Thursday, 11 October

Good morning. I have taken a break from the beach and left all three boys. Doug interestingly is reading my book, The Wild Girl. He has run out of the books he brought. I am reading The Yogurt Man Cometh by Kevin Revolinski, tales of an American teacher in Turkey. I am only three chapters along and I have been laughing outright sitting on the beach at the man’s adventures. His adventures in Turkey are different than ours but I can definitely relate. I wish I could express my observations and experiences as vividly as Kevin. Reading the book reminds me of one of our own moments of miscommunication. When we hiked down to the Kabak beach tree houses I was trying to ask the women in the kitchen if dinner was included in the price of our tent for the night. “Room service?” She asked me with the most incredulous look. Then Doug took over and asked a similar series of questions and got the exact same question, “room service?” We both had the giggles because of the absurdity of room service in our dark, cave-like tents with no light or furniture and the cook also clearly thought the idea was crazy. Finally we pointed at the tables and ask for dinner. She said yes and we decided to worry about paying later.

Also, everywhere we have an opportunity to speak with Turks that speak English, as our Turkish is limited to greetings and thank you, people are curious and interested in learning about our country. Turks have a better understanding and more knowledge of the political events in the US than we do of Turkey’s politics. But they also have some preconceptions that I found interesting. They wanted our opinions and predictions. I am trying not to get too political as I write, but they have lots of questions about our president and strong opinions about our country’s role in the world. In all conversations Turks have shared their opinions carefully and respectfully. Doug and Bulent, our host in Çirali, stayed up late debating and discussing US, Turkish, Middle East and world politics. I hung on for a while then finally went to sleep listening to their muffled debate across the yard. It is interesting to me that most questions beyond the introductory conversations about where we are from have turned to politics.

The Turks have also readily explained Turkish history to us. I was a limited history student in high school. Ask Dr. J. Traveling only confirms my commitment to experiential learning, like the Logan School approach. Whatever the topic, it comes alive talking to the people involved and touching and walking and interacting with the subject matter. Every time I travel I am fascinated with the history, both ancient and more recent. I still have nightmares about high school history finals and realizing I hadn’t yet finished a chapter in my history textbook.

The war memorials at Gallipoli are a perfect example of the Turks sensitivity and compassion to other people and nations. We spent most of our time at the ANZAC site, which is where the Australian and New Zealand forces landed and fought during WWI. The Turks were the victors but they documented the events without propaganda and with a completely neutral perspective. Both Doug and I were struck by the sacredness of the spot.

I am not yet sure for whom I am writing this blog: myself, my boys, or my family and friends. Right now I am just trying to get rough ideas out before they fade. I am not sure what shape they will eventually take. So read if you like or ignore my random thoughts and observations.

We feel far away at the moment and the act of writing is my connection. Lindos has one, maybe two, Internet cafes that charge for connections and are tiny. Doug has used the limited Internet time for small details like trying to set up a bank account in New Zealand and purchasing a car and uploading blog entries. Yes, I believe we purchased or are in the process of purchasing a car over the Internet and the plan is that it will be waiting in the airport parking lot in Queenstown when we arrive. We have been without television since Istanbul except for one night at the Octopus Inn. There the boys watched a version of Jack and the Bean Stalk in Turkish. In Turkey to our surprise we had Internet connections almost everywhere we stayed. So even without TV or newspaper we have kept up with current events. This week Doug has touched based online but I have just been writing my blog entries and learning about current events from Doug. I pride myself as being fairly unplugged and being a minimal TV viewer, but I realize how accustomed I am to catching the new once in awhile, to logging on for a minute or two, listening to NPR, or reading/sending email. Part of me adores the unplugged feeling and part of me wants to reconnect. I have noticed that I have more time to write, read and think while unplugged.

Strangely when we mention New Zealand in Turkey, we usually elicit one of two responses. New Zealand is far away. Or, New Zealand is near Australia? The same has been true in Greece. I can’t tell if it is because that part of the world in less on the radar screen or if we are less informed on our new home to share enough interesting information to encourage more conversation on the topic.

The reality of our move is just settling in for me. Yesterday Colin and I were trying to take a little afternoon nap and I was daydreaming about “home.” I pictured driving down University Boulevard like I was driving home from a day at school. Then, I remembered we don’t have a home in Denver or a car or a school. Liam and Colin seemed to process the reality of the move earlier than me. I think I was too wrapped up in the logistics before we left Denver to be introspective. Colin tells everyone we meet “We don’t have a home,” or “blank is our home.” Blank being wherever we are staying that night. Colin’s latter response usually produces quizzical expressions.

When someone asks where we are from, we don’t know how to answer. So, we answer differently each time. Sometimes we say we are from the US. Sometimes we say we are moving to New Zealand. Sometimes we answer that we live in New Zealand (since all of our stuff technically resides there in storage). On our last day in Turkey driving to the ferry port, we decided to just say from now on that we are from Planet Earth.

This is totally a strange time in limbo for all four of us. Sometimes I think how crazy we were to put a huge trip in the middle of our move. Other times the trip seems the perfect segue. We have time to think about what this move means for our family. We feel the distance from our old home in time and space. We are carefully considering the priorities for the next phase of our lives. In this light, this trip is a gift and a time for reflection and imagination of the future. Also it is, most of the time, a gift of family time together. Oh there are times when all four of us would readily wring any other family member’s neck or toss them out of the car. Usually these moments come during transit or in search of food - the two most challenging activities. I am certain! Most of the time, we are truly cherishing the quiet, slower paced time together. The time is intimate as we are together each and every day instead of at school and jobs for a good chunk of the day. The intimacy is compounded by the frequent inability to communicate with other people around us. Doug and his family have this whole set of inside jokes developed during their many years living and traveling abroad. Our own family is creating our own set. All you have to say to one of us is “my pillow smells like vomit.” That phrase will go down in the Kirkpatrick family archives…it describes vividly Liam’s feelings about his night in the tree house. p.s. He demanded that I share this tidbit on the blog. I have resisted but he keeps checking.