A Visit

My parents came for a visit recently. It’s strange to see family and friends here, but strange in a good way. Usually I go to see them, or describe to them the places I find interesting. In many ways, we have no idea what each others’ lives are like. It’s a relief, in fact, that my mom and dad have seen where I live, and now know that I’m no more in danger of contracting bird flu or being attacked by terrorists than they are. Now they really know I don’t live in the Middle East. What’s normal to me, though, is sometimes little surprising, and maybe sometimes uncomfortable for them. For example, my dad often remarked upon the number of mosques and had many questions about Muslims. At times I found it kind of frustrating, yet on the other hand it’s understandable. We have a very unbalanced view of Turkey in the US. (Frankly, I never thought about Turkey much before I moved to Istanbul, except to be jealous of friends who came here on archaeological digs, and to want to see Haghia Sophia after having taught about it so many times.) More importantly, I think they now understand why I want to stay. Instead of thinking that maybe I’m running away from something, I actually have a place here and (big gasp) a purpose for staying.