How to travel without travelling?
by Anna Atsu
Hey you!
Did you vanish into thin air?
Hosted a companionship in your living room or gave up your bedroom?
Dived into books deeper than a submarine?
Attended a concert not louder than someone’s snoring?
Watched important commemorations?
You see, we're practically twins separated at birth...
"Anna, Anna, stop interrogating the mirror. It's not going to spill your secrets."
My secret lies in my name: “Atsu” means “a twin”…
But besides my doubled-meaning name, I have a sneaky suspicion you've been there, done that...
Let's start with contrasts…
I prefer my photos like I prefer my coffee: black and white with enough contrast to slap you awake but with enough of a soft glow to appear less sharp than in reality. You see, I don’t wear glasses so my clear perspective would kill me instantly like a basilisk if I wasn’t to use any filters.
Yes, we won’t delve into literal photography but into self-image, but let's take it slow, like a black turtle on a cold sandy beach, with lots of slow poetry trying to warm up in the fading sunshine. And of course, when you will think you start to understand, I will break, so that we can continue in another article reflection…
"Yeah, Anna, you've had more time to stare at your reflection than Narcissus on Instagram…"
Guilty as charged… — you wish!
I've lamented in my poems about uninvited guests crashing my parties— death, sickness and headaches, I talked to other funeral organisators, then to Paracetamol and Ibuprofen much more than I wish these days due to unending diseases and ferocious wind disturbing my head. I talked to cakes presented with arriving guests bringing flowers from all around Europe from a too-tall tree-swaying perspective, baring in mind deja-vus. And better don't get me started on bathing in rose water; I smell like a botanical garden's midlife crisis reminding you that we all have a melting point.
"Anna, it’s not a midlife crisis, we just know you're turkey-crazy this time of year... Your friends went to bath in the sunshine without you!"
Hold your horses! Firstly, if you're going to be British about it and ask what's on the menu, I've had more turkey than Thanksgiving dinner. And secondly, it's been renamed—get with the times!
"Oh, I stand corrected."
I only know because a guest dropped some knowledge on me...
It's Türkiye now, not Turkey—officially since June 2022.
Let me introduce you to Marcelina...
"Here we go again, Anna, setting me up with your pals. Cakes don't travel well, and I'm not in the dating game."
Marcelina's book isn't a date, although it's a love letter to Turkiye.
Calling a meeting with her “a date” would probably upset her, even though the editor warns:
“Note: This book is a declaration of love! (…) Marcelina Szumer-Brysz writes with journalistic inquisitiveness about the country she loves and knows inside out. Together with her, we will go to where the earth shook, we will dance at weddings, we will talk about politics, weather, religion and women’s rights…”
But hey, every book's a love story, right? Well, that's my subjective opinion. Try to argue with that and we might end up having a passionate discussion…
Back to Marcelina...
She's the wife of my friend's father, a tale as delicate as a snowflake in summer. And we met through her book. Imagine my shock when I received a copy with a dedication, and my friend casually said, "From one writer to another." Oh, and she bestowed upon me a nickname: "Writess."
Let me unravel the surprises... The title of her recent book published in 2024:
"Turkiye: East from West" or “To the East from West” — my double perspective before I consult the author.
"Oh, so you teleported without the hassle of packing?"
You have no idea how far...
Dedication: "In memory of the earthquake victims in Turkiye on February 6, 2023".
Memories again…
“This time not just to Anna but to everyone: Don’t you just take the past and put it in a room in a basement and lock the door and never go in there?”
You know that I struggle to keep my keys safe. Anyway, safety is such a relative concept…
But that's not why I am writing about Türkiye – it's because of the permanently dual perspective again with all the memories attached and detached at the same time…
Perhaps you, too, recall the days of schooling when children were tasked with memorising poems. However, my intention isn't rooted in nostalgia for those times, nor do I ponder why this practice has waned in modern education systems. Rather, I believe that the initial exposure to poetry, excluding nursery rhymes, inherently relates to the exploration of identity. Naturally, every educational framework hastens to instil a sense of national belonging, leading you to familiarise yourself with your "sacred homeland."
In Turkey, the foundational poems taught to Turkish children, even as early as kindergarten, incorporate verses extolling the virtues of the "sacred Turkish nation" and "our beloved country." Inscriptions on monuments often feature quotes from Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, reiterated by educators, politicians, writers, and even naturalized citizens. "Ne mutlu Türk'üm diyene!" ("How happy is he who calls himself a Turk!") becomes etched into the Turkish consciousness somewhere between one's given name and surname.
On the contrary, there exists another perspective encapsulated by the phrase "burası Türkiye," hinting at the apprehension that what is Turkish may fall short. Marcelina ponders how, despite the Turkish propensity to laud their homeland's virtues, in conversation, there lingers an air of uncertainty, akin to a child awaiting a kiss, questioning whether…
Yes, “It is Turkiye that we visit. It is Turkiye that we love” — a perfect image of self-acceptance split into two: “How good to be a Turk!” and "burası Türkiye”. They exist side by side in the same conversation, even in the same sentence, not without a reason, and again everyone understands this intuitively, it doesn’t bother anyone. Only a foreigner doesn’t know what’s going on.
Don’t we do the same, building since childhood a self-image of being proud of who we are, and where we come from, self watered with the exaggerated view that our origin is the perfect land, a triple paradise on earth to go home after lessons ready to believe that “surely there was someone who said that poem better”, “you don’t have god in heart, thinking you are pretty…” and “after all we will all emigrate”?…
Such chaos does not bother anyone in Turkey. The current shape of an almost perfect rectangle with the Black Sea is enough to build a nation. Another perspective would be: so pretty to just kill in an earthquake… These days I choose the perspective that is not well-balanced but serves a purpose in life:
“When faced with a choice of accepting the dark side of life and swimming in deep sadness, choose life celebration — you will feel better, be better and do better for everyone. It doesn’t mean that you ignore the darkness — you embrace it even too tightly! Now live well…”
And just to leave you with an unfinished thought,
a personal note:
"For Ania, so she always believes in herself when writing."
This segues perfectly into my next article. See you there, or else I'll send the mirror after you!
Please believe in yourself — it is not a well-balanced perspective but it will do you well… If you haven’t tried it yet, try today…
By the way, inviting people over can alter your subjective perspective and contribute to unbalanced well-being as much as travelling far to sunny destinations.
So, the literal takeaway today is a Turkish delight served with a careful approach to changing names, which I might approach next time. To be confirmed — stability is not my strong side…
just in case,
not to spread any disease…
My more than balanced weekly portion of poems to share:
I was your portion of travel to Turkey and even to the UK tonight…
@annaatsu book help me to travel too!