April 25th

I don't want to let go of this experience - of the exposure to new thoughts and perspectives, and of the trail of self-exploration I've been hacking my way through. It's seemed so rich - so full - in part because it's marked the entry of my post-undergrad life. Turkey, to me, is more than just an unique experience teaching abroad. It is also my first apartment, my first salary, my first days entirely independent and free of personalities I've grown accustomed to. Though I've been on the other side of the classroom, teaching English and US culture to hundreds of Turkish students, I've felt myself more a student of life than ever before. Anxiety-ridden dreams, now, are about returning to the States and not having the independence I've savored - the time to myself to ponder, drink chai, read, and live in the present. I long to continue to notice the trees, to appreciate a beautiful landscape, to be able to lose myself in moments of fullness and gratitude.

Turkey has expanded my mind more than I ever could have imagined. Through my time spent with students, colleagues, and townspeople, I've acquired an understanding of others' perspectives more than I thought I would. I see in Turkey the trappings of youth and insecurity that characterize America too. Waves of bigotry, hatred, misunderstanding in the name of nationalism hold many people captive, and with great capacity, overtake people's ability to view peace with openness or even favorability. A more disturbing product of this blinding influence has played itself out in the Turkish town of Kars, as a giant sculpture known as the Monument to Humanity was arranged to be torn down. Demolition of the monument meant to promote Turkish-Armenian friendship began yesterday - the annual day devoted to remembrance of the Armenian Genocide. The act is heartbreaking not only in its actualization, given what the monument stands for, but in the notion that the work of the artist is meaningless. The decision to tear the monument down tears at the heartstrings of those who understand that artists provide value beyond intellectual enterprise. The magnitude of the monument, an 18-stories tall on the top of a hill, represents a devastating contradiction to the lies sold to Turkish society by a nationalist school curriculum. Its size is meant to be offensive to the prevailing social notion, as citizens are forced to grapple with the uncomfortable, perhaps disturbingly ironic meaning of a Turkish-Armenian friendship statue. Artists speak directly to, and evolve the consciousness, of a society. Art of this nature dispelled and trod upon is cancerous and heart breaking to witness.

I've had the privilege to mull over such topics. While I've picked up few, if any, academic articles, my intellectual curiosity has been quenched in other ways. More importantly, I've stirred and cultivated a sense of the world beyond the walls of intelligence, it seems. I can't say I've experienced a "spiritual rebirth." That would be weird. If anything, I believe Turkey has influenced my priorities. I don't imagine growing apart from what I've learned here. If anything, my journey this year has been a substantial stepping-stone towards where I plan to be in the future - at peace with myself and my commitment to understanding the world, especially that which is not mine.