosed with an incurable, inoperable spinal condition. I was told I’d be in a wheelchair within five years – a living death sentence (I don’t do pain/suffering very well).

J and I had long ago fallen in love with Turkey so we decided to burn our boats and grab a bit of paradise whilst we could. Seven years into our life here my back gave up the ghost. Unlike the UK, which gave up in advance, here I was found an eminent spinal surgeon who delivered a miracle! These days I grunt and groan when doing jobs but I can do them.

neurosurgery-spine-surgery

Our life here is comfortable, interesting and filled to bursting with good stuff. I cannot influence what is going on in the world by very much. I can appreciate things like having a full service and preparation for the MOT on the car that included a new set of tyres for the Lira equivalent of £400! I can enjoy the company of good and dear friends who share our view of the world and enjoy lively debate on so many diverse subjects that do not include football or grandchildren! I love being up here in our mountain retreat by a lake even though it means I’ll be moving even more stones and rocks and groaning at the after-effects! I can appreciate every sunset and sunrise. Above all I can appreciate that, whatever ‘fate’ throws my way, I have a life that countless millions can only dream of. I don’t care very much that I have to drive half way to Dalyan or Ortaca to get on to the opposite carriageway on our new, improved ‘motorway’!

I just don’t care! Alan Fenn.

'Burası Türkiye!' 'This is Turkey!'

Lazarus Rising

Six weeks! Is that all it’s been? Six weeks! It feels like six months – six years even! More like six episodes of the ‘Walking Dead’!

the-walking-dead-walkers

I’m talking disease! Bubonic Plague and Necrotising Fasciitis (there’s a link for the morbidly inclined) all rolled in to one! Six episodes back J went down with it. Four days later I followed suit and we sank together into the realms of choking snot, blinding headaches and choking coughing. Then my sister arrived for a month-long visit and walked into the maelstrom – she did not resist for many days! Thank you god!

I don’t recall too much about how J and sis were, being a bloke I was totally focussed on my own misery and the endless stream of ‘ectoplasm’ emanating from my sinuses.

ectoplasm 

I mean, seriously, you don’t know what’s living in this stuff!

ectoplasm2

A week into sis’ visit Number 1 Daughter arrived to join the party. At this point I should be saying ‘Poor sod!’ but by some miracle of the blessed-somebody-or-other she remained uncontaminated as those around her dissolved and putrefied!

We certainly did our best to give them some good times between the splutters.

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Number 1 looking disgustingly healthy!

We squeezed in a few days up here at the cabin as our visitors had been nothing short of desperate to see the place. Whilst they were here good friend and neighbour Ramazan did them a slightly frazzled chicken, jacket spuds and onions in a tin that was rapidly seen off with a few glasses of beer and wine under the big, old pine tree.

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country kitchen

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Sis and Number 1 have gone back home now – refreshed I hope. We needed a few more days recovery before we felt fit enough to drive back up here to the cabin. Once here we quickly learned that the mind may be willing but the flesh was decidedly weak! Just a few minutes work with a pick or shovel and we were gasping.

Anyway, after a few days of this sweet, mountain air we feel that we are almost back to our normal, energetic selves. The vegetable plot has been cleared and manured and we are half way through sorting the fruit/nut trees. The pool has its new aerator going and looks really healthy with new plants settled in. J has made some splendid green tomato chutney and we have harvested a load of melons and pumpkins. Life is steadily getting back to normal.

As for Lazarus, I’m in total empathy. I know how he felt when JC raised him up. As my dear old mother used to say, ‘Bloody ‘ell! You look like death warmed up!’

Alan Fenn, back in the land of the living!