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.