The other night, I had the pleasure to watch an excellent movie called 'The Edge of Heaven'. The film that takes place in Germany and Turkey; I bring it up not because I want to write a review, but because the movie got me thinking about a past life I once had. From September 2002 until August 2003, I lived, studied and traveled in Turkey. I spent most of my time in Istanbul, a beautiful, ancient, crowded, intense, and overwhelming city. In my daily life here in U.S., I don't often think of my year in Turkey, and my time there holds this strange place in the chronology of my life. That time is strangely disconnected with the rest of my life: I never speak Turkish (I've forgotten most of what I learned there) and rarely meet Turks and there is no one from that experience that I encounter in my daily life.
Since watching the film, memories from my life in Turkey have flooded back into my mind. I think about catching a bus on a cold fall night on my way back home from Sariyer, or walking through decaying neighborhoods near the city wall, or drinking a cay with friends on the bench at Bogazici. When I first returned to the states, my time in Turkey cast a big shadow over my life, because my time in Istanbul was so different, so intense and most importantly, so full of wonderful people. Not that my life in the states isn't, but in Turkey I spent so many hours socializing, more than I ever have here in the states. Hours passed by in tea shops and benches, where I would sit with a friend or two, watching people go by, talking about the troubles of the world or just joking around. I will always miss this aspect of Turkish culture that provided the venue to become friends with so many fantastic people.
I feel a bit sad both because I haven't seen all those friends in years and also because I've tried not to think about my life in Turkey much since then. Not that it didn't matter to me, but rather the opposite, it mattered too much. When I returned, I struggled so deeply with the challenge of re-acquainting myself with life in the U.S. and also facing the stress of graduating from college and figuring out what to do next. I tried to live my life in the here and now instead of being caught up in an endless rerun of memories from my life abroad. When I moved to the East Bay, I threw myself into life in Oakland, trying to establish for myself a real home to make up for the rootlessness I felt upon my return to the United States.
Five years later I am still caught up in the ups and downs of everyday life, perhaps it would be wise of me to look back a little more, not just at Turkey but at the other years that have passed in my adult life. I am still here in Oakland, feeling at home but still a bit rootless--at this point, I've come to terms with it and realize that it's not always a bad thing to not be so tied down with everything. Despite the passing of many years since I was in Istanbul, those memories still carry with them strong emotions, ones that have not faded with time. I know if I return, I will find a city that is changed and will be looking upon it with different eyes. I don't plan to live there again. I am torn, since part of me wishes to find a place to settle and never travel again (see previous post about climate change) while another acknowledges that I am a product of many people and places and I shouldn't be in such denial of this. When it comes down to it, I must decide whether the long flight and all the carbon emissions is worth it.
This is kind of a ramble, and I hope any friends of mine from my life in Turkey that read it will know that I miss all of you, I hold you near to my heart and I hope to see you again.
Since watching the film, memories from my life in Turkey have flooded back into my mind. I think about catching a bus on a cold fall night on my way back home from Sariyer, or walking through decaying neighborhoods near the city wall, or drinking a cay with friends on the bench at Bogazici. When I first returned to the states, my time in Turkey cast a big shadow over my life, because my time in Istanbul was so different, so intense and most importantly, so full of wonderful people. Not that my life in the states isn't, but in Turkey I spent so many hours socializing, more than I ever have here in the states. Hours passed by in tea shops and benches, where I would sit with a friend or two, watching people go by, talking about the troubles of the world or just joking around. I will always miss this aspect of Turkish culture that provided the venue to become friends with so many fantastic people.
I feel a bit sad both because I haven't seen all those friends in years and also because I've tried not to think about my life in Turkey much since then. Not that it didn't matter to me, but rather the opposite, it mattered too much. When I returned, I struggled so deeply with the challenge of re-acquainting myself with life in the U.S. and also facing the stress of graduating from college and figuring out what to do next. I tried to live my life in the here and now instead of being caught up in an endless rerun of memories from my life abroad. When I moved to the East Bay, I threw myself into life in Oakland, trying to establish for myself a real home to make up for the rootlessness I felt upon my return to the United States.
Five years later I am still caught up in the ups and downs of everyday life, perhaps it would be wise of me to look back a little more, not just at Turkey but at the other years that have passed in my adult life. I am still here in Oakland, feeling at home but still a bit rootless--at this point, I've come to terms with it and realize that it's not always a bad thing to not be so tied down with everything. Despite the passing of many years since I was in Istanbul, those memories still carry with them strong emotions, ones that have not faded with time. I know if I return, I will find a city that is changed and will be looking upon it with different eyes. I don't plan to live there again. I am torn, since part of me wishes to find a place to settle and never travel again (see previous post about climate change) while another acknowledges that I am a product of many people and places and I shouldn't be in such denial of this. When it comes down to it, I must decide whether the long flight and all the carbon emissions is worth it.
This is kind of a ramble, and I hope any friends of mine from my life in Turkey that read it will know that I miss all of you, I hold you near to my heart and I hope to see you again.
Comments