Second Homeland
It has become my favorite place with striking contrasts, probably the only country I would not be able to live in but where I could come back countless amounts of time.
It all started with passport control and a greeting with a heavy accent: “Welcome to Turkey!” Few minutes later and I was standing on the escalator, descending with the crowd of various, newly arrived and native, old and young people. Surrounded by foreign signs, Middle Eastern bearded faces, strict and amazed looks and regional buzz in the air, I began discovering Istanbul.
On the platform of first metro station it has taken quite a bit of time to get through brutality of human mass and to enter into the car of the train. Due to peak hour, I was welcomed by the tight embrace of Istanbulians and random guests of the city. The further I was going from the airport and touristic areas the more I felt that I was from the another planet.
For the first time in my entire life, people have stared at me, the two headed winged and tailed mutant; the weird part of it is that – I have truly enjoyed this reaction. Being different and exotic for regular Turkish eyes, has given me chance to improvise as if I were an actress on the stage. I generally love attention; who does not? And, surprisingly, here I have got plenty of it. Trying to communicate with metropolitans with my broken Turkish, I have appreciated their eagerness to understand no matter how and what I have said.
One of the most known facts about Turkish nation – they are extremely hospitable. Visiting all friends and relatives, I was going from one house full of benevolent people, enormous amount of delicious food and long conversations to another one, where exactly the same things were waiting for me. After a while the process of visiting, eating and talking became too repetitive, and some weight, which I put on in only few days, reminded me that I better go to the gym for changes. But, overall, hospitality is the secret key to anybody’s heart and mine personally. I have never seen such a warmness from people I have just met; that have made me adore their community’s bonds.
Living in America, I get very lonely sometimes because there is no chance to see relatives, parents and even close friends more often than few times in year. I can blame it on busy schedule, life in different cities and technological development, which allows me to message or call somebody rather than meet them in person. In Turkey, though, it is not possible to get lonely and be upset about it. Instead, according to my experience, guests in here are the God’s blessing, and gathering of all the clan, including neighbors and neighbors of their neighbors is normal. That’s why I was always given eternal refills of traditional black Turkish tea (located at the head of the table at any time of a day), devoured alive by curious glances and literally forced to stay in their house longer than I have ever planned.
It seemed to be frightening and too good simultaneously. It is like one’s first experience of Jack Daniel’s: the first sip of strong whiskey is tarry and heavy but pretty soon you start to love its balancing sweetness. Finally, when you are completely drunk, you don’t care about taste any longer, as it is only the alcohol in the glass is all that matters. Obviously there is only one thing to expect after too much of whiskey – a hangover. That is why taking off from the same airport after three weeks of dipsomania I have got mixed feelings about my trip: sentimental nostalgia and slight regret. In short three weeks I have managed to accustomed to traditions that I had seen only in the movies. However, staying there a little longer could increase the chance of becoming an “uncured alcoholic”.
I, honestly, like how this Jack Daniel’s burns, aftertastes and blurs my mind but I still prefer jogging at the morning instead.