The Strange Beauty Found In Disruption

Barcelona, Spain | Photo by Ollie Vasileva, IG: @nu_olka

There’s the aroma of jasmine in the air. Mulberries bursting with flavor at the pazar. Sunshine bathing the seaside, melting the Taurus Mountains’ snowcaps. My own tender hopes budding into reality. 

A favorite weekly ritual is to shop at the local market or pazar in Turkish.

Antalya is preparing for its annual rebirth – catapulting from winter to summer. So I am, too. 

I began writing this post a couple days ago at a seaside cafe along the Konyaaltı sahil. Often, I am there with friends sitting on the tiled, block-like steps leading down to the gray stones comprising what would be sand on another beach. Our beverage of choice: cortados. And for my order, coconut milk. However, this time, there were no cortados or chisme con amigas. Just me, this laptop, and an espresso. 

Several WhatsApp notifications rang consecutively as friends woke up on the other side of the world -– my focus shifted to their buzzy updates about everything from Severance plot theories and proposals to come visit me in Türkiye to endearing details about their new beaus (is it just me, or is there love in the air, too?). 

This is why you find me today, hiding from howling winds in my flat with jazz classics playing in the background—at last, writing to you. 

I promised to catch you up on what transpired during the 2024 Blog Hiatus. Why not begin with the second half of last year? 

My aunt and my father, Andre, in the late 1970s.

When I left the States a couple years ago, I fully anticipated the language barriers, the fatigue of culture shock, getting lost in strange cities, and the occasional lost luggage. I accepted that loved ones would get married, have babies, or even pass away while I galavanted around the globe. And, friends and family have done exactly that. While tucked away in a nook along the Croatian coast, I couldn’t find a flight to return to Miami, Florida, in time for my dear aunt, Michele’s, funeral in 2023. At least seven sweet babies have been born since I left. And, I missed the wedding of dear friends in SoCal.

However, I was less prepared for: multiple health crises, job loss, and deportation. Indeed, there’s a bulleted list on a page in one of my journals where all the things I was most afraid of happening while abroad can be found. And three of the top five occurred in rapid succession. It all began with a mysterious case of chronic full-body hives a week before my 28th birthday in June. 

By the beginning of August, I had been deported from Türkiye (my request for a popular tourism visa was denied). I landed in Tbilisi, Georgia, to visit with a friend as I determined what was next (still hopelessly itchy and covered in hives). 

There are certain meals I'd like to relive, and lunch at The Weller is one of them.

I took a beat with Jasmin in the Caucasus region (home to some of the tallest humans I have ever looked up at). I notified friends and family of the change in my circumstances. Devised a plan I would affectionately call, “Operation: Merhaba.” Grabbed the last seat on a flight to New York City the night before its departure. And just like that, I began what would stretch out to be a 3.5-month couch surfing world tour as I awaited the necessary consular procedures to return home to Antalya. Those pesky hives were now accompanied with severe swelling  –  It was a puzzling, painful, and worrisome state of affairs from beginning to end. Yet, the days were somehow still beautiful, affirming, and an experience I will draw from for years to come.

In Tbilisi, Jasmin and I feasted on traditional Georgian cuisine at Salobie Bia, cozied into platters of Middle Eastern flavors and spices at Weller across the river, and spent late nights charting our paths over pizzas and panna cotta at La Gamba. Tbilisi is a beautiful city to stroll around. We stumbled upon specialty shops, concept boutiques, and bespoke designs. One morning, I struck gold at Co.Lab.

Grace & Christina gifted me the finest and timeliest hospitality. <3

Next, I flew to NYC where Grace and Christina provided a soft place for me to land as I navigated the first severe mystery-hive flare up. Although I remember how fragile and uncertain I felt those initial days Stateside, I smile thinking about them. Several gastronomical gems were enjoyed: a memorable fish soup and kabocha pie at Souen (East Village); delectable scoops at Sugar Hill Creamery (Harlem); yummy Ethiopian food at Tsion Cafe (Harlem); and, the culinary treasure that is Cocina Consuelo (Harlem).

It's impossible to feature everyone I reunited with on the tour: College friends, cousins, church family, work friends. Amtrak trains and planes took me to the DMV (DC, Maryland, Virginia); Charlotte, North Carolina; Chicago, Illinois; and, San Diego, California. One stop, however, takes the cake for most novel transit: Outer Banks, North Carolina.

An unsexy and little talked about part of this lifestyle is how much time one spends thinking through and arranging logistics. I stayed for one month with my great aunt and uncle, Kathy and Al, on the Sound. To get there from Charlotte, I needed a one-way, affordable vehicle rental; however, it was college move-in season. Nothing was available! We nearly cried from laughing as I pulled into the parking lot of the Kitty Hawk Home Depot and proceeded to unload one checked bag and carry-on from the front seat. What can I say? I'll always get where I need to be.

Everything unraveled in the latter half of 2024. I felt like an itchy blob 24/7. I lived each day without a clue if or when I’d be reunited with the community, routine, and place where I’d dared to hang pictures on the wall. I sensed that my job at the time had nearly run its course, but I didn’t know just how soon the curtains would close on the role that had empowered me to take the initial leap into such an unconventional life. 

But the same unluckiness, failures, rejections, disappointments – utter disruption – gifted me with slow dances in friends’ kitchens with their precious babies. I was present for hard knocks and health scares in my loved ones’ lives. I savored what ended up being the last bite at favorite restaurants that have since closed. I drove through streets in Los Angeles that were engulfed by flames after I returned to Türkiye. With my quintessential surf girl crew, I surfed what would be my last waves in the same ocean that first soothed, inspired, sculpted, and playfully pummeled me as a young surfer. 

I wish disruption upon no one I love. But, if you find yourself tossed around by forces beyond your control, I encourage you to seek out the beauty. Not at the expense of authenticity. But as an act of rebellion.