A tourist in my own country

Safe and sound, the plane finally landed. I was so relieved to be alive that I may have made an oath to have a sheep killed and hand its meat out to the poor. With my feet firmly on Turkish soil, the first thing I did as I stepped out of the airport was to breathe in the air of the country I had not been to for five years. It felt great. I took another deep breath and closed my eyes, almost like a cigarette addict, wishing this moment would never end. But my lungs could only take in so much.

There are very few countries in the world that appeal to a person’s five senses and hypnotize them with its historical, cultural and religious beauty. Turkey has to be one of the countries that have such an effect on visitors. It is as if the country is alive, breathing and moving. I realized this when the ezan, the call to prayer, started to echo through the streets minutes after I landed. It was as if the country was welcoming me with this religious chant, relieving me of my worries and soothing the aches I had endured during my day-long flight. The echoes of the call to prayer were so clear, it was as if the city walls were responding to the call and affirming this grand welcome. The echoes of “akbar” (Arabic for “greatest”) made me smile in gratitude, as I acknowledged and thanked God for enabling me to witness such greatness after so many years.

This enchanting mystical state I was in only lasted a few minutes because it was interrupted by the deafening sounds of Turkish car horns. Readers who have not been to Turkey must keep in mind that the noise made by a Turk honking his horn is like no other. It is loud, long and consecutive. Just imagine the accumulation of noises when a dozen cars are honking at the same time, all the time. Another interesting thing I want to note about Turkish cars is their capacity. For some strange reason, they can fit up to 10 people -- twice their legal limit. Everyone travels this way; it has become the norm. Why travel with one family when you can fit two?

Another important thing I realized in Turkey is that even though I may look like a Turk, dress like a Turk and speak fluent Turkish, I am quickly recognized and labeled as a tourist. A tourist in my own country! I just don’t know what it is that gives it away that I live in Australia. Is it the “ums” that I utter when I pause during a conversation or is it the random “sorrys” that I say when I bump into someone. Some people are quicker to point out that I’m a foreigner than others. Regardless, I don’t admit to it because I hold the potential to get ripped off. Every time I am asked, “Where are you from?” I answer “Erzurum,” the city in eastern Turkey where mum grew up. They look at me puzzled as it is not the answer they expected to get.

My family and friends in Turkey also find it strange that I reach out for the seatbelt each time I sit in the car. I find it strange that no one else ever does, including the driver. Seeing four cars drive so close side-by-side to one another in a street meant for two cars is something else I found difficult to get used to. It also makes me hesitant about driving a car in Turkey.

Walking was the best way for me to get around in Turkey. My cousins had a great laugh at me days after I landed as I tried to cross the road because I waited too long for a suitable time that never came. “You’ll be here all day,” said my 10-year-old cousin, who held my hand and gestured an emerging car that he was going to cross and rushed across the street, dragging me from behind. It took me a week and a half to learn the art of crossing the road in Turkey’s busy streets, but I can safely say that, after two months, I’m a professional at it. But I must admit that never in my life have I ever come so close, so many times, in one day, to the brink of death as while trying to cross a road in Turkey.

The smell of Turkish food in the open air has to be the highlight of my holiday. No matter where you are, no matter how late, you will be able to find food to eat on the streets, even if it is a simitçi selling sesame bread and pastries. The air is always filled with a plethora of aromas, herbs and spices, both sweet and sour. The charcoal kokoreç has to be the most pleasant smelling street food in Turkey. The only problem is that coiled and seasoned intestine is not a cuisine I am accustomed to.

As my last few days in Turkey draw near, I realize how so many things have changed in the past five years and how much I have missed it all. I realize how strong my roots are as a Turk and how kind-hearted and supportive the Turkish people are towards tourist Turks like me living in the West. I realize how humbled I am to carry a dual citizenship and get to experience the wonders of two countries, speak two languages and be exposed to different people of different faiths and cultures. Parting from one country is just as hard as parting from the other. Reuniting with one country is as sweet as reuniting with the other. Elveda Türkiye, see you in the years to come…