Being in my area of Yenikoy is a bit like I imagine it is to be a Londoner in a small town in Yorkshire. It’s quiet and quaint, the hills are steep, the wind is cold and although people are very friendly you can’t understand a bloody word they are saying. And there are also more mosques than in Bradford.
Anyone who was a kid in Yorkshire in the 80’s will probably also remember the water shortages when the army came to deliever water in big trucks one very hot summer. I had been warned of the water outages here but had never experienced one until I turned down an invitation to dinner at a friends house tonight so I could get home, have a bath and go to bed early. My dastardly plan has been foiled. As there is no water, I have no choice but to drink wine. I fear for my supplies, and may have to brave the biting wind to get one more bottle if this continues. One has to keep hydrated in times of crisis. I have also rationed my cigarettes because one can never be too careful.
This is what you get for trying to be a sensible adult. Stuck in a village with depleting supplies and only a bloody microsoft windows word document and a ‘Learn Turkish’ CD for company. Oh how the mighty fall. It’s a shame because the dinner invitation came from quite a cute chap.
This morning it took me an hour to make a 15km journey to work. After working very late yesterday and being very tired, it was not what I needed. No matter what bus I took in which direction, I always seemed to end up in the same bus park in the middle of butt fuck nowhere surrounded by a half built muddy highway. As I arrived in the office this morning I surprised myself with my excellent knowledge of Czech by uttering every Slavic profanity known to man and smiling whilst I did it, so that all the Turks thought I was just being friendly – Central European style. If any of you Czechs ever come to VFT, please don’t be surprised by the unusual Czech salutations I have taught them. They mean it with the very best of intentions.
When the same thing happened on my way to the aforementioned chaps house this evening, I lost my temper, gave up and came back to yenikoy. On the bright side I did see a lovely example of Turkish helpfulness. When a lady dropped her hat on the minibus as she was getting off, a fellow passenger made the driver stop, reverse down the highway, and then proceeded to jump across 3 lanes of motorway traffic to make sure she got it back. The way they pay the bus drivers here is to tap the person in front of them on the shoulder, state where they are going and pass their money from hand to hand down the bus. And the change always comes back. How nice are these people?
Aside from my absolute inability to renavigate myself home, all seems to be well. I should drink more wine. I always manage to get home when I’ve had a few.
Hopefully the delivery of my household goods is in sight. Good because I am cold and the summary of my kitchen equipment is the forks and knives I stole from hotel room service and a plastic cup with the teletubbies on it.
At least now we are allowed to surf youtube again, which had previously been banned for publishing a less than flattering clip of the Turkish hero and former president Ataturk, Right now the government are trying to overturn his deeds and re-allow women who work in public buildings to wear headscarves again. Some people feel this is only one step away from allowing the fundamentalists to gain control. Perhaps there will be more demonstrations as there were early this year. I may have to invest in a better camera.
Anyway I am aware that I am waffling and so will sign off and go and hassle some people on skype.
gurusuruz.
mx
Wednesday 30 January 2008
Thursday 24 January 2008
She shall have a fishy
Usually in Prague when you use the word ‘fresh’ it means a drunken Australian expat has tried to grab your arse in a seedy bar on Dusni. Thankfully in Istanbul it comes with rather more tasty connotations. A few nights ago I was taken to dinner by my friend Erdinc who works in IT. Having already discovered that I am a raving wino, Erdinc was kind enough to take me to a famous Turkish restaurant which has its own vineyard in the West of the country. The only downfall is that when wine tastes this good you don’t want to dilute it with soda water and the grape juice works it magic a little quicker than one might expect.
Anyway whilst ordering my fish dish I was a little perturbed by the waiter who kept asking what I would prefer if my first, second and even third choice of fish was not available. ‘Does he not even know what the kitchen has in stock?’ I asked my companion. ‘Certainly he does, but the fishing boat just pulled in and he has no idea what they have got till he runs to the harbour.’ Yeah okay, I can live with that.
Despite my very healthy appitite for Turkish food I still seem to be loosing weight. Vunderbar! I haven’t been a size 36 for about 6 years. The fish and salad diet agrees with me. I also sampled the office gym today and was unsurprised to discover that much like England and the CZ, most women only go to the gym to take a leisurely stroll on the walking machine and look at the training instructor’s pecs. As usual I was the manic red faced minger in the corner running like a crack ho with a warrant out on her. I have been challenged to the Istanbul half marathon in May. I have some training to do.
I also tried beer at a Turkish brewery this week. I’m not really a connoisseur of beer but it seemed pretty good to me. The dark one was particularly nice. I am wowing my colleagues with my rapidly expanding knowledge of bar Turkish.
Work. Well I don’t have much to say. The furor of getting legal has only just died down and now I find myself with little to do. Now Martin has started I am hoping to have a clearer idea of what my future career holds. I am assured I will be more involved soon.
I signed the contract on my flat today and was happy to discover that my landlady, who lives in Ankara, is a smashing and rather cool woman who speaks great English and is really helpful. I already know two or three girls (Turkish and German) who live in the Yenikoy area, so despite being a little out of town I’m sure I’ll be in good company. I can’t wait to get out of this bloody hotel, and more importantly, into a place with a washing machine. Oh will my smalls n’er be clean?
But at times like these I must bestow praise upon my mother who taught me how to handwash at an early age. A skill that has proved far more useful to me than any academic qualification I have ever gained.
Ironically the balcony on my flat was added by a previous tennant who was a writer. May even start on that book this summer…..
Tonight I am spending a rare night in with room service before the crazy weekend to come with far more invitations than there is time. One such invitation includes a meal at an oriental restaurant on Friday. A Chinese Burns night if you will.
You can take the girl out of Prague…..
Anyway whilst ordering my fish dish I was a little perturbed by the waiter who kept asking what I would prefer if my first, second and even third choice of fish was not available. ‘Does he not even know what the kitchen has in stock?’ I asked my companion. ‘Certainly he does, but the fishing boat just pulled in and he has no idea what they have got till he runs to the harbour.’ Yeah okay, I can live with that.
Despite my very healthy appitite for Turkish food I still seem to be loosing weight. Vunderbar! I haven’t been a size 36 for about 6 years. The fish and salad diet agrees with me. I also sampled the office gym today and was unsurprised to discover that much like England and the CZ, most women only go to the gym to take a leisurely stroll on the walking machine and look at the training instructor’s pecs. As usual I was the manic red faced minger in the corner running like a crack ho with a warrant out on her. I have been challenged to the Istanbul half marathon in May. I have some training to do.
I also tried beer at a Turkish brewery this week. I’m not really a connoisseur of beer but it seemed pretty good to me. The dark one was particularly nice. I am wowing my colleagues with my rapidly expanding knowledge of bar Turkish.
Work. Well I don’t have much to say. The furor of getting legal has only just died down and now I find myself with little to do. Now Martin has started I am hoping to have a clearer idea of what my future career holds. I am assured I will be more involved soon.
I signed the contract on my flat today and was happy to discover that my landlady, who lives in Ankara, is a smashing and rather cool woman who speaks great English and is really helpful. I already know two or three girls (Turkish and German) who live in the Yenikoy area, so despite being a little out of town I’m sure I’ll be in good company. I can’t wait to get out of this bloody hotel, and more importantly, into a place with a washing machine. Oh will my smalls n’er be clean?
But at times like these I must bestow praise upon my mother who taught me how to handwash at an early age. A skill that has proved far more useful to me than any academic qualification I have ever gained.
Ironically the balcony on my flat was added by a previous tennant who was a writer. May even start on that book this summer…..
Tonight I am spending a rare night in with room service before the crazy weekend to come with far more invitations than there is time. One such invitation includes a meal at an oriental restaurant on Friday. A Chinese Burns night if you will.
You can take the girl out of Prague…..
Sunday 20 January 2008
High Contrast
Although on the surface Istanbul may seem as cosmopolitan as any Western city, Turkey, as the Turks so readily point out, ain’t Europe.
As more days whizz by I am beginning to notice a number of intruiging differences between our cultures. For example, you can drive like a maniac here, blatently disregarding the rules of lanes, overtaking in the face of oncoming traffic, and traffic lights. As they say in Istanbul when crossing the road, look left, look right, then look up. However if you whip your mobile phone out and use it on a bus, you get a reaction akin to being a paedophile at a toddlers picnic. Mobile phone signals, I learned, interfere with ABS breaking systems. Even though most of the buses should have been sent to the scrap heap long before ABS was even heard of.
Another contrast. Last night I was in a Spanish bar eating tapas with a couple of expats. Shocked was I, to see a 20 year old Turkish girl writhing on the lap of someone who I can only hope was not her father, and simulating oral sex with a cactus. However, when I tried to log onto youtube this morning I discovered I was banned from doing so by the 12th criminal court of peace.
Turks are predominantly muslim. Some love bacon. Most love drinking. But they are also obsessed with the supernatural and the ever present threat of ‘the evil eye’. Best of all, they have fortune telling bunnies. Stroll along almost any high street and you will see an old man with a white rabbit on a table. Stroke the rabbit and it picks out a tarot card for you. I kid thee not. They are also obsessed with reading tea leaves and coffee grinds.
In fact they are obsessed with tea in general. It’s quite usual to see a young Turk put 3 or 4 sugars into a small glass of tea and eat three treacly cakes, but offer them a can of coke and they will recoil in horror.
It is considered acceptable to serve Nescafe from a machine in a ‘coffee house’ here. And every street has a Starbucks. Some women wear headscarves to cover their modesty, and then pencil on so much kohl they can barely open their eyes.
Power and water cuts are an inevitable part of life. Sometimes the water goes out for days. Electricity, always when you are in the shower. Actually I’ve had 3 power cuts since I started typing.
Advertising here is chaotic and usually overtly sexual. As a bigwig from Vodafone global complained: ‘the TV adverts here are terrible, its like being caught a washing machine.’ A Turk was quick to reply: ‘yes and Turkish emotions are like washing machines too. We don’t respond to your boring grey adverts.’
Last night I was lucky enough to meet the Turkish equivalent of the rat pack. By that I mean the Tony Bennett and Frank Sinatra of Turkey. As I mentioned before I was in a tapas bar, when an old crooner grabbed the mike from the performers and did some serious schmoozing. And so a night of merriment began.
I have decided not to take the apartment by the sea. Firstly because I realised how far it was from any form of life. The ‘village’ is tiny and only has two restaurants. Buses stop running at 12. It takes an hour by bus in mild traffic to get into the town centre. I may have lost a little deposit but I’d rather that then get stuck somewhere which will cost me a months rent in taxis every week.
Today I am off exploring areas again. As pissed off as I am with hotel living, it was a bad idea to rush into anything.
I may have mentioned that next week I will be joined by my former boss from the czech republic, Martin Jaros. He will be my manager again, which amuses me greatly.
Aside from that, in the week I’ve been exhausted. At the weekend I have been painting the town red (and throwing in a star and a moon for good measure). I think I very much like it here.
As more days whizz by I am beginning to notice a number of intruiging differences between our cultures. For example, you can drive like a maniac here, blatently disregarding the rules of lanes, overtaking in the face of oncoming traffic, and traffic lights. As they say in Istanbul when crossing the road, look left, look right, then look up. However if you whip your mobile phone out and use it on a bus, you get a reaction akin to being a paedophile at a toddlers picnic. Mobile phone signals, I learned, interfere with ABS breaking systems. Even though most of the buses should have been sent to the scrap heap long before ABS was even heard of.
Another contrast. Last night I was in a Spanish bar eating tapas with a couple of expats. Shocked was I, to see a 20 year old Turkish girl writhing on the lap of someone who I can only hope was not her father, and simulating oral sex with a cactus. However, when I tried to log onto youtube this morning I discovered I was banned from doing so by the 12th criminal court of peace.
Turks are predominantly muslim. Some love bacon. Most love drinking. But they are also obsessed with the supernatural and the ever present threat of ‘the evil eye’. Best of all, they have fortune telling bunnies. Stroll along almost any high street and you will see an old man with a white rabbit on a table. Stroke the rabbit and it picks out a tarot card for you. I kid thee not. They are also obsessed with reading tea leaves and coffee grinds.
In fact they are obsessed with tea in general. It’s quite usual to see a young Turk put 3 or 4 sugars into a small glass of tea and eat three treacly cakes, but offer them a can of coke and they will recoil in horror.
It is considered acceptable to serve Nescafe from a machine in a ‘coffee house’ here. And every street has a Starbucks. Some women wear headscarves to cover their modesty, and then pencil on so much kohl they can barely open their eyes.
Power and water cuts are an inevitable part of life. Sometimes the water goes out for days. Electricity, always when you are in the shower. Actually I’ve had 3 power cuts since I started typing.
Advertising here is chaotic and usually overtly sexual. As a bigwig from Vodafone global complained: ‘the TV adverts here are terrible, its like being caught a washing machine.’ A Turk was quick to reply: ‘yes and Turkish emotions are like washing machines too. We don’t respond to your boring grey adverts.’
Last night I was lucky enough to meet the Turkish equivalent of the rat pack. By that I mean the Tony Bennett and Frank Sinatra of Turkey. As I mentioned before I was in a tapas bar, when an old crooner grabbed the mike from the performers and did some serious schmoozing. And so a night of merriment began.
I have decided not to take the apartment by the sea. Firstly because I realised how far it was from any form of life. The ‘village’ is tiny and only has two restaurants. Buses stop running at 12. It takes an hour by bus in mild traffic to get into the town centre. I may have lost a little deposit but I’d rather that then get stuck somewhere which will cost me a months rent in taxis every week.
Today I am off exploring areas again. As pissed off as I am with hotel living, it was a bad idea to rush into anything.
I may have mentioned that next week I will be joined by my former boss from the czech republic, Martin Jaros. He will be my manager again, which amuses me greatly.
Aside from that, in the week I’ve been exhausted. At the weekend I have been painting the town red (and throwing in a star and a moon for good measure). I think I very much like it here.
Monday 14 January 2008
Quick update
So I managed to live through another weekend in Istanbul without being hit by a car, kidnapped by a taxi driver or eating a dodgy kebab.
On Friday I met up with an expat crowd from a website called expatinturkey.com. Somehow, with little effort on my part, I managed to get banned from it in three days. My heinous crime? To post 5 posts in a row to try and get around some stupid rule which states that you cannot private message other members until you have made about 50 posts. Obviously that makes me an axe murderer and a danger to the istanbulian expats as a whole. Heavens!
The expats included my irish friend Mairiad from Oskar and her french husband. I also met a lovely aspiring photo journalist who has promised to take me on a photographic tour of the asian side.
On Saturday I went out with some Turkish girls and was introduced to a guy from Ankara who is actually staying in the hotel room next to mine. Drinks were had and there was some dancing on bars involved. My omniverous nerve crumbled and I ate a kebab on the way home. This kebab stand sells the most kebabs in Turkey. 16000 a day. Well that many Turks can’t be wrong.
On Sunday I met Klara’s friend Murat for coffee and his turkish friend who spoke only three words of english. But as coffee turned to wine we were soon communicating like old friends.
And then the biggest surprise of all. My old director, Martin Jaros, who I worked with in Prague for years has been offered a temporary position here and came on Sunday ready for a Monday interview. He is coming back the day after tomorrow. So it seems we will be working together again, which is great because I have always loved working with Martin and I think we work well together. His wife is an absolute doll so I look forward to seeing her too.
I also took the time to go to Yenikoy, an area by the harbour in which I hope to be living. I couldn’t locate the flat I will be signing the contract for tomorrow but I did get a better feel for the area, and it is lovely. If you’re on facebook you can check out some pics of the harbour. And if you come and visit you can sit on my balcony supping wine and looking at the sea.
Tomorrow I meet a potential language teacher and I hope to start lessons before the week is through. I will not make the same mistake I did in the Czech Republic and stagger along in linguistic ignorance for years, although on saying that once I did understand a bit of Czech I was disappointed to discover that all anyone in the office ever talked about was cars, new houses and Veronika Farova’s arse. Which proves the old addage, ignorance is bliss.
On Friday I met up with an expat crowd from a website called expatinturkey.com. Somehow, with little effort on my part, I managed to get banned from it in three days. My heinous crime? To post 5 posts in a row to try and get around some stupid rule which states that you cannot private message other members until you have made about 50 posts. Obviously that makes me an axe murderer and a danger to the istanbulian expats as a whole. Heavens!
The expats included my irish friend Mairiad from Oskar and her french husband. I also met a lovely aspiring photo journalist who has promised to take me on a photographic tour of the asian side.
On Saturday I went out with some Turkish girls and was introduced to a guy from Ankara who is actually staying in the hotel room next to mine. Drinks were had and there was some dancing on bars involved. My omniverous nerve crumbled and I ate a kebab on the way home. This kebab stand sells the most kebabs in Turkey. 16000 a day. Well that many Turks can’t be wrong.
On Sunday I met Klara’s friend Murat for coffee and his turkish friend who spoke only three words of english. But as coffee turned to wine we were soon communicating like old friends.
And then the biggest surprise of all. My old director, Martin Jaros, who I worked with in Prague for years has been offered a temporary position here and came on Sunday ready for a Monday interview. He is coming back the day after tomorrow. So it seems we will be working together again, which is great because I have always loved working with Martin and I think we work well together. His wife is an absolute doll so I look forward to seeing her too.
I also took the time to go to Yenikoy, an area by the harbour in which I hope to be living. I couldn’t locate the flat I will be signing the contract for tomorrow but I did get a better feel for the area, and it is lovely. If you’re on facebook you can check out some pics of the harbour. And if you come and visit you can sit on my balcony supping wine and looking at the sea.
Tomorrow I meet a potential language teacher and I hope to start lessons before the week is through. I will not make the same mistake I did in the Czech Republic and stagger along in linguistic ignorance for years, although on saying that once I did understand a bit of Czech I was disappointed to discover that all anyone in the office ever talked about was cars, new houses and Veronika Farova’s arse. Which proves the old addage, ignorance is bliss.
Thursday 10 January 2008
The aunt of all cities
If Prague can claim she is the mother of all cities, then Istanbul is the very dotty, very ancient great aunt. She’s seen it all, the sulks, the fights, the squabbling siblings, and is way too old to let any of it really bother her. You could put a bomb under her and all she would do is tut in disapproval and send you to bed without any supper. But wear the wrong attire to the dinner table and she'd probably cast you out of the family. She’s gone deaf to the sirens and horns and hullaballoo of city life and sits majestically in the centre of the room, courting whoever comes to visit and slipping quietly into old old age whilst pouring herself more gin and tonics than is strictly necessary.
She also gives great presents.
I have been working like a dog on getting my work permit, which I am actually sure is not really my job to be chasing. Anyway due to the fantastical lack of knowledge on the part of the British agency I am dealing with, I have been working my ass off 8 hours a day following their false leads and then going to youth segment focus groups in the evening. Yes maie finally has to work. Yes it is a shock to the system. Last night I was too tired to even eat or smoke a fag.
Anyway yesterday two things made it worth while, firstly a fantasic lunch with some colleagues during which I met the wife of the manager of the new hotel I am staying at. I arrived ‘home’ this evening to find a basket of fruit and a very nice bottle of turkish vino sitting on my desk. The second thing was I got a phone thing. I am only entitled to the cheap free one but my boss’ lovely assistant slipped me one of those fancy square computer GPS wifi thingymigigs. I know not what it does or even how to switch it on. I think it doubles up as a futon. I figure I’ll just charge it and try and tackle it this weekend when I have time and hope that I don't attract the attention of NASA when I finally work out wherethe on button is.
I joined the gym at work, one day I may even have time to use it. And me and a few girls from my department are going to start doing pilates next week. Good job really as all I have done is walk from car to elevator for the last week. Thank God the room service portions are small.
No tales of dare and do I’m afraid. I’m meeting klara’s turkish drummer friend, Murat, on Saturday and I’m house hunting today. Last night I collapsed at around 9pm. Where is Maie and what have they done with her?
She also gives great presents.
I have been working like a dog on getting my work permit, which I am actually sure is not really my job to be chasing. Anyway due to the fantastical lack of knowledge on the part of the British agency I am dealing with, I have been working my ass off 8 hours a day following their false leads and then going to youth segment focus groups in the evening. Yes maie finally has to work. Yes it is a shock to the system. Last night I was too tired to even eat or smoke a fag.
Anyway yesterday two things made it worth while, firstly a fantasic lunch with some colleagues during which I met the wife of the manager of the new hotel I am staying at. I arrived ‘home’ this evening to find a basket of fruit and a very nice bottle of turkish vino sitting on my desk. The second thing was I got a phone thing. I am only entitled to the cheap free one but my boss’ lovely assistant slipped me one of those fancy square computer GPS wifi thingymigigs. I know not what it does or even how to switch it on. I think it doubles up as a futon. I figure I’ll just charge it and try and tackle it this weekend when I have time and hope that I don't attract the attention of NASA when I finally work out wherethe on button is.
I joined the gym at work, one day I may even have time to use it. And me and a few girls from my department are going to start doing pilates next week. Good job really as all I have done is walk from car to elevator for the last week. Thank God the room service portions are small.
No tales of dare and do I’m afraid. I’m meeting klara’s turkish drummer friend, Murat, on Saturday and I’m house hunting today. Last night I collapsed at around 9pm. Where is Maie and what have they done with her?
Sunday 6 January 2008
fawlty towers
It's great here it is. Last night I went to a great restaurant with ten turks and turkettes and a guy from Brazil. I'm having a little trouble remembering names. There is only one girl whose name I remembered. That's because her name is 'izigay', a question I have often had to ponder myself in the last few years. Hilariously her husband has a shaven head and wears very tight tops. The view from the restaurant rivaled any view from Prague, but throw in a sea and a few fishing boats. However walking around the streets is nowhere near as pretty as when you are downtown Prague. This city was built with a little less planning and vision. And did I mention the dangeous traffic? Also there are no dogs, so no dog presents on the pavements - can you imagine?
Then we went onto a fab club called Hall. Think of Radost, but with decent music and non snooty people who are friendly and smiley.
I have already learned some Turkish. Vodka Elmar (vodka and apple) and cok (which means many). At this rate I'll be fluent in, say, 15 years. Or at least too drunk to notice that I'm not.
I went home at 2 because I am still a little tired from xmas, new year, moving, stress, well everything.
Really the only downside is the hotel, which I hope I can change tomorrow. It's cramped, it's ugly, there are unidentifiable stains on the carpet, there is construction happening right now, and its nearly 9pm. It will start again at 6. There are heavy machines and floodlights. Oh and the vibrations of the trucks keep setting off car alarms. Oh hark there goes the second one since I have started typing. Today I ordered room service through no less than 6 people an hour before I had to leave for a meeting. I recieved nothing. Yesterday I went to the gym only to be stared at through the glass doors by a load of hairy half naked turk men on their way to the sauna. I'm not sure what the collective noun for a bunch of hairy turk men is - a hirsute of Turks perhaps? But at least men look at you here.
Last night I spoke to some Turkish girls, both of whom bemoaned the fact that they could not get boyfriends. My heart did sink a little.
I met a friend today for brunch, an irish girl who used to work at Oskar. We were ging to meet at Starbucks, I'm glad we didn't in the end as i hate that place on principle. But we went to a very swish breakfast place which looked out onto where the boats were a bobbin on the sea. We had a good giggle at the expense of the ridiculous canadians that used to populate the office. Ah to be an expat wife hire. It's the life indeed.
She loves it here and is full of praise for it. And she has lived in about 5 countries.
I am still not legal to work yet. I hope i am soon as I have no health insurance. And if you ever see the roads, the drivers, the chaos, the constant honking of horns, the running of red lights, you will understand that with me being the dozy tart I am, it is only a matter of time before I am in collision with a taxi. And I am pretty sure the taxi will not stop and they will be scraping bits of me off the road in Ankara hours later.
The expats here are different to Czech, They all speak Turkish, because you have to. I have already been recommended a teacher and i hope to start lessons next week or the week after.
Oh yeah and it's considered really impolite to blow your nose in public here. A bit of a bugger as I have a slight cold.
Anyway early night tonight as the office driver is picking me up at 7am and I have another busy day of form filling, immigration, and lord knows what.
This week I start looking for flat and am told I may even be able to get one with a sea view for my budget. I met the guy who runs the expat website here, in fact he is my reality agent. He seems pretty cool and has been really helpful. The flats are really expensive here. I'll be paying double what I did in Prague.
goodnight!
Then we went onto a fab club called Hall. Think of Radost, but with decent music and non snooty people who are friendly and smiley.
I have already learned some Turkish. Vodka Elmar (vodka and apple) and cok (which means many). At this rate I'll be fluent in, say, 15 years. Or at least too drunk to notice that I'm not.
I went home at 2 because I am still a little tired from xmas, new year, moving, stress, well everything.
Really the only downside is the hotel, which I hope I can change tomorrow. It's cramped, it's ugly, there are unidentifiable stains on the carpet, there is construction happening right now, and its nearly 9pm. It will start again at 6. There are heavy machines and floodlights. Oh and the vibrations of the trucks keep setting off car alarms. Oh hark there goes the second one since I have started typing. Today I ordered room service through no less than 6 people an hour before I had to leave for a meeting. I recieved nothing. Yesterday I went to the gym only to be stared at through the glass doors by a load of hairy half naked turk men on their way to the sauna. I'm not sure what the collective noun for a bunch of hairy turk men is - a hirsute of Turks perhaps? But at least men look at you here.
Last night I spoke to some Turkish girls, both of whom bemoaned the fact that they could not get boyfriends. My heart did sink a little.
I met a friend today for brunch, an irish girl who used to work at Oskar. We were ging to meet at Starbucks, I'm glad we didn't in the end as i hate that place on principle. But we went to a very swish breakfast place which looked out onto where the boats were a bobbin on the sea. We had a good giggle at the expense of the ridiculous canadians that used to populate the office. Ah to be an expat wife hire. It's the life indeed.
She loves it here and is full of praise for it. And she has lived in about 5 countries.
I am still not legal to work yet. I hope i am soon as I have no health insurance. And if you ever see the roads, the drivers, the chaos, the constant honking of horns, the running of red lights, you will understand that with me being the dozy tart I am, it is only a matter of time before I am in collision with a taxi. And I am pretty sure the taxi will not stop and they will be scraping bits of me off the road in Ankara hours later.
The expats here are different to Czech, They all speak Turkish, because you have to. I have already been recommended a teacher and i hope to start lessons next week or the week after.
Oh yeah and it's considered really impolite to blow your nose in public here. A bit of a bugger as I have a slight cold.
Anyway early night tonight as the office driver is picking me up at 7am and I have another busy day of form filling, immigration, and lord knows what.
This week I start looking for flat and am told I may even be able to get one with a sea view for my budget. I met the guy who runs the expat website here, in fact he is my reality agent. He seems pretty cool and has been really helpful. The flats are really expensive here. I'll be paying double what I did in Prague.
goodnight!
Saturday 5 January 2008
Lessons I have learned
Never has so little sleep been had by so many and fought by so few
So here I am, not minutes from the mighty Bospherous. The place where empires have been made, where battles have been fought and trade has been done for longer than most men wear the same pair of pants on a weekend. Which is quite a long time. Am I excited? All I can say is that I have never been so bloody knackered in all my life. It’s hard you know, conquering an empire. However, this last few days have been a time of great learning.
In the last 3 days this is what I have learnt:
Moving
It’s not so hard to do if you stay sober. That’s the easy bit. What is hard is the paperwork.
Removal men
Just because you have a mullet doesn’t make you a bad person. Actually you can be pretty useful.
Four star hotels
Are not all stars are created equal. Never pass up the chance of a quaint hotel for one with a gym. A fancy uniformed concierge does not help you in a shoe box sized room when you hve to put a quilt on your case and sleep on it.
Turkish baths
Are bloody great. But try and find one appropriate to your sex. Unless you are a big hairy Turkish man with not much to do except watch a woman get massaged in soap in a steamy room.
Man cannot live on bread alone
It’s hard being veggie in Turkey.
Climate
Since when has the ‘go to Turkey’ campaign ever shown scenes of freezing sleet and snow? Bloody false advertising.
Vogue
If you ever go there its fab, chi chi and has the most specatular views. Just make sure your company is paying.
Shopping
They sell cheddar cheese in every supermarket. Now that’s what I call civililised.
The social scene
I’ve already been for coffee with the guy who set up the expat website here. Last night I was in the company of a man who owns 11 factories in china, a guy who does the retail for Fendi and Louis Vuitton, and a guy who heads up the asian branch of an oil company. On Tuesday I am seeing Wendy’s friend Adam from Ankara. As usual my social life improves at a rate of 4:1 with my career.
Turkish
You have to learn it, and pretty damn quick.
Anyway, so concludes the lessons for today. I’m off to dinner with a load of new friends.
Ahoj!
So here I am, not minutes from the mighty Bospherous. The place where empires have been made, where battles have been fought and trade has been done for longer than most men wear the same pair of pants on a weekend. Which is quite a long time. Am I excited? All I can say is that I have never been so bloody knackered in all my life. It’s hard you know, conquering an empire. However, this last few days have been a time of great learning.
In the last 3 days this is what I have learnt:
Moving
It’s not so hard to do if you stay sober. That’s the easy bit. What is hard is the paperwork.
Removal men
Just because you have a mullet doesn’t make you a bad person. Actually you can be pretty useful.
Four star hotels
Are not all stars are created equal. Never pass up the chance of a quaint hotel for one with a gym. A fancy uniformed concierge does not help you in a shoe box sized room when you hve to put a quilt on your case and sleep on it.
Turkish baths
Are bloody great. But try and find one appropriate to your sex. Unless you are a big hairy Turkish man with not much to do except watch a woman get massaged in soap in a steamy room.
Man cannot live on bread alone
It’s hard being veggie in Turkey.
Climate
Since when has the ‘go to Turkey’ campaign ever shown scenes of freezing sleet and snow? Bloody false advertising.
Vogue
If you ever go there its fab, chi chi and has the most specatular views. Just make sure your company is paying.
Shopping
They sell cheddar cheese in every supermarket. Now that’s what I call civililised.
The social scene
I’ve already been for coffee with the guy who set up the expat website here. Last night I was in the company of a man who owns 11 factories in china, a guy who does the retail for Fendi and Louis Vuitton, and a guy who heads up the asian branch of an oil company. On Tuesday I am seeing Wendy’s friend Adam from Ankara. As usual my social life improves at a rate of 4:1 with my career.
Turkish
You have to learn it, and pretty damn quick.
Anyway, so concludes the lessons for today. I’m off to dinner with a load of new friends.
Ahoj!
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