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.
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 Armenia has withdrawn from the competition because of a problem with the Azeris (all about the frozen dispute of Nagorno-Karabakh), the Russians will be represented by a group of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.
I’m incensed, really pissed off. The parliament of St Petersburg, Russia’s cultural capital and second largest city, has just passed a law making it a crime to write, speak, discuss or meet about anything ‘gay’ (and I don’t mean happy). Offenders face a fine of up to $16,700. Is this the action of a sophisticated, civilised, European nation? I hardly think so. And some people think Muslim nations are backward. I can’t see this nasty little law ever being proposed in Turkey.
Take a look at the clever video below from the people at All Out. I hope it persuades you to lend your support. There is a chance that the Governor of St Petersburg will veto the bill. Please do what you can to convince him that this stupid law damages the international reputation of this great city, a city that I visited when I was 14 years old.
‘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.
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).
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.
I’ve got a limited number of signed copies of Perking the Pansies available for free shipping to Turkey. Amazon delivery charges are simply outrageous so this represents a bit of a bargain. Also, if you live in Blighty, a signed copy to any UK address comes with free delivery. So roll up, roll up to get your mitts on the best expat book to come out of Asia Minor since Alexander the Great’s Postcards from the Ege. You never know. It might be worth something one day. Buy one here!
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?
Liam and I were minding our own business in Tansaş. We were queuing up at the till, weighed down by a basket-full of cheap plonk. The lady in front of us turned towards me and smiled. “You’re Jack,” she said. “I love your book.” I blushed like a spotty teen and shifted uncomfortably from side to side. It was like being a z-list celeb, furtively emerging from a grubby massage parlour with my tail between my legs. Next time, I’ll don a floral headscarf and designer shades before I venture out.
I composed myself and we chatted over the veg and booze. It turns out that we’re near neighbours. My fellow shopper was a former Bodrum Belle of years long past and she recently returned to renew her club membership. As an old and new kid on the block, she has started her own blog, Back to Bodrum. The then and now observations offer a unique perspective of a town on the move. Take a look – fascinating stuff.
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?
I assume we won’t be seeing Fergie slumming and beach-bumming it down Gümbet way any time soon. Not unless she wants her collar felt by a teenage paramilitary conscript and a stiff sentence from an un-amused Turkish beak. The ill-advised ex-HRH was foolish to embroil herself in a clandestine filming raid on a huge Turkish orphanage for disabled children in 2008. Poor Fergie’s a loose cannon at the best of times. She’s not cut out for investigative journalism and neither is my foster home. She’d do better earning her living more honestly and less controversially. Apparently, she’s to be prosecuted for violating the rights of five Turkish children and damaging the reputation of the Turkish State. I humbly suggest that Turkey’s reputation is best served by the dropping the whole thing.
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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