OR, THE POST THAT GOT AWAY SIX YEARS AGO.

Just looked through some stuff to clear the space so to speak and discovered this. From huge opulence to poverty is indeed an interesting spectacle. So just for old times sakes, a time when I had more options open to me!

BULGARIA IS OFF THE LIST, TURKEY (OR HUNGARY) IS THE WINNER.

“After years of debating where I’ll put down roots, Turkey is now the clear winner due to it not taking shit from everyone and protecting its sovereignty. Hungary came in a close second but sadly, is landlocked. I might yet eat my words and still opt for there, but I think it’s settled…..”

Well, that’s already old news as I am looking at Hungary again as my cousin reminded me he has a place there and my old mate is also there. The rapid changes and logistics these days make it a head-whirring descent into hell.

Try as one might, finding a place in Europe is now not as easy as it used to be when you want to travel and live solo in this dystopian new world. I just want a place to grow my own stuff and return to making my sculpture. Too difficult? Apparently, it is.

Any suggestions on my plight to get off-grid as much as possible?

Here I will show some of my previous Turkey tasters that led me to the final conclusion of where I want to be. Obviously, I would have chosen Mexico, were it not so far and that I speak Spanish, and adore it but with this tumultuous ever-shifting dystopia harsh decisions have to be made.

Turkey it is. (Well maybe!)

Anyway I’ll now add my experience of Hungary to the end of this ffs

Now I just have to find my small farm with a fruit orchard (most have over there) and vineyard. I will build an outdoor kiln to make my ceramics and hopefully do a modest trade in my wares.

TURKEY

My last trips over there were either with my pal Sam to cheap and cheerful destinations such as Dalyan and Xania for beach and a bit of ‘kulcha’ (for indeed there is a lot of both there)

My other trip there was very high-end on a luxury yacht owned by my then-partner. It was a difference such as chalk and cheese and I wouldn’t really have remembered much without the photos on an old decrepit, very temperamental hard drive.

It was a revelation to see what remained of these pics as it was pre-Google so there were no memories to be found in the cloud there. It was a horrible shock and made me very pleased that I had been very diligent back then in my pre-blog days to download at least some of the memories which I will share with you all now. This leads me to a top tip.

Top Tip: Old birds do not trust the Cloud in any form. I horrifically lost a bunch of old stuff which was irreplaceable and have lamented long and hard about those photographs and videos that I relied on, to jerk my memory, as well as illustrate travels. Go through the photos each trip methodically and select and download to your computer and then to a decent external hard drive. You then always have the pics chosen of your trip at hand with or without WiFi. There is much to be said not to be slothful with these tidy organised practises, and execute them as second nature. You never know what might happen in the future and you don’t want your precious stuff being held to ransom or wholly lost. Beware, and follow my advice.

TURKEY, A FEW YEARS BACK.

I found most of my pics from the excellent journey I had on the ‘Soho’ boat and so will begin with this trip which would take me across to the Greek Islands and finally to Athens where the boat was over-wintering and going into dry dock.

I don’t have dates on these photos but remember flying to Istanbul to a huge wild crowd at the airport as it was a public holiday of some merit it would appear. It was a solo travellers nightmare as this is the time you need to be able to keep your place in a queue while nipping off for any extra paperwork that might need filling and stamping by bored and difficult officials that give not a shit to your predicament. I know it took about two hours and then another hour to sort the cab and get to the boat. It boded ill as I felt shaky at the fuss there and could only remember ‘Midnight Express’ while waiting and feeling more and more intimidated. I am naturally a guilty person and although I knew I was doing nothing wrong was a nervous, ticky, shaky wreck after the torture at the airport.

It took a bucket of wine and fags to talk me down from hysteria when I arrived on board.