Today is the
day of the holiday. Flying off to Turkey for a week. My 6th time in
Turkey and the south coast is one of my favourite places. Gorgeous coastline,
turquoise waters, great weather and endless grilled meat n veg. You can be sure
of it. Everyone has thick taches, even the women. I love it.
I so love
the whole holiday experience. Getting your local currency changed. Informing
your bank and Mobile Phone Company. Buying toiletries and creams you probably
won’t need, Packing tea bags in case they haven’t got the right ones. Trying to
guess what clothes you need. ‘Shall I take a jumper? What if it’s chilly at
night? The excitement, the preparation, as if you are leaving for a remote island
that has no humanity. Forgetting it’s only Turkey for a week.
It reminds me of one of the first holidays i went on years ago with my 1st proper girlfriend. We went to marmaris on some dreadful cheap package deal. One couple were moaning how they didn't know how they would get through a whole week wothout KFC. "Will they have water? Do you think think they'll have TV?" were some of the questions the oversized travel rep had to contend with. No matter, we are going solo having booked it individually, so it should all be cool.
The only
trouble is a 6am flight, which means leaving at 3am, which means 2 hours sleep,
on top of my endless lurgy and chronic fatigue. Now I don’t operate very well
on a little sleep and if you double it up with feeling rank that equals grumpy
sod. Tolerance and patience are two commodities I rarely deal in & we are
flying Monarch which in my experience is like Primark with wings, it will be a
test.
Managed to
get up at said time. Alarm at 2am is just wrong. Rounded up the girls, get the
obvious too much luggage into the small car. Why do most women pack as if they
are going away for a 3 month break? It was also nice to see the difference
between men and women. My case was effectively like the inside of an Eton Mess,
thrown together, the woman’s case was neatly prepared and organised. Nice.
The bonus at
travelling that time of the night is no traffic; the downside is falling asleep
at the wheel. You have to balance these things out.
Then there
was the whole classic airport departure experience. I love it
I had warned
my travel companions, who I’m sure won’t mind me saying have been used to a
more luxurious style of travel and holidays of the Monarch experience and also
of the room in the all inclusive place in Fetithyre. My plan was play down
expectations.
So their
expectations were of a sort of battery farm chicken pen of a journey and a
hotel similar to that of a Syrian POW camp. It could only get better.
In a fit of
untypical organisation I had pre booked the car park, which enabled me to do
the man thing and struggle with 3 massive cases whilst the girls took the hand
luggage. There was the queue for the long stay bus to the terminal but finally
we got to the Monarch check in, which really was exactly the same as the queue
for the till in Primark. Amazing.
The thing I
love about Monarch is they give the option to purchase another 6 inches of leg
room for £40. Now most guys would jump at the offer of another 6 inches, but
for me I refused. It’s ludicrous.
I was
fascinated by the travel fashion. It seems the brands of choice were Umbro
& Lonsdale. Sports Direct must have done a roaring trade. There is the
occasional couple who were over dressed; obviously feeling above the rest of
the plankton on the plane, but for most it’s definitely ‘leisurewear’ as the
outfit of choice. It’s rather like people dress in JD wetherspoons for an all
day session.
Then, after
check in and going through security, you are through to the Promised Land. The
big playground of fun. Duty Free. Departure lounge. Oh my god it’s amazing.
Here you’re holiday starts and all I want to do is buy loads of shit I don’t
need, won’t use or wear but feel good getting it anyway.
Obviously
you start with 200 snouts,then aftershave. do I need new sunglasses? How about a DVD box set? Got
to get a massive Toblerone, new swimming trunks, let’s get some breakfast and a
coffee. Magazines. I’ve only got 4 books; let’s get another 10 after all we are
going for a week. Oh look All Saints, my favourite shop, some t-shirts; oh I
like that leather jacket. I mean its ridiculous – all you’re shopping greed
into 1 frenzied hour. You lose control of your senses. And of course you always
end up nearly missing your flight.
Last ones
on, always. It was just that final tour around WH Smith & large baqg of M&M's that did it.
Then the
plane, luckily we had 3 seats in a row and it wasn’t too bad. I didn’t stay
awake long enough to check out the food or TV as I immediately feel asleep.
Usually I can’t kip on planes, but I passed out immediately, waking up an hour
or two later with a stiff neck and drool hanging from my mouth. Attractive.
Then every time I tried to read I drifted off.
I was
pleased it was only 4 hours as I have done a 12 hour on Monarch. Usually you get to the 8 hour mark before you want to kill yourself. This one was extremely
painless.
Get to
Dalaman airport, Easy access, quick pick up, into waiting private transfer car
(I was expecting the wagon coach to tour around all hotel before getting to
ours so I was nicely surprised at this air-conditioned taxi)
Then after 1
hour of beautiful rolling mountains and coastline we got to the hotel, which
was stunning, beautiful, sweet and really hot. Bonus!
I tried my
best to charm the Russian receptionist, throwing out loads of lies that it’s
birthdays, special occasions and I am a triathlete and need lots of room so can
we have an upgrade please.
I was
expecting the room to be like my Aunties’ from 1956, but it was actually really
lovely, modern, big and clean. Get in; the final obstacle had been cleared.
Everything was groovy.
Clearly my
hours of research on Trip adviser had paid off. We had chosen well. Everything
was cushty.All that was needed now was me to get well as I felt like shit
warmed up.
The Day was
spent lazing by the pool, eating at the buffet restaurant which was an
experience, as there was so much food on offer, there were massive people
dotted around the restaurant shovelling in food whilst blankly looking into the
distance. It’s an overeater’s paradise or is that hell?
Still I’m
going Paleo diet this week (caveman), perfect place for grilled meat, fish and
veg. Fuck the carbs and sugar. I’m going to try and get healthy this week. Sick
of feeling like shit. I’ve even gone 24 hours without diet coke so I’m aching
everywhere. Mind you I’m still smoking like a trouper, even though I’ve got a
sore throat and flu like symptoms. One thing at a time huh,
Crashed out
at 5pm in bed, and then was spark asleep by 11pm. Wow what I riot I am.
Outlasted by a 10 year old. Rock and roll. But today was a total triumph. I didn’t
lose my temper. I didn’t criticise, I wasn’t awful to anyone. I didn’t get
arrested, airport and hotel security were not needed to be called, and I just
quietly got on with it, like a little lamb. A brave little soldier. Let’s hope
I feel human tomorrow, as I’m desperate to get out and run on that coastline.
It truly is stunning and I’m happy to be ‘on me holidays’
Oh and PS –
I got so many messages from people today, as the Tesco mobile advert I filmed a
few months ago came out and I was in it! Very funny people going ‘fuck me, is
that Nick’. Well yes it was me, mincing about in red Speedos in Kew Gardens
pretending to be an arrogant yoga teacher. I didn’t actually tell the film
people I hadn’t done yoga for 6 months or that I was banned from Richmond
studio for arguing with the owner, in class, but hey fuck it; at least I looked
the part. I'd just like to state on record THEY gave me those budgie smugglers to wear in the advert, though i am actually a great big tart and love them.
It was so
easy and funny that my 5 seconds of fame was on a Tesco advert. I just wish it
was Waitrose, would have got more money, however at least it wasn’t Lidel. I
would have been fucked then. Still everyone’s got to start somewhere. Who knows
next year I may even be advertising David Beckham Pants in H&M.
xx
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