marhaba morocco!

I keep pinching myself in disbelief... I get to live here!

and away we go

I'm leaving Lisbon in a few hours for my new home, with a wide range of emotions to accompany my luggage. It's a bit strange not to be flying back to Istanbul, and yet, with all that's happening in Turkey right now, I feel a sense of relief. I don't know what this new place will bring, but my gut tells me that I'm about to have a great adventure, and above all the anxiety, I am excited. It's been a dream of mine to go where I'm going.

Stay tuned.

red rocky land

At sunset we drove out to the tip of the Karpasian Peninsula. As I stood under the blushing sky, the sound of waves and flags snapping, I oriented my body towards the border between Hatay and Syria, my feet pointing with the spear of red rocky land. Thoughts swelled, running like a tide, with the consistency of sea foam.

I might never get to see the place where my father was born. The little Syrian border town with the hospital named after his father—he was a doctor there— the dusty streets where my grandmother bought chocolate from a Turkish bakkal on the other side— I had planned to see it all with my Tante Leyla before the war. It was supposed to be during an April.

I inhaled deeply, wondering if the scent on the wind was edged in Syria or Turkey.



On our drive back to the hotel, the radio began spattering in Arabic.
The only words I understood were 'Daesh' and 'bomb'.

lefkoşa

wood, iron, and stone

on the walls

the other side

I wasn't sure how easy it would be to cross the border from Northern Cyprus into Cyprus, and after discovering that it was an anticlimactic showing of a passport at a window and getting waved on, I kind of wish we had lengthened our little holiday to spend more time on the other side.



The contrast really was palpable; church bells instead of an azan, shorter hemlines, Greek signage, Armenian cafés, and one treat that I suspected I would find, and was thrilled to order:



Ah, the frappe! Though they are ridiculously easy to make at home, the last time I enjoyed one of these babies was on my trip to Athens in 2010. It's really just Nescafé, cold water, ice, and a bit of sugar all shaken up, so there's no excuse. After cooling off with our delightful frappes, we wandered around a bit before heading back to the northern side.

gothic mosque

Buckets of whitewash and a pair of minarets can't disguise the Selimiye Camii's past as the Gothic Ayia Sophia Cathedral. I found the building a little unsettling, though both the intricately carved exterior and its light, calm interior were quite beautiful.

cerulean and honey

the things that feel familiar

It was hunger that brought us into Kormacit, a small town that felt so good, so familiar, so... Lebanese. The blue-rimmed window frames, the pale ochre stone houses, the church— I could have sworn I was visiting my aunties in Batroun, were it not for the street signs in Greek and Turkish. It was just across from the aforementioned church that we found a restaurant both humble and packed, precisely what we needed. As we selected a small table in the far back of the restaurant, a nonchalant light-eyed waiter considered us a while before asking what we would like to drink. He disappeared the moment the word "beer" came out of Pedro's lips, leaving us wondering if there was a menu... or something...



Our friend soon returned with two giant beers and a series of small mezze plates of olives, yoghurt, beets, pickled veggies, and what seemed like tahini. Bread and salad followed, then the mushroom and fried halloumi cheese— a Cypriot specialty that formed big part of my happy childhood food memories!



Just when we were beginning to feel full, a fast-talking, no-nonsense woman in black dropped a steaming tinfoil packet on each of our plates without explanation.



Ah, the meat. It was lying there so tender and moist under a big fat potato, waiting to be salted and sprinkled in thyme...



When we were presented with the two pieces of sweet fried dough, I have to admit I was relieved, as this no doubt signaled the end of the glorious feast, and there was simply no more room in my body. We took our time sipping coffee while our lady in black smoked a cigarette and shared stories with a group of British tourists she knew. I decided to sketch off the feeling of fullness that again, felt so familiar, so... Lebanese.

olive trees and wild donkeys