Alex Smith
I am writing this in the middle of the second week of the month and not at the time of publication. September is a marvellous time of year on the Mediterranean, the severe heat of July and August has receded and the vast majority of Turkish (and foreign for that matter) tourists have departed. I no longer need the air conditioning blasting out in order to have any reasonable chance of being able to fall asleep, it might be possible to take my car into town and actually find somewhere to park it. Around about midnight it might also be possible to walk in the Meydan without being jostled. The European schools have all reopened their doors and the Turkish schools will do so shortly, consequently there are less family holiday makers around. There is an all-round calmer feel to Kaş now and although this might not suit many of the businesses in town it certainly means a less hectic feel to everything and results in a somewhat mellower atmosphere.
So far in these articles I have drawn attention to the positive side of the expat life here in Kaş. That was, I felt, the obvious thing to do and there are certainly many of them to write about. I will of course continue to do so in the future. There is one potential drawback in living here though which some of us experience from time to time and which for simple geographical reasons is unavoidable. I am referring to family considerations, especially in situations where misfortune or illness befalls a loved one who is far away. This is always likely to be a consideration for expats living here as many of them are at an age where parents begin to become more frail or unwell.
In Kaş we are only a day’s trip away from most locations in England which involves a two hour car journey, a four hour flight and another car journey at the other end, but somehow it just feels like more than that. I think that most people find it psychologically much more difficult to have a sick loved one that they are aware of whilst they are living here than they would if, for instance, they were at opposite ends of England. I know of three instances just in the last couple of months where expats have found it unbearable to remain here whilst loved ones, in all of these cases parents, have become very ill. Modern day communications can help to ease this strain to a certain extent, very few of us here would be without our favoured Skype which enables hours of conversations for no cost whatsoever and also allows to see the person we are talking to, but in the final analysis there is no substitute for actually and physically being there for someone.
The first week in September is, for me, a time of particular poignancy. As an ex-teacher it was that dreaded time of year when, after a six week break, it was time to set the wheels in motion once again on another academic year and start all over again. Six weeks is quite a long time and it is possible to seriously get out of the work habit and discipline required for the daily grind back to school; I know, I did it every year. I once left my work habits behind till a two o’clock in the the morning flight from Antalya to Manchester. This on the day that I had to start work, supposedly fully refreshed, at nine in the morning.
This year I merely rolled over in bed on the first Monday in September and eventually ventured down the hill for a refreshing swim followed by a late breakfast. Now after almost thirty years of teaching there are still a few things that I miss about my previous life, but the September return to work is certainly not one of them.
So we now begin to think of the time when we will be sitting outside having a cold beer chatting to our friends and suddenly, probably about 8.30 in the evening I will think “What’s that?” I will then slowly realise that my feet are slightly cold, something I will not have experienced since April and had forgotten all about as a factor to even consider. The sock will once again become part of my thinking, especially in the evenings, probably closely followed by that other long forgotten item of clothing–the sweatshirt or even, god forbid, the hoodie (potential riots and all). Finally I will begin rummaging in the spare room for a pair of jeans. I’m a strong believer in the case made out by some that there is a kind of micro climate here in Kaş. Usually the process I have just described takes place towards the end of October but in my personal experience, it takes place a few weeks earlier in the likes of Dalyan, Ölüdeniz and Hisarönü. If that is indeed the case (and I’m backing it), it gives us all yet another reason (not that one was really needed), to pitch our tents here and every now and then write a bit about it and not do any teaching whatsoever.
