Hard to believe that this was two years ago this month. Hard to believe that by the grace of God, we built a house in just over a year, in the midst of a global pandemic. Foundations for the future, if the Most Merciful wills. A youthful dream brought to life. More tales of the …
Alas, we can’t be there, but at least we have video streaming to our phones. The wonders of technology. Until teleportation has been invented, nearly the next best thing.
Finally got around to editing my wife’s latest video.
If it is said, “Istanbul is a beautiful city,” I must retort, “It may be a city that contains parts that are beautiful.” Areas popular with tourists and elites may rightfully boast of culture, history and wondrous architecture, or classy waterfronts and spacious parks. But, alas, Istanbul as a whole — the sprawling megatropolis of …
Sorry, doesn’t matter if you travelled from abroad for this long-planned appointment… the system is down, everywhere. Can we come back later, or tomorrow? Nope, impossible. Maybe next year.
We travelled over a thousand kilometres this morning, but still I felt compelled to wander down to Güneşli central mosque on our arrival for Friday prayer. Technically, on such days, I could let it pass and just do the shortened travelling prayer instead, but the pull is sometimes hard to ignore. We’ve been visiting this …
For all the comforts here, the thing I really struggle with is lack of personal space. From the first day to the last, every plan of our own has been steamrollered by others. For this, I will be glad to return to our little home and quiet life, if the Most Merciful wills. Today’s plans …
Guests descend, always. And always we’re the hospitable host. But not today. We’ve been here six weeks. We’re setting off at sunrise tomorrow morning. Today we’re busy packing up home. Today is not convenient for us. But even so, relatives who say they couldn’t visit us before now, insist on dropping in to see us. …
Today, my last day working here. Tomorrow, our last day here at all. I will find it difficult to say goodbye to these comforts. My beloved: she is ready to return, for she has had a trying six weeks, waiting on her mother. But our kids: they protest, reminding us how much they hate England; …
Fruits of the garden: grapes, tomatoes, cucumbers, apples. Harvested just moments ago, to be gobbled down by a hungry family for breakfast. Here, more immense blessings to be grateful for.
I’m a practising Muslim. I observe the five daily prayers. Ordinarily, I look forward to the call to prayer. But even I wish the village mosque would turn the volume down on their minaret sound system. Better still, just turn it off completely, for there really is no need for the village mosque to be …
“We’ll miss all this space, won’t we?” “We will,” says my wife, peering back at me, “but I think I’m ready to return to my humble home.” “Are you?” “Definitely. I love my little house. It was our first proper home. I miss it too.” I suppose I’ve got used to these new comforts — …
Final wander before my parents return home, meandering down the lane parallel to ours, lower down the hill. Just under two miles. The same sights, somehow completely different. A bit warm; we arrive back dripping with sweat.
