Have you ever wondered, what would you say to a younger version of yourself?
Dear Lost in thoughts,
I do not want to summarize your trip to Istanbul and I also do not want to tell you all the stories you are about to experience. You would not want to miss the surprise. But believe me, you would slap yourself like your dear friend did, when you were arguing if you would have the best time of your life on Erasmus in Turkey or not.
In order to make you more thrilled about your next trip, I will just tell you, that some days you will take a boat from European to Asian side and then back just because it will feel like holiday to ride a boat without actually being on vacation. You will cross Bosphorus to get to your beloved Asian side so often in the end… And only in Asia you can go to a hairdresser who is charmed by your-whatever so deeply that he will look up your profile on Facebook and add you as a friend. Even though he can not speak English at all. And only there you can go to the real Irish pub called Belfast when they play songs so old and grumpy that you simply want to grab and steal the jukebox to your home.
Home. Where? With two Turks, almost thirty years old. After four days of searching for flat at every possible address, please smile when you have room showing in a house next to the one you are temporarily staying in. Crossing hundreds of empty beer bottles in the hall every day and swearing when some of the couchsurfers blocks the bathroom in the morning or consider your room, with pages from Vogue and a red mirror on the wall, as a living room will be things you get used to by the time. Because hearing your flatmate through the walls playing harmonica while you are arguing with the other about the world order will stand for the best parts of the day anyway.
And if you get lucky, once you will play harmonica as well, in the busiest street in Istanbul, at two o’clock in the morning. Just you and a young musician from London. So what, that you are busking and dancing in the streets for the first time, you can still earn a gig in a club next day. Or you can at least dance with some Palestinians.
I can not still believe that you will make it to the Kurdish village in the very east of Eastern Turkey. You will be heading to Kurdistan while one of the flatmates will travel around Bosnia and Herzegovina and the second one will enjoy naked party in one flat in London with a swimming pool in the middle of the living room. Believe me, you will miss drinking Efes in your room with them, looking at the big map of Europe and thinking about the next destination to reach and next dream to fulfil.
And when you go to Istanbul, you need to visit the best nargile place, it is in the middle of two tram stations – Beyazit and Cemberlitas. Instead of tourists you will meet there a Turk who can speak fluently Slovak and who can write you your name in calligraphy style, no matter how averse face you express to finally push him away.
And the end? You will pack all your life into luggage with twenty-two kilos and a handbag with eight kilos, because luckily the girl at the check-in, who will not know, if the Czech Republic is in European Union or not, will allow you to have some kilos above. And then you will fly back to Vienna, leaving your heart and mind in Istanbul.
So I guess it makes you now heartless and mindless.
And where will you see yourself in five years?
Maybe in the red mirror.
How? Say something different. Make things that matters. Talk to people who inspires you. And burn.
Because maybe means everything.
Lost without thougths