And so it was that Richard retrieved the two long shorelines, and hauled in the anchor at Boynuz Buku, in the bay of Gocek, enabling us to head up to the top of the bay to D-Marin, the marina that will be our home for a couple of weeks.
Skipper mooched Missy Bear over to look at the fuel and waste pump-out dock, but the queue was enormous. All the charter boats were milling around in the stiff breeze, jostling for position to refuel and to get rid of their waste before returning to base. Given the money that must have been spent on introducing the Turkish marine waste system, and all of the coastguards who are supposed to police it, it seems ludicrous that there are only two waste pump stations in the whole of Gocek bay, for literally thousands of yachts. We now see why there was waste-water boat hovering around our anchorage yesterday. But we know we have to move berths in the marina in a day or two, so we will pop over and refuel and ‘unload’ then.
The marina has brought us in on the mega-yachts’ pontoon (H). Missy Bear is smaller than some of the tenders to these boats. It’s a real eye-opener to how the other half live (ok, maybe the top one-percentile). Boat crews do all the work, the owner or charterer bowls up and is treated with huge deference. Tenders sweep back and for from the bay to the pontoon, and discharge their clients. Marina golf-carts are waiting to greet them, and after they have left, the crew then unload the laundry and rubbish from the tender, and whisk it off to the relevant place.
There is an absolutely enormous yacht parked up near us. Its flag is the Isle of Man, although that doesn’t mean anything. Yesterday morning (Monday), the crew have leaped into action, cleaning the outside, one guy strapped on as he cleaned the enormous windows on the upper deck. [Ed – I bet he doesn’t tell his mates back home he’s a window cleaner.] An obviously British crew - as they talked to each other - then played a selection of British and Irish sea-shanties at a good volume. Perhaps it was an answering call to our streaming of Strictly last night…And this morning, it had left by the time we got up. [Ed – its available for a week’s charter at Eu 250,000. Any takers?]
Meanwhile, the floating gin-palace next to us has a solitary young man as crew. He worked hard all-day Sunday, cleaning, doing maintenance etc., and then brought out cushions and laid the table in the aft cockpit, including an ironed tablecloth, and flowers. The owner turned up at about 19:00, and his guests at about 21:00. Dinner lasted well into the wee, small hours, but the noise was not intrusive for us. They have now departed for a three-day cruise. To be honest, it makes life easier for us as we were brought into a very tight space, and our lines were not really long enough for mooring onto the lazy line in such a huge space. The Marinero had to do a bit of a Heath Robinson job to help tie us up.
Gocek itself is rather charming. Little canals and waterways criss-cross the streets, which are lined with all sorts of shops, ranging from back-street barbers, to up-market deli shops. Chandlers abound, and Richard is in a maritime shoppers’ paradise. We have also found the final two cushions we needed for the cockpit in Missy Bear. I’ve joked before that we are beginning to resemble the soft furnishings department at John Lewis, and this just confirms it.
We celebrated Tony’s birthday in town, before he and Rachelle flew home. The walk from the marina into the town passes through a small, open-air theatre, and as we strolled in for dinner, it was clear there was going to be some sort of celebration later, with people decorating the theatre with blue and silver ribbons and balloons. We assured Tony that we hadn’t arranged any surprise party.
During dinner, we started to hear music from a procession. Oh, we said, it must be a wedding celebration in the theatre. The music got louder and a small procession passed our table, including a woman in white with a man in a suit, and also a young boy on horseback, dressed all in white, wearing a white crown, and brandishing a sword. Was it a wedding? But why the young boy on a white horse?
On our return to the boat, the theatre was buzzing. There were people of all ages chatting, with food and coffee stalls to keep them in the party spirit, and music playing. It looked a joyful time. The small boy in white was standing on a podium, with the older woman in the white dress and the man in a suit. A small line or guests was snaking past them, shaking hands with each of them. They handed over small gifts to the boy. I had an inkling I knew what this was about.
I went over to a seated group, and asked if anyone spoke English (Turkish is even harder than Welsh). They knew a few words. I asked what was happening. A man replied something that sounded like “sunny”. “A wedding?” I prompted, at which they all burst out laughing. “No, no” said the man, and made a hand movement of his fingers to look like scissors, while pointing them down to his crotch. “Ah”, I said, “Ok, tessekur ederim (thank you)”. We all laughed again, and smiled at each other.
The sünnet ceremony in Turkey is an important stage in a young boy’s life. “Sünnet” itself means circumcision in Turkish, and is derived from Arabic for “busy path”, i.e., the path the boy takes to God. Generally, boys are circumcised before puberty, and the ceremony is the first stage of attaining manhood. Nowadays, in the bigger cities, some parents choose to have the procedure carried out immediately after birth, while the baby is still in hospital, but more traditional societies still prefer to perform the sünnet ceremony. Apparently, it is now illegal to circumcise a boy between the ages of two and six, as he will only remember the pain, and not the meaning of the ceremony.
According to the website of the “Republic of Turkiye Ministry of Culture and Tourism”, the procedure is as follows…
“The boy is sat on the lap of his kirve (someone who acts as a kind of godfather at the circumcision), if he has one, or if not, on the lap of some other relative. The boy is made to open his legs, and the person whose lap he is sitting on holds the boy’s arms very tight. Meanwhile, encouraging words stressing manly virtues are spoken to help reduce the child’s fears. Before and during the operation, the words “Allahu ekber Allahu ekber” are uttered (God is the greatest) and also a common bantering couplet – “It has happened at once, May God preserve him; it will grow better, by God’s will.”
Traditionally, the procedure was carried out by an individual known as the “wiseman” but today, the circumciser has to be a trained health official. The Guardian has a photo-journalism article of Istanbul’s Circumcision Palace by Bradley Secker. He states “After the operation, the boys are returned to the dance floor to celebrate and dance with their parents… gingerly”. A later photograph shows the boy being checked over after the ceremony by the palace’s doctor, and the boy is looking at an iPad to distract himself.
Maybe the barber should have given Richard an iPad during his snip and waxing?
The last part of this blog makes me sad. Heartbreaking.