Saturday 26 September 2015

Tales From Turkey (2)

Good morning fellow travellers, here is the second of my little thoughts about my recent pilgrimage to the golf courses of Belek in Turkey.

The Plane

We had never been to Turkey before, Mrs B is of the opinion that if all you want to do is sit by a pool, then fly the shortest distance possible to guarantee some sunshine - usually Menorca. But now we were faced with a  four hour flight to Antalya from Birmingham. 

The airport is an hour from our house, but the hours leading up to departure are difficult and dangerous times. There is packing and then there is cleaning - the house has to be hoovered in case burglars break in. 

Packing is Mrs B’s domain - I just lay out some clothes and she folds them all neatly and makes sure I have packed enough handkerchiefs. 

We secure the cases and wrap them with a strap with our name on, allowing easy identification on the baggage claim carousel later. I noticed that some people now wrap their suitcases in clingfilm…why is that? Are they smuggling left overs into Turkey? Does it help keep your knickers fresh?

Anyway, bags packed, loaded into the car and off we go, at 4am, to Birmingham. We park and walk the short distance to the terminal, Mrs B dragging two suitcases and me dragging my golf clubs….oh yes, I took the golf clubs to Turkey.

So far, so good. We know that you have security checks and so you allow time for that process - although it did take longer as Mrs B beeped. She had to be swabbed  for explosives and just for a minute I thought I might have to enjoy my holiday without her. Not sure why the explosives detector went off, unless it was due to  all the cleaning products she had been throwing around the house before we departed? That combination of bleach and air freshener and multi surface cleaner is now on the watch list I guess.

Having already checked in online and paying extra for our seats (you’ll be expected  to pay extra to breathe on a plane soon) we didn't rush, as many do, when the flight was called. We just made our way to the gate, and low and behold our seats were just waiting for us…why do people rush and push to get on the plane?

I have an answer…hand luggage. Limited space in the overhead luggage compartments is soon taken up with mini suitcases. People who have just bought 14 bikinis and some sun tan oil don’t check their bags, they carry them on board so they can rush off at the other end…rush rush rush. The idea of holiday for me is to not rush, but to relax…and I find it hard to relax as a sweaty fellow is trying to squeeze his suitcase into a space designed for a satchel! 

You can choose your seat but you get no choice who sits next to you sometimes…I was lucky on the flight out, less so on the way back. A walking tattoo and his harridan wife, who constantly argued in a thick Wolverhampton accent were my travel companions.  I plugged my earphones in and watched Life of Pi but that only took care of half the journey…

They argued about duty free, they argued about some aromatic oil leaking in her handbag, they argued about the meal, they argued about electronic devices…oh yes, she refused to turn off her mobile phone, as requested by the aircrew, during landing, as mobile phones are not electronic! She then hid her phone in her bag and continued texting someone about her dogs that needed feeding.  Idiots. 

On the flight out, which left before 9am, the couple who sat in front of us had devoured three cans of lager before we’d reached cruising altitude! The battle to get to a toilet between the trolley going up and down was amazing - what a palaver.

I always worry about what I will breathe in on a flight, hence the handkerchiefs - well, this time it was not germs but farts.

Someone dropped the smelliest fart just as we took off for Antalaya on the return leg - that fart was so strong it was still doing the rounds as we landed in Birmingham. I fully expected the oxygen masks to be deployed!

Just a word about some of our fellow travellers as this will lead into the next section which will be about the British abroad.

In Antalya airport I saw a man striding about Burger King with some crutches tucked underneath his arm. He looked happy and was obviously British because of the tattoos and the straw hat perched on top of his shaven head. He was also wearing cut off denim shorts and a vest tee shirt exposing his hairy shoulders….British. 

Anyway, there he was nipping happily about Antalaya but the flight must have been a terrible experience for him because after we landed he no longer carried the crutches under his arm, he now dragged himself along on the crutches like a zombie. It was like a reverse miracle…in Turkey he could walk, in England he could claim disability benefits. (Cynical old me). He looked exactly like the sort of bloke who would be interviewed on BBC Midlands complaining about people 'coming over here and taking advantage of the benefits system'.

Oh well.

Monday 21 September 2015

Tales From Turkey

Greetings my loyal band of idiots...I have been prompted into writing a few words about our recent trip to Turkey and so please be prepared to be amused, amazed and aroused as I expose the truth about what people get up to on holiday in the vain belief that nobody is watching...I AM ALWAYS WATCHING!


So, let us begin this series of  pen portraits describing our weeks holiday in Turkey. I made notes about various aspects of the trip, from the British abroad, to the food, the hotel and the staff but as this holiday was mostly spent around the pool I want to start by talking about what people wear in and around a holiday pool.


Poolside attire…or The Things You See When You Haven’t Got Your Gun.

During the course of this recollection I will be talking about the poolside attire of ladies and I don’t want to be accused of sexism so I will begin by talking about the men who graced the pool at our hotel in Turkey.

Now, perhaps I’m a snob but I cannot stand people who wear swimming trunks when not in or near a swimming pool…seeing some ageing hairy fellow wandering through the foyer of a posh hotel, shirtless and wearing only swimming trunks and flip flops is just plain wrong! Put a shirt on man or cover yourself with the lovely soft white dressing gown that the hotel provides and which you will invariably smuggle back to the UK in your suitcase!

It’s bad enough the sights you see around a pool, but at least it is the proper place to see it.

I would never make that mistake, I always cover up when possible (it’s a Health & Safety requirement) but at the poolside I might remove my shirt and even my vest. If the temperature rises above 90 degrees I might even take my socks off.


Being a man of a certain outlook (and waistline) I long since decided that swimming shorts are the best suited attire for me when taking up the challenge of a swimming pool. I think it is much more savoury for others if you keep as much of yourself as possible tucked away out of sight - even under water!

You soon notice, when by a pool, that other gentleman no matter their age or physical appearance, have an opposite view and let as much as possible remain visible to others whilst swimming…or parading near a pool that they might eventually enter.

The dreaded ‘budgie smugglers’ were all too apparent during our week in Turkey and the majority of the gentlemen wearing them had big bellies which hung down in front, often obscuring the ‘budgies’ completely…so I suppose that is a good thing?

The other problem with speedo type trunks is that some gentlemen have rather too much to conceal within such a  small garment and this can cause issues for ladies (and some men). Imagine how disturbing and dangerous it can be if you are reclined on your sun bed and such a chap wanders by. Your eye line is just at the right/wrong height and I’m telling you that it can make you drop you frozen daiquiri as the lycra trunks strain to hold in what appears to be more of an ostrich than a budgie!

I think too big is better than too small (I’m talking about trunks now) and although you have a slight risk of them being left behind in the pool when you emerge, due to the amount of the pool you have soaked up, you can at least grab them easily and secure them whilst you drip back to your sun bed.

One excuse people use for deploying the lycra is that it dries quickly - well let me tell you in 90 degree heat, even the baggiest shorts dry quickly but if you wanted to change there were little changing cubicles in which you could slip into something less wet…so much easier than battling under a towel and flashing your hairy bum at passing Germans.

I guess that some ladies, and men, would find the sight of a handsome, tanned young man in skimpy trunks something that makes the holiday worthwhile? Well, let me tell you that they were very few of them on display around the pool on this occasion…what there was no shortage of was old, fat, hairy men who had forgotten their dignity when they packed their suitcases.

Now, moving on to the ladies…and let me start by reminding you that although Turkey is a secular state, it is a Muslim country and we were reminded of that around the swimming pool.

One couple in particular brought the whole issue into focus…the balding hairy backed husband wearing his little trunk and exposing far too much and his young slim wife, swimming gracefully in the pool in her designer Burqini….yes, a full head to toe burka designed for swimming. The only bit of that lady displayed to the world was her feet…although I didn’t look of course!

Now there is a separate debate to be had about the religious and sexual politics of such a garment but I must admit when I looked around the pool at what some other ladies were wearing, I was almost converted.

Let me again state, as a man I know I’m dipping my toe into dangerous waters, but some ladies need a friend who might just occasionally say - NO! It doesn’t suit you or even fit you!


Take the lady we christened Mrs Dick, (very un PC I know but be honest we all do it, giving strangers names to make talking about them behind their backs easier).

Mrs Dick was a morbidly obese lady who had no fear in displaying that fact to the world. Her choice of bikini left very little to the imagination and good for her I suppose, to be confident and proud enough to just lay there on the poolside…on two sun beds.

She, I could overlook, (if I stood up on tip toes) but the ladies who I found most difficult to deal with were those of any age or shape who insisted on wearing bikini  bottoms that were far too small!

It’s back to the eye line issue again - reclining with a book, you glance up and you see coming towards you something that looks like a small pack of spiders trying to devour a Dairy Lea triangle…do you get the picture?

Of course, many folk had the unfortunate experience of seeing me floating in the pool like some old grey whale looking for a beach to die on…and I apologise if I have over stepped the mark re ladies poolside attire but I have tried to be even handed and who knows, perhaps the time will come when we no longer care about the physical appearance of others, that we don't judge people by looks alone and we embrace the fact that beauty will come in many forms…..no, I suspect Burkini’s all around is more likely!