KOLAY GELSIN
A SPIRITUAL TURKISH JOURNEY
I didn’t expect to fall in love with a foreign land that held parts of me—my soul, my heart.
At least, not until I went to Turkey for the first time in August 2015.
Unexpectedly, my soul fully awakened and I felt connected to this land. I wanted more.
Once I returned to the United States, where I lived, I immediately began looking for ways to return—or at least feel connected—to Turkey. I took language classes and even worked with a Turkish lawyer, just so I could be around their community.
Though I love my homeland, Paraguay, I never felt the yearning for it that I did for Turkey. All I know is that Turkey felt like home...a place of familiarity, a place where I could be me. Even my mother said she never saw me smile the way I smiled in Izmir.
While I ached to go back to the place that felt more like home than anywhere else, I was tied to a small two-bedroom house I owned in a low-income neighborhood in Miami.
I’d bought this house a few years earlier. Attached to it were all my beliefs about what it meant to be a good daughter, good mother, and good sister. The house was my success after a failed marriage. I wanted to prove wrong all the naysayers who told me that a single woman, alone, could not buy a house. And I did; but the truth is, I was looking to prove more than that. I wanted to prove my worth to others. I sought, in particular, my family’s approval. Even more deeply than that, my inner child yearned for parental consent to be an adult.
What better way to become an adult than buy a house?
Yet, there were challenges maintaining this tiny home that should not have been difficult. Multiple problems kept rising until it was clear I had to sell the house—or lose it.
It was time to face my illusions and let go of the emotional investments and attachments I had in this home. I had to begin seeing that my worth and identity were not determined by anything outside of myself—not even home ownership or what others thought. In order to connect to myself, I had to lose the house and my identity.
The little Miami house sold in December 2016. I knew that while the egoic part of myself still wanted the Miami house, my spirit needed the freedom to truly reconnect with what brings me wholeness. The sale freed all the outmoded attachments and stories I told myself and allowed me to travel internationally for a year.
I’ve always loved traveling. It helps me take on new perspectives, question my belief patterns, and identify long neglected desires or pain, buried deep within—but with a sense of ease and grace instead of resistance. Something about being in different places requires fluidity and inspires a sense of rapture and bliss.
By the fall of 2017, I travelled to eight different countries, including my place of birth Paraguay. Even after fitting in two trips to Turkey, it still called to me, wanting more of my heart, more of my soul. More healing. More connection.
Izmir—located in the Aegean Region of Turkey, formerly known as Smyrna—especially called me loudly. For Christians, this is the land of the “Seven Churches” and the “House of Virgin Mary.” For pagans, it’s the land of Goddesses. I decided I wanted to move there. It spoke to the alchemy of my Catholic upbringing and my current spirituality. I was ready for a rebirth and to be reconnected with my Soul Home. Our souls are not always attached to our place of birth: Belonging and wholeness may be found elsewhere.
As serendipity would have it, in the month of death (October), on the first day in Scorpio—known as the stage of transformation—I arrived back to Izmir, Turkey. With its three million people, Izmir is the most westernized city in Turkey. Though I felt safe there, even traveling alone as a single woman, I decided it was wise to find a hotel in a popular tourist area and take time to decide where I wanted to live. After working as a traveling nanny for seven years, sleeping in three-to-four different places each week, I wanted to finally lay my head on the same pillow—for at least 30 days!
To keep connected and help my family know I was safe, I turned on my iPhone’s “Find and Share Your Location.” That enabled my sister to check on me whenever I had a Wi-Fi signal. This way, she could identify my whereabouts and know I was well. My family had voiced their concerns about me traveling to Turkey— especially solo!
As I walked around Izmir, I was in a constant state of awe, discovering history everywhere I turned: the Bazaar, antique marketplaces, historic Smyrna. I wandered the streets of the tourist area, Konak, without a map or cell service. I was free and in a childlike sense of wonder and euphoria. I took in the pier and marina, explored restaurants, and conversed with locals, who were patient with my lack of Turkish language skills. I fell in love with everything. I was home.
While I’ve seen many sunsets in my life, even in exotic places, I had never experienced them anything close to like I did in Izmir. The sun kissed the sky as if in ritual...maybe it was the energy of Artemis in the hills of Ephesus.
My love affair continued. The more I surrendered to Turkey, the more I craved her. I found an Airbnb with a single room and private bathroom in the Bostanli area of the Karsiyaka district. I was enchanted. As a former New Yorker, Miami resident, and small-town girl from Paraguay, Bostanli merged the best of all three worlds. The neighborhood is comparable to Soho or Astoria (Queens) New York. It’s a family-oriented area with an active nightlife. Even late into the evening, I felt safe wandering the streets.
Travel has its own Muse and it urges you to listen. It asks you to find connections—with the land and others—in order to fully reconnect with yourself. This often means following your intuition and going places you hadn’t planned...just to see what kind of magic unfolds. I knew it was part of my soul journey in Turkey to truly listen and not question where my heart took me.