turkey trip musings

But the trip was not only about lunches, dinners and tourist Sight 1,2,3 (or ‘locations’, as we could not help calling them). It is a satisfying but easy thing to fall into- a chronological blow by blow account. But there are other things one thinks about, looks back on, and will write about. Probably after the ‘days’ are over... or maybe in between.

I suppose this is just to say one fully intends to, and will, write on whatever comes to one’s mind- which may or may not always fit in with the day by day accounts.

understanding

I met someone from Turkey some time ago.
Someone from Istanbul, someone who belonged to the place where I had had such a wonderful time in my life. There was this moment where all my learning of different cultures, different peoples and different places came together in a freeze of observation. I saw, in that little time, the beauty of meeting someone from a a different place in a wholly new light. One that gave the conversation the glow of satisfaction, the warmth of joy, the happiness of strangeness and familiarity.
I had to stop myself from sounding foolish, when I tried to make him understand what my visit to his country meant to me. How the country that he was trying, already, to justify and defend, had given to me such a special period of my life. How his country was such a deeply wonderful part of my recent past.
And when he told me he was going to visit India soon, I was overjoyed with the prospect; with the possibility of helping him have anywhere near as wonderful a time in my country as I did in his.

writing woes

There is way too much to write. I cannot stop myself from writing to the extent of detail that I am, for I want it to be as much blow by blow for those who read it as for us- and I am really enjoying it. But this also means I am progressing slowly, and the fear of things fading from freshness is all too real, already. What is one to do.?
Write write write, I suppose. There won’t be so many posts per day for every day, sure- some might just have the one- but there is so much to write about. Small tidbits and remembrances that strike me on the bus and in the bath and as I lay down to sleep- and where will they all end up? As fragments of words and thoughts in time or will they get articulated?
Sigh….