9 Life Lessons from 9 years of traveling the world
Üzgün müsün?
Are you sad? I was asked by an old taxi driver that night, as I took the last taxi to the airport. It was the 19th of January 2020. The day I was supposed to fly home for a short winter break, before the world fell apart. It was the day I took my last flight and my last journey, after travelling the world for 9 years.
Over the span of those nine years, I’ve lived in 10 cities in 6 countries, and setting foot on a dozen more. Meeting hundreds of people and picking up a few languages along the way.
I had more than enough time to reflect through 2020, for I never left my home since that day. The lessons reflected aren’t about my true calling or my exotic adventures. My adventures were far from exotic; living on a tight budget, not having a clue where I am headed. I can’t claim this decision to follow this lifestyle was perfectly rewarding. For I ended up at home, alone and a few thousand dollars in debt. But to experience everything, and to reflect on the lessons, it was all worth it. Some of those lessons I enjoyed, others I was forced to learn.
1. Err on the side of Risks.
“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings
My life, before my journey, was terribly boring. I was addicted to computer games. Specifically Battlefield 2. I still got good grades in high school, won a prestigious foreign scholarship to a good local university (which made my family proud). I was studying IT, which was naturally something I was good at. On the occasion I needed an adventure, I read books. I had a perfectly safe life.
Halfway through the first year I realised I had no affection in continuing, I felt an eerie future of nothingness. My grades sank, I got my first F, I needed a summer course to complete my failed class, yet skipped half of the course. I still have no idea if I passed that summer or not. I didn’t care. There was absolutely nothing that appealed to me in the future.
On the same summer my father and siblings planned to visit my mother writing her doctorate in Jordan, convincing me it was only for 5 days. I, back then, hated leaving home, but decided that I will take a very small risk of seeing a safe new country for 5 days.
I ended up staying 5 years.
The experience destroyed me, in a good way. I didn’t understand how people lived differently, were dependent, spoke a different dialect. I struggled to get out of my shell just to buy bread. It was exciting. I found a new field that I loved to study, a new university, a new extremely challenging environment of being a foreigner in class and streets filled with locals. Life was immensely more exciting, even though my confidence level was zero; I lacked any street smarts or knowledge in what the hell I’m getting myself into. But I also knew that there is so much more to life than being safe.
That one small step towards the unknown of visiting a new country and accepting the risk of starting new, started a snowball of adventures rolling, adventures that I never knew existed.
I kept asking myself since then, why not take a new risk?
I learned that if you were faced between two options, take the harder one — you will learn more and become wiser. The younger you are, the easier it is for you to take risks, especially having no debt or family dependencies yet. We have more time to steer through the uncertainness and difficulties and enough energy to deal with anything in between. As we grow older we tend to naturally get more conservative in saving energy and in mitigating risks for so many physiological, emotional or perhaps cultural reasons. We fear failure. We fear ending in the wrong path, or a longer way. But the truth is, there is no wrong path in life. As long as you aren’t walking away from your ethics.
If you are afraid of an action that might ruin your future, be similarly afraid of inaction.
2. Learn to slow-travel.
I was fortunate enough to travel, a lot. Partly because I was a natural saver and knew how travel cheap, partly because I was born into a good (third world) passport, that somehow justifies my exclusivity from other “third-world” nations.
I spent my weekends in Jordan doing solo road trips around the country, then in 2014 I spent a year semi-studying/backpacking around Germany and Europe. There is only so much you can visit until everything looks the same; another church, another downtown, another glass skyscraper, another bridge. After a year, I realised I was done travelling as a tourist.
I figured I was just there to say “I’ve been there”, with an instagram photo proof. The fernweh trend. If the idea of travelling is to go where everyone is going, taking pictures, trying new food, and visiting the Zara store in downtown, it will just be a fancy way of wasting money.
The truth is, it’s not special to travel. Travelling is the easiest thing in the world to do — set some time and money aside, book the tickets, reach your comfortable hotel room, finish off the to-do list, order some foreign-sounding food, shop a few souvenirs, then return home and report it was lovely.
Don’t get me wrong, as it is lovely. But what difference does it make to our lives if we only travel for the sake of travel in a safe environment? Having no commitment to the destination. If that is what you love, then do it. But don’t force yourself to fill your feed if you don’t like travelling. As Jenna Woginrich wrote:
Travel if you want to. Don’t travel if your couch and a Game of Thrones marathon makes you happier. No one is winning if they’re chasing someone else’s idea of happiness even if they were tricked into thinking it was their own.
And don’t search for enlightenment in pre-booked Buddha lounge in India, nor for creativity in a fancy apartment in Milan or Cairo, nor the answer of life by becoming a UNICEF ambassador (where children are forced to sing for you) in Kenya.
Lessons and enlightenment is only found when you learn how to Slow Travel.
What is slow travel?
It is the basis of a responsible, educational and ethical travel. By staying in one place longer, by actually living in the city. Learning the language, interacting with the locals.
But isn’t it more expensive? No, sometimes cheaper. You aren’t spending €30 for pasta in a restaurant, but €5 worth of ingredients. You aren’t flying in and out during tourist season to your next destination, instead it’s just a flight in and then a flight out on the cheapest day of the month. You aren’t renting a hotel or a fancy AirBnb room, but a normal rented apartment/room for longer term with a reduced price.
By staying in one place for longer, you also get to live like a local, to become part of the local community, and most importantly to contribute to the local economy. Just like what makes a good design is its constraints, you learn more when you understand the local’s constraints; their problems and solutions. You’ll learn to navigate the city without your head facing a virtual screen, you’ll be looking up; then you’ll notice the street art, the posters, the elderly, the hard workers, the migrants, the few details you usually miss of daily life.
When I first set foot in Rome in September 2018, I knew nothing about Italy, other than basic everyday knowledge. I struggled to eat the first few days. I didn’t check where was the best Italian restaurant, or the best Gelato or the most famous tourist spot in Rome. I later realised I didn’t need to.
My friend’s mother gave me a list of places to visit when she was a guide — I kept the list in my drawer vowing to open it halfway through the first year. Surprisingly I stumbled upon most of the things just by living there.
And for the things not mentioned, I found it all too; the best local pizza in Rome was recommended by a local Roman, the best Gelato shop was recommended by my Lebanese friend’s friend, the best quiet coffee shop was recommended by my Italian friend, the best bakery was recommended by my Serbian friend. And my favourite picturesque location was found by pure chance strolling through one of Rome’s side streets.
Cultures and experiences cannot be framed in Museums and two — day experiences. A good example is to look at all the tourists in Dubai complaining about the lack of culture; when they haven’t been to Bur Dubai, nor know who Mayhad Hamad is. Nothing smacks of arrogance or condescension more than measuring culture using one’s own culture as the gauge. How can we understand other people if we don’t understand their background and history first?
This paradigm shift of empathy, only happens if we slow down. When we try to understand the basics of the language, the subculture, the everyday nuances. Then we can only learn to put down the glasses we see the world in, and put on the glasses that they see the world in. You’ll discover how we see colours differently, how culture affects how we perceive time, how emotions aren’t universal but are shaped by our different upbringing.
I know, this might feel too extreme. But doing the opposite actually hurts the culture. Hurts our understanding of each other. And I am not even speaking of mass-tourism.
In a beautifully written article from Sacred Footsteps, Zirrar explains how modern traveler enforces the stereotypical racist representation in those short travels. Of a seemingly innocent narrative driven by adventure towards the “new culture”, such as someone:
…who travels to the Middle East, Africa or Asia is presented with multiple realities, but he chooses to pursue the one that will satisfy his own creative ambitions. It takes a strong dose of denial and mental gymnastics to fly into large, urban cities in the Middle East, Africa or Asia and then travel hours to remote places to find the’ right’ native that will present himself photogenically and win the photographer an award or admiration for his adventure into the ‘wild’ unknown.
Quick documentation and captioning dehumanises the local. Sicilians are trying hard to live a normal life under the shadow of former ‘Ndrangheta rule, Arabs are struggling to make savings while living in Dubai, North Korea is stupidly evil, and Nigerians are protesting against corruption not hunger.
“But its so fun to hashtag #mafia #richshiekh #volunteerinafrica”.
Sorry, it isn’t fun to stereotype the locals.
Pyongyang, the capital of North Korea, was seized in succession by the Mongols, then the Chinese, then the Japanese, then the Manchurians, then by the Japanese again in a brutal occupation, then by the Soviet Union, and finally bombed by the Americans. They haven’t seen peace. Then we wonder why North Korea is trying so hard to defend itself with Nuclear weapons (this is not to excuse what the sick regime is doing to its people, but a persuasion to understand the native first before shooting them with photos and guns).
Everyone everywhere is lost, trying to find a place in society, balancing to follow their dreams, helping their family and loved ones, trying to make a living. Lessons, creativity, motivation, love, or art isn’t found in certain cities around the world, it is found everywhere. Even home:
3. Nowhere is perfect.
If you are not content with where you are now, you won’t be any place else. Or as a wiseman once said: “Wherever you go, there you are.”
Known as the Curse of the Traveller: The more places you see, the more things you discover you enjoy, and the less each new place has something to offer. The odds of finding “just right” gets smaller, not larger, the more you experience.
I know because I fulfilled my dream towards the end of my journey; I made it to Rome. The epitome of Italian beauty. A city that is an outdoor museum with the beautiful weather and cappuccini. It was even more beautiful to experience than imagined, the Italian cuisine was even more underrated than what we think we know (no one told me Arancini and Cannoli existed before).
But what’s it like to really live in Rome?
Chaos.
I thought I was prepared by living in other Mediterranean countries such as Jordan, but it was way more chaotic. The amount of paperwork and bureaucracy will break world records, it took me 9 months to open a student bank account. Governments usually have set rules by and for the elderly, let alone a young foreigner. Bureaucracy is so ingrained in Italian lives, they are actually surprised if something runs smooth.
What‘s the difference between living in Rome and another city?
Not much.
It was exactly like living in Amman or London or Munich. Everything was the same. You still end up in a room, sleep on a bed, wait for the traffic light to cross, get bored from eating the local cuisine. Sure, the language is different and the buildings around you reminds you that you are somewhere else. But it does not help that you still crave something new.
And you can’t help but compare Rome to where you have been before. After the honeymoon phase, you realize the food is so bland compared to Eastern cuisines, and there is barely any variety of international restaurants compared to other capitals. Italy wasn’t as modern, barely any place accepted card payment, everything was all over the place. Also surprisingly it was cheaper to live in Rome than other places once you figured out how to live, eat and shop as a student. Italian society is facing the same challenges we face at home; lack of jobs and salaries that could afford them to live a normal life. Many migrate for better opportunities abroad, causing severe brain drain in Italy, with one expert commenting on it: “..not only (the young) are underemployed and underpaid, but constantly frustrated by a society and a labour market that hinge on relationships and seniority over competence”.
Sounds familiar?
This is not to discredit my life in Rome and Italy. It was as charming as imagined, I enjoyed every moment and I planned to return before the pandemic hit. You just learn you need to choose where to struggle.
Nor is this to discredit travelling. But a warning that first: there is nothing to find. And second: you are always packing yourself with you. A change of location does not change what you always bring along; yourself.
“It doesn’t matter if you’re in an Ashram or Akron ― becoming a better person is putting in the work of getting older. For some it’s raising babies. For others it’s taking up politics, art, athletic endeavour or public service. Finding what you want out of life and working to keep it is the trick, without being sold any fantasy as salvation. You can’t speed up life lessons by changing your coordinates or refusing to chart them in the first place. But you can feel happiness if you learn how to eventually read your own damn compass.”
4. Be fluid. Say ‘Yes!’ more.
For someone who isn’t bothered with New Years fireworks. I remember I always planned to celebrate it only once — it was in 2015 in London. Seeing the fireworks perfectly in sync with Big Ben’s ringing is still ingrained in my memory. But I also remember the freezing cold weather and the need to wait 6 hours standing. I vowed to myself I’d never do it again for I much valued my sleep.
5 years later, in another cold Turkish winter during a busy semester, it was another perfect opportunity to sleep. At the end of a long day, as I headed home (with fresh Biryani from Oman), I was surprised to see my friends talking on the sidewalk as my taxi came to a halt.
They were returning to their apartment for NYE on the opposite street, and being on the spot, I accepted their plea to join them after I told them before I would rather sleep. That night, was my favourite night of 2019 and perhaps 2020. I only lost 1 day’s worth of sleep.
Years before, I had a chance to follow my mother along her work trip to New Zealand and South Korea, I only budgeted to go to New Zealand (the price of the air ticket was high, but it was also in the A380!) as it was my dream destination. However, I though I wouldn’t have a better opportunity to visit Seoul cheaply, so I reluctantly agreed. And I fell in love with Korea when I did, it was everything I didn’t expect an East Asian country to be, I destroyed my own perceptions.
I love adventures yet as an introvert I always tend to stay safe instead of anxious around new people/places. But I learned through the years to say yes. Yes to a chance of socialising and meeting new friends, yes to the chance of going out more, yes to the chance of new adventures that aren’t planned by you. Yes to a new task. No is sometimes too comfortable.
I won’t say opportunities are everywhere, but the doors to them are always open — we are just too afraid to see whats behind those doors. Sometimes its the fear of the unknown, sometimes its self-doubt, sometimes its laziness.
But life is uncontrollable. You can’t always be qualified enough, you can’t always find the straight path, you can’t learn to socialise if you stay at home. We can’t let the fear control us; ‘no’ is an easy way out. I got my first freelance jobs only after I reluctantly accepted asking people who I thought have no idea what I do, if they know someone who needs my work.
‘Yes’ leads to the life. From trivial things like going out with new strangers to big life decisions. ‘Yes’ leads to miracles and opportunities, because you gave them a chance to knock on you door and find you waiting at the door.
I only ended up so many places because I wasn’t afraid of saying yes. You’ll meet people you never though you’d meet, you’ll learn things you never thought you’d learn, you get experience new hobbies, new interactions, new social skills, new creations or at worst; wonderful lessons learned. If you are offered an opportunity you are not sure of your compatibility, always say ‘yes’ then learn how do it.
Make mistakes, get exposed to your fears and learn how to deal with stress of doing stuff the first time. Of course, this is not a message to say yes to short-term benefits, like drugs or things that are against your beliefs and are an easy way out. Instead use your energy on a yes that challenge your belief and offers new perspectives and changes outside your comfort zone. For all of this is better than living a life of “what ifs”.
5. Liberty over Luxury.
“The desires of this world are like sea water. The more you drink of them, the more you thirst.” ― Ibn Arabi
It was everyone’s dream. To graduate and make it to Dubai, by your own merit. When I told my family they were surprised and proud.
I remember in the first month when I got my first salary I bought many essential things for my self, including a brand new iPhone 7 to replace my older broken iPhone. I was thrilled while unboxing my new phone, taking it as slow as I can on my bed on the 37th floor backdropped by the bright skyscrapers of JBR. To my astonishment; the excitement subsided after only ten minutes of use, it was too similar to my 3-year old iPhone.
Was that it?
A month later I bought my drone for 3,000 dirhams just because its a gadget I always dreamt of, the prefect opportunity to take filming to the next level. I ended up using it 6 times only.
Was that it?
In December I used a voucher I was gifted to dine in a fancy restaurant in Atlantis. I found the food was.. good. Not special, just good. I looked around and everyone was taking pictures of the setting and their food while I was perplexed from the normalcy of the taste.
Was that it?
On the Dubai International Motor Show I asked Audi if I could test drive the newest-basic version of my car. Later that week I was horrified when they casually handed me the keys for the highest-end model of the car I planned to drive that was 3–4 times my annual salary, and told me to take off, alone. My heart was beating hard as I drove it for my one hour test drive. It was breathtaking, it was everything as expected; swift, filled with smart LED screens and so gorgeous I couldn’t stop smiling. But as I returned it 1.5 hours later, I passed through the same traffic, drove on the same roads, limited by the same legal speed limit, parked in the same spot as my older car. I emerged the same human from inside this car. It was fun but it added.. nothing new to my life.
Was that it?
Why was nothing satisfying me? Every new thing needed so much money yet yielded little results. Why was everyone happy with money? Were they faking it?
By the 3rd month I started a saving account, and dumped whatever I didn’t need to survive inside. Seeing the wealthy (or seemingly-wealthy) people of Dubai running around deterred me of this lifestyle. Empty extra rooms in my villa or another extra cars parking in the garage is not worth my mental clarity and sleepless nights.
I found solace in a large bookstore in the Dubai Mall. Ironically inside one of Seneca’s essays, a Roman philosopher describing the life of a man with excessive wealth and fortune; he spoke of an Emperor owning countless servants, and statues around Rome, having the wealth to decorate his house in the most expensive art pieces, with marble flowers and tall towers. What did this man learn from his life? “All you learn from this is how to desire more stuff.” Seneca says. A hedonic treadmill. This also applies now, billionaires can’t stop from acquiring more, even if they claim to be for-charity.
“I have not sought during my life to amass wealth and to adorn my body, but I have sought to adorn my soul with the jewels of wisdom, patience, and above all with a love of liberty.” ― Socrates
It is easy to blame Dubai for its love of money. However, Dubai is far larger than what it tries to self-identify as the city of gold. Dubai is a city filled with sacrificers; humble workers from different falls of life, some fleeing political instability, others wars or poverty — Most people that live in Dubai aren’t here for the money, but to provide better future for their families and loved ones. You won’t know this unless you actually live and interact with the people around you, throwing out your own pretentiousness of the people of Dubai.
It’s a pity Dubai does not romanticise its average worker, each one of them has his own sacrifice, his own beautiful untold story.
Dubai taught me the value of money: Money as a tool, not a goal. A tool to meet friends and family, to help make better changes in their lives, or to buy your own freedom and time. The freedom and time to be with friends and family is unparalleled with anything in this life. No bonus or Lamborghini will surpass it. And the earlier you learn this lesson of money in life, the happier you will be.
6. Zig when the others Zag.
Back in my branding class our professor recommended us a book called Zag by Marty Neumeier; the name and the quote were catchy, but the describing sentence was self-explanatory: Zig when the others Zag. I have a strong belief that one should build his own path.
If you do, read and watch what everyone is doing, you will be like everyone. If you follow the crowd, you’ll end up being part of the crowd.
I was born stubborn. I grew up refusing to do anything that was told for me to do, to fit in a specific mould or succumb to peer pressure. My computer games were different, the books I read were different, and I watched myself growing up being aliened slowly in school with my difference, while everyone did what everyone else is doing. I never outgrew Pokemon while most of my friends did, at the same time I played Military-simulators while my friends played simple shooting games. I do not want to sound philosophical from the lessons Pokemon and the simulators gave me, perhaps nothing of importance. But it piqued my interest in loving adventures, in history, in arts and politics in areas slightly different from my peers.
This difference created me. A different person, not necessarily better. It was easier for me to later on start life from zero in a new country, I learned to pick up basic language and map reading easily. I learned to support myself, to be OK eating alone.
Why Italy? Who moves to Italy? Do you know anyone there? Do you speak Italian? Is it safe from the Mafia?
Why Turkey? Where is Izmir? Do you speak Turkish?
East Germany?! Beware from the skinheads!
These were all the questions my extended family asked me before every trip, that I learned not to bother with. They were slightly worried for my safety, for I was not following the same path of my peers in going to English-speaking countries or known cities.
Funny enough, I didn’t have an answer to most of their questions. In fact, I struggled to eat the first few days in anyplace new, I survived thanks to my Maamool and accepting whatever item I mispronounced (which sometimes led to Pork, as I figured out later). I cannot deny my anxiety and frustration of getting along, not finding someone to share my stories, not finding my niche, not belonging somewhere.
But do we really need to belong somewhere? Do we need to be a niche? Why do constrict ourselves as “photographers” or “designers” or “scientists” or “gym athletes” or to certain cultures? When we are all mixed? I learned it was fine to identify as an Arab that does not enjoy coffee and hates shawarma.
Just like what I learned from the book about branding; Do not play in someone else’s background. Because if you follow a path set by “X”, your identity is always tied to it, your definition revolves around it, and you will always be at best a second-version of “X”. Successful brands create their own their own story, work on their own path. We are no different. You need to go for goals that are meaningful for yourself versus the goals you see others are going for. The worst thing one can do to himself is to strive to be someone else's definition of success, only to arrive there and realise it’s not yours. Zig when the others Zag.
7. Pet a cat when you encounter one.
This lesson’s name might sound familiar, but I credit myself for inventing the literal meaning: Pet a cat when you encounter one. When walking on the streets, dogs are more civilised and eager to be pet and usually the ones approaching us. Cats, however, ignore us in every way possible. The one time they get close is the only chance for us to pet them, so we better use this lifetime opportunity to pet them.
We spend so much time running around, doing things, being productive, we forget to stop once in a while to smell the roses, to notice the shade of the trees around us, to take in the view. We forget to be grateful for the now as it passes. We forgot that life is also playful. When was the last time you stood under rain, just to hear the drops tapping your jacket, with the a few stray rain drops stealing cold kisses on your cheek? This time spent doing those small pleasures of life is so important focus our thoughts on the present.
I spent a year in my life passing by the Vatican bi-weekly, yet never entered the Sistine Chapel, proclaiming to everyone who asked “I’ll do it the next time.” I didn't even have a good photo in front of the Colosseo, which I also took for granted, as my Bus #51 passed by it everyday. Seeing the Colosseo was my dream and I wanted to immortalise it for myself on the background of my graduation photo. Couldn’t have guessed a virus that brought Earth to a standstill will effect me. Will effect all those decisions I kept for “later on”.
Reflecting back, I now realise the lesson the Pandemic gave us; to slow down, to stop and reflect. We humans aren't created for constant hustle and movement. The trees only grows once it has firm roots, and a strong wind gush does not usually tip it off, constant wind does, constant movement does.
I learned to cherish those small playful moments, based on decisions to live and be playful with the now, such as booking a Botel in Prague, or meeting a friend under Frankfurter Tor, or running away from my vegetarian friends to eat a hamburger secretly in the freezing weather of Bratislava. To stay connected to the playfulness of the now. And not being worried of trying to be somewhere else better.
8. Everything falls together in the end.
But it may well be that you hate a thing the while it is good for you, and it may well be that you love a thing the while it is bad for you: and God knows, whereas you do not know. 2:216
There are so many things in life we can’t wait to have: a job, a person, or an outcome — but we completely forget we aren't in control. We are so pressurised by society to have our life milestones figured out by the 20s.
We have this innate desire to plan our life and get what we want while avoiding what we don’t in a set timeframe. It is so difficult to let things be. We always need to plan and expect an outcome in each situation. This unhealthy desire for an outcome also creates fear inside of us to step in any new direction, an anxiety in missing “deadlines” that we created for ourselves.
We already accept some things that we don’t control; some days will be hot and humid, some days there is backed up traffic, some times the economy is bad. But to work on a project and watch it fail, or to work on yourself and end up stuttering makes us feel bad. This wrong attitude towards the acceptance impacts how we live.
I learned to accept what happens as if we wanted it in the first place, no matter how bad it was. To accept the present — all of it. That things are all good despite their outward appearance. No matter how hard I try to control or predict a circumstance, it would rarely be as I wish, for good reasons unknown to me. Things happen in God’s timing, when they should happen. I don’t get to choose which events happen, but I get the option how to narrate it, how to feel about it.
I learned to trust the timing in my life. For everything falls in place with time, even if we are so lost now. Everywhere I have been or who I met, it all happened in the perfect timing. Some places were difficult, others were lonely, but they all led to new places and new people I never knew before.
I learned, again, to live in the moment. To live in the process, not the outcome. To focus on the task at hand, on the life in the present even with failures, with the openness and the willingness to embrace the paradox. As it’s said in Latin: Age Quod Agis — Do What you Are Doing. Understand that you are never truly lost, but you are early in the process.
The divine decree related to the believer is always a bounty, even if it is in the form of withholding (something that is desired); and it is a blessing, even if it appears to be a trial and an affliction that has befallen him; it is in reality a cure, even though it appears to be a disease!
9. Learn to say Goodbye.
This was, by far, my most difficult lesson, one that dragged with me throughout the year.
I love feeling Nostalgia, it’s my guilty pleasure. Nostalgia roots from Greek algos “pain, grief,” and nostos “returning home,”. At first, I grieved so much about missing my different homes. Then I realised that home is moments, not places. And the problem with moments is that it exists in only one timeline: the present.
The problem with nostalgia is that when we spend time reminiscing places or people, we give ‘past memories’ power to control our mood, to desire what has already gone. To neglect the present into a dream state in the past. Closing the doors to any new opportunities.
You’d think for someone who had his share of goodbyes, it gets easier. For someone who learned previously from the other lessons to live in the present, it’ll be easy for me.
But it‘s not. It is never easy to let go of those moments, of those people.
For I always asked God that all I need was to find good people. The more I traveled, the more I found them, and the more I shared beautiful moments with them, in the exact time I needed them. Certain people who I still don’t understand how we clicked so fast, how easy I got attached to. And since our paths were aligned for only a short time, I watched them leave. It was frustrating to watch yourself saying goodbye’s as fast as the hello’s.
The mental image of the last goodbye is always hauntingly vivid; your eyes and heart following them as their taxi taillights disappears through the corner of Via Venti Settembre in Rome, or the S8 at Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof, or Sheikh Zayed Road in Dubai, or as they melt with security line in Adnan Menderes Airport in Izmir. In those moments I step back and look around, to notice how everything remains the same around me except my insides are scattered. The strange emptiness. Knowing that the chances of meeting again is so slim, and even if we did, we both know we won’t be the same person again.
I am sad I can’t remember all those people I spent beautiful time with exchanging our laughter and dreams, promising each other eternal friendships; yet slowly our name slips from our minds, perhaps now to each other it’s as if we‘ve never lived. But those few seconds you remember them in something you see, a chocolate wrapper, a music video, a blurry photo, a perfume smell, is a second of bliss of what makes life beautiful.
Plato once said: “Love is a serious mental disease.” But he was wrong, it’s not love, desire is. Desire to keep people, like items, in your possession, is a mental disease.
It took me a lot of time to understand that everyone is temporary. They were here for a while to teach me lessons, reflections, or perhaps remove me from darkness when I needed them the most. They were here to introduce me to their own worlds, art and music. They were here only to share a chapter of my life, then leave. Because an overstayed guest also becomes a burden, and holding onto flowers also withers them.
I learned that the opposite of desire is to be thankful. Thankful to have met them. Thankful for the beautiful moments. Thankful that our paths crossed, even if for a fleeting moment. Thankful that the same fate that brought us has now separated us. Thankful to see the world through their eyes, through their culture and language. I learned to be thankful and walkaway with gratitude as people aren’t meant to be possessed. Thankful to learn a bittersweet lesson:
It is ok to love people from afar.
Üzgün müsün?
Are you sad? The old taxi driver asked me on Sakraya Cadessi, on that evening on the 19th of January 2020. As he started driving, I felt the cocktail of emotions growling inside of me. I just hugged my last friend goodbye before I hopped into his taxi. I was sad. My sadness was already trickling my throat and eyes, but I held up my tears — how many times have I gone through this process? Knowing the outcome of this same result. I was sad, yet euphoric for the blessing to meet all those people I just said goodbye to.
I shook my head slowly in confirmation and asked him politely to open the radio, he changed it to an english radio station, maybe because he knew I was a yabanci, foreigner, and I knew then, I was sick of being a yabanci.
The side mirror of the taxi left behind the dark hills and roads of Izmir as folds of a Simit, the city grew small, leaving white sesame sprinkles of dimly lit windows. I was left alone with my mind, wondering why does sadness in the Turkish language have so many smiling letters?
Izmir flickered one last time under the wings of my airplane, little did I know I was leaving behind the last city of my 9 year journey around the world, on the last ever flight from a non-stop series of flights. And the same one song played in my head:
I couldn’t ask God for a better ending to my journey.
