Insane... but totally sanitised

Rain. Bloody rain. Everywhere! Also hand sanitiser. Everywhere. No joke. I’m literally more sanitised than I’ve ever been before. And that, unfortunately, has nothing to do with sanity. The co-codamol and valium combination is safely eroding any remaining sanity.


We just spent an hour under the cover of the spice market drying our drenched feet and testing my new camera lens (did I mention I bought a new lens?), when a friendly one-toothed man offered to sanitise my hands. What a nice man! Ooh yes please, I said. But he tipped it up and nothing came out. He shook it. Still nothing. He prodded the top... still nothing! So he shook it and prodded it and shook it again... and BINGO! Whooooooosh... the entire bottle exploded all over me. All. Over. Me. All over him. All over his face. And the camera. AND THE LENS. Head-to-toe. Sanitiser to lens. It was like the fatal meeting of Bridget Jones and Mr Bean.

Aaron came round the corner to find me soaking wet and smelling like a toilet duck, frantically rubbing my camera with a useless, soaking wet piece of tissue... all the while being circled by a ragged man rubbing his bright-red, squinting eyes, muttering illegible Turkish expletives (see below).



We didn’t stick around long enough to find out whether he had actually blinded himself with his own stupidity. I didn’t fancy sanitising my lungs as well as my entire body and belongings. So we shuffled off to a cafe and are now looking out at the rain, ridding the air of all bad smells. I literally could hire myself out as a human air freshener.

We also lost £50 today. That was fun. Although technically I should say Aaron lost £50. The only feasible explanation we have is that instead of putting the money in his money belt, which was under his trousers, he just put it inside his trousers, so as we walked away from the cash machine the notes fell out of his legs, like a human cash dispenser.

Brilliant. Redistributing wealth to the needy. That’s the optimistic way I have chosen to look at it instead of beating him with my soggy umbrella.

We just booked a 20-hour train journey to Adana, which begins at midnight tonight. It’s a feeble attempt at chasing the sun but I’m not entirely convinced of its existence right now.

With two major mishaps under our belt I’m thinking maybe we should just take some valium and put ourselves to bed before boarding the train. A lot can happen in 6 hours.