Turkish Sports - Oil Wrestling

Leather chaps with metal studding and muscular men dripping in oil and sweat ...it could only be one thing. Somewhere between Smackdown and a rub-down, we find the ancient sport of Turkish Oil Wrestling. Though, at first glance, it may appear akin to a street brawl in Soho, this challenging feat of endurance takes strength and stamina.

Not being particularly au fait with the rules and regulations, I decided to do a little research.

Thanks to the work of Dr. Donald Stewart Miller, I found more than enough facts, puns, double meanings and homosexual references to write this article.

"The Kirkpinar (“Forty Springs”) in Edirne, Turkey is the annual world series of Yağlı Gűreş (greasy wrestling), the Turkish national sport." (I'm not sure I would class it as Turkey's national sport, but anyway...).

Wrestlers are divided into thirteen categories:

1. Chief wrestler
2. Under chief (sometimes literally)
3. Big medium (my shirt size)
4. Small big medium (sorry, what?)
5. Small medium small (OK, forget it)
6. Supporting big size (braggers)
7. Supporting medium size (most of us)
8. Supporting small size (it's what you do with it that counts)
9. Kickers of the dust (the wrestling equivalent of window lickers)
10. Encourager (they don't need any encouragement)
11. Small and sweet 2 (hardly a title for WWF)
12. Small and sweet 1
13. Best beginners

It is said that true wrestlers should have been rolling around in oil from the ages of seven to seventy. Today, ages usually range from twelve to forty ...though, that would seem a slightly unfair match should they ever be pitched against each other.

"Each fighter wears a kispet, sturdy leather trunks from the waist to below the knees." Worn to cover their nudity, according to Dr. Miller as "an act of male modesty commanded by Mohammed".

"He also wraps coarse cloths around his knees in order to block the opening of the cuffs against his opponent’s probing fingers. The writing in metal studs on his butt indicates his name or his sponsoring club, usually his home town."

The bout is won by pinning the opponent to the floor. Once decided, "often winner and loser will walk off the field together arm in arm". Sweet.

Not surprisingly, googling 'Turkish oil wrestling' produces a fairly healthy number of gay results. There are even tours organised to go to the rather conservative Kirkpinar for a weekend of group man on man action:

"Oil Wrestling Traditional Festival is a unique and 1500 years old festival. This is the festival where the strongest and helathiest men from all over Turkey come together and wrestle which form up a very "sensual" scenery. The world was ruled by Ottoman Empire from the event hometown city of Edirne for 100 years. You will discover this beautiful city and also the city of Istanbul in a very gay environment."

Good luck with that, chaps.

To prove that Turkish oil wrestling is far from gay, I've put together a short video:

Turkish Oil Wrestling - definitely not gay.

Minos the Minx

I simply can't remember whether I've told this story before but, as there's a shocking new twist, I'm going to tell it again.

It was the 23rd of July 2006 as I was driving back from Bodrum. Along the way, I decided to grab breakfast at my favourite restaurant on the shores of Bafa Lake.

Whilst tucking into the olives, cheese and tomatoes, I noticed a small kitten lying on a chair. I couldn't resist but go and explore.

The kitten was tiny and frail. He looked as though he wasn't going to last the day. Around his neck the staff had tied a necklace of 'Nazar Boncugu' (evil eye beads) to keep him safe from harm but I reckoned it would take a lot more than that to keep this black and white bundle of skin and bones alive.

I picked him up and cuddled him but he was too weak to play.

Here are some pictures I took of the little fella:



They told me his name was Minos (meaning 'tiny or small'). It was a sad moment when I said goodbye to him that day to continue my journey back to Kusadasi.

In March 2007, I was driving back down to Bodrum and decided to stop once again for a break by Bafa Lake. As the waiter brought the menu I apprehensively asked of the fate of Minos.

"He's sitting behind you" said the waiter, somewhat confused by my fascination with this cat.

There behind me was a lion of a cat. He was in beautiful condition. Perhaps the healthiest looking cat I've seen since I arrived here. Mind you, if cats have a heaven, it would be living in a fish restaurant on the banks of Bafa Lake.

Just look at the difference. Now fully grown, Minos was a troublesome beast. He rarely left the side of the table and had no qualms with boldly reaching over and helping himself to the fish.



I can't describe how relieved I was to see that little Minos had made it, and in such style.

Fast forward a few months and once again I'm back in the restaurant, sitting at my usual table, admiring the view of the ruins on the nearby island. The waiter took my order and I smiled and asked "so where's Minos?"

The waiter's face dropped.

Now my Turkish isn't so good still but I heard words in his following sentence that I didn't expect and absolutely didn't want to hear.

Words like "I'm sorry", "unfortunately", "hit", "reversing", "car".

My heart broke there and then. After the struggle he'd gone through to becoming a handsome lion. All that gone in an instant. I remembered holding him in one hand as he flopped like a rag doll. The joy I felt when I saw what he had become. I felt sick.

But then, in the waiter's continued explanation of events, I heard more words that brought hope. "Not dead", "injured", "recover".

I hoped he would survive the accident. To be honest, I avoided the restaurant for a while as I was scared that he wouldn't make it through again.

Last week, though, I stopped for breakfast as I began my trip down to Bodrum and beyond. The great news is that Minos is still alive. He's been left with a bit of a limp and walks like Larry Grayson and the similarities don't end there.

It appears that the accident has brought about a bigger change in Minos' life. OK he's not the strapping young thing he was before; he's a little skinnier but no waif. But the biggest shock of all is that, at some point during the past months, Minos went all gay.

If proof is needed, here is a photo I took of him raping his adopted brother:



Minos is still bold, still cheeky, still confident but now as camp as Christmas. I watched with elation as he limply minced around frolicking with the other male cats, stopping only to beg me for food or to mount one of his brothers (the other cat in the picture only barely had time to get to his feet before Minos would grab him by the neck and play horsey again).

The Nazar Boncugu around his neck are gone. There is no need for them anymore. They kept him safe through 2 lives and into embracing his homosexuality (as well as any male cat that slows down enough for him to catch them). He may be as bent as a 9 Lira note but he's back to being the happiest cat on Bafa.

Heaven, for Minos, just got better.