Liam and I were chatting over a glass or two of red and the conversation turned to readers of Perking the Pansies. It occurred to me that I have little clue about who you are. To help me out would you be so kind as to complete my little poll. It’s just a bit of fun and you can’t be identified so there’s no danger of being cold-called by a double glazing salesman or a viagra vendor.
Ring of Fire
We awoke to the news that Mother Nature has viciously smacked Japan with the most powerful earthquake in recent history unleashing a titanic tsunami that is powering across the entire Asia-Pacific region at the speed of a passenger jet. My grumble about a bit of chilly weather in our corner of the world now seems pathetic. I have it to hand to the ingenious Japanese who have minimised damage and casualties with clever application of technology. Other nations in the region may not be so fortunate.
The entire Pacific Ocean is framed by faults and volcanoes that geologists call the ‘ring of fire’. Since we foolishly live on top of the extremely active Anatolian Tectonic Plate it’s only a matter of time before we experience the earth moving beneath our feet and our jerry built dwelling may well collapse like a house of cards. Liam served up a spicy curry last evening with egg fried rice and home made onion bhajis. It was delicious but I’m now dealing with a ring of fire of my own.
Brass Monkeys
Just as it seemed spring was around the corner lulling us into a false sense of hope, Mother Nature decides to take a cruel side swipe with a cold snap just for a laugh. Two degrees overnight and a light dusting of snow on the Bodrum Peninsula. I didn’t move to sunny Turkey for this. I confess it’s not as chilly as the image suggests but, without central heating, it feels cold enough to freeze the balls off the proverbial brass monkey. Liam and I are fighting over the duvet to ensure our nether regions remain intact and in proper working order.
I found a tiny mouse that had taken refuge from the elements in the watering can we keep on the terrace. Alas, the creature had perished. We called him Mehmet and flushed him down the loo. Liam said a few words before he pulled the chain.
Feel the Love
I’ve long believed that everyone hated us. The British strut the world stage hanging onto the coat tails of our mighty American cousins and I can understand why this gets up the noses of many. Ridicule in Iraq, deadly bombs on the Tube, World Cup humiliation and nil point at Eurovision all point to a depressing impression of widespread antipathy. It’s little consolation that the pushy Yanks are despised more. It’s come as a refreshing surprise to discover than dear old Blighty is the second most popular nation in the World according to a BBC World Service Country Rating Poll. It’s a welcome antidote to the legions of emigrey Brit-bashers and doom and gloom soothsayers on the top of the Clapham omnibus. Alas, we were beaten into second place by the Germans but I suppose we’re getting used to that. Apparently, though, Turks don’t think much of us at all, presumably because they are taught that the English (Britain doesn’t seem to exist in Turkish parlance) were responsible for the final destruction of the Ottoman Empire. That’s what happens when you back the wrong horse.
Have You Been?
I was acquainted with a squat toilet from a very early age. As an army brat I lived some of my childhood in Malaysia and our house came with an extension for the Chinese maid. We weren’t posh, Dad was a regimental sergeant major, and every family had a maid courtesy of Her Majesty, even lowly squaddies. It was time before the rise of the Asian Tigers and the reawakening of the Middle Kingdom when Britain still had a blue water fleet. The maid’s quarters were equipped with a squat toilet whereas our family convenience was of the pedestal variety. She used her facility and we used ours. ‘East is east and west is west and never the twain shall meet’ as Rudyard Kipling wrote.
We were wandering through Gümüslük Bay, a beguiling little harbour set among the meagre ruins of ancient Mindos. As a protected archaeological site, the bay has been saved from the relentless march of little white boxes that afflicts that part of the Bodrum peninsula. Unfortunately I got caught short. I darted into the public convenience for relief. I gazed in utter horror at the flush ceramic pan. Oh shit, how does it work? My mother trained me to sit not to squat. How do I hover precariously over the hole with my drawers round my ankles without tipping over? I gingerly and carefully pulled my jeans and Calvins over my trainers, first one leg then the other, contorting my body to avoid contact with the wet floor. I almost fell onto my backside in a vain attempt to maintain my dignity. It was like a game of twister but with only one player. The moral of the story? Go before you leave.
According to Wikipedia an alternative name for a squat WC is an Alaturca from the Italian Alla Turca – as the Turks do. Fancy that!
The Word on the Street
Thank you to those who voted in my playful poll about proxy servers. Here are the results of the Perking the Pansies jury:
31% – Yes I use a proxy server in Turkey
28% – No I don’t use a proxy server
10% – I’ve no idea what you’re taking about!
31% – I don’t live in Turkey
For anyone interested, the way to access a proxy server is to sign up to a ‘Virtual Private Network’ (VPN). This handy service provides a gateway to British terrestrial TV and also circumvents internet restrictions by the Turkish authorities. We use my-private-network.co.uk. The service was easy to set up and costs about a fiver a month. This allows us to stream live TV and watch catch up services on our laptop. We also installed the BBC iPlayer to download BBC programmes to watch at our leisure. For an altogether better viewing experience, we connect the laptop to our TV and sound system.
The Downside
The process can be frustrating and unsatisfying. Live streaming and catch up needs a good internet speed. Ours is up and down like whore’s drawers. A variable picture quality, broadcasts that freeze then jump forward and endless buffering can irritatingly interrupt our enjoyment. Downloading programmes using the iPlayer works really well as it saves a temporary copy on our computer but, of course, only applies to BBC broadcasts.
Doldrums in Bodrum
We bloggers are like rats. We get everywhere and Japan is no exception. Charles Ayres writes a deliciously over the top blog called Impossibly Fabulous from the Land of the Rising Sun offering camp agony uncle advice to the bewildered. It helps to keep him sane as an alien in the most homogenised nation on our diverse planet. I am concerned about Liam’s slow but certain slide towards the veil and sought Charles’ insight. These were his thoughts:
January 2015 Update: Unfortunately, Impossibly Fabulous is off the air these days so this link no longer works.
Incidentally, the word Anatolia derives from the Greek Anatolē which means ‘sunrise’ so Charles and I are both bloggers from the land where the sun rises. A bit silly really as the sun rises everywhere eventually, even in Grey Britain.
Bursting into Life
The mould season is drying out. Spring is in the air and there is a spring in our step. The warming rays have stirred us from the benign boredom of our winter hibernation. Flowers are bursting into life, shorts are being aired and flip-flops dusted down. Alas, the mozzie season approaches alongside. Relentless and voracious, Turkish mozzies just love to feast on poor Liam. Dive bombing like kamikaze pilots they show him no mercy. At times he resembles a medieval pox victim. We’ve purchased several kegs of napalm and rinsed out the net as a precaution. Thank God that there is no malaria in our corner of the World.
Fire and Brimstone
Forums provide an invaluable service to people living in a foreign land. Why re-invent the wheel when the ‘been there, done that’ brigade can help? The TLF is the largest and most active of all the forums in Turkey and long may it thrive. I usually read in passive amusement at the cut and thrust debate on the latest hot topic. Combatants engage in a war of attrition from the trenches lobbing their opinions, dressed up as fact, into no man’s land in the hope of scoring the last point. It can get quite heated at times but that’s the joy of free speech. I confess that I rarely contribute as I like to keep my blood pressure under control and I prefer to converse around a dinner table with people I actually know.
Sometimes, though, forum debates can get out of hand as it did recently. What started as a reasonable argument about the fairness of the court judgement preventing a couple from fostering because of their biblical views of homosexuality degenerated into an unseemly slanging match. It’s just the excuse some people need to emerge from their closets to vent their reactionary prejudices. Where were the moderators?
I don’t have a fixed view about the topic. I don’t know the full facts and, unless those who commented were in court that day, I suspect they don’t either. What depressed me was that some people would prefer to place an already damaged child with fundamentalist Christians rather than a middle class, liberal lesbian couple from Islington. Homosexuality isn’t catching, religion is. Gay people don’t kill for their cause, religious zealots do. Gay people campaign for equal rights, religions demand to be above the Law. Enough said.
One Out, All Out
The internet police have been at it again in the continuing war between Google and Digiturk. As from the 1st of March 
Google Blogger in its entirety was banned in Turkey. The draconian censors are indifferent to the effect on millions of blogs, many of them small businesses trying to earn an honest crust in challenging times. Digiturk is acting like an overbearing corporate bully and Google just doesn’t give a toss about anything other the bottom line. There’s no profit in blogging as it’s a free service so why cause a fuss? The core of the dispute is infringement of broadcasting rights. This is laughable when you think that Turkey is flooded by counterfeit goods. Fancy a bootleg copy of the ‘King’s Speech’? No problem.
It’s relatively easy to get round the ban with a proxy server, an application that lets us pick up British TV. Please take a split second to complete the poll below. Don’t worry, you can’t be identified!
Perking the Pansies 