I've waited until my time here in Turkey was ending, to tell of it. I wanted to have a complete experience to relate.
In America what do we know of this place? We see stories in the news of refugees and demonstrations, of harsh religious leanings and backwards ways.
Here is what I now know.
Turkey is Asia and Europe with Istanbul straddling both. Istanbul in the rain is beautiful to behold.
Calls to prayer, hijab, blue jeans and English spoken. The people are kind to the street cats and dogs, leaving out food and building them makeshift houses.
It feels familiar and foreign. Cities of millions, shopping, mountains, beaches, prairie's, goats, fertile farms, cabbages the size of beach balls...
The food....oh the food...
Breads hearty and fresh.
Strong black tea served in small delicate glasses.
Pastries, numerous and gorgeous.
Mezze spilling over the plate showcasing the vegetables, olives and cheeses.
And the Turkish breakfast, which seriously needs to be a thing. I was told that so many small plates are served with it because the Turks can't make up their minds. I'm OK with that.
And the people have captured my heart.
Perhaps it's because those I met are connected in some way with the tourists and travelers that come through, but they were all open, warm and kind. Even when we couldn't speak the same language.
So now I have Turkish friends.
I spent two months here, and I could spend years, but it's time to move on to Spain.
Always in my heart- Daima kalbimde.
In America what do we know of this place? We see stories in the news of refugees and demonstrations, of harsh religious leanings and backwards ways.
Here is what I now know.
Turkey is Asia and Europe with Istanbul straddling both. Istanbul in the rain is beautiful to behold.
Calls to prayer, hijab, blue jeans and English spoken. The people are kind to the street cats and dogs, leaving out food and building them makeshift houses.
It feels familiar and foreign. Cities of millions, shopping, mountains, beaches, prairie's, goats, fertile farms, cabbages the size of beach balls...
Breads hearty and fresh.
And the Turkish breakfast, which seriously needs to be a thing. I was told that so many small plates are served with it because the Turks can't make up their minds. I'm OK with that.
Perhaps it's because those I met are connected in some way with the tourists and travelers that come through, but they were all open, warm and kind. Even when we couldn't speak the same language.
So now I have Turkish friends.
I spent two months here, and I could spend years, but it's time to move on to Spain.
Always in my heart- Daima kalbimde.
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