Turkish Scorpions

            My God it’s been a long day.

            We got up at four thirty this morning to catch our flight over to Turkey. Although we were heading for the port of Silifke, 2000 miles from London, the closest airport was actually Ankara in Western Turkey. About an hour after landing Ed was clearly still waking up when he stumbled upon a remarkable discovery.

            “Hmmmm…” he said, pensively, “they speak Turkish here don’t they? That’s a fucker.”

            In fact Turkish bears no real resemblance to any Western European language so Ed was completely screwed. I learnt some very basic Turkish last night so I was able to say a few things. Ed seemed grudgingly impressed.

            Our first task was to get to Silifke; we hadn’t even booked a hotel to stay in so we thought we’d better get over there quickly! I spoke to a taxi driver and his eyes almost popped when I mentioned Silifke. He pointed to a map of Turkey and explained in sign language that I was asking to go half way across the country. I think I understood him saying it was a full 250 miles from Ankara, one eighth the total distance from London!

            “What’s his problem?” asked Ed, “These other countries are only little, it won’t take long.”

            I negotiated a fee of 300 Tukish Lira, about a hundred quid. I didn’t tell Ed how much it was. It seemed a good idea to keep him in ignorance of the currency for now.

            “Don’t they have the goddamn Euro here yet?” asked Ed.

 

*

 

            After a sickening windy coast-side drive lasting hours we finally made it. I managed to ask the driver for a hotel recommendation. He phoned someone who told him we should stay at the Hotel Akdeniz. It turned out to be only 30 lira a night, making me feel all the happier and Ed all the more suspicious at how the hotel could be ten times cheaper than the taxi.

            On the way into the hotel I noticed a girl. She was wearing long white robes about her body and had a green headscarf wrapped around her head and neck. She watched me as I struggled in with my bags. She looked about seventeen or so but had such distinguished features. She had high form cheekbones blushed a natural red and dark long lashed eyes that gazed boldly and appraisingly. When she noticed me looking back at her she smiled and gently brushed aside a stray lock of black hair from her face. She did not look away but locked me in and captured me for a few moments. Ed shouted something at me from behind and I turned to reply. When I looked back later the girl was gone.

 

*

 

            We went out to the dock. It was difficult to see how fate could’ve intended our visit. It amounted to more of a muddy canal than anything else. It was nothing to see. We sat there for a while whistling to Otis Redding’s tune and laughing at the madness of it all. Eventually an American tourist turned up and struck up conversation with us. He told us about a castle further down the coast called Korkyos. We resolved to go tomorrow. After futher discussion it turned out this guy was staying in the same hotel as us with his family, a wife and two daughters. We walked back there together in the late afternoon, occasionally turning to watch the sun setting over the distant coastline.

 

*

 

            Ed ensured that we would meet the American’s daughters. He enquired after them none too subtly but fortunately the American mistook it for genuine geniality. After an evening shower and light meal we met the girls in the hotel bar. Ed opened conversation but introducing us. They were both blonde full bodied girls: not fat, but certainly buxom. They must’ve been around 21. There was a certain prettiness to them, but they’d win no awards. They were called Stephanie and Bethany.

            “Oh my God,” said Ed immediately, “so you rhyme even when you shorten your name.”

            And as usual, because Ed was English and they were not they actually found this offensive comment charming and amusing, though they must have had it thousands of times before. Conversation proceeded in a predictable manner: Ed gently taking the piss; the girls not quite understanding, but enjoying it nonetheless.

As they talked I became less and less involved and eventually noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. It was the dark eyed girl once again. She was watching us silently with a kind of fascination sparkling in her eyes. She had pulled back her emerald green headscarf a little and her thick black hair spilled out in curls like scorpion’s tails about her sharp defined cheeks. She captured me again for a few moments before, again holding my gaze without looking away. Ed jerked me back into conversation with another question. Again, I looked back a short while later and she was gone.

Eventually Steph and Beth had to go to bed lest they anger their parents. Ed and I stayed to finish our drinks. I asked Ed if he’d noticed the dark eyed girl. He gave me a sly grin, amused at my apparent interest in a mysterious stranger, but claimed he hadn’t seen her at all.

Ed went off to bed a little while ago and I found this computer attached to the internet. It’s very late now and I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed. Perhaps I’ll dream of magical Arabian nights.