Everyone’s doing it this summer and with a lot of peer pressure and very little persuasion, I decided to jump the bandwagon and make the trip to Bodrum for some sun, sea, and sunburn (had we been in Australia, I would add ‘surf’ but it’s no secret that the Mediterranean has little in the form of waves). Perhaps if it had been my first time, or if I had remembered to bring along a good thick book, I would have found it a little more exciting; however, I found myself starting to bore easily after a couple of days of tanning, swimming and becoming acquainted with every restaurant waiter along the ‘catwalk’ as they call out and try to entice you to eat at their restaurant. That was until my foreign stardom kicked in for some special treatment at a special price, FREE.
It all started when my friend and I found an outdoor open-air gym near the beach. We thought we had struck gold, although, in reality, it was more like bronze with all the equipment half rusting. We were keen to get into shape while on holiday cos let’s face it, bikini’s are probably the most unflattering thing ever invented. While we started working out (which included half sport, and half literally working out how to use the contraptions), a man ran up from the beach to inform us that use of the gym would set us back 5 euro. In a cheeky manner that we have learnt since our stay in Turkey, I protested in Turkish that we didn’t like the gym anyway and would leave (just as soon as I’d finished my sit-up set) whilst my friend also offered her list of protests. The man quickly let it go with a smile and proceeded to try and chat us up; this didn’t go down too well considering his pick-up line was to squeeze my belly mid sit-up and tell me that I really needed to do a few more as I have a belly from drinking and eating too much ‘bira and bonfile’ (his words, my translation).
Now that we had found a ‘free’ gym, my friend and I promptly went back the next day to do another work-out. Yet again, a man approached us while we were working out. This time, a little smoother than the last, he helped us to ‘work out’ the gym equipment so we could do a better work-out. He was very helpful and invited us down to the beach for a free beer afterwards. It just so happens that he owned the gym, the restaurant and hotel next to the gym, the water sports centre on the beach in front of the gym, and the beautiful wooden gullet that we could see whilst working out at the gym. Some gym. What followed then was a blur of free water sports, a catamaran trip, jet-ski ride, a wonderful prawn salad lunch, cocktails, champagne and dinner on his boat (yup, more prawns). And for what reason? Just because we were foreign and it made him feel good to show us Turkish hospitality. Gotta love it.
And the list of opportunities doesn’t end there. I once found myself on the permanent guest list of a reputable club just because the owner wanted more people ‘like that’ to be seen at the club (and no, I’m not famous or well-known or even known at all for that matter). At my old apartment, we never had to pay for internet because my housemate sweetly went into the hotel next door and asked if we could have their internet code, which they provided no questions asked. We should have asked to send over their house-keeping why we were at it, who knows?
It’s the little extra special treatment on a daily basis that makes being a foreigner in this country a whole other entity. For some reason, Turkish people seem to have an obsession with all things ‘foreign’; they want to look like them, date one of them, live in one of their countries. No one can ever understand why I choose to live ‘here’ when I can live ‘there’. I, personally, think Turkey is a great country; then again, I still get to live by foreign standards (most noticeably in the workplace), therefore perhaps my view is slightly tainted.
Nevertheless, the dangerous slippery slide into stardom has well and truly began for me. It’s incredibly addictive to be constantly in the spotlight of attention by anyone, anywhere, at any given time, just for being you. Just for waking up and walking out your front door. Now, of course, it’s not always in good taste, but I wonder what the effect will be when I go back to my home country and no-one bats an eyelid? Perhaps, somewhere deep in my soul, my new found stardom has tied its little hands around my heart influencing my decision to stay. It has become such a part of my everyday life that I am almost beginning to think I am a star. In the heartfelt words of Dirty Dancing, ‘nobody puts Baby in the corner’.
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