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Author Topic: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)  (Read 16291 times)

Offline RosiB

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #20 on: September 14, 2016, 08:35:53 AM »
Up to Day 5! Please, please continue!

Offline keith

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #21 on: September 14, 2016, 01:00:23 PM »
I've read all of your blogs up to day 5. They've all been very enjoyable and I do hope that you can find a solution so that you are able to continue.

Offline Lizilu20

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #22 on: September 14, 2016, 04:40:19 PM »
Please continue Chris. Sometimes I had this problem if the signal was weak but I just kept regressing and eventually if worked. Sometimes had to go via home/holiday reports rather than on the main page.

Hope you sort it out as I'm very much missing your blog.   :(

Offline Chris_S

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #23 on: September 14, 2016, 05:20:56 PM »
This post is done blind - I can't see the responses, easily - Sorry :'(

Day 6 – Another day arrives (see yesterday)

And tomorrow was another day.  And this was:

Oh Calamity after calamity.  Where will it all end?  No Internet!  - Guests ripping their hair out due to no Facebook (most people under 35) / Facetime (for the 13% with iPhones).  No Google, no eMail.  End of World!  Woe, Woe and thrice Woe!

Seems the WiFi passwords had been changed, possibly for good reason, but who can say?  And not many know, including reception!  A few phone calls and it’s soon sorted.   Normal and sanity resumed (as much as what passes for Normal and Sanity, that is).  Sighs of relief.

Best option, with all this anxiety?  Go and collect the prescription reading glasses from Barbaras at Goz, as planned; the town, being pre-lunch will be its usual sleepy self as opposed to the evening, relatively, busy time.

The service at Goz, was, well, the service at Goz.  This is where you get a pair of spectacles that are to specification and fit, work, and are a good specification.  Depending on your chosen dispensing optician in the UK, this may not always be the case.  I know for a fact, they often lower the specification for reading glasses to soften the blow, financially.  Turkey, on the other hand gets you a higher specification, for less money.  When I say specification, I don’t mean the prescription, scans of which live on my Smartphone and also float somewhere in the Cloud.  This is handy, especially if you lose, break or whatever to them.  A current prescription is then at hand to replace the defective article.  (For the sake of completeness, I also have scans of the medical prescriptions – just in case.)

Of course, by now, it’s time to attend to the

Hydration is Important

part of the morning,  Since Sunset is chronologically some way off, we opt for Sunset,  the restaurant (again) as being physically nearby, which then turns into lunch because we can’t be bothered to move, watching the occasional boat movement.  The occasional boat movement is, really, the only movement discernible at all, if we wish to be pedantic, since not much else is happening, anywhere.

Assuming you ignore the biblical flood, manifesting itself as a torrent around us, as the daily cleaning ritual occurs.  The fact that the torrent is around us, and we’re not in it suggests that the torrent was in the control of Moses, but no, just dextrous use of the hosepipe.  This would be an impossible thing to do in the UK, as you well know – as after two days of sun there is a hosepipe ban, or the water meter spins off its mounting in despair, followed by the Utility Company preparing to raid your bank account in punishment for actually using the precious liquid.

The light(er) lunch that followed was better than some, not as good as others, but no reason to warn people away from, and then again, nothing to get excited about.

You’ll have guessed by now that the return to the hotel would have been by Joni Mitchell’s finest, which gave us an extra 20 minutes or so by the pool to fall asleep, or read more pages of the latest sordid novel (or not so sordid, in our case).  Actually in our case it may well have been both, but we’ll never admit to actually falling asleep in the sun, will we?

It occurs to us that we could have booked the evening meal while we were in town, but we’re getting so laid back, we forgot.  Instead, we resort to Plan C, which is to get Halil on reception to make the booking for the Marina.  Job Done.

Only when we get there, we are an hour late.  Which, dear reader, is impossible.  The time we were expected, is a time that we would NEVER book a table.  Which means one of several things:  Halil, got it wrong (he didn’t, we heard him make the booking); it was written down wrong (much more likely); or the previous occupant of the table was overrunning (the other most plausible reason).  So you get the straight-faced reasons why the booking is not honoured as expected,

It matters not, really, as there is a table, not on the edge, but more central, which isn’t a problem unless you are an ardent people watcher (guilty).  Some things have to be given up for the sake of peaceful karma, so we are seated centrally, and watch different people.

We review the menu, with no real idea of what we’re going to have until they wave a stainless steel bowl covered in clingfilm under our noses.  Now this sounds almost medical in its approach, but no, it merely houses a large former resident of the sea, namely a Sea Bream.

Now this Piscean character does look the part.  Those of us of an older persuasion, no doubt having been brought up by a parents or grandparents in what to look for in order to check the fish is fresh.  This tells us two things, one is that our previous generations had the rogue traders selling stale fish, and secondly that this one in the bowl isn’t long out of the environment to which it was accustomed.

In short, it was as fresh as we could tell.  It was also at a slight premium over the main menu item.  But, considering the rareness of such a beast, the premium was acceptable, the offer tempting, and the deal made, hoping we hadn’t been suckered into it.

While the item was being ritually prepared and whatever, the usual ‘on the house’ items arrived.  This included the balloon bread, which, wasn’t so much balloon as Airlander.  (That’s the new airship cum whatever thing that’s recently had its maiden flight from the old airship sheds in Bedfordshire; before denting itself in a mishap - the cause of which is to be determined, but anyone with aeronautical nous can work out relatively easily).

We don’t believe we were suckered into the Sea Bream, but Garlic Prawns can, in both our cases, cause the eyeballs to refrain from scanning that part of the menu.  And so it was again.  And they were, well, garlic prawns.  As in in the previously mentioned Turkish equivalent of Prawns Pil-Pil.
Then the recently demised Sea Bream arrived with the requisite salad and chips (wedges actually).  This was very nice.  Like most non-vegetarian food, and by that I mean it was once walking, swimming or flying, larger often means that the cooking time is more easily controlled and the end result is more flavour and better texture.  And so it was.  So much that even some of the chips and salad were left behind at the end – thus demonstrating the completeness of a relatively healthy chunk of the oceans beneficence was devoured in preference to the soils finest produce.

After that fish had disappeared, in this case without the need for Captain Ahab, the Pequod or even anyone called Ishmael, as far as I know, the only thing left was to share the ice cream (the gloopy sort you don’t get with the mechanised stuff in the UK) and return to the hotel, for a nightcap.

And the note comparing.

And the unlikely stories.

But then that’s what it’s all about, eh?
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Offline keith

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #24 on: September 14, 2016, 06:52:56 PM »
Brilliant Chris_S.........we've now had an opportunity to read day 6........another really descriptive account of your time in Kalkan. Keep them coming as I know that a lot of people are enjoying your holiday reports.

Offline Chris_S

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #25 on: September 14, 2016, 11:35:52 PM »
Day 7 – Some experiences in a big City

This assumes that Fethiye is a big City.  Or even a City.  This is also, of course, a contentious point as it depends on definition.

In the UK, a City, as defined traditionally, has a Bishop’s Chair in a Cathedral. Using this as a guideline, then Fethiye is NOT a City, for obvious religious and historical reasons.

Of course, the UK is part of the EU (still…), and Brussels, with compliance from Westminster, deem that a City is defined by other complicated factors.  As we don’t have 4 years, 2 million pages and an army of wordsmiths at our disposal, we shall leave it there.

Suffice to say, Fethiye is just much, much bigger than Kalkan.  And Noisier. And Manic.  Especially with a festival looming and numerous Turkish families are in a state of migration to celebrate.  Nobody bothers to find out what Fethi Bey did to get the place named after him, which is a shame.

The hustle and bustle, though, leads to hazardous driving situations.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  As we have the rented horseless carriage, we’ve opted to spend the day in Fethiye, to have a change of scenery, and who knows what?  Fortunately, we have the TomTom, which knows the way to the ‘Big City’, and Kate (the least annoying voice – I have Joanna Lumley on it as well, but she doesn’t do Turkish pronunciation very well) directs us to the car park near the amphitheatre and Marina.

En route is where we encounter the hell that is (probably) Istanbul drivers (or their ilk) who use their horns when you stop at a junction with a big red, octagonal sign, saying ‘DUR’.  Bart Simpson may well have the same word in his mind as he queries to himself why this causes frustration to following traffic.  Especially as the traffic stream across us is similar to the M25 on a Friday night. (Substitute this for your local traffic jam, depending on your location in the UK). 

Entering the Car Park, we note that there are no tickets.  This is puzzling, until we realise that the plate has been photographed, and no doubt timed on entry, and will probably do the same on exit to determine the length of stay and thus, the fee.

I suspect the reason we don’t use this in the UK, is that there is little opportunity with this system for car parking companies to employ usury and fines via the DVLA to swell the coffers.  But this isn’t the UK, so they have a modern system that works with one man, and probably makes money honestly, and is done efficiently.

Since

Hydration is important

we partake of some fluid intake at one of the many establishments at the Marina, before we embark on today’s mission.  This is, you may be unsurprised to hear, is The Fish Market.

This is not done without some previous research, so we know (roughly) how it works.  Similarly, we have worked out how to get there from the Marina.

With the unerring navigation skills like those of a returning swallow in Spring, we go straight there, albeit by a slightly different route to planned, principally because some of the shops looked more interesting!  However, the folding stuff (and plastic) remains firmly under tight security, and the retail establishments, are, this time, out of luck).

Now we have successfully negotiated the minefield that resembles a shopping arcade, without incurring additional financial impairment, one of the entrances to the Fish Market is eventually revealed.  This isn’t really difficult, as some signs are blindingly obvious.  It’s the ones at the entrances you can miss!

We don’t though, and peruse the wares on the central ‘island’, which is filled with countless varieties of fish (bet that surprised you, you weren’t expecting fish in a Fish Market were you?).

We know that you choose the restaurant, then the fish, but like good neophytes, we reverse this and choose the fish and then tell them where we are going next to consume the fish.  As we have no idea of the qualities of the restaurants, it’s a case of ‘pick a card, any card’.

It is very difficult, to describe the range of fish available here.  If you are younger, you may be aware of the few varieties of fish available at the supermarket (if your supermarket does fresh fish that is); if you are older, then you may remember the wet fishmongers who had enormous ranges of fish laid out on the marble slabs for selection.  Fethiye Fish Market is the latter,

On Steroids.

For reasons that are obvious, the labelling of the fish is largely in Turkish, which to us means little, except for the few labelled in English.  Many of the examples on show are not even recognisable to the untrained eye.  These are best avoided, as we have no idea what we are letting ourselves in for.  Now there is this tantalising prospect, that, post-Brexit, the Spanish and other nationalities’ ships vacuuming up the sea bed around Britain will be unable to do so; thus reducing the depletion in fish stocks.  It will take several years to build up a fishing fleet again, and who knows, we may return to a wider selection of sustainable fish instead of depending on Alaskan Sockeye Salmon and Vietnamese Cobbler, and so on.

We make our Selection, in this case some King Prawns (450g) and a Wild Sea Bass (532g), they will be prepared and sent to the selected restaurant, where we announce our arrival by informing the proprietor of the purchases and adding some Aubergine Salad and a bottle of white.

After a pause at the table, the usual bits arrive, and I notice the bread coming out of the oven, onto a plate and thence to our table in about 2 minutes.  The bread looks more like muffins (NOT the American fairy cake variety – I mean proper British ones), or, at a pinch, and depending on your UK locale, Oven Bottoms.

We devour most of this with most of the (delicious) Aubergine Salad, and pause, waiting for the selected fish to arrive.

What seemed a reasonable amount of King Prawns, now seems extravagant when you see them, shelled, etc. and sizzling in oil with garlic and a paprika/chilli mix.  This could be a challenge!  The Wild Sea Bass, potentially also, could be challenging, although this can be done more conventionally, dissecting on either side and carefully – there’s bones in that there fish.  The speed of this dissection helps the digestion of something more than your average restaurant Sea Bass, since it’s wild and not farmed.

You can get Bloaters in England.  Well, you could once.  Now we have two UK Bloaters in Fethiye Fish Market.  Paying the bill (In case you don’t know, you pay the fishmonger for the fish on purchase, and then pay the restaurant for the preparation, etc. – so two bills), a longer walk back to the Car Park is required, and we meander slowly past the shops.  This return visit costs money!

Enough said.  You don’t really need to know about the additional help we gave the economy, nor the fun in negotiating for things we had no intention of buying (shame on us!).  I feel another Brinksmat or Hatton Garden Raid coming on…

Escaping to the Car Park, it is full with the cones out, preventing further entry, and no-one in the booth.  Until Man comes strolling out (from the Café – it is Turkey), removes cones blocking entrance (he’s smart – he knows if I’m going, there’s now a space), starts his computer and has to input the reg. number to find out how long we’ve been there.  Grateful that they don’t charge by increased weight of the occupants, we are let off lightly for 6TL, and, with Kate on TomTom, head back to Kalkan, the journey of which is uneventful, with snoozing in the non-drivers seat.

The poolside beckons while we endeavour to digest the oceanic produce, until we can try to take on a somewhat lighter meal than originally planned at Baharat.

Baharat, therefore, is the evening’s venue for seeing how uncomfortable we can make ourselves.  As it’s Kalkan, this may not be the last time, as the food quality, taste and quantity, as you know, often cause you to misjudge your input by significant amounts.

A steely resolve comes over us to restrict the number of courses (for a change) and we give our order to Charles Dickens, who appears to be working there.  It’s pretty busy, though not with other Dickensian characters and we have only a short wait until our table is ready, at the edge, and overlooking the restaurants and activities below.

As we are determined, we keep our resolve and restrict things to a Beef Stroganoff, Moussaka and a bottle of House White.  This, fortunately turns out to be the ‘right thing to do’ as we can still walk afterwards.  Both portions were right sized, flavour was just right, and there were no ill effects later on that weren’t expected.

We consider we must have won in the end, though we may have been able to attack the Baharat’s menu with more vigour had we judged the lunch better.  Experience gained, we’ll get it right next time we visit the Fish Market.

Maybe.  Or maybe not.  These learning curves can be pretty steep when they are 12 months apart, you know.

In the subsequent hours, the hotel bar acts as the recovery room to let all this ‘go down’ with the aid of suitable beverages, until we can be reasonably sure of a night’s sleep.  Eventually, of course, the lure of sleep proves too much, and we leave the eclectic mix of Brits, Turks and hotel cat to amuse themselves with further drinks, conversation and social interaction until tomorrow.
 

Offline kalkan4eva

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #26 on: September 15, 2016, 03:45:37 PM »
Absolutely loving your reports, Chris_S...my you have a lovely way with words!
Glad you enjoyed the Fish Market - we have an annual pilgrimage each year to the same spot! We have always chosen our fish first and the restaurant second - no idea that wasn't the "correct" way ;D. We've been rotating the restaurants year on year to spread the love but I think my favourite is Cinar because the front of house guy Baris is so funny. We get a lot of pleasure from watching the fishermen bringing in the catch and bartering with the vendors and, in turn the vendors setting up their lunch on temporary tables in front of their stalls. The fish there is some of the best we've tasted in Turkey, although I have to say we tend to opt for a mini whale to share or king prawns - never the two. No wonder you were stuffed :laugh: :laugh:
Looking forward to Day 8...are we in real time yet?
Better to keep your mouth shut and appear stupid than to open it and remove all doubt :)

Offline Chris_S

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #27 on: September 16, 2016, 05:02:46 PM »
[No, not real time yet, but catching up - the previous accessibility problems, you understand]

Day 8 – This is Normality.

Normality – mmmm?

Douglas Adams once wrote: “Normality will be resumed as soon as possible, once we’ve worked out what normality is”.

Kalkan normality is different to whoever you speak to.  To cover this entire gamut of perceived normality would take the 4 years, 2 million pages and an army of wordsmiths that were mentioned yesterday.  And the ones in Brussels would probably get further to defining it than I could.  But then again, being Brussels, probably not.

Let’s face it, unless you’re doing something special / different / extraordinary, a visitor’s day in Kalkan is:-

1.   Get Up
2.   Have breakfast
3.   Sit / lounge around doing nothing, maybe read
4.   Mid-morning beverage
5.   Sit / lounge around doing nothing, maybe read
6.   Have Lunch
7.   Sit / lounge around doing nothing, maybe read
8.   Mid afternoon beverage
9.   see 3, 5, and 7
10.   Early evening beverage
11.   Get showered and changed
12.   Eat, Drink and so on until:
13.   Go to Bed

Just vary this as you see fit, and exchange any one or more with what your favourite is.

Essentially, though, the list is about what you can handle after a heavy day.  We’re not the sort that feel we have to be doing something all the time.  We do that the rest of the year.  Kalkan is Turn Up, and Turn Off for the most part.

And Day 8 is most definitely one of those.

Thus we have the light breakfast as we watch people consume sufficient to keep them going for a couple of days under normal circumstances (not all the guests, you understand, just in case you feel you may be one of them); the totally required multiple cups of coffee, and the similarly numbered good mornings so beloved of hotel breakfast rooms in sit-coms. 

This is where you spot the ‘bright as a button’ early birds, full of life and ready to talk Quantum Physics, the existence of the Higgs Boson or whether the jury was right to acquit Helen Titchener or not.

On the other hand there are those that stare into the pool of liquid that is the coffee cup as their brain desperately tries to align itself with the real world, and the semi conscious part is struggling to fight of the remnants of REM, and come out of the dream state.  Unfortunately for the former description, the latter is a more accurate representation of me.  However, I do get my own back at the end of the day when we enter the tortoise and hare stage…

I digress, but only slightly, as the morning passes ever so gently; the sun repeats its passage across the sky, and we endeavour to do our best to soak up some of the UV lest it contribute to Global Warming, Climate Change or some other invention of an anonymous scientist in the University of Tristan da Cunha, writing his Masters Thesis on a unique subject. (See the newspapers for the latest discovery that we already knew about, or is poorly researched by a ‘scientist’ or ‘researcher’, somewhere).

Skipping the boring bit of the morning, which is interrupted by the excitement of nothing happening, I’ll jump to Chillies for Lunch.

Which, on the basis of yesterday’s lunch, will be a light lunch.

In order not to break with tradition, Mr Happy nearly remembers what we’ve been having for lunch there for the past million years, and we can commence on the Airlander Bread, Shepherd’s Salad and Pide.  This combination works for us as it still leaves the ability to cope with something in the evening, whatever that will be.  It is, of course supplemented by a bottle of White, because

Hydration is Important

the consumption of which ignores the tendency for it to cause some somnambulism when poolside later.  But this is Kalkan, so it doesn’t really count.

And Somnambulism wins for some of us, though in my case, finishing the e-book is more important, as there is only three chapters to go…

But as the sun goes down behind the mountains, or in our case, the buildings between us and the mountains, it’s time for changing and getting ready for the pre-prandial stuff before we go to Mussakka.

Having previously booked, which seemed appropriate, as it always seems a bit busy when you go past.  It’s been around long enough so its popularity is well known.  Booking meant that we had a reserved table, and not waiting for someone to vacate it.  Some other establishments would do well to note this fact.

Calamari for starter, shared of course – this becoming a fashionable habit, and probably does very little for the waistline apart from the psychological benefits of convincing yourself that you’re actually trying to be sensible.  Traditionally served, i.e. battered rings, they aren’t rubber bands, but neither are they like the earlier mention of those at Zygi.  In other words: ‘nowt to complain about’.

The Lamb Chops are off.  Not rotten you understand, just aren’t any left.  An alternative is required, and ‘Summer Wok’ is selected.  This is a ridiculous name for a Lamb Kavurma, and reminds one that Thomas Cook bucket and spade holidaymakers have made their mark.  I just hope Mehmet changes this before someone other than me comments on it.  When it comes, it good, and finishing it becomes an issue.  Therefore, some is left before discomfort sets in.  Quit while you’re ahead seems a good idea.

The other main course was a Mussakka Fillet with onions.  After all the fish lately, it has to be the turn of something that walked.  And a slightly overdone Medium Rare it was, and not so over done as to need re-describing as oversone..

After that attempt at depriving the planet of methane generators, the best thing we can do to complete the evening, is the, also now becoming trendy, shared Ice Cream.

Then you have the arduous climb back to the hotel. It is on these occasions I’m glad we don’t have a villa halfway up the mountain – I wouldn’t get any exercise at all, it would be taxis or cars everywhere, which is what the Stainless Steel one often does, and I return at a measured military pace, learned decades ago in the ATC.  This only gets the heart going a bit, and I hope the medical professions here and back in the UK don’t subsequently think I’m mad and warn against it.

Mad is what I probably am.  Eventually the pulse rate gets below about 3 trillion, and the respiration to a more modest ten thousand, as the glass of Angora at the hotel bar evaporates in front of me.  Strange that – all my alcoholic drinks seem to evaporate before my very eyes.

Must be the balmy climate.

We’ll see what tomorrow brings, and whether the beverage evaporation rate improves or not.

Offline Chris_S

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #28 on: September 17, 2016, 05:28:27 PM »
Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson) – Tuesday 12th (54)

Day 9 – A Quiet Life - sort of returns

For the most part today was a bit like yesterday, so refer to the order of things and you’ll get the gist of the sequence.

Before Lunch, there was a minor panic, poolside, when a large moth, straight out of the very best (or worse – depending on your point of view of such things) Hammer Horror films, or a Ray Harryhausen attempt at creating frightening monsters.

In this case it was about 70mm long, and, was in some difficulty at the edge of the pool.  Whether this was because it got drenched, or whether it was injured is unknown, but people were watching it fluttering away as if it were a cartoon.  Nobody would go near it.  Probably because we’re not used to moths that size, and our imagination leads us to believe that it will be ferocious, carnivorous, or worse.

It was pretty obvious that the way it was in a panic, that eventually it would run out of energy if it kept up this state, so the rescue came (me) and it was coaxed gently out of the wet poolside where it scurried / fluttered off into the undergrowth via a sun lounger with distraught occupant above it.

It’s a bit difficult for people to accept that the moth was more frightened of humans than humans should be of moths.  And, as far as I know, they tend to eat nectar and possibly insects, not humans.

Is there a happy ending? No idea.  It remained in the undergrowth for some time, eventually the panicked fluttering died down, and it did what moths do and blended into the foliage for safety.  In fact it was very difficult to spot when it kept still.

We just hope it lived to fight another day; though I’m a bit worried about people looking at it struggling like it was a Pokemon Go character, and not a harmless living creature that probably does less damage to the balance of nature than we do.

Note that I’m not a naturalist, nor am I especially focussed on animal welfare.  I just cannot see real suffering as entertainment.

Then the WiFi went down again.  Only this time it was deliberate, as the AP (Access Point) was changed, hopefully for something actually reliable.  This of course means a change of password and ensuing chaos for those not present at the announcement.

We shall see how it goes…

Chillies for Lunch – see Yesterday.  Nothing different, culinary-wise.  At All.  Except maybe the white was different - we prefer Majestyk to yesterday’s white!

And the usual soporific effects caused by the white wine, the sun, the loungers and the fact you’re on holiday means that, well, time to switch off for a while.  But without the white dot in the centre, like you used to get in the early days of television!

This sojourn in the afternoon is cut a little short, as one of us (guess which one) has an appointment with Yusuf (Wella) for maintenance on their hair.  Only when we get there, he’s closed.  And we have an appointment.  Must be something drastic.  Only trouble is, it’s difficult to find out what.

A previous customer, relaxing at Zulas, says it was a familial emergency; Husseyin at Samphire says it’s something to do with the celebrations / festival or whatever.  We just don’t know.  There’s another hairdresser between Zulas and Wapiano, and as the maintenance is minimal, this establishment is utilised.

Meanwhile the other, non coiffeur-oriented subject whiles away the time watching the world go by at Zulas with a single Efes.  Because

Hydration is Important.

If you sit there long enough, you’ll notice that it’s a bit like Corrie or EastEnders.  They’re in and out of each others places all the time.  (You know the tale: We never locked the doors, people would just come and go).  This is a sort of mutual community, if you like, looking out, and helping each other.  It’s Real Life in action.

Walking back to the Taxi Rank after the personal grooming is completed, we book for the evening at Wapiano, and, Kalkan being Kalkan, and memories being long, Ewan of course recognises us and takes command of the reservation.

This, when we arrive later, gives us a pretty good table on the edge.  I’m not claiming favouritism here, we’re just as likely to be out by the bins next time, but we’re not complaining about the location this time, as we look down on Samphire, which doesn’t seem to be as busy as Wapiano.

Here we do the sharing bit again, only this time with Fish Cakes, and a comes with a lot of attention.  Oh, we feel so special, but then we have known the Chillies people since the Kalamar Road days, so maybe they have long memories too; there seems to be a few Chillies’ employees and ex-customers here, and is beginning to sound a bit incestuous!

The Fish Cakes.  At least, although they have the same name, they are never the same twice.  Individual chefs have their own tastes, ingredients and whatever, so it’s a bit unpredictable.  They also don’t destroy your appetite for the main course either.  One of those things that give you a heads up on the taste styles to come.  We hope.

The Lamb Chops aren’t off tonight, well not at Wapiano, anyway.  Not that the recipient raved about them, merely noting that they were the best lamb chops they’d had in Kalkan.  This is saying something, considering the number of lambs that have been devoured here in the form of those chops.  Full marks there, then, for Wapiano’s Lamb Chops.

This left a Flaming Marble Fillet Steak to try.  Initially, I’m not sure whether it’s the marble that’s flaming or the steak, but I expect it’s the Steak.  Semantics just cause confusion sometimes.

As you would expect, it’s the steak that’s flaming.  Not for long, it’s loaded with alcohol, table-side, ignited, and the ensuing conflagration avoided (just) by the staff.  Fortunately, the combustion process is short, and you will be pleased to hear that your writer isn’t posting this from the burns unit at Fethiye.

It comes with three sauces, and don’t ask what they are, because I’m unsure.  You can be sure though that (at least) one of them will be acceptable to your palate - so go for it.

I asked for Medium Rare (as usual) and it was Medium Rare.  If you like your steak to not continue cooking on the - very – hot slab, then I recommend you remove it to the board, or, undercut it as you consume it to reduce the contact patch with the slab.  That bit will get well done, but the heat transfer will be reduced.

Now I’ve given away my engineering background, I suppose?

You’ll never guess there was a shared Ice Cream at the end, would you?  I thought not.

Now I feel I should comment on something here.  And it concerns the team at Wapiano.  We know that Ewan is there, and other ex-Chillies (over the years) people are there.  We also note that Ewan’s daughter is also in the background (she’s autistic, but is getting excellent education support from the State on a one to one basis), as is Ewan’s wife, not in the background, but serving at tables.

I think this is a good thing.  She’s good, knows her stuff and I do get a little unimpressed by the overbearing macho egos of the male-dominated restaurant staff everywhere else.  I know it’s traditional, social, and all the rest, but I can only say that this was refreshing and empowering and I believe that we should encourage more of this.  (I’d use her name here, but I have absolutely no idea on how to spell it.  No doubt, one of you will add this to the thread for me.)

I suspect this may well be one of the places that will get a return visit this year, as to date, we haven’t been anywhere twice in the evenings.

Taxi for the less mobile, Military March for the other, and evaporating drinks for both at the hotel bar.

I don’t have a Crystal ball, but I can see much fluid tomorrow…

Offline Chris_S

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #29 on: September 18, 2016, 06:37:11 PM »
Day 10 – Life on the Ocean Wave

That’s given away the ‘much fluid’ bit for today, hasn’t it?

We are picked up by our resident friend, J, thrown out at the Marina (not really, but it sounds more dramatic), for a jolly day out pretending to be Buccaneers, Corsairs or something.  That’s not Royal Navy bombers, or Ford Cars from the past, incidentally.

This is a private boatload, rather than a public group compiled in twos and threes, etc.  Thus, there are nine of us, and no hoi-polloi!

J of course we know, (unless it was a total stranger that drove us down), and most of the others we also have met before on other boat trips.  Plus some new faces to make up numbers.  Anonymity prevails here as I’m not going to break privacy without permission.

Any of you have done a boat trip, probably all of you; know how it works, so I won’t bore you with the standard itinerary.

Then we turn left and head for Kiziltas instead of going clockwise.  This is a pleasant change, and when we get there it looks like Brighton (or similar) on a sunny Bank holiday in Britain.  With a continuous stream of people going down the innumerable steps, just how long would it be before they were overflowing into the sea and being picked off by Great Whites?

Yes, Yes, I know, there’s only been three sunny Bank Holidays in Britain since 1743, but try to use some imagination!  [I believe there may be a pic. on KTLN – but I’m not sure - have I mentioned my internet access in Kalkan currently?]

As you will be well aware, there are only so many things you can do on a boat trip.  Eat, Drink, lounge around, talk and throw yourself overboard.

You can also, request permission from the Admiral in charge, whether you can be empowered with a fishing line with a lethal lure on the end.

And so it is.  A fishing line out each side, one of which, yours truly is in command.

Now, I confess that remembering the when where and so on of the fishing lines and results is a bit hazy now, possibly due to the fumes from those evaporating glasses of wine, but the score for the entire trip was seven mackerel.  Three were of the size that you’d get if you bought the fillets in Tesco, Waitrose or Aldi; the other four were very nice sized fish, weight unknown, but each would make a substantial meal for one and an adequate meal for two.

I’m not going to boast that five of the seven were on your correspondent’s line, nor that one ‘fell off’ (honest, guv), because I’m not that sort of fisherman.  But I cannot tell a lie!

At least one of those fish was consumed at Lunch.  Rick Stein, eat your heart out!

Now what else can you say about a boat trip.  We did, of course, revert to the normal itinerary, taking a more direct route to the usual haunts (mud excepted) before coast hugging back to Kalkan.

Would you be surprised if I told you that there was much drink consumed (or evaporated)?  Remember

Hydration is Important

Would you be surprised if I told you that there was far too much food for the occupants?

Would you be surprised if I told you there was much conversation?

You’re right – this was a Boat Trip!

Once disembarked, around 6pm, and overladen with excessive food and drink, is there anyone that actually walks back up the hill?  I’d expect, presume and plan on the use of taxis from the Pirat.  We do absolutely nothing to dispel this tradition.

Once in the hotel, there is only one thing to do.  Collapse.

This done neatly and elegantly, until such time as enough energy can be collected, together with the necessity to do something with the remains of the evening.

And that ultimately means Ali Babas, a light something or another to maintain the blood sugar levels until breakfast, and watch the world go by.

With all the Turkish tourists in Kalkan this week, there is an opportunity to consider how things change over the years.

What struck us most is the overtly Westernisation conveyed by the majority.  Now, you soon get to spot the difference between the British tourists (or whatever), and the Turkish tourist.  It’s pretty apparent without much effort.  What was especially marked was the skinny jeans, tight t-shirts and, frequently (very) short shorts of a nature not seen since the Sun’s Page Three girls of the 1980s!  And this was the Turkish females.  You knew they were the Turkish females (obviously from the Westernised cities) because their partners were so obviously NOT anything except Turkish.

Who would have predicted such things a few years or decades ago, and I suspect a certain President may not be overly impressed?

This then, is the real point behind people watching.  It’s not the people, it’s the behaviour and attitudes that are exhibited; and when you can cast your mind back even 10 years (apart from the 20 I could probably manage for Turkey, at a push), there’s a remarkable change or direction by a substantial percentage.

The counterpoint, of course is that there are still the traditional markers there as well, but this just goes to emphasise the differences that exist, but are being slowly eroded in some quarters.

 It will be interesting to see next week, and to therefore compare the difference in numbers coming and going, as the holiday ends, and Turkey gets on with things; Kalkan goes back to being Kalkan; and see what it was like, back in 2008 or something.

As it was such a tiring day, we have to finish off with conjuring tricks in the hotel bar; where we demonstrate the trick of the disappearing wine.

Repeated, to give viewers a chance to work out how its done.

Offline Chris_S

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #30 on: September 19, 2016, 05:08:25 PM »
Day 11 – Landlubbers again

Now this could get very repetitive, so we’ll skip the breakfast – pool - lunch at Chillies – pool bit and skip to the evening.

Before I do this, I should explain that the reason Chillies comes up so often is for two reasons.  Pure familiarity, it’s a light lunch and it’s not so far for those with a degree of mobility issues.

Three things:

Familiarity, light lunches, accessibility and bumping into familiar faces.  (That would have been deck two, oars three and four of yesterday’s boat trip)

Four things.

Before this turns into the Spanish Inquisition and Cardinal Biggles appears with the comfy chair, we shall, for the purposes of narrative, enlighten you with the evening’s nutritional intake at The Olive Garden.

Why the Olive Garden, well, it was handy for reimbursing BSG for the leather goods already removed from the premises (you can tell he knows you, trusts you, etc.), and there was a certain matter at a jewellers that needed attending to.

Enough Said?

The trouble with the Olive Garden, is not just the manoeuvring through Merkez’ customers and steps, but also the steps to get to the restaurant.  And once there, you find that you’re expected to negotiate the spiral staircase to the top floor.  Now stairs are bad enough, ramps are manageable, but spiral staircases for the Stainless Steel one, are very difficult.  This requires an altogether different strategy.  Coming down also requires a rethink, but that’s later.

It’s a protracted climb, where we hope that not too many other customers die of malnutrition as they follow us up to the top, and we are eventually seated.

This is where we start to struggle to find something that just appeals on the menu.  Not that there’s anything wrong with the menu, just finding something that appeals.

Whether this is us, the menu, or what, I can’t say. But it does rather preclude a second visit when you struggle to fulfil the initial selections.

We decide on Tavuk Ciger (Chicken Livers with cherry sauce), and Baharatlı Kuzu (Lamb Stew with Cardamom and Cinnamon).

Both of which are tasty, and portion control is fine.  But I’m still stumped as to what I’d have if I went again.  Where’s the Goat Stew, guys?

Turkish cuisine is fine, but at the Olive Garden it just seems a bit limited and eclectic for diverse and variable choices.

Then again, I may just have my ‘grumpy and difficult’ hat on.

Then we negotiate the dreaded spiral staircase downwards, achieved, with only thirty or so people waiting behind to visit the toilet or catch a flight home in two or three days.

BSG are delighted to see us, especially as we are going to pass on some numbered portraits of Ataturk, so we dwell longer, accepting the imbibing of some white wine to calm the nerves following the spiral descent.

[The next bit, vis-à-vis jewellers, will be omitted, lest those reading it either use it as an excuse to bludgeon their respective partners into remortgaging property for something, glittery and expensive; or alternatively promoting mild envy amongst readers of this account.]

Thence, taxi to the hotel – the legs being a bit wobbly due to the spiral staircase, the parting of the folding stuff, and, well, you can guess the rest.

And what happens when you get to the bar?

“Well, what have you bought then?”, from anyone and everyone even remotely interested in anyone pushing themselves into destitution; inevitable if you visit some of the establishments along that part of Kalkan previously described.

We subsequently opt for demonstrating the disappearing alcoholic beverage, before having a lie down until the morning to consider what we may have done…

Offline kalkan4eva

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #31 on: September 19, 2016, 05:30:53 PM »
 ;D ;D ;D
Really enjoying reading these reports Chris_S, but do enlighten us with what was bought...its as close as we come to people watching from the UK.
BTW, we do walk back up the hill after a boat trip..and we are a wee bit higher than Meldi...and..AND I may have had a couple of Fener cocktails before we set off to fortify me for the climb. Just sayin...

Offline joycie

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #32 on: September 20, 2016, 05:53:59 AM »
We used to stop not far from the Meldi when we first came to Kalkan and the walk up to the main road finished me off let alone spiral staircases in the Olive Garden. I too liked the Olive Garden but never found out what the rave factor was. We visited once but never chose to go back.

Offline Babs

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #33 on: September 20, 2016, 07:38:18 AM »
There is only one way to escape the hill....stay in the Old Town, now our favourite part of Kalkan to stay.  :laugh:

Offline Chris_S

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #34 on: September 20, 2016, 01:25:40 PM »
Kalkan4eva

You're obviously made of sterner stuff than I.  But then my excuse is my companion.

And I'm sticking to it ;D

Offline Chris_S

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #35 on: September 20, 2016, 01:29:46 PM »
Day 12 – In which we explore the possibilities of idleness

This could get repetitious if I’m not careful.

You’ll be saying, “Didn’t I read this yesterday?”, and, for the most part, you may.

I find myself in the situation some of you may have some recollection of, when you are young, small, or shall we just say, not many birthdays old.

In such cases, you may have been on holiday away from parents, and instead, with relations, perhaps.  This potential freedom is then countered by the enforced necessity to write home periodically, entreated by the parents at one end, and your temporary guardians at the other (or enforcers as they may be known).  Of course, in the days of pre-internet, e-mail and unsocial networking, you wrote letters.  The first reaction to such letters was always, “what shall I write?”, and then a few lines of ‘did this, did that, it rained, went to (wherever), love…”, squeezed onto half a sheet of A5 paper.

You do know this is a holiday, right?  And holidays mean lowered pressure to actually do anything, and to a time scale.  You can’t mow a lawn that’s nearly two thousand miles away, nor can you clean the windows at such a range.

Bliss.

Until you get home that is. And you can’t see the dirty windows for the long grass up to the eaves.  In spite of such prospective horrors yet to materialise, I shall return to the narrative.

Adem picked us up to take us to his place.  Coincidentally, this is called Adam’s Place.  Many of you may have been. Many of you may not.  You may also recall we had lunch last week when the motorised transport was available.  Since the vehicle has been returned, we rely on Adem’s collection service.

He’s on time, and we are one table out of three this evening (so far), which is good, but not really good enough.  I should point out that the choice of this evening was completely deliberate, it being a Full Moon.

This doesn’t mean we’re going to turn into Werewolves or something, but does mean that the moonlight shining on the sea, silhouetting the islands, makes it ‘a bit different’ to a normal nocturnal visit.

These days, Adem has decent lighting at the restaurant, but we can remember when the moonlight was your best chance of actually seeing what you were eating, quite apart from reading the menu.  We used to take torches to assist those tasks; but those days are long gone and instead Adem turns the lights off so you can appreciate the vista and are not reading menus or finding the carrot / bean / main ingredient in the dark.

I had been looking forward to Adem’s Incık - all the theatre, flames and so on, but the previous diners had snaffled the last one; Adem not preparing as much as usual due to the reduction in guests.  Damn!  I should have pre-booked it, but it’s too late now, so I have a Kavurma instead.  Preceded by Imam Bayıldı as a starter (I’m a sucker for this – I use it to salve my conscience for my carnivorous eating habits).

The opposite side of the table chooses Cheese Borek and Shrimp Casserole.

What can one say?  It’s delightful, for both of us.  Especially when you follow it with non ‘Carte d’Or’ ice cream (aka.: Wall’s), and have some proper stuff, instead.

Another couple of people did turn up, under their own steam, and take a table, but there’s no doubt the pinch is definitely being felt up there – I can only exhort you to make the effort and go!

As you would know, or expect, Adem returns us from whence we came, dishing out cards to anyone who looks like a potential customer!  Can’t blame him for trying, and it’s nowhere like the aggressive sales pitch of a timeshare salesperson on the Costas.

The hotel bar is the comforting place it usually is, and you are repeatedly asked “Where did you go tonight?”, and when you tell them, the reply is either “we went there years ago” or “Never heard of it”.

In both cases they are subsequently educated, or re-educated – and we shall see whether anybody actually makes the effort (minimal) or not.

All this education tends to make the contents of the glasses evaporate faster, requiring further replenishment, because

Hydration is Important

And so is sleep.

Sleep is the winner at the end of the day.

Offline Lizilu20

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #36 on: September 20, 2016, 03:03:11 PM »
Well you may be continuing with  the old "eat, sleep, hydrate, repeat" routine Chris (as we all do on holiday), but you are making each day a joy to read about.

I also think both you and Joycie deserve an award for the most consistant bloggers as we are lucky to read about both your antics as they happen. Thank you so much.  :)

Offline Chris_S

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #37 on: September 20, 2016, 05:00:13 PM »
Day 13– Hardly the Onedin Line

There should be a backdrop of some rousing, or evocative background music for this bit.  Like “Khachaturian: Adagio from Spartacus”, (https://youtu.be/Vx7RWW36wes), or a bit of composer Ivor Slaney’s work (https://youtu.be/GXWLesv48pw).

There you are, you can click the links above, listen, and read on:

We, in a collaborative sense meaning nine of us inmates of the Meldi, are aboard the Anil today, and commanded as usual by Ali.  It’s a few years since we’ve been on Ali’s boat, principally due to the need to get sufficient numbers for a boatload and frustration that no-one else bothered to do anything for their day out apart from turn up.

Ali is therefore a little older than last we met, but nowhere near older as we are.  Obviously there’s been some disruption of the Space-Time Continuum, or this Mediterranean diet thing really works.  We shall politely skip over whether Victoria has anything to do with this, as this would be imprudent at the very least.

MS Anil, true to form is amongst the first to leave, but not quite.  We need to avoid bumping into some impressively large vessels in the entrance.  Once out, we’re off like a greyhound and out goes a solitary line.

I shan’t raise the hopes of a trawler load of fish being landed, as there wasn’t a thing caught.  A little nibble early on (Ooo-er, missus – sorry, that’s Frankie Howerd), but nothing subsequently.  I have a theory about this, and I suspect it’s because Ali’s boat is a little faster than Therapy the other day.  My failure to catch anything is, I believe, because the fish can’t keep up with the lure!  Certainly there was much more drag on the line when nothing was caught, which I put down to the slightly increased speed.  [Technical Note: double the speed, four times the drag; In other words going from 5 knots to 6 knots is a 20% speed increase, but gives 44% increase in drag – and you can feel that, because it feels like you’ve caught something, but it’s not wriggling.]

We take the long route around the back of Mouse and Snake to give the fish an increased chance of escaping by going the other side of the island, whilst enjoying the first beverage of the day.  The food and drink programme is similar to the others, as are the abandon ship rehearsals.

Attempts at landing a record sized fish being abandoned, I remain at the rear of the vessel.  This is officially, as you know, called the Stern.  Or Blunt End.  Most of the paying guests have migrated to the Bow, or Pointy End, to indulge in whatever it is they are drinking.  I remain lounging at the back, rather like the mega-rich multi-millionaires you see in the papers doing similar things on the back of their significantly more expensive and larger vessels.

Those of you still listening to the links above (depending on how fast you read this, and haven’t fallen asleep yet) will note that the Captain, and his Number Two are nearly always at the back of the vessels with masts.  I am following this tradition also, and for the same reason:

To ensure those mutinous dogs for’ard behave themselves, and prepare to keelhaul those that don’t.  We shall ignore the small issue of keelhauling being illegal as it spoils the narrative.  On the other hand, is flogging still allowed?

As it happens, there are no miscreants, and therefore they are allowed to partake of the groaning table full of food, including a mild, and very popular chicken curry.  We just need another 50 people to consume it all.  Or divert towards Libya.

This gastronomic blow-out is followed, inevitably, by the customary snooze, until Ali stops again for the ‘sinking ship rehearsal’ mentioned previously.

In line with previous examples, now try a bit of Alan Rawstorne: https://youtu.be/FDlz90xeEYE

Only a couple of us left on board, well 4, and all these bodies bobbing up and down, reminiscent of:

https://youtu.be/fSpaKCC6g2M where you need to look at the part between 1:08 to 1:20 to understand.

Fortunately for the aforementioned mutinous dogs, there are no U-boats around (well, probably not) so they are pretty safe in that respect.

Apart from Tiger Sharks, Barracuda and who knows what manner of bugs, viruses and things you’ve never heard of unless you’re something with –ologist at the end of your job title.

Have I given away why I stay on board?

Then it’s time for enough fruit, cake, tea and coffee to keep Mary Berry, Paul Hollywood, Mel Giedroyc and Sue Perkins going for an entire series or two.  The only thing lacking was innuendo.  Well, not at Bake-Off proportions anyway.  Consumption of all of it was lacking too, but that doesn’t really count, does it?

Before you know it, we’re nearly back in Kalkan Harbour.  Ali, as usual, is first back, probably due to the increased speed; thus adding to my earlier suspicions.

Bl**dy good day out, though.  As are, any of the boat trips I should imagine.  I patently refuse to take sides, choose, or give points or preferences, just as I do restaurants, lest someone gets offended, upset, or otherwise disagrees.

As befits the earlier replies following the Therapy Boat trip, and the arduous climb up the West Face of Cardiac Hill, our party disassembles itself – the lure of bars showing football being a distraction to some, and the lure of shops to others.

We just get a taxi and crash out back at the hotel.

The next thing you know, you’re concentrating on that blood sugar thing at around 9.30.  You’ve probably had enough fructose this afternoon to keep you going until Boxing Day, but still the plans are laid to take over Ali Baba's, making them rearrange the furniture to get us all in.

Which they do, and we do, and we eat lightly, generally with soup and wine, because

Hydration is Important

until the arduous exertions of the day really take command again.

I still think it’s strange that you have a day where you do the square root of s*d-all, eat, drink and rabbit – yet still feel like you’ve rowed the Atlantic single-handed with two broken arms.

It’s the Kalkan thing, I guess.

The location of Ali Baba's makes it relatively easy (as if anything’s easy when you have to come back uphill) to pop down to Wapiano to make a reservation for four next Tuesday.

When I get there, can you guess the response from Ewan?

I’ll bet you can’t!

It’s:

“Table for four, nine o’clock, Tuesday”.

This means one of a few things.  He’s either a mind-reader on the side; my hotel room is bugged; Paranoia is taking hold and the government is monitoring me (foil lined hats, anybody?); or the most likely, J has got there before me and made the reservation.

Which or course she has.  Thus making the climb back up the hill superfluous and results in a text message, the friendly content of which you need not bother yourself with, but you can probably guess.

This means another drink at the bar, and the loins girded  - for tomorrow we have to be on top form.

If only – but we’ll try…

Offline Bob & Jayne

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #38 on: September 20, 2016, 05:41:53 PM »
Just having a massive catch up on EK, reading all your blogs, and yes you and Joycie definitely deserve an award.  :D :D Thank you for your great posts, just a bit worried who will take up the baton next, Babs, Sezkalkan, Littlebrowndog! no pressure and of course anyone else who have arrived in Paradise  :D

J&B
« Last Edit: September 20, 2016, 05:57:43 PM by Bob & Jayne »

Offline joycie

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #39 on: September 20, 2016, 07:31:56 PM »
Chris I love your reports they are so eloquent. Mine just pour out as I think about what we've done on that particular day.


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