About 20 years ago when I was doing my Nurse training, four of us, Tony, Dave, Neil and myself decided to go on an ‘exotic’ holiday, I had already been to Egypt so I suggested we four lads go to Turkey. No one went to Turkey at that time, it was completely un-westernised ( i.e. dirt cheap) so we pitched up at Marmaris, a medium sized coastal town one March.
Things started off bad, it rained the moment our plane arrived and then the coach to Marmaris was like Death Race 2000, Turkish drivers have the attitude that whomever is biggest has right of way, the coach was pretty big and therefore owned the middle of the road, this was fine until another coach came from the opposite direction and then a game of chicken ensued.
Or I wouldn’t be here to write this blog.
Marmaris itself was a depressing dog turd of a town, imagine Grimsby, left to rot for 500 hundred years and then filled with 20,000 inhabitants who’s main sport seems to be sending the few tourists around in completely the wrong direction and muttering things under their breath about foreigners.
Apparently it’s went downhill since then.
We spent a few days waiting for the rain to stop by getting completely wasted and then eventually we had enough and decided it was time to do the ultimate pick me up – The McHutt.
The McHutt is an old English invention of ours, a tradition that stretches back at least three months following a drunken pub conversation. It involves going to McDonalds and stuffing your face with burger and chips AND THEN going to Pizza Hut and doing the same with pizza. So we went out and ate the Turkish equivalent of The McHutt, stuffed our faces and I can honestly say I have never been so full in my life, but do you know what, Marmaris actually didn’t look so bad with a bellyful of kebabs and kofte!
Not bad going for about £2 in our money! After all the grub we went and found an empty karaoke bar, completely empty and as we were totally plastered we sang early 1980 songs truly badly. Close to midnight Tony got a gippy bum and went running off and had the shits after all the food and drink. Poor Tony, seems to be his lot in life, to spend most of his holidays in the bog. Mind you, could have been worse, could have been me!
So, next day we take Tony in a taxi to the local doctor, I say ‘doctor’ but this was more like a medicine man from the wild west, it was in his home of all places and he examined Tony in front of his ?wife, then gave Tony a vile green drink and then proceeded to ?whip Tony with a bunch of ?herbs and rub what looked amazingly like lard into his stomach. Three thoughts occurred to me at this point;
(a) I don’t think the taxi driver understood us when we said take us to a doctor
(b) this guy wasn’t a conventional doc (doh!)
(c) I wonder how he knew just so much about Tony’s fetishes ;)
So Tony was laid up for a few days in our guest house and Neil, Dave and myself decided to stay close to the guest house and look after Tony, well, when I say close, we may have went on the occasional boat trip to some of the many islands dotted around the coast. And went swimming at the beach two miles away, at midnight because he was asleep, but apart from that (and a few other things) we stayed reasonably close.. We actually went swimming at midnight once and once only because we found out next morning that particular area was full of huge conger eels and they come out at night to feed. I actually felt something nibbling the strings of my swimming trucks and thought it was just small fish but now I’m not so sure. Additionally, our tour guide told us about the small fish that likes to ram itself up your ass, he was joking… wasn’t he?
That was the second worse holiday…