I just got home from my first shift at my new bar job. It went really smoothly and everyone there is loverly. It was a smallish function, 50th birthday party, so perfect to ease me in.
Naturally, they love me, and the assistant manager is stressing about trying to find hours to give me so they can keep me around.
I'm pretty happy with whatever though, the handful of money I got tonight was almost what I got paid to do the whole website for the restaurant. And at the moment that feels like a fortune!
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Friday, July 28, 2006
Blip eliminated
I rearranged the posts below and added in Episode 4 and Episode 10 for your reading pleasure. Of course all the time stamps are wrong now, but they all should have read "too late" anyway.
I haven't written any more just yet.
On the plus side, I've found a great fringe venue that is employing me as a bar wench for the festival, so that will happily combine earning some pocket money with staying up ridiculously late and maybe even getting to watch some free shows. Hoorah.
Also, I'm going to the beach tomorrow, yay!
I haven't written any more just yet.
On the plus side, I've found a great fringe venue that is employing me as a bar wench for the festival, so that will happily combine earning some pocket money with staying up ridiculously late and maybe even getting to watch some free shows. Hoorah.
Also, I'm going to the beach tomorrow, yay!
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We will return soon with your regularly scheduled program.
Sponsored by ... nobody. But very open to offers!
Episode 10: In which she is not from Japon
Location: Everywhere!
Date: All the time!
Apparently it is perfectly acceptable for Turkish men (we didn't see that many women) to just randomly say "Japon! Japonya!" as a greeting, in passing, as a general statement.
Neither Ineke or I tended to respond to the comments, but they were noted every time.
I wish I had been able to say "Kurd! Armenia!" but I'm just not that rude.
FYI: I'm Chinese. Or Kiwi. Both, actually. Not Japanese. Also, I love Japanese people. I think they're awesome. I'm just not one of them.
Date: All the time!
Apparently it is perfectly acceptable for Turkish men (we didn't see that many women) to just randomly say "Japon! Japonya!" as a greeting, in passing, as a general statement.
Neither Ineke or I tended to respond to the comments, but they were noted every time.
I wish I had been able to say "Kurd! Armenia!" but I'm just not that rude.
FYI: I'm Chinese. Or Kiwi. Both, actually. Not Japanese. Also, I love Japanese people. I think they're awesome. I'm just not one of them.
Episode 9: In which there is no (dam) road
Location: Atatürk Lake
Date: 25.05.06
We were told by the guy who rented us the car that there was a bridge across Atatürk Lake, the huge man-made-money-spinning body of water that lay in our path.
There is no bridge.
None.
Luckily the mechanic who we had to take the car to gave us directions and general information about the ferry we needed to take instead. Apparently the road or bridge had disappeared with the creation of the dam (and the) lake.
While we were waiting for the very helpful mechanics to check over the car (something wrong with the the gas intake valve), I noted the slightly pimp maroon curtains all the way around the black towncar that was parked in the driveway next to our little Mermet.
After they charged us a miniscule 20YTL (approximately 20AUD (the NZD is too unstable) or 8GBP) for the adjustment and oil top-up, we were on our way. We weren't sure of the way at a fork in the road - the map wasn't helpful and we didn't know which town we were aiming for anyway - so we stopped to ask an old man squatting by the side of the road (this is a reasonably common occurrence). He had no idea what we were talking about, even though Turkish for ferry is feribot, not that hard to understand for either party.
So we picked a road and crossed our fingers.
A few hundred metres down the road, we noticed a car coming up behind us, fast. Thinking it was just another crazy Turkish driver, we pulled over a bit to let them go by. It turned out to be the curtained black towncar from the mechanic's, being driven by the mechanic himself. He told us we were going in totally the wrong direction, so we did a u-turn and made the ferry on time.
We passed back through the intersection where we made the wrong turn, and wouldn't you know - the old man was squatting just metres from the sign that said "Feribot"!
Date: 25.05.06
We were told by the guy who rented us the car that there was a bridge across Atatürk Lake, the huge man-made-money-spinning body of water that lay in our path.
There is no bridge.
None.
Luckily the mechanic who we had to take the car to gave us directions and general information about the ferry we needed to take instead. Apparently the road or bridge had disappeared with the creation of the dam (and the) lake.
While we were waiting for the very helpful mechanics to check over the car (something wrong with the the gas intake valve), I noted the slightly pimp maroon curtains all the way around the black towncar that was parked in the driveway next to our little Mermet.
After they charged us a miniscule 20YTL (approximately 20AUD (the NZD is too unstable) or 8GBP) for the adjustment and oil top-up, we were on our way. We weren't sure of the way at a fork in the road - the map wasn't helpful and we didn't know which town we were aiming for anyway - so we stopped to ask an old man squatting by the side of the road (this is a reasonably common occurrence). He had no idea what we were talking about, even though Turkish for ferry is feribot, not that hard to understand for either party.
So we picked a road and crossed our fingers.
A few hundred metres down the road, we noticed a car coming up behind us, fast. Thinking it was just another crazy Turkish driver, we pulled over a bit to let them go by. It turned out to be the curtained black towncar from the mechanic's, being driven by the mechanic himself. He told us we were going in totally the wrong direction, so we did a u-turn and made the ferry on time.
We passed back through the intersection where we made the wrong turn, and wouldn't you know - the old man was squatting just metres from the sign that said "Feribot"!
Episode 8: In which she refuses a "taxi"
Location: Mt Nemrut
Date: 25.05.06
After an ordinary dinner, we headed to bed. We were feeling ambitious enough, or masochistic enough, to try and be up for the sunrise. This required us to leave at 4am. Huzzah.
The gossamer-thin air burned the back of my throat more harshly than it had done the night before, and I thought something would burst before I got to the summit. Meanwhile the sun was climbing faster than I was.
At exactly the instant I wanted to collapse in a heap, a man appeared in front of me leading a donkey.
"Taxi?"
It was tempting, believe me. But a misguided sense of ego and the backpacker instinct to spend as little as possible combined forces and made me say no.
The man didn't move. Neither did the "taxi". He asked again. I still said no. Damn.
The sunrise was entirely worth the effort, thankfully. The crowd was different to the previous evening, a lot more Turks than foreigners, and mercifully there was no inane cheering.
Date: 25.05.06
After an ordinary dinner, we headed to bed. We were feeling ambitious enough, or masochistic enough, to try and be up for the sunrise. This required us to leave at 4am. Huzzah.
The gossamer-thin air burned the back of my throat more harshly than it had done the night before, and I thought something would burst before I got to the summit. Meanwhile the sun was climbing faster than I was.
At exactly the instant I wanted to collapse in a heap, a man appeared in front of me leading a donkey.
"Taxi?"
It was tempting, believe me. But a misguided sense of ego and the backpacker instinct to spend as little as possible combined forces and made me say no.
The man didn't move. Neither did the "taxi". He asked again. I still said no. Damn.
The sunrise was entirely worth the effort, thankfully. The crowd was different to the previous evening, a lot more Turks than foreigners, and mercifully there was no inane cheering.
Episode 7: In which they are misled about breakfast
Location: Karadut
Date: 24.05.06
On our return we had a very slightly heated discussion with one of the proprietors about rates, discounts, meals and other things. We were all tired and what he was asking seemed a little pricey. It did include ensuite rooms, dinner and the "best breakfast in Turkey" though.
We asked whether it was just a Turkish breakfast, which he denied it was.
When we inquired as to what it was then, he said "olives, cheese, cucumber, egg, tomato, bread".
So it was exactly a Turkish breakfast (yes, this is what I ate every day when I managed to be up in time for it). He then insisted that it was still better than all other Turkish breakfasts.
We accepted anyway. They had rescued us after all.
Date: 24.05.06
On our return we had a very slightly heated discussion with one of the proprietors about rates, discounts, meals and other things. We were all tired and what he was asking seemed a little pricey. It did include ensuite rooms, dinner and the "best breakfast in Turkey" though.
We asked whether it was just a Turkish breakfast, which he denied it was.
When we inquired as to what it was then, he said "olives, cheese, cucumber, egg, tomato, bread".
So it was exactly a Turkish breakfast (yes, this is what I ate every day when I managed to be up in time for it). He then insisted that it was still better than all other Turkish breakfasts.
We accepted anyway. They had rescued us after all.
Episode 6: In which they visit the tomb of a god
Location: Karadut and Mt Nemrut
Date: 24.05.06
As the crippled car pulled into the guesthouse carpark, we were told if we wanted to go up to the summit to watch the sunset, we would not only have to pay what seemed like a lot of money, but we would also have to leave immediately.
We had enough time to throw some warm clothes into the back of the SUV and scramble in. This seemed ridiculous when the temperature was still in the thirties, but more than one person had assured us it would get cold as soon as we neared the top of the mountain.
The summit carpark was 12 kilometres away. After the first four or five, the driver started operating entirely in first and second gear. The huge truck was shuddering over the rough stone-paved road. I admitted that the car breaking down may have been a blessing in disguise – this road would have been impassable had we tried ourselves. And then we would have been stuck part way up a very steep mountain.
A 600 metre uphill trek awaited us as we got out of the truck, bundled up in anticipation of the cold that didn't disappoint. I convinced myself that it was the altitude and the painfully cold air in my lungs that was making every step such an effort. It seemed to take me a very long time to reach the eastern terrace to join the others, and meanwhile the sun was ever on its downward journey towards the horizon.
We had come up the eastern side, the total lack of other tourists justifying what was initially a doubtful decision. King Antiochus I had created a burial mound for himself on a scale as massive as his own ego. The top of the tallest and most impressive mountain was lopped off at his whim and replaced by the pyramid that serves as a backdrop for the 10 metre tall statues he installed on the east and west sides. Antiochus considered himself not just the king, but also a god. His statues were as tall and impressive as their comrades – Apollo, Zeus and Hercules. Huge eagles and lions also looked out at the vistas surrounding Mt Nemrut, guarding his last resting place.
These days the heads have all toppled down, and sit in front of the partially rebuilt bodies. The view extended through the clear dusk air all the way to the horizon, huge Atatürk Lake snaking around the fields and reflecting the orange light. We enjoyed the quietude on the eastern side before joining the throngs on the west.
There was a decided lack of clouds in the sky, which made for a pretty but unexciting sunset. The light reflecting off the statues was beautiful though, of course leading me to take far too many photos. The applause of the tourists was entirely inappropriate and unnecessary, but I try to ignore mass hysteria in all its guises. They disappeared almost immediately afterwards, which left me with that weird feeling that I get when I am the only person in the theatre that insists on staying until the movie credits finish rolling. A combination of "why are they leaving?", "should I be leaving?" and "hehe, I get the place to myself now" (and also that sense of smug satisfaction when there IS something else to be seen).
It's quite hard to be smug when you're cold though. Strange.
Date: 24.05.06
As the crippled car pulled into the guesthouse carpark, we were told if we wanted to go up to the summit to watch the sunset, we would not only have to pay what seemed like a lot of money, but we would also have to leave immediately.
We had enough time to throw some warm clothes into the back of the SUV and scramble in. This seemed ridiculous when the temperature was still in the thirties, but more than one person had assured us it would get cold as soon as we neared the top of the mountain.
The summit carpark was 12 kilometres away. After the first four or five, the driver started operating entirely in first and second gear. The huge truck was shuddering over the rough stone-paved road. I admitted that the car breaking down may have been a blessing in disguise – this road would have been impassable had we tried ourselves. And then we would have been stuck part way up a very steep mountain.
A 600 metre uphill trek awaited us as we got out of the truck, bundled up in anticipation of the cold that didn't disappoint. I convinced myself that it was the altitude and the painfully cold air in my lungs that was making every step such an effort. It seemed to take me a very long time to reach the eastern terrace to join the others, and meanwhile the sun was ever on its downward journey towards the horizon.
We had come up the eastern side, the total lack of other tourists justifying what was initially a doubtful decision. King Antiochus I had created a burial mound for himself on a scale as massive as his own ego. The top of the tallest and most impressive mountain was lopped off at his whim and replaced by the pyramid that serves as a backdrop for the 10 metre tall statues he installed on the east and west sides. Antiochus considered himself not just the king, but also a god. His statues were as tall and impressive as their comrades – Apollo, Zeus and Hercules. Huge eagles and lions also looked out at the vistas surrounding Mt Nemrut, guarding his last resting place.
These days the heads have all toppled down, and sit in front of the partially rebuilt bodies. The view extended through the clear dusk air all the way to the horizon, huge Atatürk Lake snaking around the fields and reflecting the orange light. We enjoyed the quietude on the eastern side before joining the throngs on the west.
There was a decided lack of clouds in the sky, which made for a pretty but unexciting sunset. The light reflecting off the statues was beautiful though, of course leading me to take far too many photos. The applause of the tourists was entirely inappropriate and unnecessary, but I try to ignore mass hysteria in all its guises. They disappeared almost immediately afterwards, which left me with that weird feeling that I get when I am the only person in the theatre that insists on staying until the movie credits finish rolling. A combination of "why are they leaving?", "should I be leaving?" and "hehe, I get the place to myself now" (and also that sense of smug satisfaction when there IS something else to be seen).
It's quite hard to be smug when you're cold though. Strange.
Episode 5: In which they need help
Location: Road from Narince to Karadut
Date: 24.05.06
My earlier description of our little car wasn't very flattering. But it was accurate. I could deal with the lack of air conditioning, the lack of non-Turkish cassettes to play, the lack of central locking. What was really difficult to accept (along with the insane driving of the average Turkish motorist) was the almost nonexistent power of the LPG. Apparently this is normal, but when we're going up a hill on an open road at about 40kph, it's frustrating to say the least.
Somewhere on the road to Karadut, the gas cut out. We were coasting down a hill at the time, and as a passenger, I didn't even notice until Ben pulled the car over. Thankfully we were on a reasonably straight part of the very windy surrounding roads. The car made some awful noises for the next few minutes as Ben tried as hard as he could to restart it. We tried everything except for switching to petrol, because we were told not to and because we had no petrol anyway.
Eventually we decided to risk a rescue from a passerby, and with the help of our hazard lights and a raised bonnet (hood for American readers), we managed to flag down a minivan full of German/Turkish tourists (the wife was German, the husband Turkish and various family members were either or both). We decided that I would go as an ambassador for the stranded car so Ineke could stay and perhaps better explain the problems to any further well-intentioned motorists.
The minivanners were lovely and drove me the eight or so kilometres to our guesthouse. The husband explained everything to the proprietor who immediately opened up his SUV so we could hurry to the aid of the little Mermet and its passengers. Half way there I got a call from the stranded ones. Apparently another worker from the same guesthouse had managed to start the car by switching it to petrol. We carried on anyway to make sure they were safe, and then followed them back to the town. We weren't sure about whether or not to stay, but we supposed after the helpfulness in saving us, we at least owed them that.
We weren't sure about whether or not to stay, but we supposed after the helpfulness in saving us, we at least owed them that.
Date: 24.05.06
My earlier description of our little car wasn't very flattering. But it was accurate. I could deal with the lack of air conditioning, the lack of non-Turkish cassettes to play, the lack of central locking. What was really difficult to accept (along with the insane driving of the average Turkish motorist) was the almost nonexistent power of the LPG. Apparently this is normal, but when we're going up a hill on an open road at about 40kph, it's frustrating to say the least.
Somewhere on the road to Karadut, the gas cut out. We were coasting down a hill at the time, and as a passenger, I didn't even notice until Ben pulled the car over. Thankfully we were on a reasonably straight part of the very windy surrounding roads. The car made some awful noises for the next few minutes as Ben tried as hard as he could to restart it. We tried everything except for switching to petrol, because we were told not to and because we had no petrol anyway.
Eventually we decided to risk a rescue from a passerby, and with the help of our hazard lights and a raised bonnet (hood for American readers), we managed to flag down a minivan full of German/Turkish tourists (the wife was German, the husband Turkish and various family members were either or both). We decided that I would go as an ambassador for the stranded car so Ineke could stay and perhaps better explain the problems to any further well-intentioned motorists.
The minivanners were lovely and drove me the eight or so kilometres to our guesthouse. The husband explained everything to the proprietor who immediately opened up his SUV so we could hurry to the aid of the little Mermet and its passengers. Half way there I got a call from the stranded ones. Apparently another worker from the same guesthouse had managed to start the car by switching it to petrol. We carried on anyway to make sure they were safe, and then followed them back to the town. We weren't sure about whether or not to stay, but we supposed after the helpfulness in saving us, we at least owed them that.
We weren't sure about whether or not to stay, but we supposed after the helpfulness in saving us, we at least owed them that.
Episode 4: In which they visit the egomaniacal past
Location: Mt Nemrut area
Date: 24.05.06
As always happens when I visit the remains of ancient empires and kingdoms, I am amazed at the elaborate extent of structures and memorials.
After the town of Kahta we got to see an old Roman bridge, royal burial sites, old fortresses and the capital of ancient Commagene with its treacherous stairwells to underground temples.
We saw columns, carvings, statues, reliefs. Apollo, Mithridates I, Heracles. Lions, eagles, bulls.
The old kings of the area even went so far as to slice the tops off a hill and a mountain and replace them with more aesthetically pleasing pyramids of pebbles.
I guess royal burials can't be ordinary. But more on that later.
Date: 24.05.06
As always happens when I visit the remains of ancient empires and kingdoms, I am amazed at the elaborate extent of structures and memorials.
After the town of Kahta we got to see an old Roman bridge, royal burial sites, old fortresses and the capital of ancient Commagene with its treacherous stairwells to underground temples.
We saw columns, carvings, statues, reliefs. Apollo, Mithridates I, Heracles. Lions, eagles, bulls.
The old kings of the area even went so far as to slice the tops off a hill and a mountain and replace them with more aesthetically pleasing pyramids of pebbles.
I guess royal burials can't be ordinary. But more on that later.
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