Sometimes I want to go back to a place.
No. It’s more than that: Sometimes I need to go back to a place. I feel an undeniable urge to return to a country that touches my heart and my soul, whose people are so welcoming, and whose culture and history resonate with me in a way that’s just so profound that I can’t say conceivably say no.
Italy has, obviously, been one such country.
This next destination, my friends, is another, although perhaps not as obvious. It’s a country that never garnered much attention before my first journey there, but it should have, as it offers eons of history and food and mythology and conflict. It is a country that I have been talking about for the last three years, since that visit. My last trip was almost a compromise choice, but it left me enchanted. Since then, I have always wanted to share this place with my friends and family. I tell them, again and again, to go there if they can.
Somebody finally has listened. D is going along with me, and will be meeting me in Istanbul.
The US State department has a level 3 travel advisory, but that primarily relates to the Syrian border, which holds no interest for me right now. In all honesty, there is plenty to see without visiting war zones.
As I write this, my dear readers, following weeks (months, really) of anticipation and planning, I’m waiting at the airport for my flight, which will carry at breakneck speeds across the Atlantic.
Somewhere, on the far side of the globe, where Europe meets Asia, and great cultures collide and clash and meld, in a city from whence the Romans ruled, D and I will join forces and this journey will begin.
Yes, my friends, I am finally going back to Turkey.
And I am giddy.