Category: Turkey & Turkish

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

Auntie Beeb recently ran an article about gays in the military – not in America this time – but in our foster home. It makes comical reading. For young gay Turks to receive their pink exemption slip (I prefer lilac myself) they have to prove their perversion with photographic evidence. Got a few holiday snaps of you being bummed on the beach in Bodrum? Now, young man, it only counts if you’re Martha not Arthur. The next best thing is to see you in a frock and slingbacks*. Anything floral by Laura Ashley will do. You couldn’t make it up.

For all those wasted years of navel gazing by the horrified higher echelons of the British armed forces, gay and lesbian Britons are now allowed to serve their country. People who know a great deal more than I do about these things say this has had absolutely no detrimental effect on the operational efficiency of Her Maj’s army, air force or navy (well, it’s always been rum and bum in the navy anyway). Military failure is reserved for our hapless politicians who send our brave boys (and girls) out to fight wars they can’t win.

Let’s face it, when it came to periods of genuine national emergency (like a world war), no one cared less where you put it. We were all cannon fodder back then (unless you were Quentin Crisp, of course).

Thank you to Pansyfan Paul who sent me the article.

*A cock in a shock frock reminds me of my encounter with transsexual prostitutes on my very first trip to Istanbul in 2003, but that’s another story.

Unfinished Business

This year, direct Sleazyjet flights to Milas-Bodrum airport start on 26th March. Low gear hassling, a fresh lick of whitewash, flourishing floral fauna and ruins un-ruined by a savage sun makes springtime in the Aegean a Turkish delight. Braving a last minute tantrum by grumpy old Mother Nature, savvy travellers might be tempted to try out Bodrum just as the town emerges from the short, sharp winter. Come by all means but, this year, give Bodrum itself a wide berth and go exploring elsewhere. This year’s spring clean is more of a root and branch demolition. Some bits I thought were completed last year have been dug up again. Why? Who knows. Will Turkey ever be finished? Probably not.

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Another Twist in the Trail

Another twist in the visa trail. According to advice published on the British Embassy website, there is now something called a ‘tourist residence permit’. As far as I can understand it, this permit lasts for up to six months and will enable visitors to stay in Turkey for up to nine months when combined with the standard three month tourist visa. This could be the answer for those people who come to Turkey for more than three months in a rolling twelve month period (because they have a holiday home here, for example) but whose country of residence is elsewhere. I fully accept that I could be misreading this. Maybe this has always been the case? Who knows? The dense language would never win a plain English award.

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Resident Aliens

Eurovision Helps the Aged

After the epic drama of yesterday’s post, I give you something light and frothy. Eurovision fever has come early this year. Armenia has withdrawn from the competition because of a problem with the Azeris (all about the frozen dispute of Nagorno-Karabakh), the Russians will be represented by a group of grannies called, er, The Grannies and Blighty has chosen our very home-grown wrinkly in the form of Engelbert Humperdinck, 75 years young. And why not? It gets camper every year and we love it.

The Turkish entry was selected last month. No doubt it was an instant hit right across the smoky salons of this wintry land. Zimmerless Can Bonomo (that’s Jan Bonomo to non-Turkish speaking pansy fans – C is a hard J in Turkish) will be bouncing about the stage in Baku, the Azeri capital, to the beat of his energetic ditty, Love Me Back. It’s in English (well, Globalish) and features a gypsy riff. The jury’s out on whether jumping Jan will make it through the semis. What do you think?

Eurovision trivia – In the history of its involvement, Turkey has awarded the most points to the UK and received the most points from Germany. I didn’t think anyone voted for Blighty these days.

Goodbye to the Turkish Living Forum

nooseThe Turkish Living Forum has been hijacked by religious nutters and right wing bigots. I won’t be returning. And neither will many others judging by the private messages I’ve received. The tiresome exchange (well, mostly a fascist rant from the usual suspects) on UK marriage equality was allowed to shout on for three days. I’m not talking about people who oppose same sex marriage. That’s a difference of opinion, a legitimate example of free speech which I cherish. I’m referring to those who seem obsessed with man-on-man genital acts (always suspicious) as if being gay is all about sodomy (er, it isn’t) and those who were allowed to call for the extermination of gay people (Jawohl, mein Führer). Is this what the forum has been reduced to? Are the owners just in it for the hate money?

This offending comment was eventually removed by the moderators and the thread was then closed. Too little, too late, I’m afraid. The moderators were caught sleeping on the job. I will be watching from afar and if this hate campaign is allowed to continue, I will report it to the British Police as inciting hatred on the grounds of sexual orientation, a criminal offence in England and Wales since March 2010. Political correctness gone too far? Tough. You reap what you sow.

There are other forums to join such as Turkey Central where the discussion is more measured and actually about Turkish living.

Bodrum Reborn

Barring a few meteorological mishaps and last-minute mayhem from Mother Nature, I think spring has sprung. We’re not leaving until the summer, so we intend to make the most of what we have left. We’ve washed down the patio furniture and shampooed the cushions, wiped the windows and showered the courtyard. Patio doors have been flung open to freshen the musk and murder the mould. We were regaled by the call to prayer at full volume and the first row of the season between our Turkish neighbours. It was a corker of a commotion with Beril’s throat at full throttle. Welcome to Bodrum reborn.

I’ve suffered a premature exclamation. Since I wrote this we’ve had that meteorological mishap. An instant cold snap has slapped us about the face like an icy flannel. We lunched with the Belles today at a modest promenade eaterie. Over the pide (Turkish pizza), Jessica gazed up at the uniform blanket of light grey and remarked ‘I think it’ll snow today.’ And lo and behold, it did. It was just a weak little flurry of flakes and was over in a jiffy, but it was a bona fide blizzard. Our first and probably our last.

Yum!

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No Going Back on Going Back

‘In the beginning there was work and work was God. After 35 years in the business, the endless predictability made me question the Faith.’

I wrote those words on the 8th October 2010, the opening sentence of my debut post on a brand new blog about a couple of silly, cynical old queens who decided to jump the good ship Blighty and wade ashore to Asia Minor as gay semigreys (or is it semigays? No, that would be those who dip in and out). For a minority report, the blog’s done rather well. Now there’s a book. That’s done rather well too. Remarkable. Both crept up behind us without hint or herald. Maybe we should have listened to the early advice of our playground peers and kept our backs to the wall. Too late now.

We planned to stay in Turkey for a good few years, slowly descend into memory loss and erectile dysfunction disguised by a haze of alcohol, then paddle back to Blighty for the liver transplant and wait for the Grim Reaper’s call. Sadly, it’s not to be. I’d like to do author things and keep the pennies (and believe me I do mean pennies) rolling in. I can do neither in Turkey. There’s another reason. An important reason. There are pressing family issues that cannot be ducked or delayed. If you have read the book you will understand:

“One day, our Turkish adventure might be curtailed. We were prepared.” (Chapter 12)

That time has come.

Where will we be laying our hatboxes next? Well, there’s a clue in the picture below. Hint – it’s not in Soho.

Where is this?

Thank you Turkey for breaking the umbilical cord between wages and lifestyle. Thank you Turkey for giving me the time and space to write. Thank you Turkey for handing me a story on a plate. We hope one day to return. But, for now there’s no going back on going back.

Perking the Pansies2 (464 x 700)The photo above is a picture of one of the great cathedrals of England but where is it? Answer correctly for the chance to win* a signed copy of Perking the Pansies, Jack and Liam move to Turkey. Submit your answer by commenting on this post.

*The winner will be chosen at random by Liam from correct entries submitted before 4th March 2012. Comments containing entries to the competition will not be published until after this date so no cheating. The book will be shipped free to the winner to any address in the UK or Turkey. Delivery elsewhere (Mongolia, the dark side of the Moon, etc) may incur charges depending on the cost. Those who already know the answer are banned (we know who you are).

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In the Beginning

And the Winners Are…

Norwich?!

Zenne Dancer

A Bodrum Belle of our acquaintance recently saw Zenne Dancer, a ground breaking indie movie about a male belly dancer. The film, which has won major awards in Turkey, was inspired by the true story of a Kurdish student who was gunned down by his own father for being openly and unrepentantly gay. As our Turkish remains lamentably poor, we’ll have to wait for the subtitled version before we get to see it.

The film caused quite a stir in the Turkish press and among the chattering classes (us included) – not all of which has been negative. Some of the debate was reported in the Guardian  in an article called From Homophobia to a Moving Apology in Turkey*. This demonstrates that Turkey is indeed a complex web of paradoxes and contradictions. This conflict is also illustrated in From Diyarbakir with love: Kurdish, gay and proud, a Pink News article that talks of the double struggle for ethnic and sexual identity among the Kurdish LGBT community in South-east Turkey. Two steps forward, one step back.

*Thank you to Johnny Hogue for sending me this article.

Censorship Getting Madder

My ‘Welcome‘ page on the Facebook Perking the Pansies Book site is no longer available in Turkey. The page is supplied courtesy of a third party application called Pagemodo. Perhaps Pagemodo has just been added to the very, very long (and getting longer) list of sites blocked by lazy Turkish censors. First the lights went out on my blog, then my personal site, now a harmless promo page on Facebook. This is all getting a little tedious. How is an indecent boy meant to make a decent living round here?

The Postman Never Rings Twice

The Turkish postal system is a hit and miss affair at the best of times. We do get mail delivered to our house. Well, not delivered exactly, more chucked over the wall into the garden. I’m not joking. The postman always rings twice? Round these parts he can’t be arsed to ring at all. Thankfully, we’ve had little to do with post services since our arrival from Blighty. This is just as well. Receiving the credit card bill a week after it is due to be paid is a novel approach to financial management. Recently though, I’ve been sending one or two of my books to people hereabouts. Complementary, of course; I’m not allowed to make money here. I’ve been down to the main post office in the centre of Bodrum a couple of times now. What is it that makes post office counter staff the world over miserable, surly and unhelpful?