Turkey Five O

I’m off to Turkey next week with 30 or so family and friends to celebrate my 50th birthday. The organisation of the forthcoming mass holiday has been no mean feat, I can tell you, but a very pleasant task all the same. It doesn’t help that my Turkish village is tucked away in the back-end of nowhere and just getting there is a task in itself. Luckily I have a friendly local transfer guy who has opened his summer transfer company two weeks early in order to accommodate my motley crew.
I am spending the first night in the slightly nasty, package-holiday Mecca that is Marmaris, along with The Big Daughter, The Small Daughter and The Big Future Son In Law, who will be driving us all the way to my village. We are driving, rather than taking the transfer, to accommodate the spontaneous vomiting tendencies of The Small Daughter when she’s confronted with a road that is anything other than Roman.
When staying overnight in Marmaris last month, I was alarmed to see tattooed Brits in Speedos and overflowing bikinis camped next to the pool in a howling gale. Meanwhile, Turkish locals paraded past in woolly hats, scarves and padded jackets. The Brits were merrily guzzling way on pints of lager at 9.30 in the morning, post breakfast buffet, which is beyond the pale even for me. Having said that, I do remember a time when Miss T and I were reduced to drinking neat Bison Grass vodka from the bottle at a bus stop in Croatia at 9am, so my criticisms are a tad kettle calling teapot….
I spent a week in the village last month putting the finishing touches to my party arrangements, which basically involved me sitting on a lovely empty beach in the sun watching the terrapins, ducks and goats while languidly discussing the potential availability of sea bream with Mehmet the restaurant manager.
On the same visit, I randomly decided to purchase a bike as waiting for the Dolmus off-season can be a drawn-out affair. I was intent on buying a rugged mountain bike, much like the one I ride here in Brighton, but what I actually rode away on was a bike so pink and girly that Barbie must have helped design it. It even has a basket on the front, which is actually very useful considering I will mainly be using the bike to go to and from the local supermarket.
On the ride home from the bike shop, some of my hair got tangled in an overhanging orange tree and, as the Barbie Bike proceeded forwards at 10mph, I stayed dangling from the orange blossom by my hair, ultimately pulling up into an unintentional wheelie. Quite embarrassing really….
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