“Ne var, ne yok?” Turks use this phrase casually to ask “how’s it going?” or “what’s happening?”. In actuality, the phrase translates to “what exists, what does not exist?”. Just as very little in Turkey was what it seemed, this question has proved telling as I reflect upon my time spent there.
What does exist? Turkey is a diverse country full of welcoming people who are happy and proud to share their rich cultural traditions. At nearly every turn, a stunning vista – from fields of sunflowers to the turquoise Marmara Sea to ancient ruins alongside the highway – Turkey is gorgeous. Ancient history from so long ago it will stop you in your tracks. Stunning mosaics. Vaulted mosque ceilings which shimmer like the night sky. Outrageously delicious food – kaymak, kofte, and pide. And the Grand Bazaar – oh my word – the textiles.
Turkey is a fish-out-of-water experience. From the call to prayer to tractors on the roadways to midnight rumblings of earthquakes (was the ground shaking or is it just me?), Turkey will jostle you. “I had come to Istanbul, a city with which I had many romantic associations but little practical experience” (Elif Batuman, New Yorker).
What does not exist? A system of rule, a sense of collective imperative for the greater good, common sense which aligns with Western philosophy, rational thought surrounding animal welfare. Currently, economic stability is lacking, too. In my two years in country, I dealt with enough circular bureaucratic madness to drive a person to drink. I won’t go into many details but my experience in Turkey was made stressful right up until the bitter end due to a lack communication between the ever-changing bureaucratic “laws” and the actual reality of everyday life. I walk away feeling that I have some understandings of the “system” but I sure don’t respect it. Mark my words, there are many reasons that Turkey will never be invited to join the EU.
What will I remember? Delicious Turkish breakfasts, the trip to Edirne with Kasia, Indian food nights with Tracey and Zach, exploring Cappadocia with Michele. My beautiful friends who opened their lives and their homes to me in this country that they love so dear. I will miss them terribly.
Boat trips on the Bosphorus, First Fridays at Bira with the B-town crew, and visits to so many gorgeous mosques.
My beautiful students, especially my dedicated little Art Club. We had a wonderful time.
The trip to Dalyan with my students, visits from loved ones, and adventures to places like Georgia and Florence.
Isabel Allende writes, “there is no definitive separation as long as there is memory.” I am thankful to be leaving with wonderful memories, many of them shared with beautiful friends and some of them held close just for me.
As for now, my sojourn in the US this summer has begun in earnest. Moloko made it out of Turkey thanks to my amazing friends Deniz and Nilufer. In reflecting, her safety and mine are the only thing that really matters. Everything else is just material items, drama, and details.
I’ve come to learn that I need to live in society which outlines its expectations more clearly. My time in Switzerland will bring many rules, some wacky (no toilet flushing after 9pm) and some useful (clear steps for visa applications). I look forward to sharing my journey in Lugano with you, starting in August.
I’m off to France to teach painting for most of July. I’ll return for family time down the Cape in August. I feel so blessed to lead this existence and I hope many us cross paths over the next few months. The time has come to put my adventure in Turkey to rest. İyi akşamlar hocam. Goodbye, teacher.
The Turquoise Chronicles 
Excellent reflections, Meg. So glad you and Mol are home!
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Thanks, Suz!
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Truly a life of “ the road less traveled”. We live vicariously through your experiences. Thank you for sharing! Hope the see you this summer when you visit Brooke!
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Thanks, Eileen! I’m so glad you enjoy 🙂 Hope to see you later this week.
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Beautifully done, Meg. The more I understand I’m stuck in one of four of the most dangerous cities in the US, the more I enjoy your travelogue. When I worked for Suzuki Marine I drove what was called “The Fish Wagon.” It was a big Ford 350 diesel dually hauling a 35 foot enclosed trailer. I covered the area from Maine to Florida, to Illinois and down the Mississippi to Texas. I went to every bass (or shark, thinking of Long Island) tournament prepared to 1) service any Suzuki ever made that was used in the tournament, and give the winner a check if they were using a Suzuki. Most tournaments started about 5AM, 99% of the bass boaters still inebriated from the night before, 1% still hung over, but 100% ready to run a boat 80MPH to catch a fish that wondered if it were he that was dumber than the fisherman, or vice versa. The night before was party night. Because I was driving company equipment, I didn’t drink, but was required to go to these parties. I sincerely doubt anybody remembered me. The point of all this was the parties in Louisiana. All these accents! One person would ask another, “Muminem?” to which the other responded, “Fanyo?” I suppose you have to be drunk to figure it out, as it’s a bit more mumbly than Turkish. Translated: “How’s your mother and the rest of your family?” Reply: “Fine, and yours?” Fortunately, somebody took pity and translated for me. At least your dad speaks English! Grid
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div>Beautiful reflection, Meg. Your blessed existence spills over to others
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Hi Meg! Your description of working with the classics reminds me of the fictional Israeli spy, Allons. The last picture, the pile of rocks by the gate is what I used to imagine was what it was like when he took his wife and child to the hiding house on the hill. And then there’s the one of the picture of the Asian(?) girl on the side of the flower pot. If the verbiage says “Have you seen this girl?” add in magic marker, “No, but I’ll help you look!” I sent your dad an email yesterday, and am gluing it right here. Your recent address said don’t send mail there, so this is the only one I coud find.
Grid Michal gridmichal@gmail.com 10:39 AM (7 hours ago) Reply to Stephen,, Inez I thought you might get a laugh here. I’ve been sitting in this corner writing day after day, falling asleep at the keyboard, nut not knowing until my finger, still on the last key it was on, transmits 43 million 2’s or whatever until I awaken. Easier is my head whacking the keyboard. That’s instantaneous. To counter–somewhat–falling asleep I listen to Amazon music, mostly R&R from the past: Phil Collins, AC/DC, etc. The sleepier, the more raucous the music. Because I dislike picking a new album every 20+ minutes, I found quite enjoyable “100 Songs for Driving,” different albums assembled by different people. Lo and behold, one popped up yesterday called 100 Songs For Reckless Driving. The first song is called Hertz. I can’t understand a word of it, but those of you younger than I might.
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