Thursday, 15 May 2014

Turkey's all inclusive in ma belly

Free beer and free scran are the ultimate wins for the permo-hungry drunk. So, as a reward for all the hither and thither of running earlier in the year, we decided to take an all inclusive jaunt to Turkey to indulge these fantasies for seven days of gluttony, sunning and lengthy sit downs.

We opted for the Voyage Hotel in Bodrum mainly for the venue's blanket ban on kids - plus the review on Trip Advisor made it sound like it wasn't a Turkish jail. And lo, it wasn't. After a turbulent, hungover flight, we landed late in the dark and were bundled into a mini bus before arriving at the Voyage.

Even at midnight on a Saturday, the vibes were elderly, very European and smokey but we discovered that the bar was 24/7 and the food was top drawer. The joint had two very different bars - the one downstairs had a pumping 18-30 soundtrack courtesy of a terrible DJ with a tattoo of Chucky from Child's Play on his leg. The top one was where the various elderly Belgians, French and Germans took themselves to chain smoke themselves closer to death. Both had ticks in their favour. Downstairs didn't feel quite as much like a morgue while upstairs was open all night - plus the place had the addition of our favourite bar man/boy, Barack. Barack was 18, a spectacle wearing geek, socially awkward and untrained in the art of bar work. His quest was to work through the night for a pittance to learn the ins and outs of 'booze'. An admirable endeavour you've got to admit. Over our stay, we taught him about the joys of expresso martinis, shots and Efes and even got behind the bar to help him out. I'd like to hope that he's never looked back.

While our previous all inclusive trip had more characters due to the massive scally factor, the ones here were less but almost more out there. We met an ex-squaddie and his wife who were not only massively drunk, but also totally fucked up due to his experiences being shot at by snipers in Iraq. His binge drinking and manic hands gave away his battle scars. Another British couple brought a slightly more normal vibe, just in terms of they'd prefer to do shots rather than sit there chain smoking and talking about killing people.

What else happened? Well we noshed our own body weights in delicious Turkish scran, had a shave (by an inept young dude who accidentally left the taps running while putting my head in a face pack - cue wet legs yo and embarrassment all round) and a Turkish bath/massage. The latter was amazing although it was hard not to laugh when the dude foaming me up had his todger mere cms from my face (although hidden behind a towel). But it all added to the excitement of the experience fo' sure. We went to Kos, a Greek island on the ferry where we ate a banging fish dish and met an Italian French couple who were, yet again, totally drunk and in love with the royal family. Would we go again? Of course fucking of course. It all ended too quickly. It was also a total wrench to leave, mainly cos getting used to using money to pay for things again is hard fucking work... Big up Bodrum.


Night time


Facial biz

Unexplained plastic stallions

Attention to detail

Iskender for breakfast? Don't mind if I do


On Kos under  the Tree of Hippocrates

Red snapper on Kos

Greek ale - delicious



The sudden realisation that when you combine two people, you get Thin Lizzy's frontman

Espresso martinis all around 

Behind the 24/7 bar with new friends