There’s always one day on a trip where the wheels come off. Not dramatically. Not in a blaze of glory. Just… quietly. Like your dignity slipping out the back door while you’re face down in a pillow, bargaining with your own liver. Yesterday was that day. I’d love to tell you I was out soaking…
First things first—I’ve officially broken my own rule and I apologise. All week I’ve been smugly tapping away at these posts like some sort of disciplined, well-adjusted human being with structure and routine. And then, like all good habits, it went straight out the window the moment raki got involved. So yes—this is late. And…
You ever get woken up by a sound so aggressive, so wildly committed to being heard, that your brain just… gives up trying to label it? That was us. Next door. Something between a donkey in emotional crisis and a human being having the kind of morning that requires electrolytes and a long sit-down afterwards….
Let me start with an apology. Not a polite, British “sorry”—one of those real apologies where you acknowledge you’ve made choices, and those choices are now writing the blog for you. I am, at present, pickled. Not gently infused. Not delicately marinated. I am a full-blown raki preservation project. Somewhere between glass seven and “who’s…
Day 4 in Dalyan didn’t come in hot. No chaos. No grand plans. No heroic cultural ambitions. Just heat, a pool, and the slow, creeping realisation that doing absolutely nothing might be the most productive thing I’ve done all year. We parked ourselves by the pool like two overfed cats and committed to the art…
We woke up warm. Which, after the previous night’s Arctic cosplay, felt like a win. Two extra blankets had appeared—no fanfare, no explanation—just quietly delivered by the cleaning ladies who had clearly taken one look at us and thought, these idiots are not coping. They weren’t wrong. So, buoyed by this small but meaningful success,…