That is not the way to keep readers, and the guilt of lost lives would have consumed me forever.
So I thought it wise to wait.
I've been back from Marmaris for a week now; the urge to jump on a plane and go straight back is not abating any, in fact if anything it's getting worse by the hour. If I wait until the end of September, as per plan, it will be a miracle on the scale of Phil Mitchell staying off vodka. I've got to try though, thanks to the cost of flying being horrendous at the moment. There's a good argument for befriending a pilot here, but unfortunately I don't have any pilots on my Facebook list.
I love Marmaris.
I'll shout it out from the rooftops if I have to. I thought I'd fallen out of love with it, I wasn't even that fussed about going in the end - but a day or so into the holiday and I remembered it all, in glorious technicolour. And now I'm stuck with the memory and I'm not there anymore.
Cue violin time.
I will be there for longer soon, give it a while to get myself sorted and I'm there. At least this trip has taught me what I want all over again, and reminded me of the perils of settling - which is exactly what I was starting to do. Heaven forbid. I had visions of a rocking chair, golf-course and cats. Shudder at the thought.
Marmaris is the best and worst of humanity all rolled into one, yet for some reason I forgive it's bad bits and fall head over heels with the good bits every time. That's true love for you, right there. Who needs a man?! Five years and still going strong.
Speaking of men, this was the first trip back to the scene of the crime since it all went pear-shaped. It was weird, I'll admit, and I refused to go into the ex's bar (thankfully he was in Alanya, and not lurking behind a palm tree waiting to ambush me and drag me back to the darkness, with his questionable eyebrows), completely out of protest, which is just as well because it's been taken over and it looked, quite frankly, pants. So instead I found a new one, bar that is, before everyone jumps to the completely wrong conclusion.
|Is that a tan?!|
Time to write some new ones.
Speaking of writing, I seriously regretting not taking my netbook, as inspiration hit in the biggest way whilst sat on a sun-lounger with a strawberry dacquiri in my hand. It could have been the alcohol but I took it upon myself to find paper and pen. Chaos insued. Turns out it's not easy to buy paper and a pen in high-season Marmaris. In the end I managed to convince a bemused-looking shop-keeper to give me some of his printer paper in return for me buying a pen for twice the price. I sat on the balcony, full of Efes, and wrote my little heart out. I wrote a letter to the universe, let's hope it listened. Time will tell.
|My summer romance - Mr Efes|
I'm deliberately not giving you a blow by blow account of the whole 16 days because it literally involved a lot of madness and, again, Efes, which is never a bad thing, but makes for really boring reading. There was the usual Marmaris politics, fights, drama and confusion - it wouldn't be Marmaris without it, but it all came good in the end. As per the way it always goes when I'm in that part of the world, the full moon had blood on it, and that night was, predictably, fight night. Turns out lightening does indeed strike twice. Or even three times in this case. They say Cancerians are ruled by the moon, I think I'm a complete case study to prove that correct.
|The sun sets on Marmaris part 1 ...|
I didn't have any commandments to protect me from the madness this time, because anyone who read them last time will know that I broke every single one of them in about four days. It was, quite frankly, a shameful effort, so I didn't bother this time. It's for the best, because I'd probably have broken them within two. I blame the Efes.
I always blame the Efes.
And the moon.
So first installment over, successfully survived - just. Only question is, how long will it be until part 2? Bets are on ...