Life in Istanbul: Lessons in Standing Still

Sometimes, this thing is a real chore. For weeks now, I’ve been thinking: “I really need to blog. I’ve got to blog.” And yet, here we are, nearly a month after my last post. Partially, I haven’t been writing because the “study” portion of study abroad is kicking in. That seems to be the common refrain among exchange students right now. Midterms are finally winding down and we’re starting to see why Boğaziçi is called “the Harvard of Turkey.” I didn’t understand this at all until I took my first midterm. The classes made complete sense to me, I was following everything just fine and I really felt like I was well-studied for my first midterm (I did more studying than I do back at K-State). But I studied the wrong stuff. I was talking to my Turkish friend, Esra, and describing this to her and she asked me what kinds of questions would appear on midterms at K-State. When I told her, she just laughed and said “You will never find that kind of thing here in Turkey.” So I’m still trying to learn how to show that I’m learning here. But it’s a little stressful when my entire grade is currently based off of one test, and a little more stressful to realize I’ve only got the final to compensate for my midterm grade. So that’s partially why I’ve taken a hiatus from writing.

It’s also partially because it’s surprisingly hard to find important things to say. It was easier when Istanbul was brand new, and I was seeing it through new eyes. I’m still quite out of my element here, obviously, and still trying to figure it all out, but it feels less strange for me. As I walk around, there’s less of a sense of “Oh I have to write about this!” and more like “Oh, there are some more Turkish guys walking with their arms around one another. Business as usual.”

And partially, it’s difficult to make myself write because, if I’m being very honest, some days, being here doesn’t feel quite as adventurous as it might seem. Some of you reading this back home may want to slap me for saying that (and that might be totally warranted), because here I am, with this incredible opportunity, doing exactly what I set out to do a year ago saying it’s not some crazy adventure every single day. And I hope I don’t sound like I’m complaining – because I’m not! Believe me, I know how rare and special this is, and I am so grateful for this trip and wouldn’t have had it any other way! But I think it’s maybe just a “the grass is always greener on the other side” situation. And I think it’s just a human thing. I hope it’s a human thing, and not just a me thing. It’s just this really interesting feeling in me that so badly wants to be in two places at once. Because on one hand, I know I miss my family and my friends, and I miss my school, my language, my major, my food, my familiarity. But then I kind of slap myself on the wrist for feeling that way, because I think about leaving Istanbul and I think about everything I will miss here. The huge city, the unfamiliarity, the change, the slow pace of life, the free time I have to read for fun and to spend hours painting and listening to jazz on Wednesdays, the bosphorus, the Turkish students and the exchange students that I’ve met here. It’s just such a Catch-22 (at least, that’s what I’m told. I tried and failed at actually making it through that whole book… Sorry Mrs. Unruh).

I want to be here, and I want to be there. People ask me how Turkey is and is it everything I had hoped and dreamed and just how awesome is it, and my answer is yes, but with an asterisk, almost. I have been thinking about this weird feeling over the past couple of weeks, and I think it just comes down to my contentedness. I’ve found myself thinking “Oh, if I had studied abroad in __________, I would have eaten this, and seen this, and done this, and I wouldn’t feel this pull to be in two places at once” and yet I know I’d have the exact same phenomenon going on there, too. I’ve got restless feet. They’re quick to move and slow to be satisfied. I long for home and familiarity and I long for adventure and the unknown all at once. But adventure isn’t comfortable and familiar – we don’t get both at the same time.

Being here is really challenging me to just stand still. To stand still past the point of comfort, really. It’s teaching me to be content and to be present, right here, right where I am. This is a season of unknown adventure for me, and I’m just so grateful for that.