Tomorrow night we leave for Turkey. It won't be our first visit -- between 1998 and 2000 we made a number of trips, road-tripping from the Aegean to central Anatolia and the Mediterranean to the Black Sea. But we haven't been back for ten years. We're thrilled to finally be returning.
I planned to write a post about Turkey before we left, a post about the strange sensation of arriving somewhere new and immediately feeling absolutely at home.
I wanted to describe big, big landscapes and roads that go on forever. I hoped to revisit a lunch of grilled trout and chopped salad taken by a rushing river while a herd of cows looked on, and bastirma sandwiches eaten sitting on the hood of our rental car in the middle of a vast plain somewhere between Kayseri and Sivas.
I'd like to tell you about dozens of kindnesses in small towns, received from strangers with whom we couldn't communicate in words. And about warm welcomes from urbanites in big-city Istanbul.
I wanted to describe what it's like to fall so hard for a place that you vow, at the end of your first week there, to learn its language -- and then actually follow through because in your heart of hearts you believe that some day, some way, you'll be back for longer than a visit.
But I've got deadlines and passed deadlines and packing to deal with. Maybe I'll write something on the plane tomorrow night. Or maybe I'll wait till we're there.
Enjoy! The next time you hear from us, ben
Istanbul'dan yazı olacak (I'll write from Istanbul).