Pa Pa Praha

So here I am, back on the Bospherous after having the chance to say goodbye to Prague properly. I say properly because last time I left I was so stressed with running around, Christmas, and moving countries - that my goodbyes passed in an exhausting blur. By the time I had had enough sleep to wake up and realise what had happened, I’d already been living in Istanbul for 3 months.

So my oldest and dearest friend Will, the chap who was responsible for me being there in the first place, is leaving for Kiev.
I really should have gone next weekend to catch up with my friends from America who are arriving on the 1st, but I figured that even they can probably locate Istanbul on a world map (with a little help) and can come and visit one day.
Besides it was only appropriate that I should go this weekend. After all, both Will and his girlfriend at the time, Claire, did rescue me from a life of certain misery, working in factories as a receptionist on industrial estates in Bedfordshire. Were it not for them I might well be on my second marriage and fourth kid by a different father. Even worse I’d probably be claiming social security, smoking cheap fags and have no money for nice shoes. But my life took a different turn. And you can rest assured that I am not without family. I treat my shoes exactly like I would my children – I rarely clean them and I lock them in a cupboard at night. At least I can’t be put on the front page of the Daily Mail for cruelty to shoes.

I also got to see my friend Mike, who is currently waging an war against cancer that would make Genghis Kahn proud. And, much as his blog proves, http://virtualvistinghours.blogspot.com , he is an inspiration. A little more tired than usual, but still makes anyone else who has ever had an illness - ever - look like a total wuss. And he is still hairy. I respect that in a man.


Prague was more beautiful than I remembered, but it’s amazing what a spell of hot weather can do. It was dank dark January the last time I left. The women also wear less clothes than I remembered. Much less clothes. At the famous Zizkov beer garden there were more bum cheeks and boobs that you could shake a stick at. But I guess it gives you somewhere to stick your beer if you need to use both hands for fending off the Czech dogs.

I miss the easiness; the chilled out way of life; the sense that ‘anything goes’; the stunning views from no matter where you are; the old friends; the greeness; the river; the relaxed attitude of the Czechs; the clean air; the best public transport system in the world; the village atmosphere of the place; the beer gardens; the architecture and a sense of knowing exactly where you are physically; the ability of Czechs to enjoy the outdoors and their general sportiness. I am also aware that I am probably not using semi colons appropriately, but you can't have everything.

However, I do not miss being constantly tired, the damn difficult language, and the dog poo. All except one I could have sorted out myself with a little effort.

Wendy was, as always, a joy to be with. We never got time to see all the exhibitions we wanted to. But it was very comforting to see her smiley face.


In fact there were quite a few people I wanted to spend more one on one time with but never got a chance. So if you are reading this, I apologise. I much prefer one on ones to massive group events. But time was not on my side. I can’t justify spending loads of time in Prague when there is the mass of beautiful country that is Turkey, Syria, Kabul, and everywhere else that is so convienient to here. It was also sad that so many people I would have loved to have seen have moved on. But better for them I guess in the long run. It’s such a transient city.

Had a bit of a nightmare morning on the way home. Meetings that were supposed to happen didn’t. Took me nearly 25 minutes to finally confirm a taxi. The driver took me on the most traffic clogged route. Got to the airport to find they’d moved my flight to an earlier slot and there were ten, yes TEN, international flights checking in through the same four desks. But was pleased to note that the Czech man sitting next to me on the plane was very cute indeed. Spoke to him, nearly gave him my card, but got too shy at the last minute. Damn.

But all in all, a great weekend. I did nearly cry in the taxi to the airport. It’s the end of a very important and formative period of my life. I first lived in Prague when I was 19 for two years and again when I was 26 for 5 years. Particularly it’s hard with Will, Anna and Liza leaving. It really is like cutting the umbilical cord.

But onwards and upwards. We’ve all grown up a lot. We’ve all lost and gained a lot (in pounds and in pence). But there is nothing quite as tragic as people who stay stuck in a rut and can’t move on. So as lovely as it was to wallow in nostalgia for a few days, I’m very thankful my life has taken this turn. And I’m looking forward to the next episode. I'd write a book about the last fifteen years - but nobody would believe it.

managing management training

This week has seen me on a management training course. Our trainer is a pretty motivational and very snappily dressed diminutive successful Turkish businessman. And he is a showman with a capital ‘ow’. It is possible to sit and listen to this man speak for 5 hours not get bored and leave almost believing that you can shake the world, change your organisation and get your manager to listen to your requirements for personal growth and fulfillment. He is amazing at bolstering confidence.

It reminds me of that magical childhood time when parents try to convince their offspring that they are not gap toothed/big eared/chubby or dim, and then deposit them at the school gates the next morning to endure hours of being called ‘fatty thicky wingnuts’ and have their lunch money stolen.

I can just imagine myself striding into the office tomorrow and telling my bosses that I need one on one personal mentoring from them, that their management style is all wrong and that they need to work with me on their personal failings (which include not giving me more management training from the aforementioned businessman). Not only will my free canteen lunches be seized, but my house, my health insurance and my payroll.

So as great as he is, a percentage of his ideals are really cut from the same cloth as tooth fairies. Yes you can see how they can be profitable, but the reality wears slippers and puts the food on the table.

However I am having a whale of a time. There is not a coffee break which goes by in which our trainer has not failed to mention his Ferarri, his two boats or flash his Phillipe Patek watch with a smooth but practiced flick of the shirt cuff. Although I am not sure who is sadder - him for flashing or me for noticing.

On day one I stood with the boys discussing the prospects of Fenerbahce football team, when he told us of Turkey’s most amazing striker in history who only had size 36 feet. ‘So it shows’ he proclaimed, ‘that size does not matter.’ ‘Who said that then darling?’ I said drawing from my camel light.

On day two I mentioned that I lived in Yenikoy, mentioning this area I have found, never fails to impress the Turks. That’s cause it costs a fortune around here. Said trainer has already offered to pick me up on his yacht from Yenikoy port one day so we can ‘fish and….. sunbathe’. Well just fancy. One wonders if the tanning oil comes from him, the fish or the bottle.

However, being a woman of limited intelligence, I will give him my card at the end of the course, smile sweetly and tell him how much I can’t wait to meet him and his wife for cocktails on the deck, and see if he ever calls (of course not being surprised if he turns up without wife in tow). One thing is for certain, he trains the guys at DHL, Coca cola, Unilever, our competitor Turkcell, and I love contacts. Plus he is entertaining, and I can swim if I have to.

Besides, if my career in politics taught me nothing, it's that when it comes to professional advice, inspiration and information, there is no better santa claus than a married horny old codger. And contrary to the stereotype, you don't even have to sleep with them. Genuinely being interested in what they have to teach you is enough. Massaging ego is their biggest turn on and in exchange you get absolute gems, and if you are clever they not the kind that you lock up in a box.

Turkey and stuff

Many things happened in Turkey over the last week. The government and democracy once again stands on shaky ground. It’s just 8 months since the AK party was returned to power after gaining 47% of the vote following the threat of a coup by the military. The reason being that people suspect that the party seeks to turn Turkey into an Islamic state. The fact that many of its members were formally part of a hardline Islamic party (which was banned) was cited as one of many reasons for this. Then of course the AKP tried to lift the headscarf ban in public buildings and all hell broke loose.
This time instead of waving guns to try and oust the powers that be, the opposition is waving a petition in the constitutional courts, once again trying to cite that the government wants to destroy secularism and should be banned. A decision will be made soon.

Also this week the Olympic torch came to Istanbul. A friend and aspiring photojournalist was there to see the ensuing protests and arrests. Non of which were reported in any of the papers bar one little left wing one.
But the torch is no stranger to controlled press. The torch relay itself was cooked up by Nazi propagandists under Goebbels in preperation for the 1936 Olympics in Berlin. The current Olympics is being directed by the mighty Chinese press machine called: ‘the Capital Ethics Development Office’. Amongst other things, to ensure that China is shown in a favourable light, the office is producing anti spitting, anti swearing and anti litter campaigns. According to the office they have been successful. Spitting is down by 2.41 percent on previous years and littering down by 2.44 percent. Vunderbar. One wonders who has to count the spittle?

Also this week, Fenerbahce got further than any other Turkish team ever has in the UEFA football league. They are naturally ecstatic. I saw the game live from the stadiums press box where jounalists reported that never in all their years of football had they ever seen such brilliant fans. The support was absolutely deafening. And there was much arm waving, grinning and general Turkishness. My friend and former flatmate and colleague came to cover the match so I had my first visitor, which was great.

This weekend saw me run my furthest distance ever. 12km, which isn’t a lot compared to the other nutters. The Germans I run with were originally intending to run 18, but then decided to do 20km because they said they ‘don’t like uneven numbers’. Which, had my body not had been in total shock, would have made me laugh hysterically.

But fear not, I managed to slip a good few glasses of wine in, a dinner party at a lovely French guys house, a visit to a photography exhibition of Darfur and a little bit of clothes shopping. The clothes shopping has to stop. But it’s such a novelty to go to shopping centres which sell things that you’d like to buy. Was going to buy a teeny weeny pair of running shorts, but decided I would wait until I am fast enough to outrun any maurauding packs of Turkish men.

Work is tough going. Have now gone from being too busy to not being busy enough and am once again slightly unsure of what my role is. I think being cocooned in linguistic ignorance in the Czech Republic for the last 5 years has done nothing to help me with my personal development. But at least I don’t turn up to work with hangovers anymore so that’s something to be positive about. Tonight I am off to the cinema and then hopefully will have an early night.

I just heard that my friend Pavel from kuwait might visit next week too.