My Trip (part 1)

So there actually was an ulterior motive to my sudden road trip to Turkey, and that was my father. After his annual visit to the doctor, he was apparently told that his heart is weakening rapidly due to his big Turkish gut. Immediately after this visit my father called me and said that he'd like to take a trip with me some time in the next year to his village so that he can show me where he wants to be buried after he passes away. Hence, after that shock, my siblings and I immediately started working on making this happen.

I'm the oldest of the siblings and according to tradition have a responsibility to actually listen to special requests like this. Well, despite the fact that usually I'm the only one from my family who has never respected anything traditional it was absolutely necessary that I gave my dad this wish. Planning a surprise, I told him that I'd be there at the end of August of this year and maybe take him to his village next year when I'll have more money. In the meanwhile, one of my brothers decided to go ahead and take his wife, my nephew and my mother to Turkey two weeks prior in his own car (1997 BMW 318i touring) acting like my dad is going to have to stay at home. So, when I arrived in Germany my dad was completely shocked and in tears after he found out that we'd be taking a road trip to his village with my other brother's car (2006 BMW 118i).

And this is where the journey began.... We (being my youngest brother, my sister and myself) thought that we really couldn't waste any time on the road so that we have the most out of our vacations in Turkey, which also meant that we would have to change our route. After little debate we decided that the "original" route, which was treaded by father's generation for decades, would be the fastest to the Turkish border but we weren't very thrilled to have to wait for 8 hours at the "Kapikule" border entrance to Turkey. So, it made sense to cross over to Greece and then head into Turkey shortly before ending our transit through Bulgaria, which coincidentally brought us directly into the little village that my mother was born in. Our new route now took us through Villach (Austria), Ljubljana (Slovenia), Zagreb (Croatia), Belgrade (Serbia), Nis (Serbia), Sofia (Bulgaria), some little town (Greece), finally arriving in Turkey.

One of the highlights of this part of our journey was my dad singing old Turkish songs and reminiscing in his own past experiences on this road. He told of us of the countless difficulties they would face from being stopped for no reason and paying bribes to fatal accidents where close friends and family were lost on those treacherous roads. But the one common thread in all his stories was the brotherhood that bound his generation of Turkish immigrants. When one of them was in trouble a Turkish flag was waved into oncoming traffic so that another Turk would stop and help. Listening to all these stories I couldn't help but think about everything my father and his peers had sacrificed just to be able to see their homeland and how, in light of these obstacles, they never gave up hope to do so; truly incredible really...

The trip itself from our house in Germany to my grandmother's house outside of Edirne took us exactly 18 hours with my brother and I driving non-stop; and if it wasn't for my sister asking for bathroom brakes so often, we would have made in 15 hours, I'm convinced.

Either way, after a long 18 hours we made it to my grandmother's house and rested for two nights before we continued our trip to the Black Sea....

...................door to door:   1721 km = 1069 miles.........................

Comments

[Ardent]

Infidel, I am so pleased that you have taken the time to take a family vacation.

But the reason for the vacation is very morbid. So your father can show you where he wants to be buried? I suppose Western society pre arrange funerals, so I should not feel the way I do.

A lot of Turkiyeli’s in Australia send their departed loved ones to Turkey to be buried. I don’t know why this patriotic trend exists and would appreciate it if someone would explain the significance. If one day, your departed loved one is sent to Turkey for burial, who will tend to his grave when the rest of the family lives in America and Germany?

Turkish-Cypriots are always buried in Australia. My father, god bless him, had been in Australia 55 years when he passed away recently, he too of a bad heart. My father’s heart just grew old and tired and was not pumping blood the way it should, but he was not overweight. An operation to correct my father’s heart was out of the question, simply because he was too old and would not he have the energy to recover from such a serious operation.

If your father’s heart is weakening purely because of his stomach mass, I hope that your mother and sister put your father on a strict diet, that way your father has a greater chance of a longer life expectancy.

None the less, I hope you truly enjoy your holiday with your parents, siblings and family!

[Infidel]

I'm sorry to hear about your dad, Ardent, but life just kind of creeps up on you. I hope he lived a happy life.

It's not that surprising to me that people send their departed back to Turkey if they are were born there. And even if they were the first generation born in another country, immigrant kids tend to connect with their "original" homeland since the parents are still adamant about their stories, history, and their lives "back home". The realization that "home" has changed doesn't generally sink in until the second generation is born in another country. That's when "home" is not Turkey anymore.

As far as my trip goes, it was the most stressful vacation I've ever had, but worth every penny. My dad even lost a few kilos although I don't think that will matter much because he doesn't want to lose any. He prefers dying fat and happy over average weight and unhappy, as he put it....

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