Penis Points

My second guest blogger is Alan from Archers of Okçular. Alan lives in the small farming village of Okçular. We live in the same province of Muğla but might as well be on different planets. His Turkey is the real deal and he’s been living it for 14 years.

Alan

Before you crack up, ‘Penis Points’ are no laughing matter; ‘Penis Points’ are, quite literally, a matter of life and death! At least here in Turkey they are. ‘Penis Points’ are a growth industry; ‘Penis Points’ figure in the GDP of the country, they are an essential component in keeping the economy ticking over. Above all, ‘Penis Points’ are a man thing and although I have observed the odd lady collecting her ‘puans’, they are, as a rule, far too sensible to join in these childish antics.

Before I go on, I’d like to relate a story from a time before J and I had considered coming to Turkey to live. We were visiting Istanbul on one of those ‘Weekend Breaks’ and whilst there had met up with Turkish friends. Mehri, the male half of the duo, was a gentle, quietly spoken university lecturer who emanated an aura of peace and love. He and his wife had collected us by car from our hotel and we had just merged into the stream of traffic when an amazing transformation took place; Mehri hunched over the wheel and began snarling and shouting. He hammered the car horn and drove aggressively at those around him; there was much honking back and screeching of tyres. At first it was mildly disturbing, funny even; but as the lunacy grew and the remonstrations from his wife went unheard, we began to fear for our safety.

Suddenly, he swerved violently into a narrow and very steeply descending side road and proceeded downhill at speed totally ignoring several crossroads before screeching to a stop outside his apartment. As he switched off the ignition another switch clicked in his demented, schizophrenic brain and the persona of Mr Hyde dissolved and there, once again, calm and smiling, was our friend Dr Mehri Jekyll!

This was our first introduction to the ‘Trafik Canavar’ or ‘Traffic Monster’, an incubus lurking inside so many, ever seeking opportunities for a quick ‘flash’ and the accumulation of those ego boosting ‘Penis Points’. The reality of the motor vehicle as an extension of the driver’s maleness was no longer some psychologist’s quaint theory; we had just witnessed it in reality.

So, what are these ‘Penis Points’ then? Well, they relate mainly to driving; are, as I said, almost exclusively a male thing and they are measured on a graduated scale from ‘Downright Stupid’ (1) to ‘Causing Death By Dangerous Driving’ (10).

Here are some examples:

  1. You overtake in a perfectly safe way but the guy you passed experienced a strange physiological happening – his penis shrivelled! His only remedy is to glue his car to your back bumper and then, when the moment is least suitable, over/undertake you. Oh! Joy, this prick is back to normal! Plus 6 points.
  2. You are at a junction, you check carefully and the nearest vehicle is 500 yards away so you pull out. The guy is so affronted that he accelerates up to your rear bumper blasting his horn before passing you on the pavement. Plus 8 points.
  3. You pass/pull out on a truck driver who suffers an immediate flaccid moment and then jacks up by hounding your bumper for the next 20 miles (or to the next incline, whichever comes first). He’ll usually catch you up later, when you least expect it and continuing to try sticking his manhood up your tail pipe! Plus 7 points.
  4. You are driving along peacefully when you are confronted by the flashing lights of the black Merc/BMW with Istanbul plates that is hurtling towards you at 180kms in YOUR lane, and you are required to drive off into the forest or compete directly with his superior crumple-zone protection. Plus 3 or 9 points depending on how soon you react!
  5. Some loony driving his tractor/car/ truck pulls out of the side road without stopping/pausing and turns directly towards you in your lane expecting that whoever is there will take the necessary evasive action. ‘Allah Korusun!’ Plus 4 points.
  6. This guy has been crowding your rear bumper for miles on straight, clear roads; suddenly, as you approach a blind bend, he sees his opportunity for an enlargement job and pulls out to confront the huge TIR truck that has just appeared with much flashing of lights and bellowing of horns! Judged well, this is a 10 pointer!

There are many other examples and variations on the theme which include the shooting up of road signs with pistol or shotgun from the moving vehicle. Penis Points are awarded based on speed and accuracy!

I am of the opinion that a significant percentage of male drivers in this country, whether Turk or foreigner, have been sexually repressed by their overprotective, overbearing mothers to some degree or other; and that the only possible relief is to be found in the soft porn pages of most daily newspapers or by traffic manoeuvres that have the chance to bring about the ultimate orgasm of killing yourself or, better still, some poor, bloody innocent third party!

Aaaaaahhhh! How was it for you, darling? Absolutely smashing!!!

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No Arab Spring for Syria

It looks like the Libyan nutter is finished. Good riddance to bad rubbish. What of Syria? I came across the blog of a young gay Syrian called Sami. He writes with great courage and eloquence about his plight as gay man in an Arab state – and his profound worry about his family as the Assad regime continues its march of murderous oppression. At first, I was a little suspicious after the hoax blog by a Syrian lesbian that turned out to be an American writer living in Scotland. Now, I’m convinced it’s genuine. As with the entire Arab world, being gay in Syria is illegal and punishment is severe. Of course, man on man action is virtually obligatory; access to the fairer sex is restricted before marriage, and sheep are hard to find in Damascus. Boys will be boys after all. Just don’t say ‘gay’. Well, at least they don’t string them up like they do in Saudi Arabia and non-Arab Iran so that’s alright then. Gay rights are human rights and human rights are thin on the ground for anyone in Syria right now.

Sami writes:

The regime is still killing in Hama – yesterday they started assassinating doctors to increase fatalities. They are slowly killing my nephew, and killing me in the process. The only image that is in my mind now is of his smile when he calls my name and says, ‘You draw a cat, I draw a dog’. Syrian Gay Guy

I posted a few words of support on Sami’s blog. It was the least I could do and a small, small thing I did as we watch the body count grow. To think young people were rioting in London for a new pair of Nikes. Let’s wish for a belated Arab spring in Syria.

Glorious Gumusluk

My first guest blogger is Linda from Ayak’s Turkish Delight. Linda and I share a public sector past in the social work field, a much-maligned profession, fraught with risk – damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Linda writes about her first tentative steps of her glorious Turkish journey. 

Linda

I am delighted to have been asked by Jack to do a guest post on his blog whilst he is away.  Jack’s blog is one I look forward to every day. It’s amusing, informative and just so different from many blogs out there.

Let me tell you a bit about me.  I’m a retired Social Work Manager (in the mental health field) and I moved to Turkey from England in 1998 and married my Turkish husband in 1999. We have lived in different areas of Turkey. In fact we have moved 15 times to date.

Glorious Gumusluk

My very first home 13 years ago was in Gümüslük. The peaceful village of Gümüsluk is one of the oldest settlements on the Bodrum peninsula. It stands on the site of the ancient city of Myndos whose seafront sections slid into the sea in some long-forgotten earthquake. We rented the top floor of a two-storey house, which was really a holiday-let and because each room led out to an open terrace, was only really suitable for the summer months. We rented it during the winter because it was cheap and we didn’t have a lot of money.

There was no hot water or heating and I had one saucepan and one gas bottle to cook with. It rained a great deal and poured in through the metal-framed windows, to the extent that one morning we got out of bed and were up to our ankles in water.  We had no mod cons. In the absence of a washing-machine, I washed our clothes in a huge plastic bowl.  No TV, telephone or internet.  Just one very old rusty fridge.

Gumusluk Bay

The setting was wonderful…right in the middle of orange and olive groves, with no neighbours, and was very peaceful.  It’s hard to adapt to such a basic, primitive way of life from the one I had in England but looking back at that time, I realise I learned a lot about myself and how I am capable of far more than I give myself credit for.

We stayed in Gümüslük for 5 months then moved on to Turgutreis and so began my Turkey journey, to places as diverse as Side, Antalya and Cappadocia.  You can read more here.

Ladies and Gents, Please Welcome…

By the time you read this Liam and I will be in Blighty enjoying a welcome respite from the soul sapping humidity. We’re having a two centre summer tour of the Motherland followed by a few days in Bordeaux to celebrate an old friend’s half century. Barbara from Turkish Muse contacted me and a number of other bloggers a while back. She and her husband were off on a romantic visit to Paris to celebrate their anniversary. She asked if we could guest post on her blog while she was being swept off her feet. What a fantastic idea, I thought. So I’m stealing Barbara’s concept.  I’ve invited a select group of jobbing bloggers and loyal pansy fans to write a piece for your delectation. I wrote:

Although my blog is mostly about my life in Turkey with Liam, I often stray onto other topics when the mood takes me. So, I really don’t mind what you write about. It can be about your life as an expat, a social comment or hot topic, your favourite recipe, what you like or dislike about expat life, what you miss/don’t miss about your former life, your favourite photo, your best/worst holiday, where you’d like to visit, even your grandmother’s secrets if you’re in the mood to be racy. Write whatever takes your fancy. It might be a good excuse to write about something new, away from your normal theme. I don’t even mind if it’s long or short. See how easy I am to please?

I’ve got a bumper crop lined up, interrupted by brief despatches of my own from Blighty. Enjoy.

PS. Those of you who know where we live, don’t even think about relieving us of our flatscreen TV and secret stash of mucky DVDs. Our neighbours are back and you know how nosey Turks can be.

A Day in the Life

I’m supposed to be resting, putting my feet up and watching the pansies grow. Instead I’ve jumped onto a blogging and writing treadmill. It’s taken me by surprise. I had no idea this would happen when we left Blighty. My mornings are spent doing what I call my admin – checking my emails, approving comments, deleting spam and catching up on the weird and wonderful blogs I’ve come across in my new vocation. My personal favourites are listed under Jack’s Favourites – take a look at the side bar. My admin takes a couple of hours each day. I have to be ruthlessly single-minded, otherwise I’d be overwhelmed. Liam says I’ve turned into a geek. Just like the bad old days, when I returned from holiday to hundreds of emails that took days to clear. My major irritant is the number of spam emails I get, urging me to buy slimming pills or viagra. These days I may no longer have a 26 inch waist and my tackle may take a little longer to fire up, but for the record, I am neither fat nor impotent (important yes, impotent, no).

I’m really grateful that people take the time to say a word or two about what I have written. I do get the occasional strange message, nothing offensive, just odd. I don’t mind at all. It adds to the rich tapestry of life in pansyland. Thank you to one and all.

I tend to dedicate a couple of afternoons a week to my posts and write three or four at a time. If I didn’t block write in this way, Liam and I wouldn’t have a life and I’d have nothing to write about. My summer is being spent finishing my book (have I mentioned I’m writing a book?) which is curtailing our social activities a little. Not too much though, we’re determined to enjoy our balmy days in the sun.

Liam is my greatest fan and fiercest critic. He cracks the whip and damns my sloppy words, but lavishes praise when I get it right. He’s also a domestic marvel, keeping me fed and watered and doing most of the daily chores (in Liam’s world, that’s sweeping the dust under the rugs). I do the laundry and stack the dishwasher, both of which, of course, require greater skill.

Is my new career worth it? You bet it is.

Don’t forget to nominate me in the Cosmo Blog Awards. Only if you feel like it, of course. See the oversized badge on the sidebar.

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Road Kill

Alas, poor Tabatha is banished. Bianca, our neighbour’s fluffy white kitten has grown into a pushy, precocious teen feline and has made it abundantly clear that Tabatha is felix non grata. Bianca is now top cat. After Tabatha was caught catnapping when we endured the invasion of the big black rat I can’t say she’ll be much missed. However, I do hope she’s found a new playground for her orgiastic nocturnal activities and not become another road kill along Bodrum’s busy byways.

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Bees Around the Honey Pot

Old friend Gillian was vacationing in Akbuk with her husband John and daughter, Maria. Gillian had emailed to ask if they might visit when they were over. Akbuk is a small resort about two hours north so I thought it unlikely. However, I had underestimated Gillian’s steely determination, and we received the call that they were on the way. Regrettably, they missed their bus connection in Didim and were forced to take a convoluted route via Söke. Six hours later they arrived at Bodrum’s otogar. Gillian is a matter of fact kind of gal, and they all seemed unfazed by the wilting experience. We all enjoyed a rejuvenating late lunch, bijou tour of the town and a cold beer on the beach as the sun set over the castle. Maria, an intelligent, confident, pretty, curvaceous 15 year old was an instant hit with the seasonal workers with their spring loaded libidos. Waiters danced around her like bees around the proverbial without averting their stares from her perky knockers.

Take a look at:

The Juggling Smuggler

Mobiles and Megaphones

Wake Up Gay

I think our little drummer boy has got a bit bored with his morning call to the Faithful. The first day of Ramazan he banged away with enough gusto to wake the dead. This morning he wandered along the street to the erratic beat of a random limp tap. It’s a bit sad but at least Liam and I awake from our slumber refreshed and ready to face another sweaty day with gay abandon.

Thank you Dina for the Ovaltine ad

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Nappy Rash

The Bodrum Peninsula is not well blessed with decent beaches. Most are a blend of coarse sand and shingle. Some are manufactured and have to be replenished each year. When I think of the finest beaches of Turkey I think of magical Ölüdeniz near Fethiye, the pretty picture on a million tourist posters, majestic Iztuzu, Dalyan where the rare loggerhead turtles lay their precious eggs, and my personal favourite, enchanting Patara, 20 kms of secluded golden sand. However, I don’t think of Bolme Beach, a small, squalid little patch of mud and shingle near Gümüslük. Surprisingly, the august people at the Blue Flag Programme have awarded Bolme coveted blue flag status. They were clearly impressed by the tatty concrete pier with rusting supports against the backdrop of a large, ugly unfinished hotel that’s been allowed to rot for years. Or maybe it was because bathers feel safe by the omnipresence of a life guard (none), easy access for disabled people (not) or the excellent washing and sanitary facilities (er, no). I know, it must be the cleanliness of the beach. Perhaps that casually discarded used nappy wasn’t there when the inspector called. The view is fabulous though.

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Thank you David for bringing this to my attention.

Don’t forget to nominate me in the Cosmo Blog Awards. Only if you feel like it, of course. You can’t miss the oversized badge on the sidebar.

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I’m Coming Out

It’s official. yesterday Perking the Pansies smashed through the magical 100,000 barrier*. I’m genuinely amazed, incredibly flattered and truly humbled. I know 100,000 is small beer to the big boys but this little boy is thrilled. I’ve been writing since the end of October 2010 and, apart from Christmas Day and Boxing Day, I’ve posted every day. In celebration of this event Liam and I are popping a bottle of bubbly (well, cheap Turkish fizz) and coming out of the closet with a few select photographs. I expect a brick through our window any day now.

For best effect keep the music playing as you view the slideshow. Be careful not to dance around your handbag.

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*Combining my current hits with my old Google blog before it was blocked by the lazy Turkish censors.

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Second Time Around

a celebration of our civil partnership.