An obvious bonus of staying put in one place for a long time is discovering ‘real’ Istanbul and its neighborhoods where people live, work, and play. The Lonely Planet guide book goes about as far as Taksim Square—the busy town center, so to speak, of Istanbul. It is here where the broad cobblestone-lined pedestrian drag, Istiklal Caddesi (Independence Street), begins, or ends, depending on which way you are walking. It is flanked on both sides by clothing shops, the ubiquitous Starbucks, kebab and kofte (yummy Turkish meatball) eateries, and bookstores. Beautiful French inspired early twentieth century buildings tower overhead and an old fashioned narrow trolley trundles up the hill for those not willing to do the popular stroll. And just a ten minute walk down the hill behind Istiklal, toward the Bosphorus Strait, is my current neighborhood, Cihangir. It is a former Bohemian enclave currently full of expats and artists turned yuppies and hipsters. Nearly everything you need is right here. There is a small produce stand selling plump fresh cherries, apricots, and veggies on every corner. There are grocery stores, bars, cafes, a gym, and an odd plethora of pharmacies. Sounds permeate the air harkening back to an old European village:

“Hot Simit (a kind of Turkish sesame seed ‘bagel’)!! Fresh, hot Simit!!”

“Junkman!! I can take away all your nasty junk!!!”

“Waterman!! I will bring big bottles of spring water right to your apartment!!”

One of my favorite sounds is, strangely enough, the gas man. When I first heard the sweet tunes tinkling out of his truck as he drove around the ‘hood, I thought it had to be an ice cream truck: “Aygaz…get your sweet delicious Aygaz!”

The third floor apartment I’m staying in while I cat sit for “Oscar” and “Wilde,” aka “the OWs,” is ginormous (by the way, this stupid word has been recently added to the dictionary). It has three bedrooms, two bathrooms and huge living room. The back has a balcony overlooking a beautiful stand of tall, leafy trees full of cackling seagulls and feral cats in heat. The one problem? They don’t seem to believe in screens here in Istanbul, so I would say I got more mosquito bites inside this apartment than I have on most of my trip. Unfortunately, because of the summer heat, I had to keep the windows open especially at night while I slept. Well, this was just an open invitation to all the stinging insects to come suck some of my blood. Just as I would drift off to a serene sleep, a high-pitched mosquito buzzing around my hear would jolt be into a total state of itchy awakeness. I’d often wake up with new bites on my hands, feet, and even face. The ‘plug-in’ mosquito repellent devices Brigid had did not seem to be working all that much. Some nights I literally had to spray on some repellent just to get more of a sound sleep. There’s nothing like going to bed with the lovely smell of “off” to give you that camping feeling.

I live on a side street right around the corner from several trendy cafes with tables spilling onto the sidewalks in classic European fashion where locals sip on drinks, tap away at their laptops (including me), and just about everyone puffs away on a cigarette. The most popular café is Leyla’s, an ultra trendy spot that could be in New York or London. Café Smyrna’s atmosphere seems a bit more relaxed, although two nights in a row, paparazzi were staked outside with three television cameras waiting for a shot of a few local celebs. I’m actually writing this from one of the cafes right now. Kahvedan is owned by a gal from San Francisco and is a breezy comfortable place to hang out and have a latte or nice bite of something off their international menu of samosas, pad thai, and ceviche—not the norms in the very homogenized Turkish food scene. I love a good doner (spinning roasted meat) sandwich every now and again, but Turkey isn’t the most ‘international’ as far as cuisine goes, although this is slowly changing. Even though it is speeding along into the twenty-first century like the rest of the world, in many ways, Turkey is still proud of its strong roots and not entirely embracing the Western world. Although it is 99% Muslim, you would never really know this by looking, contrary to popular belief. What I mean by this is the US is about 80% Christian, but you also can’t see this just by looking. Here they are Muslim by name, but many are not religious or not practicing. There is a wrong assumption by many that Turkey is an Arabic country. In fact it is quite the opposite; Turks are fiercely defensive of their secular state which was founded by Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, a general in the Turkish Army from World War I. His Turkish state is based on Western principles of government and is said to be, in theory at least, modern, democratic and provides a definite separation of church and state. Western Turkey, especially Istanbul, looks like any European city. But what is different is how homogenously Turkish it is. And by that I mean it is not exactly the melting pot of Chicago, New York, or London. Maybe there are a few Bulgarians, Kurds, and expats sprinkled around, but by and large, Turkey is full of young Turks and they are very proud to be Turkish. Here there is little need for the English language or American products. Turkey has a huge manufacturing sector so they manufacture many of their own goods. In fact, many clothes we wear back in the states are made right here. There are no H&M, Gap, or Banana Republic stores here yet (they are coming next year), but a lot of their clothes are actually made here cheaply and exported to the states. So, there are some ‘irregulars’ floating around outlets, markets, and the black market. In every country I have a habit of checking out the grocery store. In Istanbul’s supermarkets my point is quite evident. Among aisles and aisles of mostly Turkish products the only American names I’ve come across are Pepperidge Farm Cookies, Tabasco, Miller Genuine Draft, and Budweiser. I think for some expats that may be all they need. But I have to admit I occasionally have a hankering for some nice comfy, all chemical Kraft Mac and Cheese every now and again.

In this hip ‘hood sushi is just catching on. There are only a few sushi bars around and each savory raw morsel is priced like a rare gem. I desperately needed a sushi fix so I stopped into Tokyo, a slick, contemporary, minimalist Japanese restaurant like any you’d find on nearly every corner in Chicago except here simple maki costs fifteen dollars. That’s a little steep. On the flip side, the drugs here are cheap…and easy to come by. No, not those drugs…prescription drugs. Many pills that we pop in the states can only be had after commandeering a prescription from our “primary care provider” or first getting a referral from our “primary doc” to then go see a specialist who then may give us the prescription we need. Here no prescription is necessary. Simply walk into any Eczane (drug store) and get what you need…and get it cheap. I can get a year supply of some pills I need for $8! At home this would cost me about $100. Hmmm, this gives me a business idea…but probably an illegal one.

Another cool area of Istanbul not really detailed in the guide book is what’s known as the Bosphorus villages. Along the water, several beautiful and quite affluent neighborhoods overlook the water from expensive apartments, white gleaming trendy cafes, and some glitzy nightclubs. I met a guy from Spain who was living in my neighborhood and working here for Nortel. He invited me along to join him and his friends one night at the fancy schmancy Sortie Club. High along the edge of the Bosphorus in an area called Ortakoy are about a dozen swanky outdoor clubs, one after the other, that are pricey, slick and give off an air of elitism with their velvet ropes and beefy security guards blocking the entry. This is the place to see and be seen. Here you can fork over about $100 a person for some ravioli and a few drinks. It was a bit phony and plastic and reminded me a bit of some of Chicago’s Gold Coast clubs, but there was no denying the gorgeously captivating moonlit views of the water. The setting was quite marvelous with white leather couches, dimmed paper lanterns, and the undisputable beauty of the mighty Bosphorus Bridge lit up like a Christmas tree with its own kind of light show, with all its, and the city’s, lights reflecting in the sparkling waters of the strait. So if you take a trip to Istanbul, of course go see the touristy areas and old quarter—it is beautiful, but then be sure to check out some of these ‘off the beaten tourist trail’ spots and see where the real hip Turks are hanging out.

In Turkish, the words for ‘thank you’ are ‘tesekkur ederim,’ pronounced tesh-e-koor eh-dare-em and a way to remember it is to say ‘tea, sugar, a dream.’ I just wanted to break out of the ‘writing mode’ for a second to thank everyone for their thoughtful responses to my last post. I was very touched by all the wonderful and heartfelt comments I received—some from old friends from ‘way back when’ and others from brand new friends that I’ve met recently during my travels. It is so amazing to me to be so far away and yet so many friends drop what they are doing to send me an email to give me heartfelt advice. It brightened my spirits tremendously. The most common thing I heard was how many were surprised that I hadn’t had these ‘reflective moments’ sooner. I think I have here and there, but not this intensely simply because I’ve had a lot of time in Istanbul to get lost in my own brain—a sometimes scary, scary place! I am trying to NOT worry about ‘what I will do when I get home…or the rest of my life’ now. It’s not always easy, but I do want to live in the moment and that is what I should be doing. I have really enjoyed the trip and have found myself smiling while I tell others about it—so I know it’s been amazing.

Instead of going for a “Visa Run” after my three month tourist visa expires, I will most likely say goodbye to Turkey and head north to parts of Eastern Europe. I do like Turkey and could easily stay here…but there are more places I want to see to feel like I’ve “completed” my journey. I have stayed here longer than anywhere else I’ve stayed on my entire trip and I really do like Istanbul. It is chock full of some of the friendliest, most helpful people I’ve met anywhere in the world. And I will probably be in tears the first few days after I leave Istanbul too… because I have really made a nice circle of good, kind friends here—who even dragged my ass out during my ‘down in the dumps’ day and made me feel better too. It’s great to always have friends ‘around me’ physically and from back home as well, even this far away!

Tea, sugar, a dream.

I have been in Istanbul for more than two months now. As I teach English and wait for other jobs to materialize I can’t help but wonder, should I stay or should I go? It is that hard balance of world travel that I have become increasingly accustomed to. Many times I find myself caught between trying to become more ‘local’ by sitting put in one place or simply being a fly-by-night ‘tourist’ seeing all I can even if it means never truly getting a real sense of the people and the culture because of the constant urge to just ‘keep on moving.’ Somewhere lurking in the air around me is this gravitational pull, the slight tug of travel putting its grips on me and egging me to move on and go forth and plunder. Well, probably not plunder as much as wander.

It is hard for me to dissect this. Sometimes I feel it doesn’t matter if I move on quickly or not because money-wise either way I’m paying to sleep somewhere whether it’s in Istanbul or Budapest or Chicago. But Istanbul is really not a cheap city, relative to others I’ve been in. I feel like as I journey westward, I will certainly be spending more each day to ‘live.’ I long for the days in Costa Rica when I paid $5 a night for a single room with my own bathroom. I guess I could live the rest of my life at “Gringo Pete’s” in Arenal and just retire there, but I know I’d grow bored and the same inevitable pull of travel would always be getting in the way of my retirement.

With the extra time on my hands here, I often have time to reflect back on my journey and look forward to the journey continuing. Sometimes too much thinking, or in my ‘Virgo’ case, analyzing, makes me feel a little down (what do they say? “Idle hands are the devil’s playground…”). While I’m traveling and taking ‘a year off,’ it really isn’t exactly a ‘year off’ as life keeps chugging forward like a high speed bullet train. Things are happening to me here and I’m meeting people and at the same time things are happening back home to my friends and loved ones. My ex-boyfriend has moved on (to someone twenty years his junior in classic rebound/mid life form. I guess he’s no longer pining away for me and waiting for my return with outstretched arms); I now miss someone I’ve met along the way whom I developed a bit of a relationship with; I was stressed out because my storage unit in my Chicago condo was broken into and I really have no idea what was stolen; I am sad about one of my very best friends not being in Chicago anymore (she’s recently moved back to Germany) when I return; And sometimes, when I unfortunately have too much time to ‘over think’ things, I’m a bit perplexed about what I am REALLY doing with my life after all this?? I know what you are thinking: ‘poor, poor you. Boo-hoo, Lisa, you are living your dream, traveling around the world.’ But I guess even a year away has to have its ‘down in the dumps’ moments.

Sometimes part of me does not want to be here in Turkey or Vietnam or a beach Australia, but in a tranquil leafy suburb with big, old colonial homes like those in New Jersey, Connecticut, or Chicago (Hi, Evanston), with beautiful breezy Oak and Maple trees, where the only sounds you hear are birds chirping and wind rustling the leaves that dapple the sunlight onto the lush lawns of green grass that feel cool on your toes on a summer afternoon. Perhaps it is a bit of ‘the grass is always greener’ syndrome. Well, the grass is greener in Evanston, but that’s because they can afford to spend lots of money each year on fertilizer. But that’s neither here nor there. I’m okay. I know this little funk will pass. It’s part of normal life whether I’m in Chicago or Turkey. In fact, I KNOW I’d have more stress and ‘real life’ problems if I were in Chicago right now. I should be feeling lucky, but sometimes it’s just not possible to do that 100% of the time. Like they say, “wherever you go, there you are.”

So, how long will I stay here? Why am I here? I like it, but don’t love it exactly. I’ve heard others say, ‘you love it and hate it at the same time.’ I just saw it was easy to get work and figured why not hang out, make some lire, and see what happens. But I just get confused sometimes. Part of me wants to ‘keep on moving.” I’ve become accustomed to a certain momentum on my trip as I slowly drift around the world from one place to the next. I sometimes feel like I’m living in a strange dream. Like right now, here I am living in someone else’s apartment in Istanbul. It’s a strange feeling and I don’t feel ‘at home’ exactly, but I guess I will continue to go with the flow and see where it takes me.

During my very first few days in Istanbul, it seemed that everyone I met could ‘help’ me in some way. Need a job? Need a place to stay? Need a carpet? Everyone offered up their assistance and if they couldn’t help, they had someone they would and did introduce me to. I heard that nearly 80% of Turks genuinely say they want to help you and then maybe about 20% of those actually do help you in some way. But, if nothing else, they will certainly sit down to share some Turkish tea with you. In my few weeks here, many opportunities seemed to materialize out of thin air and since this city isn’t cheap, I spontaneously decided it was time to ‘get local’ again, find myself some work, and become a temporary Istanbulite.

I’ve learned that word-of-mouth goes a long way here and Turkish life seems like a big game of “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon” (by the way, I used to be just one degree—I met him and interviewed him at my former ABC job and now I’m two degrees because he lives in my friend Mark’s apartment complex in LA, which means you, dear reader, are now just three degrees from the “Footloose” king). Everyone knows someone who, if they can’t help you, ultimately introduces you to someone who can. It seems everything in Turkey is about relationships and who you know. While Americans like a ‘let’s get down to business’ attitude, me included, Turks want to take time to really get to know you as a person and develop a more personal connection. And they certainly aren’t shy about asking you the questions that, in America, would be downright rude. “How old are you? How much do you weigh? Can you send a picture with your resume?”

One of my very first nights in the touristy yet charming Sultanahmet, the old part of the city, I met a skinny, chain smoking, cute restaurant host with big brown eyes named Yusuf. Like many other Kurds from Eastern Turkey (near the Iran and Iraq borders), he had come to Istanbul for a better life and better work. He was one of the few restaurant touts that let me actually ‘read’ the menu outside his restaurant instead of talking to me endlessly about what kind of food they serve which ultimately would cause me to walk away because I never got a chance to actually read the menu in the first place. So I liked him already and ate at his place simply because of his ‘non-pestering’ ways. We chatted briefly on my way out and I mentioned maybe looking for work here. He immediately grabbed his mobile and called Steve, a New Yorker, who’s lived in Istanbul for about three years teaching English. An hour later I was sitting down for a cold Efes beer with Steve and Yusuf at a local bar just across the street. Steve has several private students and teaches at Istanbul University. He seems pretty entrenched in Istanbul life—even if his “home” is actually a hotel. Steve was an easy going, soft spoken (for a New Yorker) middle-aged guy who enunciated every word and spoke slower than most Americans I know—probably a result of his day job. Like many I’ve met, he came for a short time and has simply never left. Istanbul seems to have that affect on people. Steve thought that with my background and TV experience I would have no trouble getting work here. English teachers, especially those from American and Canada, are highly regarded here—Steve is like a local celebrity in a way, and I can see why he hasn’t left. Since then we have become friends and he’s graciously passed my resume along and in the last several weeks has introduced me to several people who could possibly help me or hire me. And through these people, I met other people and from there I seemed to have a new network of friends in just a few weeks. And as the old Breck commercial goes: and then ‘they told two friends, and so on, and so on:”

Yusuf–>Steve:

–>Neville—A funny, loveable Brit who owns and runs the school, ESP—English for Special Purposes. He is kind of a thinner, much more British Drew Carey complete with glasses and buzz cut. He moved here six years ago, married a Turkish gal, and is ‘this close’ to becoming a bonafide Turkish citizen except for the fact that the government wants him to change his last name. It has a “W” in it, a letter that is not in the Turkish alphabet, therefore it is not ‘recognized’ by the Turkish Government. Of course, Neville sarcastically countered this with, ‘Okay, so I can change my name to Brad Pitt?’ and apparently that would be fine because all the letters are recognized. So while Mr. Pitt tries to find me work, he has hooked me up with:

–>Brigid–a hilarious, new-agey, spitfire Irish lass who has lived here more than 10 years. She has a huge sun-filled flat in the trendy Cihangir neighborhood full of café-lined streets where she lives with her two cats. I now live in this apartment with her two cats. She went away to Costa Rica for a month for an English teacher training course and needed a cool, world traveler/cat sitter/squatter to live here and watch her kitties while she is away. So, at least for now, I am a regular resident of Istanbul, living in my own apartment, cooking my own meals, and cleaning my own (well, the cats) shit box.

–>Mahmut—This president of an automotive company is a former student of Brigid’s. He was looking for a new English tutor. So I am now working with him on his business English twice a week. He is also building a brand new mansion on the Bosphorus and wants me to be a kind of consultant to help him decorate his new swanky pad. So now I’m a TV Producer/Cat-sitter/English teacher/Interior Designer. Apparently there’s nothing I can’t do…at least in Turkey. Oh, and he wants one of our appointments to be for dinner once a week. So now, I’m a bit of an escort as well. Note to self: get new business cards.

–>Osmantan—This sunglasses wearing Turkish celeb with a permanent two day stubble produces and hosts Popstar AlaTurka, the Turkish version of American Idol. He is part owner of STR productions which also produced the Turkish version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. I sat down with him to chat about ways we could work together…or ways I could cat sit for him. He also said I could perhaps be a consultant or go-between with some of the English speaking networks and production companies that he buys formats from. He gave me the email address of:

–>Dave Reid—The American General Manager of Turkey’s newest network, FOX-TV. We are set to meet sometime this week. He doesn’t speak Turkish either which I find quite odd considering he is running a network that is completely programmed in Turkish. So I thought maybe he needs some kind of assistant, which also speaks no Turkish, with whom he could at least share his frustration.

–>Cigdem & Ahmet—Ahmet was a former English student of Steve and a TV Promo writer. They are a warm and wonderful couple who have had me over to their modern and bright flat overlooking the Bosphorus several times. Ahmet had recently gotten in an accident while riding his motorcycle that broke his left leg. Then just after healing he was unbelievably struck by another motorcycle while crossing the street in his own neighborhood. Incredibly, both his arms were broken, as well as his left leg again. He is slowly on the mend, but spends most of Turkey’s beautiful summer cooped up in their apartment unable to walk. His spirits are amazingly high and I’ve had many fun times with them.

–>Digiturk—Ahmet is a freelance writer for this ‘DirecTV-like’ Satellite Network in Turkey. I interviewed with the Promotions Director, Cenk, and got a tour of their surprisingly up-to-date HD, Digital facility. Seeing master control, the graphics department, and editing suites full of warm, humming AVIDS actually had me a bit nostalgic for TV and its similarities worldwide.

–>John: I cold-called this American newspaper editor on my own (although also a recommendation of ‘Super Steve’). Since I was quite unfamiliar with news in Turkey, I at least thought I could be a proofreader/copy-editor for the English language Turkish Daily News. I met this throw back to Edward Morrow in a café. He was like a newsman from the 1940s—chain smoking, bitter, affected. It was a very surreal meeting. He spoke ‘at’ me through a veil of cigarette smoke and mumbled words. He rarely made eye contact instead gazing off into the distance with a half cocked head exhaling his whole career story for thirty minutes after I asked him the obligatory question of how he ended up in Istanbul. He had a pompous negative air about him telling his story here with a strange sense of nonchalant arrogance like he was above it all…He even told me about something he was trying to put into affect at the paper called the ‘Strategic Incompetence Strategy.’ It was some cruel tactic of eventually getting rid of employees in some long, torturous method. Needless to say, he didn’t have any work for me, but it was the lowest paying job of any other I had looked into. Basically the work was 6 days a week, 8 hours a day…and ended up being about $5/hour. I think this is less than working at McDonald’s and after meeting this man, I would much rather serve up McKebabs. So I had a news flash for him, ‘Goodnight…and good luck.’ But he did introduce me to:

–>Nuri Colakoglu/Vice President, Dogan Group: The Dogan Group is the largest media conglomerate in all of Turkey. They own many TV stations including CNN Turk, (CNN Turk is the first international channel to broadcast with the CNN logo 24 hours a day in a foreign language, which is also produced outside CNN’s Atlanta headquarters) several newspapers, and other companies in tourism, energy, and insurance. He is on the board of nearly every big project going on in Turkey. This was basically like Michael Eisner calling me. Before he even met me, he’d hired me to proofread a presentation he was giving to land the World Expo of 2015 in Turkey. This was big stuff. I loved this project as they emailed it to me and after proofreading several pages, in a few hours, I would make several hundred Lire. Nice gig. When we finally met, he handed me an envelope of cash (always nice on a first meeting) and we discussed what other ways I could help him. He was one of those people with only one working eye…so I tried my hardest not to try to catch the gaze of the straying left one which was always ‘out of alignment’ looking off somewhere else. This man was very important. He’d just returned from a business trip to San Francisco, Paris, and Venice. Maybe I could just be his travel aide. That would be nice. He is trying to find a niche for me and in the meantime introduced me to:

–>Mehmet Ali Birand—This man is seriously like the Tom Brokaw of Turkish TV News. When I mentioned his name to others, they were amazed that I was meeting him. Of course I had no idea who he was and found it quite difficult to even do research on him given the fact that most websites about him were in Turkish. We met at a hotel and our meeting basically took place in his car along with his driver and a smiling, quiet, yet hulking bodyguard-type goon who I shared the back seat with. Sadly, I was not frisked. We went for coffee and he dialed away on his mobile asking his many connections if the assistance of an English speaking producer was needed. Elections will be going on here at the end of the month and it will be big news so I’m hoping to be some sort of foreign press coordinator.

–>Tahir: One rainy afternoon I was doing a little less than nothing …and then I met up with this hotel manager across the street from my old hotel who was nice to me last time I was here. He proceeded to call this Canadian girl who teaches English here…we met her for coffee to talk about jobs for me …she gave me some advice but didn’t have anything concrete. Suddenly her cell rang and this woman from a school that teaches business English to executives was calling. She needed a teacher right away. Canadian girl couldn’t do it so she handed her phone right to me…I had an interview with them the very next day. Right place, right time I guess. Through this company, I have since started tutoring a marketing manager at one of Turkey’s largest shipping companies.

–>Plus One Productions—Ilker. I met this gaunt, balding Producer/Director literally on the roof of my hotel. He was perched on the roof next door doing a shoot. I ran over and struck up a conversation with him. He actually owns his own production company and we’ve since met for a beer to see how we can possibly work together on some projects. He also offered up his apartment to me after my cat sitting stint ends here.

–>Telesine Productions–I met a producer here through another friend of Steve’s. They work on films, commercials, and some television.

After all of this, plus some interviews too boring to mention, my head was spinning and I had nothing too much really to speak of. I’d spent a lot of money schlepping all over Istanbul, from the tram to the funicular to the metro, to taxis (this city is well known for its limited, crowded, and often smelly public transportation system), for these various interviews, not to mention on a nice new pair of pants (trousers for the Brits!) and a few smart tops—the backpacker attire just wouldn’t have made the best impression. After many exhausting weeks of running around, a few things started to fall into place. I had four students taking private English lessons and had met a dozen or so TV big wigs who at least had my name in case they needed me. I also literally had about five offers to share housing in exchange for some English conversation each day.

So, here I am in this ‘referral city’ where there seem to be no dead ends which is making it harder to just up and leave. I’m still going on interviews and have more next week. My fifteen years of television experience goes quite far here, the only problem? I don’t speak Turkish which is quite an obstacle considering all of the programming here is, oddly enough, in Turkish. In the meantime, I’m doing a few private English lessons each week. English teachers are highly regarded here and are compensated nicely. As this nation grows into its own identity and goes more global, English is seen as an important tool in this progress.

One sad note… I had to do something I’d avoided my whole trip until now. I caved in and got a much despised mobile phone. Turks live and die by their mobile phones—everyone has one and everyone wants to know your number. Especially when trying to make new contacts here it is just down right mandatory. In fact, when I told a few business folks that I did not have one–I think they looked at me like I was missing an arm or something. But in Turkish friendly style…this was easier than I thought. Another wonderful new friend of mine, Murat, a carpet shop owner (they are not all scammers), I met while in Sultanahmet, basically just lent me his mobile. It turns out he had just got a new one, but wanted to keep his old one for sentimental reasons. He had recently been ‘forced’ to serve his mandatory fifteen month term in the huge Turkish army, something he’d avoided and dreaded, especially as a Kurd, for years. His cell was somewhat of a security blanket as he was away so he was keeping it as a bittersweet memento from his time in the armed forces.

Just today I realized I had already programmed 20 names into my new phone’s address book. These are 20 new friends in Istanbul in just a few weeks. That seems pretty incredible to me. I now see how it is easy to get sucked into living here…the kind and generous Turks certainly don’t make it easy for you to leave.
Damn it—I’m officially living here, for now. Can you hear me now?

Sponsors? I wish I had sponsors. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Okay, I’ve been gone almost nine months now and it’s time for a barometer check. Many have been asking questions and I guess it’s high time I had some answers.

1. What have your favorite places been so far?

Thank god the question is plural because there have been so many and each is unique in its own special way. I find it hard to narrow down, but here goes:

• The Galapagos Islands off Ecuador—beautiful and magical, unspoiled nature and animals
• Buenos Aires, Argentina—an amazingly affordable cosmopolitan city full of a sexy energy and a hip vibe
• Melbourne, Australia—reminded me a lot of Chicago—cool, down to earth neighborhoods, diverse food, city events for everyone, and bike lanes on nearly every street
• Hong Kong—a huge, bright city full of life where old and new collide
• Halong Bay and Sa Pa, Vietnam—mystical, peaceful bays and mountains from another era
• Singapore—a modern, anally clean, (of course I’d like that!) crossroads of cultures
• Turkey—beautiful landscapes and amazingly friendly and helpful people

2. How much longer will you travel?

Forever! Well, I wish I could…and I’m still working out the nasty little logistics of how I can truly make that possible. But in the meantime, while I don’t have a definite answer, I am hoping to extend this trip to become longer than first planned. Originally I told people I’d be traveling for one year, mostly because it was just a very nice round number and easier to estimate then saying, ‘oh, 15 months’ or something random like that. But now that I am “out here” in the world, it just seems so much easier to keep going than to come home and try to get away again. Why not just keep going now that all my stuff is packed away in storage anyway? We’ll see.

3. Are you homesick? Are you ready to come home?

No. And no. Seriously, there are times when I am down or low, for a whole year—it’s nearly impossible to be jazzed every minute of everyday. I have some sad or lonely moments, but I do have to say they don’t last long. I really find it quite easy to make friends when traveling alone…just look at this photo album of some of the amazing folks I’ve met.

I definitely feel much less stress than I had felt at home with a job and a million things to always ‘worry’ about and obsess over. Now I know, in the grand scheme of things, none of that really matters.

4. What do you miss?

I miss some of my good friends and family. But at the same time, these friends have been with me throughout the entire trip thanks to the internet and its amazing technology and websites and services like Skype, Yahoo Mail, Facebook, Flickr, Feedburner, and my blog’s home at Word Press. Through my laptop, my friends are still cheering me on, encouraging me, giving me blog feedback, and just still ‘being there’ just like they would if I was home and in some ways even more so. And that’s how I know they are good. You know who you are—I love you and thank you!

I miss the city of Chicago. No matter where I go, I am still lucky to call it home and I truly do love it. It’s my adopted home and I have been singing its praises all over the world, encouraging everyone I meet to visit it one day. I think the Chicago Tourism office needs to hire me as an ambassador.

With a very limited number of outfits, I love the idea that I don’t have to really worry about what to wear each day, but I certainly miss having some more clothes to choose from than just the same old threadbare t-shirts, stretched out tank tops, and fading cargo pants.

As the months tick by, I guess you could say I miss having an income, because I’m scared of facing the fact that my funds are dwindling. Now see #5:

5. How much money have you spent?

In eight months, I have figured out that I have spent roughly $25,000. This includes everything—airfare, other transportation, food, lodging, and all my other random expenses. I have been in some countries in Southeast Asia and South American that allowed me to stretch my budget and then, on the flip side, places like Australia, Dubai, and now, as I enter Europe, have been rather expensive and make it harder to cut corners, etc. But, then again I got a job in Australia and am now doing some English tutoring in Istanbul so I am trying to combat the higher prices by at least breaking even. If I had remained in Chicago, where the overall cost of living is high, I would have definitely spent more than $25,000 in eight months on my mortgage, condo upkeep, car, bills, food, entertainment, and general runs to Target that always add up. On the road, I realize I don’t have to buy things like toilet paper, but do have to eat out more than I would at home. Although in many hostels and some hotels where I had a fridge I was able to eat some meals at ‘home.’

6. What will you do when you get home?

That’s the toughest question of all. And as the months tick by, unfortunately I find myself worrying about it more and more. I have gotten tons of great feedback on this blog and have started the dreaded process of looking for a literary agent and publisher for my travel book. I still have tons of interests…it’s narrowing them down that is the problem. Television Production? Open a sandwich shop/café? Real Estate? “Green” eco-store? Travel Writer? Get Masters in Urban Planning or International Business? Photographer? Or maybe I will just stay ‘retired??’ Who knows what will happen with any of that. I can always do some freelance TV Production and writing. What I do know is that after stopping by Chicago to visit with friends and try the latest restaurants, I will be going to LA to hang out at my friend, Mark’s apartment. I will lay at his pool where I can decompress and readjust to life, USA-style. I guess LA couldn’t be more ‘in your face’ USA…and with my new work experience from my days at the Australia café, I may just be qualified to work at ‘the big S’—Starbucks. Maybe.

7. Have you dated any men?

Yep.