Showing posts with label heating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label heating. Show all posts

Monday, 12 July 2010

Camel Cock

I regret the words I spoke last night to my friends in Ankara. "Oh Turkish buses are the best in the world. They make up for the trains. If only England blah blah blah..."

These words were uttered just minutes before boarding a Kamil Koc service from Ankara to Izmir. It was going to be my second experience (counting the trip out there on Friday) of a long-haul bus ride.

So why the regret? Let's start at the beginning...

Some friends were getting married in the Nation's Capital and we needed a way to travel the 579km. I'd driven before but I no longer have a car and, if I did, I fancied a more relaxing means of transportation.

The planes were expensive because we were booking late. So ruling out trains (which are never considered anyway) the only other option was the bus.

Unlike the UK, 8 hours on a bus isn't a big deal to Turks. Izmir to Istanbul or Ankara is a perfectly acceptable alternative.

We headed down to the Kamil Koc ticket office here in Hatay and spoke to the young chap behind the desk. He made me wary from the outset by talking about how "everyone will tell you that Kamil Koc is the best". So why do you need to tell me?

"Oh you're better off coming back at 1am and you'll arrive 10! Lovely!"

Fuck you, that's the middle of the day as far as the thermometre is concerned and I'd rather be safely at home by then. I know your game, mate. You want me to get on the shit-mobile because you can't sell those ungodly tickets. The 10pm bus is going to get people in to work on time and is a breeze to sell. Shove it, I want the 10pm.

"These are techno-seats! There's a TV with lots of different films. USB slots for your movie-filled flash disks. So much leg room, you can do your morning pilates..."

Oooooo USB. Now you've got my attention!

"Coming back, I'm going to give you the best seats on the bus. These two at the back, recline like a bitch and you'll not be disturbed by anyone. You'll sleep like babies until you reach Izmir."

Oooooo USB! OK just give me the tickets!

Boarding the bus to Ankara, we were sat just in front of the middle stair well. Not bad at all. The leg room wasn't amazing. The USB port was... well you know when you buy the cheaper model of something and they annoyingly use the same template for all so you can see where all the better functions should sit but they're blocked off? That was the USB port. Blocked off.

I did the British thing and kept quiet and tried to doze off. Not a chance. I don't sleep on vehicles unfortunately. My girlfriend, however, could sleep on a bike so I watched her instead.

After 4 hours, we arrived at Afyon; the home of sucuk (Turkish garlic sausage) and marijuana. We had a glass of tea and got back on the bus. We arrived, we went to the wedding. Lovely.

Coming back was a different matter. There was a bomb scare at Ankara bus station which meant nothing more than people were running around like headless chickens.

We made our bus with no time to spare and climbed on board. The time is 10pm. The World Cup Final started at 9:30pm. Now, I'm not a football fan but I do like the World Cup and I was hoping to fucking watch it on the bus!

"No signal" came a message on my screen. I called the teenager who serves tea and asked what was going on.

"No football, sorry" I nearly threw my undrinkably hot Nescafe over him.

Then a nudge from my girlfriend and she points to the screen. Game on! We've got signal and we've got a final and we've got ...half time. Bollocks. Oh well, at least we've got something.

Spain wins. Hurrah! That'll teach Robben to run around crying about every little knock.

Time for a doze but ...wait ...it's really hot in here! My legs are burning. There is also a strong smell of burning.

We call the spotty bastard back. "What's going on, why is it so hot?"

"Well, you're sitting on the engine." came his patronisingly obvious reply.

"But they told us these were the most comfortable seats on the bus!"

"Nooooo, you'll never be comfortable at the back". Duh!

Oh jesus no! You mean, I've got 7 more hours of this hamam?

The USB didn't work again. The stupid tart in front of me kept her seat reclined so the table was at a slant, making it necessary to hold my red hot Nescafe with tears in my eyes. My TV was the only one that I could see that was not getting a clear signal. And our seats didn't fully recline.

By the time we reached our half-way break, I had taken off my shoes and socks, rolled my trousers up to my knees and lifted my t-shirt into a crop-top yet the sweat was still pouring off me.

My shoes had almost melted, the packed lunch we'd brought most certainly had. The tepid fart coming out of the aircon could not be directed usefully. All this combined with a lack of sleep, didn't make for a pleasant journey.

By 6am, we were in Izmir Bus Station looking for the service bus home. "We're not going where you want because of road works". But you picked me up from there didn't you? "You'll have to get on this one and make your own way from there". Anything else your company wants to do to us today?

We struggle on with our luggage and sit down and wait a long 15 minutes for the smelly, sweaty transit van to cough into life. "Just so there's no mistakes, this bus is going to Bornova". Mistake!!!!

The git had put us on the wrong bus. "Oh you want the service bus  just pulling out there". STOP THAT BUS!

Throwing our bags out of one and onto another, whilst ignoring the tuts from idiots, we were finally going home.

We get off at the last stop and hail a cab. "We're going to Hatay". We say exhausted but relieved.

"Where's that then?" Are you serious? Oh god, this is never-ending.

"It's back over there!" I say frustrated. He then proceeds to reverse us into a ridiculously busy roundabout. Only milimetres away from a fatal collision with a local bus, he decides that reversing is too dangerous and opts for driving forwards ...the wrong way round the roundabout.

Here I am, finally. Sleepless and furious. I'm writing this publicly to spread the word that, based on this one experience, Kamil Koc are a shower of shit and should be avoided at all costs. They are rude, useless, ignorant, have no desire to please the customer, lie to get custom, leave their passengers stranded and are generally an enormous pile of shit.

If I can be bothered to ever take a bus again, I'll try someone else. Any recommendations welcome.

Thank you for reading and remember:

Wednesday, 14 January 2009

Money to burn

I'm now in the middle of my 2nd winter here in Turkey (last year I was back in the UK for 6 months and missed the whole thing). For a country that fears the cold, Turkey seems pretty poorly equipped to warm itself efficiently.

Having been born and raised in the UK (a country with weather more temperamental than a menstruating polar bear), I don't remember there ever being too much of a problem in keeping my house warm. The classic British route is Gas Central Heating; a system so common its initials alone are enough in a estate agent's advert - GCH.

My first Turkish winter took me by complete surprise. I never imagined Turkey could get so cold. But I was living in a 'summer house', meaning a house that was built for summer jollies not for winter residence. The walls are thin. The windows are single glazed. Things that are ideal in the heat of the summer but completely energy inefficient in the winter.

I tried an electric fire at first but in the words of Withnail, I may as well have "sat round a cigarette". The wiring in the flat was so ancient, the cables were heating up more than the fire itself.

Then I tried the old fashioned route of the coal burner. I'm sure I mentioned this before in the blog. Very useful but hard work and potentially lethal. Noxious fumes nearly took my life on at least one occasion as did hauling coal up from the garage. In a house with no insulation, the heat was fierce but soon disappeared.

Since moving to Izmir and into the teachers' residence, I've discovered a new system. I have big radiators on the walls with pipes leading back into a cupboard with a huge tumble drier type machine. From there the pipes continue out onto the balcony to a large diesel tank. Yes, a big square tank about the size of 4 large fridges, that you fill up with diesel. I was intrigued (and freezing) so I decided to give it a go.

How does it work? Well the other night I saw a petrol tanker outside in the road. You know the kind you see driving up the M6 with 'BP' written on the side. Well I shouted down and a man scurried up. The next thing I know I'm ordering 100 litres of diesel and watching it being pumped into an 'ashtray' sized hole in the top of the huge tank (I know it's ashtray sized because I've been using an ashtray to cover the hole - call me over cautious but people smoke on the balcony. 1 cigarette+100 litres of petrol=Boom!).

About £100 of diesel later, the system was ready to go. I pressed the button and... fuck all. 3 days later they fitted a new pump and I pressed the button again. Whoooooooffff! My god, did it ignite. It's smelly and noisy but it certainly pumped out sufficient heat. When I say smelly and noisy, imagine a Ford Transit idling under the stairs.

That was 10 days ago and it ran out of fuel yesterday. Nice. So, it's going to cost me about £400 per month to heat this fucking place? Why? Well because Turkey has the most expensive petrol prices in the world. That's why!



So, in igniting the diesel burner, I was effectively doing this...



Actually, this would have probably worked out cheaper! Why didn't I do the calculations first??

So, what are the options for keeping warm through a Turkish winter?
  1. Coal burner. Already discussed. Cheap. Efficient. Dirty. Lethal.
  2. Gas burner. Old school types your nan had. Saw one in the florist the other day. The guy said it was useful but the fumes are deadly.
  3. GCH. Only available in certain parts of Izmir. Not here yet.
  4. Diesel burner. See above.
  5. Olive stone burner. No, I'm not making this up. You can get a burner that uses a fuel made from the stones of olives. Very cheap and effective but you need to give 3 rooms of your house over to storing olive pips. Tinker, tailor, soldier, fuck that.
  6. ...and the one that everyone has been suggesting since the beginning to be honest... One of these babies:



This is called a UFO. Most people seem to be using them. So I'm off to Turkish B&Q tomorrow to get me one. No doubt it'll give me skin cancer but at least I'll be warm without having to sell my possessions.