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Author Topic: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)  (Read 16297 times)

Offline Chris_S

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #40 on: September 20, 2016, 11:27:57 PM »
Day 14 – Vroom-Vroom and Yawn-Yawn

Weariness has overcome us.  Or is it Lethargy?

We shall opt for lethargy, as we’ve not really done anything wearisome, and not likely to either.

That starts when you do the ‘return to Blighty’ bit in a few days.  This is something studiously ignored until the last possible minute.

Now this is a Sunday.  And whereas you, your family members, or friends may consider this a day of rest (as if!), there are some souls that get paid large sums of money – some modestly high, some extravagantly over the top – doing risky things around the world.

Following this, is alas, our minor vice, since we let everyone else watch the football (to us: Yawn, Yawn), while we watch the F1 (to us: Vroom, Vroom, everyone else: yawn, yawn).

Careful timing, research and the end result is lunch at Chillies (see pre-history) and then pop next door for the F1 at Blue Turtle.

With the requisite drinks

(Hydration is Important)

there are about a dozen watching the events in Singapore in the Blue Turtle, and five watching whatever (Cerne Abbas against St. Kilda, for all I knew) round the corner on screen two (or screen one, depending on how they number them).

Well, there’s no point in detailing this, because whichever you’re interest lies in, you’ll know what happened in either case, so no point in repeating it.

Though it was curious to note that the F1 feed failed three times but the soccer one didn’t fail at all.  Now, if I was of a conspiracy theory frame of mind, I might get suspicious, because this is often the case. But I like to think it’s because demand for the F1 feed is so high, the servers can’t keep up.  There must be a demand; Bernie, Tamara, Petra, Deborah and Slavica are hardly going to foodbanks, are they?

We go back to the hotel for an intensive recovery programme, then.  It’s hard work with all those G-Forces for two hours in 55°C temperature and 99% humidity.

Alas no.  Coiffeur maintenance is called for after yesterday’s nautical escapades.  Not down to the Force Eight gales, or the spray as we plough through the 25 foot waves; but it needs smartening up.

As we’re nearly in town, a diversion to Yusuf is on the cards, and on our appearance he is apologetic about the previously missed appointment.  All concerned with family issues and the holiday celebrations plus some unmentioned unforeseen events.

There’s no problem this time, and I return to my people watching at Zulas, and eavesdrop a little to the party of Germans on the next table.  And the several further groups of Germans passing by; and these are recognised by the Zula customers.

I should point out that my German is very ‘wenig’.  Conversationally it’s ‘kein’.

But I do pick up the few words that tell me that they quite liked Kalkan, apart from the – slightly – rude references to some of their fellow (German) travellers and their proclivities, especially regarding behaviour and relationships.

Isn’t it nice to know there are ordinary people all around the world, who can also gossip and infer along with the rest of us (not that I would do such a thing of course, and certainly not here)?

Evening-wise it’s Salonika tonight.

Salonika 1881, if you’re pedantic.

Those who have previously visited the establishment, will have read the inside cover of the menu, the rest will not know why it’s named after the second largest city in Greece.

In short, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk was born there in 1881.

Salonika (Thessaloniki, is in Greek Macedonia) that is, not the small building in Süleyman Yılmaz Caddesi.

Now you know (or already knew).

Up on the consumables route tonight is:

Grilled Sardines (shared)
Sea bass stuffed with prawns and mushrooms
Incık
And a bottle of Doluca Neo red

The sardines, as a starter are tasty, and really not quite enough for a share.  But we do what we must to prevent becoming bariatric patients, and do actually remind us of the fare you can get on the Algarve from the street sellers.  These are a bit more posh, though.

The Sea Bass is devoured, as is the Incık, which has a slight spiciness to it, which is different, not unpleasant and distinctive.  It does fall off the bone though, which could have been done with a plastic airline spoon.

We’ve never had the Neo before, and I got the impression that it was Doluca’s way of modernising the wine structure still further.  It’s certainly come a long way from the first Turkish Wines we had, several centuries ago.  Worth a try, I would say.

Now for the observations.

Salonika is a street restaurant.  This means it’s good for atmosphere, people watching, and all those sorts of things you associate with street restaurants.  No traffic of course, apart from the pedestrian sort.

Unfortunately we were sandwiched between two tables who, in effect, chain smoked.  One was continually smoking cigars (a woman) while her two other party members (all possibly Turkish) regularly lit up, and on our other side were a table of three East Europeans, possibly Ukrainians.  (Ukrainian isn’t in my recognisable language database, so I’m guessing here).  They already had their starter when we arrived and had gone through 6 cigarettes by the time our main course had arrived, they were still on the starter because their focus was the cigarettes, not the food.  A further 5 or 6 cigarettes had been consumed by the time we left and they were still halfway through the main course.  They may still be there, or maybe at the dessert, who knows?  We had taken two hours, and being downwind of the nicotine consumption, it was extremely difficult to ignore, hence the reasonable accuracy on the numbers!

Can’t really blame anyone, it was just our unfortunate choice of tables, and I suppose this is what we’re going to find as a result of the changing attitudes in Western Europe, as opposed to those in the Eastern side of the continent.

I wish I’d caught a few herring the day before – we could have had them for breakfast tomorrow!
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Offline Chris_S

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #41 on: September 21, 2016, 07:01:40 AM »
[You may spot that I've caught up - nearly!]

Day 15 – New Faces and Au Revoirs

All routines come to an end, and because today was another day we changed the routine.

This was, originally, or back in the UK, supposed to be earlier in the holiday.  But you know how it is, Kalkan just distracts, makes you busy, you come up with something more important, or even more likely, time passes and you can’t keep to your schedule.

We were, therefore, at Fener, pre-noon, to put the face to TC at KTLN, over a beverage.

This also meant putting a face to Mrs.TC, whilst reminding you, the reader, that Katie-Ellen is a dog.

This job done, with all sorts of historical infill to convince them both that we were not International People Smugglers, Corrupt Stock Exchange Insiders nor iffy Multinational Retail Business Owners.

They can now, of course, picture us when they read the nom-de-plumes used on their site, and make their own judgement.  You, of course, do not, generally, have that luxury.  This may well be a good thing.

The completion of the social meeting, means that it is, appropriately, lunchtime or thereabouts.  A decision needs to be made, especially as we have to run the gauntlet along the front, fending off the inducements to lunch at various premises, and thus encouraging further customers to patronise them.

We have, however, decided to give Blue Marlin a whirl. On arrival, we are, as it is a little early, the first.

Calamari and salad, is a no contest, especially for a light(er) lunch and gives no cause for getting upset about.  The earlier comments regarding Zygi (Cyprus) still hold – that crown is yet to be dislodged for us.

All in all, pretty respectable lunch, but we’re running out of evenings, so savouring Blue Marlin in the evening will have to be postponed until next year.

Now, one of the things about the Meldi is that it’s very difficult to escape.  We’re not talking Steve McQueen type escapes here, but the checking out, going to your taxi and then disappearing into the sunset, type escapes.

If you leave here in what can only be described as sociable hours, you may find a number of fellow guests, together with staff, wishing you Bon Voyage.  (There may be some Good Riddance, but I think not, normally).

If you are on one of those unluckily enough to be flying out of Dalaman at ridiculous o’clock and arriving in the UK at absurd o’clock, then you are likely to not be seen at all when you leave, except the ‘Night Porter’ (Mehmet, not Tom Hiddleston – calm down ladies).

The farewells are, as you can imagine, both formal, and for some tearful.  They will probably be in contact in the meantime, but for some they will be just words on the screen until next year, when the farewell will become a greeting, with similar tears, hugs and handshakes.

Sometimes it will be a car, sometimes a minibus, but this time it’s a 15-seater.  Monday is a bigger change day, all, or most will be replaced by other returning guests later on in the day, arriving on the same conveyances as those departing.  Later they reveal their presence at breakfast, since their arrival is normally post-midnight.

In the interim, we taxi up to the Yelken Bistro.  You may recall we had an evening meal here earlier (see the Greenham Common refugee and the mysterious goings-on in the bushes).

I’ve no doubt some of you will walk this continual ascent, but masochism isn’t one of my strong suits – Joni Mitchell to the rescue, it is.

Recognition of customers is a strong point in Turkey, and so we are recognised from last time, and find the Bistro a little quieter, both in patrons and eccentrics.

This does allow us to concentrate on the Imam Bayıldı starter (shared again) followed by another Sea Bass, this time with King Prawns, together with an Incık (again)

The Imam Bayıldı is listed as ‘Fainting Priest’, and the Incık is ‘Leg of Lamb’.  Maybe I’ve been coming too long, or maybe the Thomas Crook / Thomson bucket and spade people have had a denigrating effect.  I’m not sure I like it!

Personal opinions aside on the Menu titles for dishes, the Imam Bayıldı was a little small for sharing, so note this if you contemplate it for yourselves, but that’s all I can complain about there.  It was our decision to share.

The Sea Bass was, once again polished off, with only a King Prawn being offered across the table.  These prawns had to be peeled, and this seems to be a skill that means the peeling is delegated.  I of course complained bitterly that such delights should not be offered. As if!

The Incık was also comprehensively demolished – there is now some poor lamb with one leg left.  It was accompanied with what seemed to be a mushroom based sauce, but that was just my impression.  The mashed potato did soak it up rather rustically.

This left just enough room for a lemon cheesecake.  Once again, not really a big enough for two portion, but we’re trying, OK?  Stylish and lemony, it would easily have got through to the next round on TV.

The requested taxi arrives to return us to the Meldi, and, strangely, another bottle of Red has oddly disappeared from the bar.  There is obviously someone else drinking the bottles of wine with our room number on it.  We must find this bounder and insist they desist.

I wonder if they are taking the

Hydration is Important

mantra a little too seriously?

There is no other choice but to start another new bottle, and see if this lasts any longer than the previous ones.

Offline Kevin Norwich

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #42 on: September 22, 2016, 06:29:53 AM »
I note your second reference to the 'Thomas Cook Bucket and Spade People' and find this both patronising and derogatory. We have been coming to,and enjoying Kalkan, for 10 years and simply because we choose to travel with a travel agent doesn't make our opinion,or our money, any less valuable.


Offline AlisonD

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #43 on: September 22, 2016, 08:02:51 AM »
Fair point well made Kevin Norwich  ;)

Offline Babs

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #44 on: September 22, 2016, 08:17:18 AM »
Yep, I'm with you Kevin.....our daughter has been on many holidays to Kalkan with us, all arranged independently, but a couple of time she has travelled with friends and it's just been more convenient for them to use a tour company......sometimes a bit of cynisism on here?

Offline Chris_S

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #45 on: September 22, 2016, 04:09:03 PM »
I note your second reference to the 'Thomas Cook Bucket and Spade People' and find this both patronising and derogatory. We have been coming to,and enjoying Kalkan, for 10 years and simply because we choose to travel with a travel agent doesn't make our opinion,or our money, any less valuable.

By Bucket and Spade, I am trying to be neither patronising nor derogatory.

Nor is it about Tour Companies generally.

It is a reference to people who endeavour to lower standards to their level by dress, behaviour, demands or inconsideration to other people around them whilst on holiday.  It is a term widely used in the Travel Industry, especially the airlines.

I am sure that none of these attributes are yours.

I also use, and have used, Tour companies, and I am fully aware that all sorts of people utilise these services.  However, there is a minority who just don't get it that Kalkan (and any other holiday destinations) isn't a seedy British or Spanish Resort, and the majority come here for that very simple reason.  Probably yourself included.

No offence was intended to Tour Company Customers, generally

Offline Chris_S

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #46 on: September 22, 2016, 04:19:16 PM »
Day 16 – Blue Skies and Sunshine – just not here

The Smartphone said it, everybody’s tablets were saying it, and the sky said it.

It’s going to rain.  And Thunder.

It’s also going to ruin your day’s plans.

And so it does.  The laying about in the UV, the dropping off in the heat, forget it.  This is overcast, grey, and if it were cooler, could be typical day at a UK Airshow, Cricket Match or holiday in (insert your least favourite resort – I’m not going to upset anyone if I can help it).

Low Clouds – rain; Blue Bits – warmer; Lower Clouds – heavy rain; Thunder in distance; Thunder locally; Power cuts; generators starting; Mountains nearly disappearing.

Have I come all this way for this?

No.  But being British, we do what we always do, and prop the bar up and wait for it to improve.  In the meantime, we’ll have lunch at the hotel.  And read in the room (not easy – no proper chairs to sit on in the Meldi’s rooms), this is a small downside – the Meldi’s not the best equipped to cope with inclement weather and being comfortable; armchairs etcetera when you’ve got nowhere to go are desirable, but not available.

There is a positive to this.  And it is that this post is actually reasonably contemporary; I’ve caught up, sort of.  Let’s hope the intraweb thingy allows me to post it in a reasonable time.  At least the rainy weather has produced something decent.  Or not.

Hiding from the rain also means that the alcohol consumption may actually be a little reduced.  Only a little, mind you.  For others it is the reverse.  We can hear the tongue loosening effects of the bar’s social activities; but in comparison, we are dry and warm.

As the day draws on, the weather worsens, or changes, depending on whether you’re in it, looking at it, or planning to go out into it.

We are in the ‘looking at it’ position, and contemplating the ‘going out in it’ future.

Concern is growing because we are due to be at Wapiano tonight with J &C.  Wapiano, is, ostensibly, a rooftop restaurant.  This means, tonight, it is a very wet restaurant, or at the very least a wet restaurant.

Does this, we wonder, mean that we should rearrange our plans, cancel, find an alternative indoors, or be the stoic Brit and carry on as if this weather is the most normal thing in the world and changes nothing?

A flurry of texts dash across the world’s communications systems as we text our fellow guests and decide what we are going to do; or whether we revise the schedule to fit in with this second flood.

The option of walking down is abandoned, there being insufficient umbrellas to go around (Umbrellas, Turkey?  Do they have such things?), the car park adjacent to Mojitos may just provide a suitable dropping off point, and if full, enable the driver to find elsewhere to park, thus suffering the inconvenience of walking in the rain, but may also have first claim for the sole umbrella.  On this plan we are lucky, because, with a bit of manual guidance on foot, we manoeuvre the car into the only available space, suitable primed for a reasonably easy get away when the other cars have gone.

And it’s not raining.  Lightning in the sky, but no wet stuff.

Wapiano, like many of the establishments is almost deserted.  Where’s all this British grit and determination?  Where’s the Blitz spirit?  Where’s the sod-it, I’m on holiday attitude?

Somewhere else, it seems.

We are almost the only people in Wapiano, and, given the selection of a table under cover, or the conventional, at the edge table we bravely settle on the risky option.  Under the stars it is then, with the option of making a dash for it if the gods decide to take retribution on us for questioning their authority.

Can’t exactly recall what J & C had, but, we had a shared fish cake (or is that a fish cake shared, fish cakes that two of us we shared – you get the picture) and both of us had lamb cutlets, one good, and one not so.  Some subtle investigation reveals that this was mainly down to the animal, in terms of the structure of the edible parts of the cutlets, compounded by some slightly less dexterous butchering.  Possibly not easy to spot from the kitchen’s point of view, though it was still very good, it fell under the rankings of the last visit.

You can imagine, can you not, that although we are eating, drinking and gabbling away, the eyes are repeatedly being raised to the heavens.  This is not to appeal to the gods previously referred to, but to check on the weather (as much as you can in the dark, albeit 4 days after a full moon, lurking up there and dodging behind bits of cumulus nimbus and its cloudy relatives), and we are treated benignly by these superior deities and survive without a drenching.

The evening is appreciably cooler; more summer’s evening in the UK than Kalkan in September.  This is appreciated by those who suffer the furnace of Turkey for the whole of the summer, less so by those that have paid to endure the rarity of balmy evenings and nights.

All these distractions, chat, cooler climate and so on, take the edge off the need for dessert (probably to the benefit of waistlines, if not the profit margin of the restaurant); Coffee, further drinks and deeper conversation replaces the sugar boost conventionally found after a meal, until we decide to call it a day and move on to the next venue.

The car park is, as we guessed it would be earlier, largely deserted, like most of the bars and other establishments.  This desertion encouraged the decision to complete  the evening at the Meldi Bar; finishing what red wine was inadvertently left by the raucous guests earlier in the day, and are left with further decisions on beverages that might ‘hit the spot’ instead.  A job relatively easily done, once it is mulled over for a second or two.

All good things have to come to an end, the carriages have long since reverted to pumpkins and mice, and the non-holidaymakers posing as our guests are planning on the tasks needed later to gain pecuniary advantage.  In other words, they have jobs to do tomorrow, or is it today – fortunately, not at the crack of dawn.

They are not the only ones with a busy day ahead.

Time for some kip, methinks.







Offline keith

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #47 on: September 22, 2016, 07:21:11 PM »
Another brilliant post Chris_S. In a perverse way I think that the inclement weather has provided an opportunity to demonstrate even more of your literary talent.  I'm pleased that it hasn't dampened your enthusiasm and humour. I am now even more aware of how easy it can be to upset readers of the forum and will take this on board when I arrive next June and post my experiences. I really appreciate everyone that takes the time and effort to share their holiday in Kalkan.

Offline Kevin Norwich

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #48 on: September 23, 2016, 08:23:39 AM »
Thank you for taking the time to reply and for your explanation - I was certainly not aware of the term or of it's usage within the travel industry.

I to am a firm believer in politeness, good manners and consideration for others but feel we need to be careful when it comes to clothing (books, cover etc). An individual's dress sense can be quirky, diverse, different to the norm, special, beautiful. In many ways, not too dissimilar to Kalkan.

Have a fantastic rest of your holiday, the reports have been fabulous and a lovely reminder of my favourite place.





Offline Chris_S

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #49 on: September 23, 2016, 03:21:10 PM »
Day 17 – And you though Outbound was bad

Did I say this was going to be a busy day?  If you consider something like 21 hours a busy day, then you’re on the money.  Hence this one might be a bit long.

Some of it may well be doing very little, some it is frantic, it all adds up to busy.

The day to return to Albion has arrived.  This isn’t the West Bromwich variety, but the place most of you are familiar with that causes dissension by some Scottish politicians, and downright pig ignorant ungrateful attitudes by some European bureaucrats (both will remain nameless, but you know who they are).

Thus it is post breaking our fast, that we commence the packing.  You can’t do all the packing because you’ve got the best part (time-wise) of the day to negotiate before you can change for the journey home.

Having packed what we could, there is time for a brief session in the sun, before we take lunch.  This is all carefully timed, so that the lunch is later than usual.  It is also more likely to bridge that gap until breakfast tomorrow, full in the knowledge that whatever the airline throws at you, it’s not going to keep a hamster alive for long.  If you’re really unlucky it will be a wrap (Monarch, 2014), and if you’ve been especially naughty, a dry bagel and some nuts (NY Air, 1985).

These airlines don’t seem to realise that although you’re only on board for three or four hours, plus the three hours at the departure airport, plus the two hours to get to the departure airport, plus the hour or so to get out of arrivals, plus the hour or more from there to your destination, there’s no real opportunity to eat sensibly.  The flight is the only bit of relative tranquillity you’re going to get to actually eat at a reasonable pace and environment.  Duty Free trolley, scratch cards and so on, excepted.

This is part of the “O’Leary Effect”.  Of which I am a great believer that hanging, drawing and quartering should be reinstated for the perpetrator of this obscene business practice.

Oh! Yes! The narrative!

It’s an FEB (Full English Breakfast) to carry us over to who knows when, probably tomorrow, in an effort to shrug off whatever may be offered subsequently.  Chillies’ is just the ticket, not being so that you have to be carried away by ambulance afterwards, nor thinking you should have ordered the extra portion of sausages, hash browns and so on to complete the meal.  Turkish alternatives are available, of course, but the FEB is a known quantity and predictable in it’s effect.

It’s also handy to pop into town afterwards, and assist the digestion by some brisk walking.  This is to get a couple of last minute items, which are not handbags, jewellery or the like.

Back at Chillies’, the party of one has grown to three, and my return brings the total to four.  J & C have tracked us down and are indulging in lunch also, though not the FEB, as they do not have a flight to look forward to.  Have you noticed you can’t go anywhere in Kalkan without someone finding you?

Time trickles on, and the availability of it before the transfer arrives is being eroded; getting ready, finishing the packing and paying the bar bill to avoid the last minute panic invariably appears to be a good plan.  The good plan works.  For once.

Previously, I have mentioned that you cannot escape the Meldi in daylight without being noticed.  We were noticed, and the goodbyes, farewells, hugs, and requests for last minute information still prevail, and we depart, waving graciously from the windows in a futile endeavour to appear regally serene like the Queen, waving to the assembled throng.

You just can’t hide the wrench when you leave Kalkan unless you’ve done it, can you?  Nobody else understands.  They think you’re mad.

But you do it, again and again, year after year.  This is probably because the highs far outweigh the lows, by a large margin.

Which leads me to ask why do so many transfers stop this side of Fethiye?  They get fuel.  It may be cheaper, but…?  Don’t they realise that whether it’s coming or going, once on our way, we want to get to where we’re going, not stop for a toilet break after 35 minutes?

At least the journey is safe – inasmuch we arrive without incident at Dalaman.  We also get through the first security barrier without problems, (if you ignore the check on entering the airport perimeter) but then this is the relatively easy one, designed to stop someone walking in with a bang-vest or an AK-47.

As usual the queuing at Dalaman is chaotic, or should that be very chaotic?  The signs say we’re desks 6 and 7.  An enormous queue, then it seems some people think this is the Jet2 queue for desks 2, 3 and 4.

No Comment.

We are plucked out by an ATM guy (remember the Stainless Steel One needs assistance) and directed to the Club queue, where with a few other unfortunates, we are deemed fortunate and are spliced into the general queue so they can do the job of assistance more efficiently.

This goes splendidly well, and, because we are informed the flight is late by nearly an hour, I decide to splash the cash (what’s left of it) and elect to kill this additional time in the CIP Lounge, courtesy of a KTLN discount voucher.

Second security barrier overcome, without incident, and with distinctly less hassle than that at Gatwick, the Havaş man pushing the wheelchair takes us into the CIP Lounge and departs.

Now, the CIP Lounge is really a haven away from the area known as Departures. Departures is really a modern take on the old Bethlehem Hospital in London.  (This is where Bedlam comes from, and is now the home of the Imperial War Museum – in case you didn’t know.)  The Lounge is quiet, with reasonably comfortable chairs instead of plastic benches, free coffee, J20, water, Coke, Fanta, Sprite, breakfast serials, innumerable salad stuff, cakes, fruit, and so on.  All free, or more accurately, included.  Alcohol is extra, but as there seems to be none on display, I’m not sure how you get any, though the sign on the desk says it costs extra.  Maybe I’ll find out another time.

We watch the information board, and eventually, our flight (late remember, which it is 99% of the time – generally caused by the turnaround at Gatwick, for some reason)  changes to ‘Boarding’.

Any of you that have had assistance will know that, the assistance generally gets to you just before boarding starts.  This is for obvious reasons.  So where is our assistance?

Go to Lounge reception desk, she phones and says “Five minutes”.  This comes and passes unnoticed by everyone else except us.  She phones again.  “Two minutes”.  This also passes with nothing happening.

The Board now says “Last Call”.

Panic now sets in.  Total Panic sets in.  Hysterical Panic looms.  The 'End of the World is Nigh' looks probable.

Yet another phone call.  CIP staff rush around, either pretending to look for someone or not be around when it really does go pear-shaped.  Then the Check-in Girl at the Baggage Drop desk turns up (don’t know how else to refer her), and she takes over the wheelchair, and we gallop, literally, to the gate, where we are the last to board.  The Havaş personnel, hanging around the gate, are chatting as if there’s not a care in the world, including the guy who deposited us at the CIP Lounge.
We deduce from helpful Check-in girl, that Havaş went to the wrong CIP lounge to get us.

This is odd, because there is, I think, only one.  Anyway, they bloody-well left us there, and the guy that did, didn’t really give a – well you can guess.

What it amounts to is that they forgot about us.

No sooner had we sat down, with glowering looks from the passengers, probably believing we had the held the flight up due to incompetence, buckled up, and we had push-back.

Now, let’s face it, this is sheer bloody incompetence by Havaş.  I shudder to think what would have happened if we hadn’t kicked off – what if it had been a sole traveller?  And the fact the guy that parked us in the CIP Lounge hadn’t collected us from leaving us there a couple of hours earlier, just compounds the frustration.

The Cabin Crew, were, once informed, sympathetic, though I suspect the other aircraft occupants, unaware of the issues, were probably angry.  Conversing later, the Cabin Crew, plus the Captain didn’t blame us at all, and were polite, and assured us we hadn’t delayed the aircraft at all, but I believe we did, but not by our own hand.

Was this CIPs fault?  No.  In reality, we hadn’t moved, got lost, wandered off, or anything.  We should have been the easiest to give assistance to.  CIP did their best to help; it was the other idiots that were useless in this respect.

Moving On:

One of us is the nominated driver on arrival in the UK, so abstinence is de rigueur.  If this flight ran out of drink, I don’t know.  I just looked out of the window at, well, nothing really, for the most part.  There was a half sandwich with some Barber’s cheese in it, which they called a Ploughman’s (this would have sustained a Ploughman just long enough to point the horse in the right direction), the usual lukewarm coffee, some India Rubber cheese (called Croxton Hall), crackers and a Mousse.

Looking out of the window eventually became more interesting.

Especially when we get to the Germany-France border where the underlying cloud (we’re at 36,000 feet remember) clears and reveals scattered outbreaks of towns and villages with their streetlights.  The haziness between the aircraft and the ground made the lighted areas look like the fires of Hades (as much as can be imagined, anyway), it being relatively easy to imagine these blurs of light below us as the forges and satanic mills of poetic legend.

Gatwick is Gatwick.  Assistance is late in coming, hence the previously mentioned chat with the Captain and Crew, who are so-o-o-o-o different to some airlines I could mention.  When it arrives, we have a helpful cheery chappy, who gets us through all the obstacles on his buggy.  Especially noteworthy is the Border Force man who has a sense of humour and obviously enjoys what he does, though I suspect that his approach to some people trying to gain admission to the UK may be different to a bunch of bona-fide UK Passport holders on Assistance.

Collect Baggage and we’re on our way.  Assistance man really comes into his own here, and he goes the extra mile.  Why is this?

Because we are a bag short.

This never appears.  We have one, but its saintly sister is nowhere to be seen.  We have the ugly sister – the one with the washing in, but not the other.

We search. We check other belts.  Assistance Man goes out the back (or at least through a door where all the luggage comes from to join the merry-go-round.

Nothing.

Only thing left is fill out the missing form at BA, and contain our further frustration.

At least we’re going home, where we can at least survive on what’s been left behind at home.  Not like going on holiday, when everything you need is in THAT BAG.

It happens.  It could happen to you.  Never, ever do His and Hers bags.  One of you, one day, is going to be an extremely unhappy bunny for several days if a bag goes missing.  Divide everything between the bags.

The rest of getting home is easy, though much, much later.  This is where the 21 hour day comes in, if you do the sums.  There is a plus point – the Western side of the M25 is quite agreeable at 2am – so much, that you can actually turn ‘Cruise’ on and leave it there – such Joy!

As I write this, the following day, after 5 hours sleep, there is no sign of the Wayward Sister.  But it’s early days.  It could still be at Dalaman; or been flown to Helsingborg or Reykjavik  in error; lost in the deepest recesses of Hell known as Gatwick; or, after some overnight thought, maybe it was off-loaded at Dalaman when they thought we were a no-show and didn’t get put back.

Time will tell.

---

Well, that’s it for this year.  I’ll update if the Wayward Sister returns home intact, and I hope I haven’t bored any delicate underwear off you, made you attempt suicide, or decide that this Enjoy Kalkan site is a waste of time.

Your ‘Thankyou’ clicks are not ego-boosting as some assume (this isn’t FaceBook where your number of ‘friends’ are so essential to some), they do help to see if you’re getting it right for some people, some of the time.

For now, remember:

Hydration is Important

Time for m-m   -m-m, what shall I have to drink…?



Postscript:
Text received telling us Wayward Sister was on its way back to us, this was 18 hours after landing.  3 hours later, Wayward Sister was delivered, intact, and complete, by some poor fellow who seems to be driving all over the Southern half of the UK doing this; covering Cardiff to Chelmsford.

Like all wayward members, there is no indication of where, what and how it all went astray.

Wayward Sister, although a bag, must be a teenager.


Offline joycie

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #50 on: September 23, 2016, 03:35:16 PM »
My what a performance. Glad you're home safe and sound. Thankyou for your wonderful blogs.

Offline keith

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #51 on: September 23, 2016, 07:32:48 PM »
Wow........that really was an epic post. It was almost like a trilogy and I would expect it to be available at all good book shops in the very near future. 😀😀

Offline lucasvdb

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #52 on: September 25, 2016, 01:38:07 PM »
Chris I can tell you that:

1. We didn't blame you for the late departure; as you said yourself it's Gatwick that is the main problem. Needs a second runway!

2. The tonic had run out at row 16. Crew blamed the boozers on the outbound flight. Same problem as 2 weeks ago, when they didn't want to serve a second round of G&T nor wine. They needed to keep some for the inward journey. Some? Perhaps for the Business Class and one row in Economy. BA bar drinks planners do it with their eyes closed.

At least the sandwich wasn't goat's cheese like on the outbound flight.

It's a pity we weren't aware that you were you, otherwise my son and I would have had a long chat with you, aisle traffic permitting. We have enjoyed your blogs so much!

And we seem to have done the same places this year: Alternatif, Wapiano, Salonica, Islamlar, boat trip, etc.

No Chillies though with no Guven greeting us there.....

See you next year?

Lucas, Vicky and Robert

Offline Chris_S

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #53 on: September 25, 2016, 02:01:26 PM »
Does this mean my anonymity is blown?

Do I now need to go Business Class?

Or Private Jet?

(I can see a migration to Monarch next year as the only alternative to BA - their bar doesn't run out because you pay for it >:D)


The problems we authors have to go through to remain incognito!

Thanks very much for the comments - I may just resort to the ridiculous mirrored shades and pretend you can't see me…

Offline Lizilu20

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #54 on: September 26, 2016, 11:26:14 AM »
Glad you arrived home safe and sound albeit a bit later that anticipated and thanks for taking the trouble to post.  :)

Offline keith

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Re: Notes from a Small Mind (with apologies to Mr. Bryson)
« Reply #55 on: September 26, 2016, 08:01:28 PM »
Thanks again Chris_S.........thoroughly enjoyable reading.


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