Winter fun

So what’s winter like in Alanya? I have heard that question many times, as I am sure you have too if you live here. Tourist who visit Alanya in the summer always wonder what it would be like without the heat, the beach, the pool and the night life. 

Well, let me assure you that winter is a lot of fun here. We may not have snow in town, though there is a lot in the mountains surrounding Alanya, and neither a traditional Christmas but that doesn’t stop anyone from getting into the holiday spirit nonetheless. Shops get decorated with Christmas trees and smaller Christmas themed social and cultural gatherings take place throughout the month. There is a big Christmas market going on mid month at the harbor with lots of beautiful crafts and delicious treats and children choir. 

But there is more things that make winter a special season in Alanya. There is long beach walks in the fresh air and breathtaking sunsets. There is locals and expats at cafes everywhere, for once choosing a table in the sun over one in the shade. It’s the season for Ashure pudding and a hot cup of Salep with cinnamon. And for Hamsi, tiny fried fish, freshly delivered from the black sea every week. There is still a lot of sunshine, but occasional we get treated with heavy tropical thunderstorms.  And when it rains it pours. The cold air in the evening is filled with the smell of burning fire places inside the homes everywhere. And the smell still lingers on in the diffuse morning light, when the sun comes up from behind the big mountains, flooding the town with warm sun rays again. Street vendors are selling little bags of hot chestnuts now. And people love to spend half a day at small cozy places hidden away in the hills for a proper Turkish breakfast or some çay and gözleme. 

Sure, noting is perfect all the time. We need to deal with high electricity bills and cold rooms at home because of poor isolation and no central heating system and there are the occasional power cuts, though it’s not as bad as it used to be anymore. But that doesn’t spoil the fun and the fact that people are so relax around this time of the year, taking a real long break from the touristic season. They say that happiness lies in enjoying the little things. That is absolutely true. And it seems to be something that most people here know how to do.

But no matter where you are during this month and what your December looks like, one thing is the same all over the world. It’s the year’s grand finale. The ‘weekend’ month of the year. And a time of reflection, evaluation and new resolutions for the future. Whatever it is that you struggle with at the moment, or that you hope to archive, improve or change in the new year, I hope that you will find plenty of ways to enjoy the little things in life as well. I hope that you will be able to single out the special moments in your daily life and celebrate them. I hope that you will feel loved, safe, grateful and happy a lot in the new year. I’m going to hug you and leave you with a quote from Tyler Knott Gregson that I picked up online a while ago which sums it all up so well: “Promise me that you will not spend so much time treading water and trying to keep your head above the waves that you forget, truly forget, how much you have always loved to swim”. 

Promise. Happy 2016 to all of you.

Finding my flow

It’s November 8 as I am writing this column. And I am having flashbacks to the same date 5 years ago. The day that I moved from Amsterdam to Turkey, for the love of my life. I remember that my best friend and I went to a concert that night, just a few hours before my flight. She got tickets for Volkan Konak, a Turkish folks singer, and his song ‘yarim yarim’ will somehow forever be connected to this particular time and place in my life. We had to skip the last 10 minutes of the concert to make it to the airport on time. It was past midnight already. I remember the goodbyes from my dear friends and the kind man at custom services who asked me if I were alright. The blurred Schiphol by night view from my little airplane window, because of the rain and the tears. Sad and happy tears, all mixed up, tasting salty and sweet. 

It was the night that I flew into the first sunrise of my new life. 

It was the night that I cut some significant roots that I had grown over the past years and had become attached to. It was the night that home changed from a place into a person.

Another thing that I will never forget is what had brought me to this particular point in life. It wasn’t a rational decision or a calculated one, based on the pro’s and con’s of who should make the move. Neither was it a desperate one, based on running high emotions.  No, it wasn’t even a decision at all when you think of it. It was more like an insight, like a knowing. A silent, unexpected knowing, coming from out of nowhere, filling my inner self the way a perfume fills the air. Subtle yet unmistakably. 

The ‘should I move to Alanya’ question had been on my mind for quite a while back then. And I just didn’t know what to do. At first I was afraid that I might regret it. Afraid that I might be giving up too much in return for it. I was wondering if we would have a better future in Amsterdam together. So I asked myself what to do over and over again. I listened to other people’s opinions and I searched for signs. For a breadcrumb trail of any kind that would lead me into the right direction.

And then, one day, the answer came, word for word, written down by Elif Shafak in her wonderful book ‘The Forty Rules of Love’. We had just published the book at Penguin Books and my colleague had reserved me a copy.  I came to a passage in the book where Shams of Tabriz says the following:

“Fret not where the road will take you. Instead concentrate on the first step. That’s the hardest part and that’s what you are responsible for. Once you take that step let everything do what it naturally does and the rest will follow. Do not go with the flow. Be the flow”.

It was as if this particular part had been written just for me. As if the letters and words bounced right off the page and penetrated every single cell of my being. Focus on the first step and nothing else. I could do that. I could just move. I could go and be where my heart wants me to be. Without considering all the what if’s and all the possible consequences. Everything else would need to do what it naturally does. And I will be a part of it. I will be flow with it. And so that’s how I came to live here. By trusting these wise words that I still live by and my inner voice. I took the first step, and everything else worked out for itself in ways far, far better than I could have ever expected or planned myself. Yes, there are hiccups and struggles included, because how could there not be. But no regrets, not even one. Just flow.

Dear beautiful baby boy

Look at you, my little sunshine. 

Just look at you. 

How much you have grown and how much you have learned since I wrote you a letter for your first birthday last year. You have left behind the little baby you were not too long ago. And with tiny but eager little steps you have entered childhood. And though I was with you every moment and every heartbeat of the past year, it feels like all the transformations and all the changes that occurred must have happened while I was sleeping. Surely they happened when I blinked or when I was too busy doing something. In those moments when mommy isn’t watching and you can do something impossible. You must have secretly used those moments for growing and learning and for performing magic. 

And while I observe you grow and prosper with the greatest amazement and pride, to you this is nothing but natural. There is so much to say about the way you anchor your little feet in this world and in this life. The way you take notice of new things and situations around you, that you have never seen or done before. You meet the new and the unknown with an insatiable curiosity and with effortless confidence. You trust your own timing. And there is an unshakable sureness of self that you wear in your eyes that leads me to pray that it will never ever fade.

For some reason you call Mickey Mouse ‘Nana’, and you are absolutely crazy about him. Your room is full of balls in all colors, shapes and sizes, and yet it’s the only thing you see when we enter a toy store. There’s nothing that makes you happier than to play football or basketball like the ‘big abi’s’ do, close to your favorite play area, or to run around on the beach throwing the ball as high up into the air as you possibly can and then let yourself fall into the sand. You still don’t like mashed potatoes, or anything else mashed or pureed for that matter. But you love turșu and bread, which confirms your Turkish blood more than a passport ever will. You always look for the moon in sky, even during the day, and when you find it you point your little finger at it and shout ‘ay dede’, meaning ‘grandpa moon’. You do that too when you see a Turkish flag. Spotting all the ‘ay dede’ flags in town has become a popular game when driving around in the car.

After a long and exhausting day of playing, discovering, cuddling and carefully maneuvering around and out of the inevitable tantrums that are notorious for your age, I dim the lights in your room and hold you in my arms for little while as I walk up and down the room. You are getting bigger and heavier to carry but your head still fits perfectly into the side of my neck. Close enough to kiss. Close enough to smell your hair. That other-worldly baby smell has been replaced by smells of play doh, strawberries, beach sand and shampoo. But through all this you have some kind of heavenly smell around you still that I softly breathe into every cell of my being, all the way through to my soul, before I kiss you good night.

I look at you and I see you, my precious little boy. 

I see how you learn what I teach you, and then right the next moment I realize that it is you teaching me something in return. And so we learn and we grow and we change together as one each new day. Rising above the selves that we were only yesterday.

Tomorrow we will celebrate your second birthday. We ordered a big cake, with a Mickey Mouse on top course, and you will blow out two candles already. Two candles. The day you were born comes back into my memory again. All the events of that day are so lively and so real, that it seems like it was only yesterday when I saw you for the first time, causing my heart to grow by a tenfold in one instant. Happy Birthday my little munchkin. I am looking so much forward to see what you have in store for us this year and I can’t wait to discover many more things together. We love you so much more than anything. You are the best thing that ever happened to us. Thank you for being mine.

Mama