hoping for the best

I keep sitting down with hopes to blog but I either forget what I was going to write about or the thoughts that have been on my mind all day don’t seem so important anymore. One thing that I think about daily is returning home. It will be nice to have cinnamon rolls again. Obviously I crave more than food and sweets. But I am making a list of places I want to eat. When my students ask what kind of food I eat in America I tell them that I like sushi, pho and Vietnamese baguettes, steak, boba milk-tea, Thai curries, Indian curries, to name a few. Then they usually hassle me about that food not being American. I think they expect us to eat hamburgers, hot dogs, and pizza every day. I do want to go to The Counter and have a burger with melted brie, dried cranberries, sautéed mushrooms, and a garlic aioli spread. So I think about food a lot.

My students also ask me about Turkish food. When we first arrived I remember being at home one evening starving out of my mind. I had no idea where to get food, save the market by school where I could buy a bag of chips and some candy. No thanks. One of our friends said they thought there was a little village up the hill by the mosque that might have a restaurant or two. Once we head up there we found a place where we soon became regulars. I knew that if I went often I would eventually grow tired of the same place but as we tried other restaurants it seemed they all had the same menu. When I think about the culture here and the food that’s available definitely more uniform. Turkish food generally consists of kebabs, wraps, and döners.

I’m not sitting here trying to talk about food. Despite knowing some of the things that I will enjoy back in California I’m aware, at least cognitively that I won’t be in Istanbul for much longer. Soon I’ll have to start making my rounds to my favorite places. Even writing that I’m not sure what specific spots I’d like to go to. Perhaps what’s more important for me is trying to figure out how to say goodbye to the friends I have here. What compounds an already emotional farewell is the uncertainty that lies ahead. In merely fifty-three days I’ll have a flight home but I don’t know where I’ll live or what I’ll do for work. It’s easy to consider staying here when I know I can be moderately comfortable. I wouldn’t keep the same job or flat but at least it’s familiar. The uncertainty is paralyzing. Thinking about the exchange rate and comparing the cost of living—it all seems impossible. Baby steps. One little thing at a time, looking forward to what may be ahead, or at least to what I’m anticipating.

As the weather warms up I long for the beach. Today would be a day to be at Newport and soak up some sun, breath in the salty ocean air, and run on the sand. I’ve been running a bit more often here as well as trying to strengthen my knees. After the last marathon in OC, which was over a year ago, my knee started acting up. But after much time of rest over this winter I’m now starting back at level zero slowly jogging five kilometers around the small track at the park by the house. Just this weekend I discovered another but much bigger track a couple metro stops away that I plan to visit in order to build up my distance running. I did yoga in the house this weekend. When I think about going back home I think about returning to the things I enjoyed doing there. But I think I have to prepare for it to be different. Initially I’m sure it will be wonderful to be back home but the excitement will slowly morph into adjustment. That is scary.