Toilet musings and Turkish mountains

We had a long drive yesterday but it was worth it because today we meandered a little bit off piste, largely because alcohol is difficult to come by in this part of the country. Fortunately we had a bottle of Romanian red up our sleeve which served a very important purpose when we finally checked into a hotel last night.

Now in his last blog, Andy P pointed out some of the cultural differences we’ve noticed since arriving in Turkey, which, I should like to say, is a very fine country. I should like to add to the discussion by mentioning another one of those differences worthy of note, namely the toileting arrangements, something that is of course close to every British man’s heart. At the service stations the feared and impossibly difficult to use circular holes with places to put your feet were very much in evidence. In the Turkish version there is nothing to hold onto so I assume those that are slightly unsteady on their feet may just have to sit on the floor and hope to hell that respective orifices match up. Whilst such arrangements might offend our British sensibilities, a rather nice touch is that there is a little tap and jug in each cubicle so that the occupant can take a refreshing drink of water whilst they are waiting for the action to unfold. To me, that is a touch of real class. On the way out I dropped a card in the suggestions box to the effect that a complimentary plate of chips might be welcome too.

Rewinding a little, one of the highlights of the beach party in Constanta and something that I somehow neglected to mention were ‘The Bacardi girls’, a couple of sweet young things that were there to promote a product, though at this stage I can’t remember exactly what. They simply rushed over when they caught my eye and insisted on having several photos taken with me. It became a wee bit embarrassing to be frank as I had a helluva job to get rid of them but I eventually managed to persuade them that they might be able to do betterif they continued looking elsewhere. With clearly heavy hearts they reluctantly moved on but it left me with a lovely warmfeeling inside for making their day that I found embarrassingly difficult to contain.

The Bacardi girls clearly having a wonderful time

Just as we settling to get to bed last night Andy P decided it was time to ‘Facetime’ his wife Jane and she commented on how long and white his beard is getting. Unfortunately I let the cat out of the bag when I told her that Andy is quitting his job when we get back just in time to apply for a seasonal gig as Father Christmas at ASDA. This was something of a pity as I think Andy had been hopeing to delight her himself with that surprise on his return, several weeks after she is expecting him.
Anyway, after a good night’s sleep, today was a day for a little bit of rest and recuperation and so we headed off up to the north coast to see what the Turkish Black Sea had to offer. The drive to reach it was a mixture of euphoria at the modern, fast, beautifully surfaced dual carriageways on some of the route and disappointment at the awful road surfaces in some parts that meant you had to crawl along at about twenty. Some of the scenery that we passed was absolutely stunning, in places like a mini Yosemite, and we were both pleased we’d chosen to do a little bit of exploring off the beaten track. At one town we met a Swedish couple, Stephan and Eva who have done a lot of travelling in the region in the past and were able to give us some practical advice about Georgia and Azerbaijan as well as the location of the campsite we’re now in a couple of hours north of where we met them.
We bought some vegetables on the way as Andy decided he was going to make ratatouille for dinner tonight along with baked beans and some meat of some sort which was to be decided later. Considering that we only have a single burner stove I considered this to be a wee bit ambitious but I kept my counsel lest I put Andy off his stride. Later, working as Andy P’s commis chef I was impressed with his wide ranging grasp on all matters culinary. Whilst at the kitchen to wash some implements, (I like to keep a tidy kitchen), I was offered some fresh fish that the provider had already gutted for us. I was quite chippa when I took it back to Andy and suggested we braise it in a frying pan with a little wine. This seemed a simple solution to me but with celebrity Master Chef clearly up there in his sights Andy P was keen to show me that he had the technical abilities to pass any skills test. Removing the bones became his raison detre and he was quite forthright in his approach to the point where I felt compelled to ask whether he was filleting it or mincing it. And since we were running short of gas on the burner I suggested that he cook the fish before cooking anything else. Because, as I reminded him as I looked at the mutilated pieces of fish in front of me, Sushi is all in the presentation.
Joking apart though, the ratatouille turned out very fine and was a fitting end to a very fine day. — It’s now morning again (well it comes round once a day usually), and so we are going to tidy and repack Bluebell 2 and then head ever east towards Georgia. Until the next time:Tally ho!

The Yosemite of Turkey

Street scene in Turkey