It's all Greek to me #1 - The Alphabet

One of the greatest things about the Turkish language (despite being able to insult a person's entire heritage in only a few syllables), is the fact it's completely phonetic. So, once you've learned the separate sounds of the alphabet, (theoretically) you can read and write without any problem (though you may not know what you're reading or writing).

To get you started, here's the Turkish alphabet in full:



So once you've learned that, you can begin to funk it up a little:



You'll notice some of the letters are missing from the English alphabet. But don't worry, Turks make up for them with clever combinations of other letters. For example, why have an 'x' when you can put 'ks' together. So 'taxi' becomes 'taksi'. Makes sense no?

And vice versa, they simplify some of our 'clever' combinations and create a whole new letter. So 'sh' becomes 'ş' and 'ch' becomes 'ç'. Brilliant.

The Turkish alphabet also loses some of the Anglo-Alphabet stupidity. The 'ph' absurdity is, quite rightly, simplified to an 'f' - so 'photograph' becomes the far more sensible 'fotoğraf' (though they daft it up again by using the soft 'g').

This carefully crafted alphabet is still very young. The 29 Latin characters replaced the old Ottoman script on 1 November 1928. In one day, Ataturk implemented his reform on the language of a nation. Fuck that for a game of soldiers. Change is never easy. Ever seen the confused, desperate look on peoples' faces when they move the eggs to a different aisle in the supermarket? Now imagine trying to get the nation write Chinese.

Like the French, The Turks have a government body dedicated to protecting the language. Though not quite as fiercely as the French, who do love to change incoming words to make them their own (do you know the French word for 'walky-talky'? It's 'talky-walky'. Genius).

So what happens to a fast food chain like Wimpy when it comes to Turkey?



You see there are some sounds that the Turks just can't pronounce.

'Th' for example, is hardened to a 'd' or 't'.

'V' and 'w's are, pretty much, exchanged.

So you get something like "I tink dis vedder is lowely".

Conversely, there are many Turkish sounds that Westerners can't handle. Basically any of their letters with two dots or a hat is going to cause us trouble. 'ö' and 'ü' are bad news. The 'ğ' is also going to need practice. This is the soft or 'yumuşak g' that the guys in the second song got so excited about. Basically, it's job is to lengthen the vowel before it.

Anyway, why am I harping on about all this when I still can't speak the lingo myself? Well it started when I was out driving the other day and I saw a sign. As I said before, Turkish is phonetic. It is also very new and has borrowed armfuls of vocabulary from other languages. This combination allows for some moments of genius that, to be honest, tickle me.

OK, time for a little quiz. I'm going to give you some Turkish words and you have to guess the English:



Yes, it's a, phonetically perfect, Music-hall.



Of course, it's the canteen.



Come on, the clue's in the picture. It's a ferry boat.



Did you know there was a Turkish Wikipedia?

And there you have it, the Turkish ABC. Not as bonkers as the Welsh:

Random Turkish Fact #12

Turkish kitchen roll has perforations at twice the interval of the British. Meaning you can tear off a 'half sheet'. Tight, shrewd or just mental, you decide.

Famous Turks #3

Mousse T.



Real name: Mustafa Gündoğdu
Date of birth: 2 October 1966
Famous for: "I'm horny, horny, horny, horny. So horny, I'm horny, horny, horny, horny."

Famous Turks #2

Father Christmas



Real name: Saint Nicholas of Myra
Aliases: Santa Claus
Date of Birth: Sometime in 270
Died: 6 December 346
Place of birth: Demre, Turkey
Famous for: Creeping into sleeping kids' bedrooms, pissed on sherry, and emptying his sack into their socks.

This trick is to keep your hands wet

Do you get the feeling this Turkish guy is getting a fair amount of satisfaction from teaching this foreign reporter how to use the potters' wheel?

If men think about sex every seven seconds, I would argue that it's only every seven seconds that Turkish men think about something else.

Famous Turks #1

Roland "You'll burst" Browning from Grange Hill



Real name: Erkan Mustafa
Date of birth: 14th May 1970
Famous for: Obese Grange Hill victim 1982-1987

Barberian II

I've just got back from my first trip to a barber without glasses (me without glasses, not the barber). I'd forgotten how scary it was to see a haircut halfway through. I used to just sit and watch the blurred colours and shapes until my glasses were given back for me to approve that which, by that point, I'd no other choice but to approve. This time, however, I could see the full progress. Internal conversations went from "that's a bit short" to "can you put the phone down and focus?" to "WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE?!??!" to "Oh I see, that's clever".

I went back to Ahmet, my teenage barber with the face of an olive-skinned Spike Lee (go figure) and the voice of a chain smoking octogenarian. He wasn't his usual self today though. His coiffurial performance was somewhat lackluster. Conversationally, however, he was considerably cruder than normal.

The topic of the day was how he'd spent the previous weekend sodomising his girlfriend to near paraplegia. "She couldn't walk for a week" he boasted with a rasp. Congratulations. Why don't you break her arms as well? "You have to give them a healthy fuck otherwise they'll cheat. Do you ever fuck them so hard that you start hitting them?", can't say I have but it's nice to know I'm in safe hands as you wave that razor around my jugular.

I tried to fake sleep but he'd just lean in a whisper bad things in my ear. To be perfectly honest, I was happy when we reached the final geling (though he spent a couple of minutes describing how to use hair gel as a lubricant - complete with gesticulation).

I will be monitoring Ahmet's social decline carefully. It may be time to seek another barber.

Random Turkish Fact #11

The Turkish word for 'rat' is 'sıçan' which translates to 'the one that shits'.

Turkish Truths #3

Giving a young boy suppositories will make him 'turn gay'.

Turkish Superstitions #2

Scratching your nose whilst looking at someone means you'll have an argument with them in the future.

Simon Swears ...in Turkish!

You know I love all things sweary. Thank you to Nomad for tracking down this gem. I had great fun with it until I realised the school's head of HR could probably hear it from her office. Just click on the image to play!

Turkish Superstitions #1

A slipper landing upside down means a death in the family.

One man and his massive dog

I went to the Izmir Pet Show not long ago. It was surprisingly busy in the exhibition hall. The biggest difference I noticed between this and London shows were the blokes flogging puppies and kittens like market traders.



Besides that, by far the most popular attraction were the Kangals (you should read the Wiki entry for them. It's clearly written by a Turk. Genius). They're a Turkish version of a border collie, I guess. But somewhat bigger. They are Chuck Norris to the Border Collie Charlie's Angels. They fight bears for Christ's sake.

On doing some research, I found a rather strange similarity in the way people photograph their Kangals. It seems that, in order to successfully photograph this particular breed:

1. You need to be in a standing embrace with the dog and
2. One or both of you should be sporting an erection.















The Kangal. Ideal for protecting your young children ...apparently.

Random Turkish Fact #10

The Turks don't have a word for 'boy'. There is a word for 'girl' but Turkish males pass directly from 'babies' to 'men'.

Ask about Holes

I was writing a 'body parts' quiz for the kids at school and I thought I'd try a couple of questions out on my girlfriend's mum.

Me: "We have eight of these on our body. What are they?"

GFM: "Hmmmmm. Holes! Yes, holes... Two in the nose. Ears, three and four. Mouth, five. Hmmmm. Belly button, six..."

Me: "Fingers!! It's fingers".

Random Turkish Fact #9

Whereas Brits use surnames in formal situations (i.e. 'Mr. Holmes'), Turks use forenames (i.e. 'John Bey' meaning 'Mr. John'). Bonkers.

A Saturday jaunt from Bornova to Goztepe.

I went to Ikea in Bornova today to have a coffee with my big cousin. I thought I'd stick the camera on the dashboard on the way home. It's kinda calming and scary at the same time.

See how many dangers you can spot. Plus extra points for those who can find the man dressed as a jester directing traffic (honestly, he's there). Enjoy...

Should have checked it with a passing tourist #1

Now Remax isn't a small company right? So how did they manage this fucking mess? Here's how:

Cengiz: "Ahmet, you finished that advert yet?"
Ahmet: "Yeah, ages ago!"
Cengiz: "Let me have a look."
Ahmet: "Nice huh?"
Cengiz: "Yeah great. Masallah, your English is fantastic."
Ahmet: "Health to your eyes and mouth."

Random Turkish Fact #8

50% of Turkish women give birth by Caesarian section.

When asked why this figure should be so high, most people suggested 'convenience' as the probable explanation. The doctor can have a bed ready, the parents can put the date in their diaries and the friends and family can order the flowers.

The World Health Organisation suggests 15% of all births should be c-section. In 2008, the UK reached 25%.

Nice tits love, where do you want the blind?

I remember it clearly; I was ten years old... or was I eleven? I had been finding it hard to see the blackboard so mum took me for an eye test. I remember hoping they'd say I needed glasses. Why I would wish for that, I still don't really know. Something new, perhaps. Well, be careful for what you wish for. They told my mum I needed glasses.

At first, I was given the classic horn-rimmed NHS specials. I think I even had a plaster wrapped around the arm of them at one point.

Over the years I've gone through my fair share of specs as the eighties and nineties came and went. With every passing year my love of my specs faded as did my focus until my prescription deteriorated to, a reasonably blind, -5.75.





So what was it about glasses I didn't like? So many things really.

1. Waking in the morning and not being able to see the time until I'd found my specs.
2. Losing my friends/sunbed/beach/dignity every time I went for swim.
3. Going to hamams and not being sure who was massaging me.
4. Walking into pubs in winter and not being able to see for 5 minutes while the condensation cleared.
5. Not being able to see what I'm washing in the shower.
6. Not being able to see what I'm shaving after the shower.
7. Only seeing what the barber's done to me after it's too late.
8. Needing windscreen wipers in the rain.
9. Paying opticians hundreds of pounds for a couple of bits of glass just for the privilege of sight.
10. Having no peripheral vision.
11. Smudges.
12. Scratches.
13. Having to buy sunglasses that make me look like a sex offender.
14. Not being able to comfortably do extreme sports (what?).

I'm sure hundreds of other things will come to me after I publish this story.

I'd considered laser eye surgery for a while and I'd heard that people were coming from Europe to Turkey for the op. The thought of surgery on the eye seemed pretty extreme and I battled with the idea for years.

If you ask your friends their opinion, you'll get mixed responses. "I didn't think you were so vain", "you've got more money than sense", "go for it!", "best thing I've ever done", "I can't drive at night anymore", "you get used to the dry eyes", "is going blind worth the small inconvenience of having to clean your glasses?"...

I think you have to search for the facts and stats and make your own judgment call. I'd looked at the sites created by people who'd encountered side effects and nothing had really scared me. Finally I thought that we take so many risks everyday but the benefits would be huge. I was ready to take the chance.

I'd been to one of the British companies and they had refused to treat me as my prescription was still on the move. But that was some time ago. I felt it was time to try again.

I researched the best surgeon in Izmir and one name stood out from the pack; Dr Mahmut Kaşkaloğlu. He has his own hospital here in Izmir and seems to be the man when it comes to lasik.

I'd done my research. I knew the treatment I was looking for: Intralasik. This uses a laser to cut flaps in my mince pies rather than a knife. Nice.

So this is what happened...

Day 1 (Friday) - I went for a meeting with the good doctor. The meeting was brief with a swift eye test. Other tests were done, like the glaucoma puff of air and a scan of the topography of my cornea. I'm sure the meeting was fine, I just don't think that appointment can ever be long enough for a person about to have lasers carve their eyes.

Day 2 (Monday) - Appointment at 3pm. I turned up and signed a waiver that I wouldn't sue anyone should I become blind. Believe me, it's a hard thing to read, let alone sign.


"Look on the bright side," my brother said "if you go blind, at least you'll be able to play the harmonica".

I was then given a tranquiliser. "Do you drink alcohol?" the nurse asked.

"Sometimes. I haven't today though" I replied confused but jokingly. Hearing that, she gave me another tranquiliser. Was it something I said? Though it tickled me when a guy from the waiting room then stood up, came over and asked if he could also have another one.

It seemed strange that about 15 minutes after the tranquilisers were given, I was invited downstairs to pay. It did make it easier to be honest.


I love tranquilisers!

After another sight test and lots more questions for the doctor, it was time to go. I kissed my girlfriend goodbye and told her that this may be the last time I see her.

They took me upstairs and laid me on a slab. Drops were put in my eyes and I heard the voice of the doctor. "How are you Billy? How's your uncle?" (I've yet to find a place on Earth where someone doesn't know my uncle).

Then the weirdness began. A patch was placed over one eye and a clamp in the other (it was somewhere between Pirates of the Caribbean and A Clockwork Orange). Then my vision closed in and I was blinded. Believe me, that's not a nice feeling. A strange suction pressed down onto my eyeball and there was a dentist drill type whirring and a very light sharp pain. The procedure was repeated on the other eye and I was ask to stand up.

I couldn't help but try and look. There was a weird starburst effect as I looked at the lights. Some nurses (I'm not sure how many) lead me into a waiting room and sat me on, what looked like, a dentist chair.

I could hear voices and someone was holding my hand. "Keep your eyes closed" they said in Turkish. "You're OK sir, aren't you? Tell me if you don't feel well".

"Sure, I'm fine, fine." I replied.

"OK good. Just tell me if you feel unwell".

"No, I'm fine". Is it me or is it getting hot in here?

I remember having a skin flap removed by a Turkish barber once and coming over a little queer. Please don't let history repeat itself.

"You're OK aren't you sir?"

"Yep, super. You?". They just cut a flap in your eye. Ewwwww. Think of that. I don't want to think of that. Go on, think of that a bit. You're going to faint aren't you? No, I'm not. I've never fainted. I think you might this time though.

"Sir?"

"Yeah, I don't feel very well".

"Right, nurse!" The next thing I felt was my feet being lifted up and a heart rate monitor being attached to my hand. "Your blood pressure has dropped a little".

"Yeah, I know" and I proceeded to tell them the skin flap story. Should I tell them that I puked and needed a lie down when my mum got her ears pierced? Nah, let's try and maintain a thread of dignity... with my feet being held above my head, wearing an eye patch and a hair net.

"Are you alright there Billy?" I recognised that voice. It was the doc. Oh god, I must look a right charlie.

"Fine thanks, Doctor. Just the excitement".

"So are we done?" I asked as the sweating slowed.

"Just a little bit more" came a voice. "OK can you stand?". With a little help, I was walked back into the operating theatre and under a different machine.

The clamp was back in my eye but I didn't feel any suction. I also didn't lose my vision until... what the fuck is that being brushed over my eyeball? And then, oh Jesus, I just saw him lift the flap up. That's the point it goes blurred. When the doctor flaps open your fucking cornea.

So when the nurse said there was a little bit left to do, what she meant was - all we've done is cut you, we haven't actually lasered shit yet. Brace yourself sonny, the best is yet to come.

The next part was kinda cool, though. A series of red lights scanning over my eye and clicking. What wasn't cool was the smell of burning skin and my corneal stroma was re-modeled (see how I can use these terms so casually in my day-to-day speech these days?). That procedure was fairly uncomfortable. It was probably fine but not knowing what's coming allows your brain to predict far greater pain.

The doctor tried to take my mind of it with questions about my CELTA, living in Izmir and other shit that I really wasn't interested in answering while my sight was on the line. But, good on him for trying.

Within minutes, it was over and I was helped to my feet. They handed me a pair of lab goggles and told me to wait downstairs.


Can I open my eyes yet?

My eyes were firmly closed as the discomfort started to build. This was probably the worst part of the procedure. My girl was waiting for me and slipped me a painkiller.


I came here to lose the glasses and you give me an even bigger pair?

The nurse arrived with a list of drops I needed to get and the news that I should be back in the morning for a check up.

Having to keep your eyes closed whilst walking through the busy streets of Alsancak is fun for the first 30 seconds.

Day 3 - Tuesday. Back to hospital for a check up. I met the extremely upbeat Mrs Kaşkaloğlu. She was fantastic. She took a look in my eyes and said "The operation was a great success. Your vision is 0 and -0.25. That's pretty much perfect. Your life is going to change forever. Now get out of here, go on!". All that was missing was a slap on my arse as I skipped out of there.


The damage was caused by that suction thingy. But it was necessary or the laser would have just cleaned my ears out.

So what happens now? I have another check up next week. Then another in a month. I have to keep my eyes clean and pour artificial tears in them every hour. I should avoid sunlight and try to keep them closed as much as possible (I'm wearing my sunglasses as I write this).

But that's about it. For the first time since I was ten (or eleven) I woke up this morning and didn't need to reach for my glasses (I did though. That habit might take some time to lose).

Metaphorical differences #1

How do Turks refer to this kind of stomach muscle formation?

They call it baklava.

...and Brits? A 6-pack.

Class.

Things I think about while my girlfriend's looking at make-up #1

Now I live in Turkey, if I acted my shoe size instead of my age, I'd be 43.

Every little helps!

I have always been a massive fan of supermarket shopping (something for the memoirs). Imagine my joy when Tesco (under the brand 'Kipa') became one of the biggest chains here in Turkey.

It's great. I can find brown sauce and 'Value' toilet paper just down the road in Balcova like I could back home in Kingston.

Sometimes, though, Kipa will come up with something subtle that'll make me realise I'm not in Kansas anymore.

Here's a recent promotion that made me do a double-take. Actually, it made me double-take, pick up the flyer, take it home, install a scanner, scan it in and post it up here. You can all thank me later.



Yes, it's a Tesco "Back to the Army" promotion. Full kit bag for 99 Lira. It includes:

• 1 x Rucksack
• 3 x T-Shirts
• 3 x Socks
• 3 x Underpants
• 1 x Soap bag (empty)
• 1 x Bath towel
• 1 x Hand towel
• 1 x Soap dish
• 1 x Dirty/Clean laundry bags
• 1 x Laundry net
• 1 x Coat hanger
• 1 x Sewing set
• 1 x Boot polishing kit
• 1 x Bathroom slippers
• 1 x Toothbrush
• 1 x Nail clippers
• 1 x Foot powder
• 1 x Insoles
• 1 x Wallet
• 1 x Padlock
• 1 x Pocket torch

You've got to just love it. Now, if this promotion ran in Kingston, the store would sell out of flour, sugar and canned meat within minutes.

Things I'd never done before moving to Turkey #3

Wear a vest.

In England, if you wear a vest, you're probably old enough to remember rationing. In Turkey, men wear vests. It's as simple as that.

I tell you what though, I forgot what a good idea they are!

October Roundup

It's been a busy month. With school starting again, I've been kept insanely busy. It's been a good start to term though. I was adamant that I would be stricter this year and it's worked mostly. Though as the weeks are passing, the kids can smell my true personality and are starting to have a laugh. But I prefer it that way. Though I did have a 3rd grader grab my arse and say 'Masallah' the other day. That's just wrong.

In other news, I hosted a Halloween party in my flat the other night. It was a lot of fun. Especially as Turks don't really know what to make of fancy dress parties. They got the idea though.

In case you can't guess. I was Michael Jackson.

I remember house parties back in Blighty and I remember the absolute carnage. I never really threw them myself because you could be fairly sure your house would be absolutely wrecked by dawn (not a particular person, I mean sunrise - though Dawn was a clumsy bastard).

But when I woke the following morning (hangover-free I might add. probably due to giving up smoking and being 'of the age' where the room starting to turn is a red flag to switch from booze to juice) the house was pretty much tip-top. Was it the Halloween gremlins at work? Not far off actually. There were Turkish women present.

99.8% of Turkish women have acute OCD. The dishwasher had been filled. The empty bottles had been moved to the balcony and the rubbish taken out. Absolute bargain. All I had to worry about was constructing a fry-up.

This month also saw Ramadam (remember the festival with the fasting and stuff?). That was cool. I managed my token 1 day again.

I quit the fags!

We also had the 29th October festival. This commemorates the foundation of the Turkish Republic. Quite a biggy in terms of public holidays.

Some other exciting news is that Best Buy is about to launch its first store in Turkey just down the road. Media Markt opened its doors to people who'd been queuing through the night last Wednesday. Soon we're going to have 4 or 5 electronic megastores right next to each other and right next to me ...oh dear, the geek within is getting a little too excited about all this.

I stopped smoking.

Something strange happened today... Winter came. People say that this is what happens in Izmir. One day it's summer, the next it's winter. The air is filled with the smell of coal burners and I rushed out and bought myself and new electric fire.

Oh yes, I almost forgot. My flat now has a new sofa and a brand spanking new LCD TV. So much for the plans to get in shape. I can now watch Deal or No Deal with such clarity that I feel I'm in the studio, crying with them.

Most exciting of all, my brother is coming for a flying visit with the kids tomorrow. They're coming to surprise my dad on his birthday. So, if you see my dad, don't tell him please. It's a surprise.

Oh and did I mention that I've stopped smoking?

Things I'd never done before moving to Turkey #2

Getting fairly excited about a dinner of tripe and liver. Had some last night, in fact.

What I had was a dish called 'kokorec'. You will often see it being sold on the streets (I don't think I've ever seen it in a restaurant).

It's basically intestines wrapped around a skewer and grilled over charcoal. Nice.

It's then chopped and put in a sandwich.

Now, what does that remind me of?

I think I'm going to buy me a cart and earn some cash down Covent Garden.

Tourists take note: You're going to get pissed and end up eating it so this is just a heads up to you. It is tripe.

You see, when Brits get pissed in Britain, they eat doner kebabs. When Turks get pissed in Turkey, they eat tripe. Either grilled in the form of kokorec or as the garlic-based soup, iskembe corbasi. Personally, nothing's going to tip the balance of an alcoholic queasy feeling quicker than the thought of tripe. Turks are hard as fucking nails. Even the girls.

My girlfriend, after a few shandies, likes nothing more than a plate of rice topped with a sheep's face. Rock hard.

How does a muslim nation get swine flu anyway?

I first got the hint that something was wrong when the kids started asking "teacher, do you got pig grip?". Ah yes, that superstar illness is now on its Turkish tour.

I'm really saddened to see this happening. I had got used to it in the UK. From a country that produces little news, the media can make a mountain out of trivia for a good few months. If it isn't paedophiles it's bird flu. People bored of bird flu? How about immigrants? If all else fails, let's do another name and shame campaign. It's all complete shit.

If no one had ever told me about 'bird flu' or 'foot and mouth', I would never have known. I'm not being egocentric here. What I mean is, there are a thousand more likely ways for me (and anyone I know) to die. If a bird had flown into my mouth and I became diseased, I would probably have recovered fairly quickly without even having to pin a name on my discomfort. Had I licked the ankle of a riddled cow, neither me nor the cow would have bothered writing home about it.

The fact I was smoking over a pack a day should have been headline news, not this.

And we're back again with swine flu. Of course, it's terrifying. We know that to date over 4,000 have died globally from the disease. So what can we do about it?

Well, let me ask you another question. What are you doing about the normal flu? That kills somewhere between 250,000 and 500,000 people globally every year. So whatever you're doing to protect yourself from the flu, do about 1% of that for swine flu.

Yeah, yeah. I know I'm not the first person to go on a rant about the media selling fear. I just wanted to let off some steam. My hero, Maddox, does a far better job anyway.

It is a disgrace. The kids are being sent home with letters. Emergency meetings are being held. Everything is being bleached. It's completely bizarre.

Come on guys, this is Turkey. I'm in infinite more danger negotiating my way to the shop for a loaf of bread.

Signal?

Is it just me, or does this toothpaste campaign make anyone else feel somewhat uneasy?

Blood on the Dancefloor

Just been watching this new commercial for "Kotex Anydays cotton-soft fanny pads" and everything was rolling along normally when something broke my concentration. Just before the end of the advert, a guy sings something. Does he say "Michael Jackson" or is my grieving subconscious starting to mess with my hearing?

Random Turkish Fact #7

In complete reverse to the UK, Turks use a comma to indicate a decimal point and a point to indicate thousands. For example:

UK = 2,000.00
Turkey = 2.000,00

It's a fucked up world, my friends.

Deal or No Deal - Turkey vs UK

I've been wondering why the Turkish version of Deal or No Deal lasts almost 5 times as long as the UK version. Finally, I think I might have found the answer...

Adrenaline Junkie

I just got a ride home in a cab driven by a cross-eyed taxi driver. So extremely cross-eyed, he had to hold the money at an angle to read the denomination ...and I didn't even wear my seatbelt.

Bring me my next challenge!

Road Rage

Time to get away from the random Turkish facts for a moment and give you an update...

The school broke up for summer somewhere around the middle of July and we got a good clear two months holiday. I decided to hide myself away in Izmir. I've grown accustomed to the place and the thought of returning to the screaming tourists of Kusadasi having just aquired peace from the screaming children of Izmir seemed the wrong move. I stayed put.

Summer passed quickly with the help of a week touring the Baltics and a couple of weeks introducing my girlfriend to my folks in England and Spain. My chest barely saw the sun and school has reopened without much change in my skin tone. Oh well.

During my weeks in Izmir, I had the use of my father's car. I had always believed that I'd have no use for one in a city with such good public transport. But the truth is, it's very easy to get used to having wheels.

My father returned a couple of weeks ago and, with tears in my eyes, I handed back his car keys.

Right, I thought, time to get myself a motor. Afterall, I'm earning good money (for Turkey), got my own place (well not strictly my own but I can crap with the bathroom door open). The search began.

Now, at this point I should warn you that I'm likely to swear liberally throughout the coming paragraphs.

I am the first to admit that I'm the king of research. I use it as a very cunning form of procrastination. I currently have on my wishlist: a new PC, a new mobile phone, an alarm clock that wont allow me to 'snooze', a new LCD TV, a new watch, new pictures for the walls... the list continues. All of these items are going to see me keeping google in business for many months. I'll read reviews, scan price comparison sites, read technology forcasts, read historical price trends and anything and everything to postpone making a decision.

When choosing a car, the potential for research-based procrastination is almost limitless. Old or new, fast or slow, big or small, LPG or diesel, automatic or manual, fun or boring? Oh god please no!

In true TopGear style, here's my automotive history:

I learned to drive in a black Peugeot 205. Not a GTi or anything, a five-door run-around. But it was nippy and fun and got me out of Coventry every weekend without breaking down (well not the car anyway).

I loved that car. It was part of me. I could parralel park it like a stuntman. In fact, I think the fastest I've ever been in a car was in that little gem. My brother and I must have had it up to 125mph down the M4 leaving Heathrow after seeing our parents off on their holidays once (sorry mum, sorry dad).

The 205 finally died of neglect in the driveway. Mould started to grow on the back seats and a mate of a mate bought it for £50.

For the same money, my dad bought an old black mini which I borrowed for a while. There's always that fear when driving a mini that any kind of collision and you'll resemble a tin of tuna.

The mini died a spectacular death while I was tucked up in bed. A hoover, a terracotta flower pot, a riot squad, 2 meat wagons and a madman all conspired to comprehensively render the vehicle a right-off.

After that, I got myself a Mazda MX-5. Anyone who's ever driven an MX-5 will know the sheer pleasure they bring. I bought it from a lady in Reading. Something of a rescue mission if you ask me. That little car was fun! The number of times I lost control of the backend (and consequently my own) kept the adrenaline high. In time, though, a 2 seater became impractical. With only enough room in the boot for a bottle of pop and a bag of wheat crunchies, it made trips to Tesco something of an exercise in minimalist consumerism.

My next car was a Golf Mk4 1.6 Gti Turbo. Cunningly bought at a stupidly high price from a VW dealer. It had loads of problems but was reasonably swift. I sold it to pay for my plane ticket to Turkey.

So back to Turkey. What exactly is pissing me off? Let me give you an example...

What can you get in the UK for £2000?

.. and what can you get in Turkey for £2000?

You have got to be taking the piss! I kid you not, I have just done a quick scan for cars at this price range on both autotrader.co.uk and the Turkish sahibinden.com. Try it for yourself if you don't believe me.

Cars are stupidly expensive here. That, combined with the extortionate price of tax, insurance and the highest petrol prices in the world, mean it's literally cheaper for me to jump in a cab everytime I want to go somewhere.

I honestly don't know how people can ever afford to buy a car here. I'm not exagerating when I say that I could buy a flat for the price of a half-decent run-around.

A friend of mine offered an explanation. He said that, given the relative poverty of the country, people hold their possesions in great value. So second-hand bangers are worshipped by their owners and sold reluctantly.

Whatever the reason, I'm fuming. All I want is a reliable run-around to get me from A to B. For £50 my dad picked up the doomed mini. Here, the same car would set me back 4 grand!

Any suggestions welcome. If you need me, I'll be exactly where you fucking left me. Looks like I'm not going anywhere anytime soon.

Random Turkish Fact #6

Picture the scene... you're in a shop (any shop) with a lady friend (the relationship to you is not important). She asks the salesman a question about a product. 99.99% of the time, the salesman will direct his reply to you, as the man, without even a glance at the woman.

What's the reason for this? To be honest, I'm not really sure. Perhaps it's an assumption that the small brained woman won't comprehend his answer.

More likely, it's an attempt to avoid an "Oi! Why are you talking to my missus/mother/aunt/daughter, you fucking rapist?!" misunderstanding.

Still, it makes me laugh. Especially when I'm given an answer to a question about slingbacks that I have absolutely no chance (or inclination) of understanding.

Beware though, that 0.01% of the time can be taxing. In a shop yesterday, the salesman complemented my girlfriends shorts. Not wanting to appear a stranger to the culture, I smiled, took a deep breath and torched the place... fucking rapist.

Random Turkish Fact #5

Turks believe it's a sin to throw away bread.

Not a light-hearted Petshop Boys sin, but a serious sin worthy of celestial punishment. For this reason, you'll often see plastic bags of stale bread hanging next to rubbish bins.

Perhaps they're hoping someone will make use of it (though I'm not sure what your guests will say when you tell them you made the bread pudding out of stale bread found in a carrier next to the skip). Or perhaps they're deferring the punishment to someone else (after all, someone's eventually going to have to bin it). Thus it's probable that all Turkish dustmen are going to hell.

Souper Trooper!

I was in my favourite pideci (Turkish pizza restaurant) the other night. It's open 24/7, which is handy because the name of the restaurant is '7/24'. It's round the back of the main post office in Kusadasi if you're interested. You can't miss it, it's the one in the middle of the area famous for Turkish street walking prostitutes and directly opposite the hotel specialising in Ukranian 'escorts'. Just follow the transvestite hookers on mopeds (you'll probably hear them shouting selected terms from my 'random obscenities list' before you actually see them).

Once you've found the place, take a seat and browse the menu. They seem to have gone a bit more upmarket since I was last there (hence the scribbled and updated prices). Even the owner has shaved off his moustache, thus dragging himself into the 21st century (unaware that moustaches kinda came back in fashion with Earl).

Now a soup joint is kinda like a kebab shop in the UK. It's a place where piss-heads go to end their night. A little sustenance to sober them up enough to fool the copper that pulls them over for driving down the promenade naked.

Things can get a little lively at times and the owner has been known to reach for his baseball bat to calm a dispute. But, if you ask me, it's got to be the best soup and pide in town. I honestly recommend it.

So what kind of soup gets a Turk salivating after a heavy night on the Raki? Take a look at the menu below. It starts fine but swiftly goes very wrong. If this doesn't sober you up, not much will...

Random Turkish Fact #4

Turks consider it rude to blow your nose in company. They will take themselves off to a secluded spot to clear their trunks. A good old British raspberry into a hankerchief at the dinner table is met with glares of disdain. Be warned.

Things I'd never done before moving to Turkey #1

Hitting a woman with my car ...and blaming her

Whilst driving through a busy market (a first in itself), I clipped a woman with my wing-mirror. The strange thing was my initial response. I (and everyone else in the car) immediately blamed her for not moving out the way. It was only until a few streets later when I felt pangs of guilt.

People, never forget, in complete contrast to the UK, here in Turkey the car is king and pedestrians have to give way.

Random Turkish Fact #3

Turks keep a stool in the bath (no, I don't mean anything sinister). Apparently it's so they can sit down while they shower. Majestic laziness.

Turk ...ish Facebook Group

In a Dave Gorman-esque attempt to find people with a similar background, I've opened a Facebook Group solely for people from mixed Turkish descent.

So far there's only one member ...me. Can I really be the only half-breed out there? It only takes one stroll down Bar Street to indicate that this can't be true.

So if you know anyone who's half-Turkish, half-something else, please point them in the direction of the group.

I'm waiting...

http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=92474594902

Random Turkish Fact #2

When the cashier isn't looking, Turks steal plastic bags from supermarkets to use as bin bags at home. Another ploy (and the one I use) is to put every item in a separate bag. Thus ensuring you leave the supermarket stupid with carriers.

Barberian

Since relocating to Izmir, I've had to source a new barber. My current find is a 17 year old called Ahmet who's been working in the same place since he was 11.

Today was only the second time I've been to see him.

After giving me a mullet and waxing my nose, he slapped me on the back and said "the missus will love it!"

Well worth £5, I reckon.