The Flying Adventures of DOUG

I'm in Fethiye. Tonight I sleep on a boat for free, because tomorrow we leave on a four day cruise to Olympos! Sweet!

To continue where my last post left off...

We finally caught a taxi to the bus station in Kusidasi, then a coach to Denizli, then a minibus to Pamukkale, which I have already talked about. Then, caught a Domus (bus) to Denizli again, and from there to Marmaris.

Marmaris: Mehmet gave us a free day trip on his boat. There were only fourteen other people on a vessel that can hold 150 people in peak season, so we had plenty of space to sunbathe. We also had lunch, bottles of water and icecreams, all for free, when the other passengers had payed 16 euros. The next day Mehmet organised a good deal with another company to go out for a day to get covered in mud and paddle in sulphur, which was cool, but nowhere near as much fun as the day on Mehmet's boat. On our last night there, he invited us for tea (as in the beverage) with his family at their winter apartment. It was SO much fun, his wife brought out plates of yummy desserts for each of us, and when I said, "wow, this is good!" she went out and brought back another huge dish piled high with all the kinds of desserts in excessive quantity. Chai (Turkish tea) is good. Mehmet's son has been learning English at school for the past two years (he's twelve) and he's really good! His accent is awesome and he's really keen to learn. He taught us the Turkish alphabet, and we learned a couple of phrases like goodnight and... something else that I've forgotten. The daughter went to bed not too long after we arrived. Man, it makes such a difference knowing people here!

From Marmaris we caught another bus to Fethiye (I hope you're all following this on your massive maps of Europe) where we planned to catch a boat cruise as soon as possible. The lowest price we had seen was 90 British pounds (they're always advertised in pounds, for some reason), but the guy at the pension where we stayed runs his own boat, and offered us the same deal - boat, four meals a day, water sports (skiing, snorkelling, the whole shebang), for three nights and four days, for 70 pounds. That's about one hundred and ninety two million Turkish lira. So we're doing that. It's pricy, but I can afford it after the general cheapness of Turkey. This is such a cool place.

Minor drama: I left my money belt with my passport and over 1000 euros in the hotel (under the mattress) in Pamukkale. I discovered this upon arrival in Marmaris, when I wanted to change some money. I phoned the hotel as soon as I could, and they couldn't find it, but said they would ask the cleaning lady (sinking feeling). It turned up, and they offered to send it on the next coach with one of the bus drivers. So, the next day I turned up at the bus station, asked about my belt, and noone knew what I was talking about. Luckily, Mehmet was with me, and he talked to them and offered to come back later to see if it had turned up. The next afternoon, Mehmet came to meet us at our hotel, and presented me with my belt, minus only sixty euros!!! So, a lesson learnt, and a small loss compared to what could have happened. Phew! Do not hide your valuables in silly places and then forget about them!

Minor drama 2: After swimming in Kusidasi and several times on boats in Marmaris, I was having troubles with my ears. They were blocked and sore. Actually, I first had problems on Mykonos, where I went to the free doctor and got some ear drops. They were working ok at softening the wax, but it was still sitting in my ears. So, on our second night in Marmaris, I was lying in bed unable to sleep because my ear was hurting SO much! So I got up and walked down to the 24 hour doctor. He wanted to charge me 50 pounds (**!!!**) but I must have looked pretty taken aback, because he said, "How much do you pay in your country?" I said, around 40 dollars. Unfortunately, he automatically assumed I meant American dollars, and charged me 60 million Turkish lira, which is actually about 60 NZ dollars. Still significantly less than 50 pounds! He gave me a shot in the bum for pain killing (a novel, but not soon to be repeated, experience) and said to come back tomorrow to have my ears flushed out. Which I did, and MAN you should have seen how much goop came out! It was nice and soft from all the drops, and it came out really easily, but who would have thought you could fit that much stuff inside your head? I felt really dizzy and nauseous immediately afterwards, but soon got over it, and since then things have been mint! I can swim and dive to my heart's content. Today I swam down and touched our boat's anchor (oh, yeah, we got another free day trip today for staying at this pension, and it was a good'un)! I was also the only person to climb from shore to boat on the guy rope, which is cool (hard as nails)!!!

Oh, Mum and Ali, I can't use my Yabba card to phone you from Turkey because there's no number. I checked on the internet, and Turkey's just not on the list.

So, that pretty much brings us up to date. At Olympos we are going to stay in tree houses, and in Capadoccia we hope to stay in a cave house! In Ankara we will stay with Bilgehan's family, and in Istanbul we will catch up with his Aunty. So cool! So juicy sweeeeeeet!

Oh, and I ate my first whole fish today, and it was good! Also, in Turkey there are places where you can get a whole baby salmon for lunch for six NZ dollars. This place is amazing!

Ok, keep safe, y'all.

Dondurma is icecream in Turkish. I like icecream.

Sladoled is icecream in Slovenian. Glace is icecream in French. I like icecream in ALL languages!

The last week and a bit have been magic. Turkey is a seriously wonderful place to visit, especially at this time of year. Things are so cheap that even though I've been spending up large and managed to lose over 1000 euro for a day (I got most of it back) and had to pay for a doctor, I'm still not wildly off my target of 30 euros a day! I should be caught up to it by the time I leave Turkey.

Kusidasi was the port we arrived in from Samos, Greece, on the ferry on Tuesday. We spent four nights there - more than we originally intended. The delay was caused by us wanting to go to Pamukkale, but not quite managing to get there two days running.

Our first big touristy thing was going to the ancient ruins of Ephesus. This place is so old it's in the bible! And Alexander and the Romans both used it at different times to rule the province of Asia. At its height it had a population of 350,000 people, which is massive! You can walk down the old streets lined with broken pillars, go inside old restored houses (unfortunately closed when we were there), see the facade of the old library, visit the house where the Virgin Mary (who by this time was undoubtedly no longer a virgin, as Jesus had younger brothers) supposedly died, stand in the old council chambers/concert hall and scramble all over the HUGE theatre, which seats 25,000 people! In recent times they've had Sting and Elton John concerts there. All this stuff is 2000 years old or more!

The next landmark was Pamukkale, but a lot happened in the intervening days of laziness. In Selcuk we talked to a carpet seller who is younger than us. He tried to find us a Turkish language book by escorting us around various little book shops, then invited us into his shop for tea. We chatted for about half an hour about NZ and the Turkish army (every Turk has to serve in it, though it's unclear whether this means women; people here just say "everyone") and not once did he try to sell us a carpet! He told us about his shop and how he was trying to change it to meet the demands of the tourist, making small, decorative things that could be easily transported and opening up the small dark shop to a lighter, open-plan layout. He was really cool, and at the age of twenty he'd been doing this for about seven years!

Back in Kusidasi we (by which I mean Paz) were making an impression on the locals. We've been offered jobs for next summer as anything from boat tour guides to toilet cleaners, had tea with countless shop owners (even after they'd given up trying to sell us stuff), been invited into a closed (for the season) bar to have drinks with its owners (this is where Paz had a proposal of marriage), been called lazy by our friendly local Turkish/Irish restauranteur and asked, "So, what do ya do when yer horny?" by same.

Pamukkale = a big white puffy (but not soft) hill with pools of water. Picturesque, but you walk up the hill... and then walk back down again. More interesting to me were the ruins of the Greek (I assume) city Hierapolis, which used to be on the same site, but we didn't go there. Also, it's a mission to get there, and not really worth staying the night. But, it's also on about a MILLION postcards, so it was a bit of a must-do.

From there to Marmaris, where Mehmet the Star met us the bus station. Ara and Paz have a friend at uni in NZ (who I can't wait to meet) who is Turkish and has been sorting stuff for us over here. His aunt in Istanbul has a friend in Marmaris who runs boat tours and various other enterprises, whose name is Mehmet. He found us a hotel where we were paying the equivalent of 10 euros per night for a flash place INCLUDING breakfast and dinner. So primo! Also, he did tons of other cool stuff for us, but I have to go pay for stuff and let others use the computer (what a hog).

Yakinda Gurusuruz!

Man, I LOVE thıs place!

Sınce I last posted:

PARIS: Here I spent the nıght ın a phone booth. I managed to catch the metro to the statıon where the traın to the aırport connected... but ıt had stopped runnıng. I sat ın a smokey Parısıan cafe untıl around 2am when they kıcked me out to close, and then went wanderıng, found the phone booth and sat on my pack untıl I got too cold and had to get movıng agaın. When the metro reopened, I sat ın there sıngıng songs quıetly untıl 6am when the tıcket offıce opened. People gave me funny looks. Maybe they thought I was buskıng, but noone gave me any money... Fınally caught the RER to aeroport Charles-de-Gaulle and ran around fıgurıng out where to check ın and fındıng a phone card for Paz, then caught the plane and ate everythıng set before me. I made a lıttle sıgn sayıng ``s'ıl-vous-plaıt de me reveıllez au repas, mercı.`` (please wake me for the meal, thanks) and the lady near me oblıgıngly dıd so.

ATHENS: Arrıved ın the early afternoon, found the backpackers where the Aussıe-Brıt couple were super nıce and caught the metro out to the docks (Pıraeus) to buy a tıcket for the ferry the next day to Naxos. Then went back to the backpackers and went to bed because I had had one hour of sleep on the plane. Consequently, dıd not see much of Athens. Maybe I wıll on the way back.

NAXOS: Blusterıng wınd and massıve waves stopped other ferrıes soon after my crossıng. It was pretty fun; I sat on deck gettıng hıt by the spray and the salt drıed ın stıff patches on my clothes and skın and haır. At the port I was mobbed by people tryıng to sell me a room for the nıght, but I shook them off. Later, when I trıed to go for a walk, people kept sprıngıng out of nowhere sayıng, You need room? Good prıce! Look look! An old (desperate) lady was especıally persıstant, and eventually I sat down under a statue to waıt for the next ferry wıth Ara and Paz on board, and she and another guy sat nearby also waıtıng and askıng me questıons about NZ. Occasıonally the old lady would say, Come see room, ın a pleadıng sort of way and I shook my head and smıled and saıd, No no, I waıt for my frıends. She would ask, Myfrıends come on boat? When the ferry fınally came ın I waıted on the docks wıth a tourısm lady who was also pıckıng someone up. Suddenly she saıd, Is that your frıend? (We had been chattıng) And I saıd, No, not unless he`s grown a beard! Ara was wavıng, and had grown a beard. Weırd thıng: As the boat was comıng ınto the docks, Paz had saıd to Ara, I can see Doug, he`s standıng on the docks ın a red T-shırt (she had a pıcture of thıs ın her head). Except she was just jokıng and she couldn't even really see the docks. And then, voıla, there I was on the docks ın a red T-shırt!
We got our accommodatıon, ate Greek salad, and the next day clımbed up around the rocky hılls to a crazy tıny church whıch was more lıke a shrıne. Just a wall wıth a door and a mınıscule bell tower ın front of a hollow place ın the rock, to make a dark lıttle room wıth carved wooden screens and woven ıcons and candles and a vısıtors book. We came back down a valley and stumbled upon another church. You could clımb rıght up on top of ıt because ıt backed ınto the rock as well. I have a photo of me sıttıng under the bell. I broke the door handle off by accıdent.
We stayed three nıghts and after the second nıght a gırl called Marıe-Pıer from Quebec joıned us. She had met up wıth Ara and Paz on Santorını (I thınk). She came wıth us to Mıkonos, too, and that's another story.

Whıch I can't be bothered wrıtıng now. So much to wrıte!

I'm ın Turkey now, where everythıng ıs cheap and you can bargaın, and I'm almost caught up to my target of 30 euros a day. I spent a faır bıt to get all the way here from Naxos, but here I am under-spendıng everyday, so ıt's evenıng out. The food here ıs great. Kuşıdası ıs a full on tourısty resort town, but ıt's cool, and we have been talkıng heaps to the shop keepers and they keep on ınvıtıng us for tea. Also, we have been askıng about workıng here (very unusual for tourısts, by the laughs and raısed eyebrows) and already we have people promısıng us work ıf we come back ın June. So, that's the plan. Come home, fınısh unı ın summer courses, work for a few months and head back to Turkey to learn Turkısh. Then maybe a workıng holıday year ın France. Then work ın Edınburgh maybe. Ah, what dreams! And why not? The world ıs my ... pızza (I don't lıke oysters)!

Dream away kıwıs, we are SO lucky, our passport gets us almost anywhere!

I thought, seeing as I'm leaving tomorrow, that I would devote today's blog-time to all the characters and little details from the last five weeks that I have thoughtlessly overlooked in previous posts.

Les Personages du Verger:

The Portugese Molrus: A creature not well known in other parts of the world, the molrus is usually found in small burrows in the banks of dry rivers in the south of Portugal. These burrows are called gracas by the locals, and dust from a graca is a traditional remedy for inflamed ear lobes. It doesn't work. The molrus is stout and short with large front paws that can hold three medium sized apples each. It's coat resembles a dull blue or green plaid shirt under a mustard sweater-vest. Sometimes, the molrus can be seen with a strange plume on its head that resembles nothing so much as the hat of a garden gnome. Lone molruses can be found in other parts of Europe, where they speak French with a Portugese accent. They are distant cousins of the British mole, but have the large drooping grey moustaches and blunt nose of a walrus.

The strange girl: still don't know this girls name, and 'the strange girl' is what Dad called her after she responded to our bonjours by looking at us strangely and keeping silent. She is chubby and rides a very old bicycle that makes her wobble over the rough gravel roads that wind through the orchard. She also wears a lavendar jumpsuit and can pick like a nor'wester.

Michael: whose name may actually be Mickel, or Michel... seems like a nice guy. Talks to himself most of the time whilst picking. I suspect he may even tell himself jokes, because occasionally he laughs to himself, too.

Le Patron: who, I believe, is not actually the manager, but just another supervisor like the molrus. We just never found out his name. Well, actually, we thought we'd found out his name (Josef) from Jean, but when my Dad tried it out, this is what happened:

LP: Bonjour jeune homme!
Me: Bonjour monsieur; ça va?
LP: Ca va. Et Bonjour Steve!
Dad: Bonjour (*brief hesitation*) Josef.
LP: (*In French*) I thought your name was Steve?

Hmmm, kind of weird. I don't really know how that conversation went so awry.

Bertrand: This is the manager of the pickers. He is tall, young and looks stern most of the time. In ordinary conversation, though, he is very friendly and talks far far too fast for me to understand more than a couple of words in twenty. He was very enthused when I told him I was going to Greece, but I don't know what he said about it because he was talking too fast. He helped us out when we first moved into the house on the orchard, bringing us matches and detergent and switching on the water and power. Oh, Bertrand is also the name of the bottle of detergent. The box of matches is called Jacques.

Jean Champeix: A small and insignificant prize to the person who can accurately pronounce this man's surname just from reading it. It was Jean who hooked us up with this job and the accomodation and my work permit, AND who is giving me a ride to the train station tomorrow. I'm going to try and get his address so I can send him a petit cadeau for being such a star. Jean always seems dogged when you talk to him on the phone, but is relaxed in person and does have a sense of humour. He also has the unusual habit of continuing a conversation on for a while, then suddenly saying, "Bye", turning on his heel and leaving.

Laure: has been awesome. She speaks a bit of English, so we've struck up a friendship with her. Last week we went to Sarlat with her and her little daughter Mona, and on Thursday afternoon she gave us a ride to the Chateau and the wine tasting. Very fun. Otherwise we couldn't have done much sightseeing in the area. I have also practiced my French with her, and she corrects my mistakes, which is helpful.

Otherwise, I have talked briefly to a few other people. Thursday was great, because I had random conversations (all in French) with a Morrocan guy who is 26 and has two small daughters ("I work for them, not for me; it's hard"); a tractor driver ("I would be afraid to travel by myself; outside Bergerac I'm lost!); another Morrocan guy who I think was a student; the strange girl, who it turns out is really nice and loves autumn leaves; a Chinese student who speaks a bit of English and said "Goodbye, Stephen" to Dad; and ... oh, actually, that's it. It was a pretty slack day and people were standing around talking as much as picking.

It's pretty interesting though, when you think about it. On any given day picking I was surrounded by conversations in French, Chinese, whatever Cambodians and Laosians speak, Arabian (?) and occasionally in English. Crazy.

Other things:
There is a movie version of Asterix and Obelix: Mission Cleopatra; it's in French and looks terrible.

We saw 'Lucky Luke' on TV the other night, and in French it sounds as though everyone is calling the upstanding cowboy Lurky Luke, which I like.

Other TV novelties include watching Jurassic Park and The Seige in French, and seeing ads for The Horse Whisperer, which in French translates as "the man who murmurs in the ears of horses". Hee hee, that still makes me laugh!

Also, I've been watching Star Academy, which is a combination between Big Brother and American Idol. Basically, several young people live and learn singing, dancing and acting in a Chateau, with cameras in the walls. Every week they have an assessment in front of their tutors, and the three lowest scorers are nominated for eviction. Every Friday there is a big gala concert (it's massive: lights, fire, famous artists, dancers; the whole shibang), at the end of which the public votes are tallied and the candidate with the most votes gets to stay in the chateau. Then the rest of the housemates vote who they want to save out of the two candidates left. And one person leaves. Did that make sense? I like this programme. It's cool that they're all actually being trained and that they have to work really hard to get better at what they're doing. Also, they have a real vocal tutor, who is a dramatic soprano, I think. I think Hoda should win. Or maybe Gregory. I hope I can find out later.

Ok, that's probably enough for now, eh?

Oh, I tried to go and sit in a park yesterday and write a poem ... but I'd forgotten my pen. The park is small and pretty, except for a statue of Cyrano de Bergerac, who is small and ugly. A girl was sketching him and a blonde lady was photographing birds-of-paradise (the plant). I lay down on a park bench and pretended to be worth sketching. I could hear pigeons cooing out of sight, somewhere.

Farewell Bergerac!

Next time you hear from me I'll be in Greece! Or Heaven, I suppose, if things don't go quite as I expect. I can't wait to see you all again.

If some random person from some random part of the world happens to read this blog, please leave a comment so I can feel like an International Phenomenon.

However, haircuts are very expensive over here. Nineteen euros, so that's like... 38 dollars! That's just for the cheapo, standard men's cut.

So, I'm going to cut my hair myself. I've already successfully trimmed my hair once, a month and a half ago, and now it's in need of more drastic "guidance". I plan to do it this afternoon. Except, the only sharp implements I have are my razor, a pair of tiny aluminium sewing scissors which can't even cut cotton thread (I really should throw those away) and some nail clippers... I'm sure I can work something out.

Having done a fair bit of reading online today, I am feeling very frustrated. I want to write, but I can't because I don't have enough access to a computer. How dumb is that? I am dependant on technology. Writing on paper is just too slow! Also, my brain feels like mud. And, because I can't just delete stuff and rewrite it, I end up writing lots of awful stuff and not being able to edit it. So what's the point? Frustration. But you can't improve unless you practice, huh? This is stupid. I am going to go and sit in a French parc and write a poem. After I've finished here, that is.

Speaking of France, yesterday I explored le Chateau de Monbazillac and did some wine tasting! It was awesome! Wine is actually nice! Did anyone already know that? I was pretty astonished, myself. The only other time I've actually enjoyed wine was at Dave's 21st - but then, when something has been kept in a genuinely subterranean cellar, lovingly selected and presented to you by a passionate connoiseur (who you are also slightly frightened of), you enjoy it. Dad got a bit red in the face and started making bad jokes (ie. worse than usual and more frequent), which is a sure sign of the wines', um, quality. The Monbazillac wine is a famous super-sweet wine for drinking as an aperitif. It's good with bitter chocolate or strong cheese, but not with dessert (danger of hyperglycemia, I expect).

And soon I'm off; like old milk, like a good cheese, like a bride's nightey (that one's Dad's). Greece beckons. My itinerary may change, and will certainly become more detailed, so I'll just give the bare bones here. Paris-Athens-Naxos ... Turkey ... Athens ... Rome ... Nimes-Paris-London; home. I've had emails from Ara and Pascale today, and everything is all set as far as Naxos. Accommodation is relatively cheap now that the main tourist season is over, and for food I can dine à la dustbin, so I am hopeful that by the time I reach Paris I will still have plenty of funds to splash around. And in London, too. And then I can return home to my virtually empty bank accounts and the prospect of having to find a job, again, like every summer. If anyone knows of anything... Maybe I could get a job in Geoffrey Conway's café, that would be ideal!

Anyway, perhaps my head will be more firmly connected, more surely wired and swept and dusted by tomorrow, and I can say something that is *actually* worth publishing for you to read. It is my belief that too many wasteful, poorly chosen words are like junk food, for the writer and for the reader; they fill you up temporarily, offer little nutritional value and quickly leave you feeling hungry again. And yet still I indulge... Oh, and they make you flabby round the edges.

*And hastily he left in a tempest of furious torpor*