Should I Stay or Should I Go

Having written on the Tribes of Kalkan in my previous post (Meet the Frokkers), in which tribe do I count myself you may well ask? Well all of them, to some extent. “Men and women are,” as Shakespeare observed, “merely players….and one man in his time plays many parts.”

In our first age when the Special and I moved out here in 2010 we would sometimes wind down the windows whilst driving the coast road to Kaş and shout for joy “We live here!”.

With the passing of time such wild enthusiasm tones down and the second age, the Older Hand, begins. I even lost some money in an unsuccessful art shop with Turkish partners. The Küçük Galeri sign, which I donated to Olivia, hangs happily over her lovely gallery in the Gelemiş Post Office and Bar.

I cannot call my self a full blooded KAPSAlı but I support the work they do. More pertinently we have a small cat that eats at the table, gets Cheezy Dreamies every day and sleeps on my head.

Even in these gender fluid days, it would be what Huck Finn would term “a stretcher” to claim WAG status. But I do hang around at Indigo in the hope of a nod of recognition, from these goddesses.

But in truth K and I now fully identify as Mountain Dwellers, that collection of individuals who shun the relentless pulsing urbanism of Kalkan for a more secluded existence in the sleepier mountain villages. Home is a two-story house situated in a couple of acres of highly combustible forest, 200m above the village of Islamlar. We share our homestead with the aforementioned small but demanding cat Sneaky, a school of goldfish and a socially awkward frog called Lonely. One day, please, his poignant mating calls will be answered.

My analysis of course is not to be taken too seriously although I do believe there is a little bit of substance there.  Take it lightly but consider more carefully the question of moving to retire abroad. The Daily Sabah, a newspaper generally close to the government which I rarely read, published this thoughtful article on the dark side of expat life

Staying on the all important question of wellbeing, The  Guardian this week published an article about the threat to it posed by having too much time on ones hands. Between 2 – 5 hours a day was deemed good according to the study that formed the basis of the article. More than that and feelings of purposeless and boredom threaten.

And then there is the booze! This week a resident celebrated 15 months since saying goodbye to his old “friend” of 40 years, the booze. Bravely spoken, it was a well written and deeply personal description, which pulled off the difficult double act of transmitting a cautionary message without standing in judgement. It is a public post so I am sure he will be happy for you to read it here

The Bottle and its bedfellow Boredom are always at hand in retired life and perhaps particularly in expat communities, where those two great providers of Purpose, Volunteering and Golf are less readily available. I recently spent a pleasant evening at an anniversary party in the company of many other foreign residents. It was remarkable how many were actively engaged in or actively thinking about selling up. I came away with a strong feeling that the Covid Pandemic had given a particular twist to the tail of a lifestyle that is anyway fairly transient by nature. Others of course will come to take their place on the roundabout.

Indeed The Special and I had cause to look seriously at our own options after four of the five neighbours whose plots border ours decided to build rental villas last winter. That is how quickly things can move here. Since we moved up from Kalkan to escape being surrounded for 4 months by holidaymakers it was very unsettling. Fortunately we do have options.

In the event, after a wonderful five weeks away in Lviv and England, we both returned refreshed and with a renewed affection for our Turkish mountain life. So we plan to spend July and August in the UK but for as long as we continue to love the life we will continue to be Turkish Mountain Dwellers.

There is much we love about life here; outdoor living, 300 days of sunshine, a very sociable lifestyle and a welcoming host community. Then of course there is that Other Thing that binds all residents to this country. I am talking about that little tap by the pan in the Smallest Room.

If you are a holidaymaker or only occasional visitor to Turkey you will have perhaps hardly noticed this small, unfamiliar addition to bathroom architecture. You may have dismissed it as something the cleaner uses. You may have fiddled with it and sent a cold jet of water under the seat, soaked the floor and decided to leave well alone. This little gadget is, however, the Integrated Bidet Tap.

Remember bidets? There was a brief period during the 1980s when they became popular in the UK, around the same time that coloured bathroom suites were the vogue. Ours was an (in my view) elegant pampas but some were dunnish brown or, worse, lurid avocado. The bidet came as a fourth item in the suite. Using it involved stumbling across the loo with trousers around the ankles and running a small bowl of warm water for reasons needing no further elucidation.

The fashion rapidly ran its course and except for the occasional appearance as a garden planter the bidet disappeared from the British bathroom.

However, I have never forgotten a remark made many years ago by a BUPA doctor who was giving me the annual check up provided by my employer.

“I do believe” he told me as I straightened and adjusted my dress after the necessary but inevitably indelicate prostate examination “that the Muslims are on to something with the use of water. All that scraping away with paper is very bad for the colon.”

That was thirty years ago but his words have never left me. And having adapted to this largely undiscussed aspect of Turkish culture I am entirely convinced of the veracity of his observation.

Indeed a Sarıbelen friend of mine once recounted to me how his English friend’s Turkish son-in-law had only taken one item back to the UK when he had resettled there with his British wife.

“You will never guess what it was” he said.

 “A Turkish lavatory,” I replied correctly and to his total astonishment. “It is what I would take” I added in explanation.

Many and diverse are the ties that bind us.

12 thoughts on “Should I Stay or Should I Go”

  1. Thanks Chris. I enjoyed this having shipped over full time in 2007 we have had similar experiences. I suppose there is an evolutionary aspect to life anywhere but it does seem to be a little more pronounced amongst the expat community. For what it’s worth Gökseki has remained a happy base for us although there have been many changes (too many of the illegal building variety). My “special” and I have arrived at our current status quo (pandemic not withstanding) mid March to July both remain, July/August special in Blighty, September to late November both remain, December to mid March both in Blighty. It works for us and ensures a presence of grandchildren in our lives. By God I miss those Turkish toilets in the winter though!

    1. Yes I could write a book about the work arounds using English bathrooms! Hope to catch up with you for the swim. Send me your whatsap mobile mine is 0534 347 0493 and I will add you back to the group. We swim M W F 0900 from Indigo

  2. Love this, apart from the bit about being a mountain dweller so much of it I could have written myself (not quite so eloquently sadly). as a relative newbie to property ownership in kalkan but with years of holiday visits behind us, feel lucky to say that kalkan is my home for half the year but glad to be able to still have my other half in the U.K. with people who are my friends of years, sharing lots of history, rather than just people we know through our mutual love of Turkey and kalkan in particular. I concur about the benefits of the Turkish lavatory!😂

  3. As ever interesting and thought provoking. In 2007 we purchased our villa in Kalkan and my husband thought it might be good to move there but I resisted.

    Sadly he passed away in February and in my heart I am so glad that I’m here in my UK home that we have lived in for 31 years. I’m sure that the expat community would have rallied around but my family and many life long friends and neighbours are here and without them Kalkan would have seemed a very lonely place.

    I am looking forward but with trepidation to returning to our Kalkan home whenever permitted by the Covid rules but it will be a bitter sweet pill to swallow without my “special”.

    On a lighter note I was for ever bestowing the benefits of the little loo tap and how much I would love one in the UK.

    1. I am really sorry for your loss. You certainly made the right call. I hope you have friends here to support you in what will be a difficult post Covid visit. At least you will have the Little Tap as a small consolation:)

Thank you. Your comments really help me understand the impact of my words