Excitement. Journey. Countdown.
Nerves. Wanderlust. Anticipation.
All feelings and emotions that have passed by over the past
couple months leading to my flight that would take me across the world. A month
later, I’m in a cafĂ© in Istanbul reflecting on the experiences and time I’ve
spent wondering around a massive city with the ability to swallow an ocean full
of people.
From doing the basic tourist stuff like the Big Bus Tour in
Istanbul (worth every penny in my opinion) to finding local places to study and
spend my time marveling at the beauty of this city, I constantly have to remind
myself that this is my reality. A foreigner in love with a new place. From the
city buzz, to the mesmerizing movement of the water, paradoxes of social life
and religious life, to the history and culture that makes this place rich of
humanity and struggle, each direction brings about a new experience to
interpret.
There is a cloud of pride that releases a sweetly-poisonous
aroma. There is an intense pride in the Turkish culture of being Turkish,
enough to create walls between those yabangee (foreigners) who don’t speak the
language, but not enough to eliminate all curiosity. There had been a fair mix
of kind-hearted individuals that try to bridge the large communication gap
amongst the angry ‘I-only-speak-Turkish’ individuals… Sounds like home.
I’ve been lucky to pass by as a Turkish woman, until I open my mouth or have a look of confusion overtake my face, so I haven’t experienced the wide-range of reactions Turks have to obvious yabangee. But the innocent interest and curiosity of learning where foreigners are from and why they’re in Istanbul warms my heart. It’s reminded me of the international curiosity that I grew up with mainly through my travels back and forth to Libya. Libya oh Libya… My heart breaks and sews itself stitch by stitch with the silver lining of hope of a better tomorrow. Traveling through-out the Middle East, especially in Muslim-majority countries in general, makes me think what the future of Libya could look like for my family and the generations to come. Within the past few months I’ve been on a record of reflection that seems to get caught time and time again. What would my life be like if my dad hadn’t left Libya so young? What if my mom never agreed to live in the States, but convinced my dad to live somewhere else on the East side of the Atlantic Ocean? I trip down a deep hole of “what ifs” until I snap out of it and immediately turn to thank God for everything I have and everything that I know and believe, for all the incredible people that at some point in my life that had their turn chiseling away to shape the person I am today.
I’ve been lucky to pass by as a Turkish woman, until I open my mouth or have a look of confusion overtake my face, so I haven’t experienced the wide-range of reactions Turks have to obvious yabangee. But the innocent interest and curiosity of learning where foreigners are from and why they’re in Istanbul warms my heart. It’s reminded me of the international curiosity that I grew up with mainly through my travels back and forth to Libya. Libya oh Libya… My heart breaks and sews itself stitch by stitch with the silver lining of hope of a better tomorrow. Traveling through-out the Middle East, especially in Muslim-majority countries in general, makes me think what the future of Libya could look like for my family and the generations to come. Within the past few months I’ve been on a record of reflection that seems to get caught time and time again. What would my life be like if my dad hadn’t left Libya so young? What if my mom never agreed to live in the States, but convinced my dad to live somewhere else on the East side of the Atlantic Ocean? I trip down a deep hole of “what ifs” until I snap out of it and immediately turn to thank God for everything I have and everything that I know and believe, for all the incredible people that at some point in my life that had their turn chiseling away to shape the person I am today.
There’s a kind of nostalgic vigilance at surrounds my optimism for Libya. But even looking at the Turkish culture, I see many juxtapositions. A mix of European
culture, Ottoman traditions, but a VERY distinct culture that is fully Turkish…
I’m at a point, on the day before my one-month anniversary
of landing in Istanbul, where I feel a recap of specific stories and events
I’ve experienced through the last month wouldn’t justify the spiritual shift
that’s inspired me in many aspects of my life. My goal is to tell the
individual stories in the upcoming posts, but for now, I want to end this first
one with the reassurance that my trip so far has been nothing less than
incredible and with a quote.
“I can’t think of anything that excites a greater sense of
childlike wonder than to be in a country where you are ignorant of almost
everything”
-Bill Bryson
With all my love and appreciation for your love and interest
in my travels,