The materials we were given in preparation for our time on the Semester in the Mediterranean (something myself and David C. are both venturing off to now that the season has ended at Antiochia) jokingly included the advice to not fall in love with the places we would be visiting and any people from those places. I laughed at the thought of falling in love abroad. It seemed absurd to even think of meeting someone worth while, not to mention the difficulties presented by a likely language barrier, cultural differences, and any possibility of long-term long-distance romance. But as I sit here gathering my thoughts and writing them down, to my right is the Blue Mosque, its minarets standing in the setting sun, and on my left the Bosporus, lit a cool blue in the evening light. How can I not fall in love with this place? It is absolutely stunning. It is not just the land that has left me breathless. Some of the greatest experiences I have had here were brought about by Turkish hospitality. Wandering along the Alanya waterline while munching on dondurma (you have not lived until you have had some Turkish ice-cream); dancing and laughing with our Turkish friends in a circumcision ceremony as the guests of honor; having one last dondurma in Gazipasha and then riding in the back of a pick-up truck to the dig house; and finally, gathered in front of a bakery, sharing a delicious chocolate cupcake, some incredible Turkish sweet of some sort, and good conversation, while being treated to a Turkish soda by a sweet older woman. May I reiterate that this place is absolutely stunning? And here I am, caught between the majesty of the Blue Mosque and the blue of the Bosporus, with the resounding sounds of the last call to pray echoing in the air, smiling my way through language barriers and cultural differences and planning my next return to Turkey. I think I’ve fallen in love with this place.
