The Mausoleum of Halicarnassus

Let’s face it, not many people can claim to live on the same street as one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. No trip to Bodrum is complete without a look around the meagre ruins of the once magnificent Mausoleum of Halicarnassus (Bodrum that was) which are located a few hundred metres from our house. The vast tomb was constructed to inter the remains of King Mausolus in 350 BC (hence the origin of the word mausoleum). Remarkably, the monument survived virtually intact for seventeen centuries before it was felled by an earthquake in the middle ages. What remained was plundered by the Knights of St John to build the imposing crusader castle that now dominates the town. The fortress rises above the same strategic promontory where Mausolus’ palace once stood.

Admittedly, visitors need a vivid imagination to visualise how the monument once looked. All that really remains is a large hole in the ground with multiple fragments of pillars and dressed stones scattered about randomly. There is a bijou and rather tired museum which attempts to fill in some of the detail. It features a naff video on a loop: more of a tourist board advert for Bodrum. Typically, there’s more to be seen in the British Museum in London.

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Still, there’s something about the place. A pretty overgrown precinct provides a welcome tranquil respite from the heat, hassle and bustle of the modern town. We visited on a sunny spring day. The shrubbery was verdant and winter waters still trickled through the foundations covering the stones with algae and creating a pool in Mausolus’ burial chamber. It was teeming with tadpoles and other pond life. After an hour or so tumbling over the ruins, we popped home for a welcome cuppa.

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Jack the Hobbling Goblin

I’ve had an MOT at a local private hospital five minutes walk from the house. I thought it would be wise before re-entering the well-meaning but labyrinthine world of the National Health Service when we return to Blighty in a few weeks. It was prompted by a sudden and unexpected rise in my blood pressure. I used to be troubled by hypertension before our exodus but after entering Turkish airspace my blood pressure reverted to normal levels and stubbornly stayed there despite my lifestyle addictions.

Recently though, the bloody thing has been on the rise again and I’ve developed some difficulty walking anything more than a short hop. Hills in heels are a nightmare I can tell you. Like most men, I ignored it – until Liam nagged me into submission. After a determined and relentless campaign of drip-drip harrying, I conceded and made an appointment. I can report that the experience was easy, fast and efficient. A wonderful northern lass employed to guide witless foreigners ferried me around the system and smoothed the waters with tact and smiles.

The outcome? The good news is that my ticker (and wait for it) liver and lungs are all in fine form. I nearly fell off the back of my chair when the nice cardiologist told me that. The bad news? My cholesterol levels are through the roof, my blood pressure is way too high and I have developed Periodic Limb Movement Disorder. I’ve been called disordered many times before but not because of my limbs. Essentially, my brand new condition causes my calf muscles to spasm involuntary when I sleep and it’s the nocturnal workout that causes the pain when I mince about town. After the diagnosis, Liam stayed awake for nights on end to check what was going on. Apparently, my calves throb so regularly, you could run a clock with ’em. And there was me thinking I was just kicking him out of bed to make my morning cuppa or rehearsing for a spot on Riverdance.

I’ve always wondered why I have the legs of a Premier League footballer and the belly of an armchair fan. Now I know. The cardiologist put me on drugs to control the rhythmic twitching. Liam put me on a rolled oats regime for my cholesterol. He calls it porridge. I call it cruel gruel.

What does this all mean? Simple. I am now officially old.

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Obama Endorses Gay Marriage

Whether we like it or not, what the President of the United States says matters and resonates across the globe. After sitting on the fence for years and dipping his toes in the water to test the electoral temperature, President Obama has finally come out in support of marriage equality. In an interview with ABC News, the President said:

“I’ve just concluded that for me personally, it is important for me to go ahead and affirm that I think same sex couples should be able to get married.”

It’s a simple but powerful statement. Despite self-righteous firebrands flooding the airwaves with their messages of hell and damnation, and battalions of bigots storm-trooping shopping malls, support for marriage equality across America has been steadily rising for years. According to some recent polls, it now exceeds 50%. The President will have followed the polls very carefully. It’s an election year after all. Did President Obama nail his colours to the mast at this delicate stage of the (very) long American election cycle in a cynical attempt to garner extra liberal votes? Perhaps, but what’s said cannot be unsaid.

In Blighty, expect the Government to back-paddle furiously on the proposal to legalise civil marriage for same sex couples in the ridiculous belief that it contributed to their disastrous showing in recent local elections. Sure, this will have lost them a few votes among the (electorally insignificant) religious right and blue-rinse brigade. Let’s get real. To quote Bill Clinton’s famous line, “It’s the economy, stupid.”

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Road Nonsense

There’s been a fun discussion on Adventures in Ankara following a post about car parking in Turkey. I’ve written before about the sheer insanity of driving in Turkey as have many, many others. It’s a story that just runs and runs. It seems de riguer for death wish drivers to dart along pot-holed roads, jump lights and overtake on blind bends while happily playing with their overused horns. Indicating is for girls. This is all hard-wired into the Turkish macho psyche. The Adventures in Ankara post and ensuing debate reminded me of a recent conversation I had with Aziz, the owner of Jack’s Bar, a favourite watering hole of ours. We were supping and chewing the cud when a call came through to his head waiter. He was told he’d passed his driving test. Naturally, there was a round of rapturous applause, a celebratory jig, multiple back slapping and drinks all round (like I need an excuse). Aziz had been helping his young apprentice with driving lessons.

“Great news, ” I said to Aziz. “Now he can go out on his own.”

“No, Jack. He can’t drive yet,” came the inscrutable reply.

Says it all.

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A Bloggers’ Convention

Sarah from Was Constantinople recently attended a unique bloggers’ coffee shop convention in Istanbul featuring some of the most talented writers in the Turkey and travel blogosphere. The blogging stars were in perfect alignment for one day only. You can check out the illustrious list on Sarah’s commemorative post. Not to be outdone by our big city co-bloggers, we had our very own smaller but perfectly formed beano down here in old Bodrum Town. I spent a gossipy sunny few hours chewing the cud over a beer or two with the wonderful folk behind Pul Biber and Back to Bodrum.

What is the collective noun for bloggers, I wonder?  A gaggle of bloggers? A blagger of bloggers? A jobbing of bloggers? My personal favourite is a gobble of bloggers purely because it sounds a little naughty. I guess this could only apply to Turkey-baste blogs (pun intended). Answers on a postcard or leave a comment.

Perking the Pansies Book Giveaway

I’m plugging the book again. Hey, a boy’s gotta do what a boy’s gotta do. This time there’s something in it for you, though.

There are two chances to win a copy of Perking the Pansies. Firstly, I’ve offered Goodreads a couple of paperback books to give away to two lucky winners. The competition is open to any Goodreads member in the United Kingdom (sorry, but international postage from the Blighty is crippling). Simply provide your name and address by the end of the month (May) to be entered into the prize draw. Easy. Not a member of Goodreads? Why not join? It’s a great book lover’s site and it’s free.

Secondly, the wonderful Kay at British Expats has given the book a fab review. As a reward, I’m offering a free copy of the book for Kindle. All you need do is comment on the review and say why you’d like the book. Keep it clean, folks. The competition ends on the 7th June.

I know it’s not exactly the Lotto but it is something for nothing and the chance of winning is much better. You can always sell the paperback on Ebay when you’re done. And what do I ask in return? Well, nothing, of course, otherwise it wouldn’t be free. But, if you fancy adding a review to Goodreads or Amazon out the goodness of your heart, that would be nice. No pressure.

Click on the images below to find out more and enter. Good luck!

Bodrum Life

Bodrum’s radical urban overhaul is almost complete save for a few rough edges that will be completed next year (or sometime never). I took afternoon liquid refreshments at Bodrum’s organic deli, a great place from where to people watch. Their natural fare is even more delicious during happy hour when a glass of white costs only 4 lira a shot. The tubby waiter with precision hairdo, George Clooney eyes and Russell Crowe features serviced me silently with charm and grace.

I watched Bodrum life pass by in all its ambling majesty. The strolling likely lads with their grand gelled tresses and baffling stares promenaded along the promenade, stopping to check their reflections in the porthole mirrors of Helva Bar. I watched the Helva bar boys wash down the floors in anticipation of a profitable night’s innings from the urban elite and the Ukrainian prostitutes who silently ply their trade among them. A rainbow of cars cruised by from Nissan tanks to clapped-out Fiats. Happy-clappy kids played hide and seek in the play school playground opposite. Sunny Cabaret was provided by Bodrum’s resident drunk (I thought that was me), who frothed at the mouth, toyed with the traffic, harangued unsuspecting tourists and talked to the street animals like a modern day Dr Doolittle. I staggered home to the tune of the Hi-De-Hi public address system and another power cut in the full knowledge that our Turkish expedition would soon come to an end. To quote Old Blue Eyes, “Regrets, I have a few.”

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Getting the Abbey Habit

West End super-hit Sister Act (developed from the Whoopi Goldberg movie) is on nationwide pilgrimage and arrived at the Theatre Royal, Norwich, in April. To celebrate this holy occasion, the theatre attempted to break the Guinness World Record for the most number of people dragged up as nuns in one place. Graham James, Bishop of Norwich, was ordained to judge the endeavour. The good Bishop was escorted by Jan McFarlane, Archdeacon of Norwich, who was dressed to impress in her big black dress. The Venerable Archdeacon said,

“It was frighteningly easy to find a habit. I thought about borrowing a real one but decided to get my own. I may have missed my true calling.”

Alas, the challenge fell rather short of the 251 needed to break the record. Liam was distraught at getting none of the nun fun. He was relishing the thought of running up a couple of habits on the old Singer.

Check out the video

Turkish Wrestling, Lube and Lederhosen

Turkish Wrestling, Lube and Lederhosen

The Turkish oil wrestling circus came to an ancient town. A picnic field near the obscure and little excavated Lelegian city of Pedasa, high in the hills above Bodrum, hosted a greasy competition of brute force and suspect hand insertions. The ancient smack down imported by the nomadic Turks from the windswept steppes of Central Asia was staged by the lubed-up lads in lederhosen (or kisbets as they’re correctly called) with enthusiasm and grunting gusto. Getting a slippery grip on a marinated boy basting in the midday sun would challenge the most dedicated follower of a bit of rough and tumble. It was an all-family affair with drums, horns and B-B-Q chicken. I’ll leave the last word to a Bodrum Belle of our acquaintance who supplied the snaps.

“Fat men getting feisty in flora! I even caught them having a soapy shower behind the fire engine afterwards but you will see that, for most of them, the greasy glory days are sadly over. Have you and Liam never fancied cavorting in Castrol?”

The answer’s no. We leave the homoerotic horseplay to the hetties. They do it so much better.

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A Perfect Holiday Read

3d with LogoEven if I do say so myself, Perking the Pansies, Jack and Liam move to Turkey is the perfect holiday accompaniment to a bottle of chilled white around a cool pool. Now it’s even better value at £9.99 ($16.00 across the pond). Waterstones deliver free to any UK address and the Book Depository deliver free to 120 countries and territories worldwide. A bargain, I say.

Check out buying options here. Not sure? Maybe the reviews will help you decide.