Antayla, Turkey

I was lucky enough to visit Antayla, Turkey over my three week Winter Break. My new host family, the Mirić's, took me, and two other exchange students, Chandra, from Colorado, and Bruna, from Brazil.

I am not sure what I was expecting of Turkey-perhaps it is fair to say I had some skewed image from National Geographic pictures, and old memories of Sophomore year Geography class. I was not prepared for the sheer beauty of the country.

Turkey has a varied landscape, there is no real consistency or continuity between one area to the next. There are snow capped mountains, sheltering the sea, and orange groves which go on for miles. There are small towns where people seem not to have schedules, and old men sit outside, smoking cigars and playing cards. There are skyscraper cities, with city buses crowding the streets and bazaars along every street. And of course, there is the Mediterranean Sea, a deep turquoise color, which seems to scream, "come swim!" And, despite the fact that it is January, I was able to go swimming one afternoon. The water was salty, cold, but refreshing. It was such a joy to be away from Zagreb, where I don't think the sun has been seen in several months.

We had perfect weather every day, a breezy sixty degrees. In the sun, about 70 and hot. It is certainly interesting to be a foreigner in Turkey. Especially a blond foreigner. I have never in my life been so blatantly stared at. When we were walking through Antayla, I felt overexposed with my capris and uncovered hair. It was a strange sensation to be on a Turkish bus and see only covered heads in front of me.

We visited the inside of a Mosque, which I had never done before. I liked the atmosphere inside the Mosque, since it is all carpeted, and there are no pews or chairs, it has a feeling on openness; for a child it would be paradise, and entire room with nothing in it. I was struck by the physicality of Muslim prayer, you can see 80 year old men rocking back and forth on their toes, standing up and then bending over in half. Hearing the Call to Prayer during the day was an experience which is difficult to describe accurately. Suddenly, the streets become quiet, and the eerie sound seems to echo from every corner of the city.

Turkey is a country of men. In the town of Myra, I saw about three women, the streets are dominated by groups of men. I felt as though Turkey is in a state of perpetual waiting. People seems to just float from one place to the other, stopping to talk or drink a coffee, or simply to sit on a bench, waiting. Maybe this is only a small town vibe, but I got the impression everyone was waiting for something. There is none of the determined feeling one gets in American cities, heads bowed down, walking fast through the streets, as if always late.

My thoughts were with my friend Lila, who has bravely made a life for herself in the city of Istanbul. Having been to Turkey, I am endlessly impressed that she has forged a life for herself in such a different world.

I look forward to a return trip sometime in the future.