Closing Time

Well its merry Muslim Christmas time again. As my young years fly by faster and faster one after the other, i rarely stop to think about the circumstances that have led me to this time and place.

Looking back 5 years, to the historic pre Utku era, i would have never imagined a life in Istanbul with a Turkish man, making sounds from my mouth that are supposed to be Turkish words. Like, who spiked my apple juice with the unexpected?

While this year and a half has seen enough cultural and personal whirlwinds to write a decent drama novel, the essence of my time here is skin deep, it has been transfused into me, injected into my soul. Living in Istanbul is like living with you're fiery, old grandmother who knows and feels more than your whole family combined. She is unsympathetic and non forgiving yet wake the next day and she showers you with loving energy and charisma. She enlightens you with her historic experience and customs, she lends your ear to fables told through generations. Yet, it isn't what you hear, see and smell from her, its the way she shakes you to feel through her every move. You suddenly live your life with feelings never felt before. In an uncontrolled environment, you are forced to grasp a handle on all things real and not to let go, especially in times of dark desperation. Only after realising what you really want can you let go in order to pursue the more controlled destination.

So, i have let go. I have chosen the more familiar ground, where surf meets turf. Its time to head south and plant the seeds, grow the trees and heat the oven or whatever the phrase is. I wont even try to shake Istanbul from my stubborn back. No doubt my future Sydney sleeps hold treacherous dreams of sounds, smells and images through the winding streets of Beyğolu, but a little melancholy never hurt anyone.

You have me firm in you're grip Istanbul, loosen it please, it will make it easier for both of us.