THE TURKISH BATHS
(When Straight Guys Go Gay)
“Bloody Hell,” he muttered to himself in response to his wife’s muffled voice. “Over half an hour in the bathroom and THEN she announces that she wants to go shopping…again!” Steve Parkinson wandered out on to the hotel room balcony, the mid-morning sun immediately contrasting against the chill from the high powered air conditioning. “We come all this way,” he continued to mumble, “and all she wants to do is wander aimlessly around endless street markets.” Sighing as he sat down on the warm plastic chair he ruefully stared out at the deep blue Mediterranean Sea, flashes of sunlight reflecting majestically from the gently ebbing waves. The first real holiday since their honeymoon, some three years ago, and it’s shopping, shopping and more shopping he mused as he recalled the seemingly repetitive routine of the last ten days.
“Are you ready, darling?” Barbara’s voice at the patio door suddenly stirred him from his thoughts. Her long, blond, curly hair pushed back by a pair of ridiculously oversized sunglasses, and a black leather handbag gripped tightly in her right hand, she definitely looked ready to shop for her country.
“Do you mind if I give the markets a miss today, hun?” Steve said with an air of pleading in his voice, certain that he had absolutely no appetite whatsoever for watching his wife try on seemingly endless outfits before ritualistically seeking his usually unheeded opinion.
“Are you not feeling well?” she enquired.
“No, I’m fine babe, I just thought I’d take a look around the old town today. You know, take in some of the local history and culture.”
“Oh well, if that’s what you want to do, go for it honey. Back here at six for dinner?”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Steve replied, thankful for the relatively easy pass-out he had apparently obtained.
“OK, see you later darling. Be good. Missing you already!” she said breezily, kissing him gently on the forehead before gliding gracefully out of the room.
Steve sauntered back indoors and reached for the complimentary sight-seeing guide on the desk table before returning to the balcony and aimlessly flicking through the glossy pages. Images of modern day Turkey combined seamlessly with pictures of ancient historical ruins as Steve enjoyed a few moments of peaceful solitude, carefully considering his numerous options. His six years in the Armed Forces had afforded him ample travel opportunities but rarely had he had the chance to leisurely explore, restricted, as he so often was, to a tour of duty almost exclusively positioned behind the safety of heavily guarded barrack walls. With a plan firmly in mind, he gathered up his wallet and room key and headed down to the hotel lobby.
The combined street level temperature and humidity, considerably higher than he had experienced on the hotel balcony, caused a bead of sweat to immediately form on his suntanned brow. The bright white T-shirt began to cling to his chest and his black nylon shorts did the same to his thighs. He was grateful that respite came, in the form of a beautifully cool air conditioned minibus, after only a few minutes wait in the intense heat. He paid the nominal fare and took a seat near the back of the half full vehicle as it steadily chugged its way through the busy, stall-laden streets. Which of those stalls, he wondered, was Barbara already rummaging through? Which poor stall-holder was on the receiving end of her vociferous haggling skills? As the almost icy cold air-conditioning blew against his crew-cut hair, Steve Parkinson relaxed back in to his seat and savoured the prospect of an afternoon of retail-free solitude.
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The tall monuments, ancient hollowed buildings and vast amphitheatre of the old town were a stark reminder of civilisations long since passed, communities of people that existed thousands of years
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