Further away from my comfort zone...
Turkey… incidentally… is further away from my comfort zones…
Two and a half years ago, when I visited Syria, Jordan, Israel and Palestine… I knew Arabic… I never felt out of the place… I never had any problems in communicating… but Turkey is altogether a different ball game.
I asked somebody… if Arabic or Persian… two languages that I am decently conversant with… would be of any help in Turkey…
Arabic is bit helpful… a few Arabic words have found place in Turkish… but, by and large, it has a very little utility. All I can expect from Arabic is some wee bit of help in Turkey-Syria border… in places like Sanliurfa… which I plan to visit.
Persian is even less helpful… a wee bit helpful in places like Van and Dogu… which are close to Iran… though the lingua franca in these regions is Kurdish and not Persian. Somebody quipped that the most renowned saint in entire Turkey is Maulana Rumi… whose verses were in Persian… apparently, even today, Turks sing the Persian verses of Rumi, without even understanding even a bit of it. Largely, Persian is hardly understood in Turkey.
So the point being that I am going further away from my comfort zone… for the first time… to a place… whose language I don’t know… it reminds me my first few months in Egypt… or those few days in Cyprus… when I felt lost… unable to communicate… it was the first time, when I realized the power of language… of written and spoken words… of heard words.
Turkey is away from my comfort zones is more than this sense… it is actually the first place in the world I am traveling to, where it makes sense to carry Euros and not dollars… having traveled… largely in the Middle East… my traveling world was always to the dollar economy… it was easy… whenever transacting I needed to multiply the dollars spent by 50 and arrive at the Indian Rupees incurred.
Now, I have to consider new unit Euro… I have to start multiplying the Euros incurred by say, 75… I guess its no mean feeling … your world changes with the currency you are handling…
For example… when I traveled Jordan and Israel, one after another… I incurred roughly same expense in both Jordan and Jerusalem… but the very fact that I could exchange only 0.8 Jordanian Dinar for a dollar in Jordan and could exchange 4.5 New Israeli Shekels for a dollar in Jerusalem… made me feel as if I am getting better deals in Jerusalem... as if it’s a much cheaper place. (Incidentally, those 11-12 days, I used to carry 5 different currencies in my pocket… Syrian, Jordanian, Israeli, Egyptian and American…)
Another element of comfort zone is that of distance… in Syria, Jordan and Israel… I was never more than a couple of hours away from Egypt… where I belonged to… there were more than couple of flights everyday to Cairo and Alexandria… if I needed to get back…
Essentially... Syria, Jordan and Israel were small countries… getting to an Indian establishment… Indian missions in Damascus, Amman and Ramallah, and Indian Hospice in Jerusalem (Indian Waqf Board operates an Indian Hospice in Old Jerusalem City, and an Indian can actually stay here for free)… was a matter of hours.
However in Turkey, I could be at least a day away from say Indian missions in Istanbul and Ankara… Not only that… back then I knew at least somebody in all the Indian missions… Amman, Damascus, Ramallah and Tel Aviv… here in Turkey I know nobody… add to this the fact that there are only two weekly flights to Afghanistan from Turkey.
Thus… Turkey becomes further away from my comfort zone.
That it is, does not worry me… it’s an experiment… it prepares me… mentally attunes me to claim the world… one day, I want to travel from Cairo to Cape Town… traverse the Silk Road… map the South East Asia… travel from Kashmir to Kanyakumari… I need to convince myself that I can do that… that I am not an artificial wanderer, who travels to prove himself as different… that I am not a reluctant traveler, who first decides the extent and extant of his comfort zone before planning his itinerary…
I want to tell my sons… that my straying into the West Bank… or near Rafah Crossing… or travels in Sinai on a Camel back… or sleeping deep inside the White Desert… were no flukes… they actually defined me… I want to tell them that I am real…
This time… when I would brave the snow in Mount Nemrut to see the mysterious statues… when I would try to negotiate my way through Turkey, speaking through sign language… when I would try to find a foothold in Konya amidst the Whirling Dervish festival… when I would be whirl-winding the expanse of Turkey beyond human possibilities… I would be further defining myself… more exhaustively and yet more succinctly.
It is amazing that by mere thinking of traveling… I have been able to think so much more, research much more… blog so much more… though I am still not sure whether I would be finally traveling or not… but the very fact that I am able to generate so much passion inside me… so much energy within me… just by dreaming to travel… tells me that I should never stop dreaming… and traveling…
Perhaps, I have started traveling within myself… and the physical act of traveling merely assists the more meaningful act of traveling within me… something, a learned person from Pune told me, which was much more intensive and real.
That I am able to confess my fears, my passions, my likes and dislike… to myself… via this blog… makes me feel blessed… that I ever discovered my passion for being a PONDERING VAGABOND.
Two and a half years ago, when I visited Syria, Jordan, Israel and Palestine… I knew Arabic… I never felt out of the place… I never had any problems in communicating… but Turkey is altogether a different ball game.
I asked somebody… if Arabic or Persian… two languages that I am decently conversant with… would be of any help in Turkey…
Arabic is bit helpful… a few Arabic words have found place in Turkish… but, by and large, it has a very little utility. All I can expect from Arabic is some wee bit of help in Turkey-Syria border… in places like Sanliurfa… which I plan to visit.
Persian is even less helpful… a wee bit helpful in places like Van and Dogu… which are close to Iran… though the lingua franca in these regions is Kurdish and not Persian. Somebody quipped that the most renowned saint in entire Turkey is Maulana Rumi… whose verses were in Persian… apparently, even today, Turks sing the Persian verses of Rumi, without even understanding even a bit of it. Largely, Persian is hardly understood in Turkey.
So the point being that I am going further away from my comfort zone… for the first time… to a place… whose language I don’t know… it reminds me my first few months in Egypt… or those few days in Cyprus… when I felt lost… unable to communicate… it was the first time, when I realized the power of language… of written and spoken words… of heard words.
Turkey is away from my comfort zones is more than this sense… it is actually the first place in the world I am traveling to, where it makes sense to carry Euros and not dollars… having traveled… largely in the Middle East… my traveling world was always to the dollar economy… it was easy… whenever transacting I needed to multiply the dollars spent by 50 and arrive at the Indian Rupees incurred.
Now, I have to consider new unit Euro… I have to start multiplying the Euros incurred by say, 75… I guess its no mean feeling … your world changes with the currency you are handling…
For example… when I traveled Jordan and Israel, one after another… I incurred roughly same expense in both Jordan and Jerusalem… but the very fact that I could exchange only 0.8 Jordanian Dinar for a dollar in Jordan and could exchange 4.5 New Israeli Shekels for a dollar in Jerusalem… made me feel as if I am getting better deals in Jerusalem... as if it’s a much cheaper place. (Incidentally, those 11-12 days, I used to carry 5 different currencies in my pocket… Syrian, Jordanian, Israeli, Egyptian and American…)
Another element of comfort zone is that of distance… in Syria, Jordan and Israel… I was never more than a couple of hours away from Egypt… where I belonged to… there were more than couple of flights everyday to Cairo and Alexandria… if I needed to get back…
Essentially... Syria, Jordan and Israel were small countries… getting to an Indian establishment… Indian missions in Damascus, Amman and Ramallah, and Indian Hospice in Jerusalem (Indian Waqf Board operates an Indian Hospice in Old Jerusalem City, and an Indian can actually stay here for free)… was a matter of hours.
However in Turkey, I could be at least a day away from say Indian missions in Istanbul and Ankara… Not only that… back then I knew at least somebody in all the Indian missions… Amman, Damascus, Ramallah and Tel Aviv… here in Turkey I know nobody… add to this the fact that there are only two weekly flights to Afghanistan from Turkey.
Thus… Turkey becomes further away from my comfort zone.
That it is, does not worry me… it’s an experiment… it prepares me… mentally attunes me to claim the world… one day, I want to travel from Cairo to Cape Town… traverse the Silk Road… map the South East Asia… travel from Kashmir to Kanyakumari… I need to convince myself that I can do that… that I am not an artificial wanderer, who travels to prove himself as different… that I am not a reluctant traveler, who first decides the extent and extant of his comfort zone before planning his itinerary…
I want to tell my sons… that my straying into the West Bank… or near Rafah Crossing… or travels in Sinai on a Camel back… or sleeping deep inside the White Desert… were no flukes… they actually defined me… I want to tell them that I am real…
This time… when I would brave the snow in Mount Nemrut to see the mysterious statues… when I would try to negotiate my way through Turkey, speaking through sign language… when I would try to find a foothold in Konya amidst the Whirling Dervish festival… when I would be whirl-winding the expanse of Turkey beyond human possibilities… I would be further defining myself… more exhaustively and yet more succinctly.
It is amazing that by mere thinking of traveling… I have been able to think so much more, research much more… blog so much more… though I am still not sure whether I would be finally traveling or not… but the very fact that I am able to generate so much passion inside me… so much energy within me… just by dreaming to travel… tells me that I should never stop dreaming… and traveling…
Perhaps, I have started traveling within myself… and the physical act of traveling merely assists the more meaningful act of traveling within me… something, a learned person from Pune told me, which was much more intensive and real.
That I am able to confess my fears, my passions, my likes and dislike… to myself… via this blog… makes me feel blessed… that I ever discovered my passion for being a PONDERING VAGABOND.
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