After a long travel day and a quick stop in Dublin, we’ve finally settled into our summer in Türkiye.
This year’s trip is a little different. We’re spending six weeks in Antalya to help my sister and brother-in-law after he suffered a massive stroke in April. We are grateful that we have the flexibility to be here while he focuses on recovery and she navigates the endless appointments, therapies, and logistics that come with it.
The help we provide is not particularly glamorous. Laundry. Grocery shopping. Organizing the pantry. Making meals. Running errands. The kinds of things that are easy to let slide when your attention is focused on much bigger concerns.
On the way here, we spent a day in Dublin. One of the highlights was visiting St. Audoen’s Church. An incredible docent took the time to show Kayra around, explaining how the original doorway has been carefully preserved through centuries of renovations and letting him imagine all the people who have passed through it over the last 800-plus years.
He then turned on the church’s 19th-century organ. We could hear the low hum as it came to life before he opened it up and showed us the pipes and inner workings. He explained how they are cleaned and maintained, let Kayra play a few notes, and even encouraged him to feel the vibrations from the pedals. Kayra was completely fascinated. For nearly half an hour he asked questions about this and that and the docent encouraged him to touch and feel as many pieces of history as he could, including the “Lucky Stone.
One of the funniest moments came when the docent showed us the ancient baptismal font. It was hundreds and hundreds of years old. I mentioned that Kayra hadn’t been baptized but had received a Buddhist baby blessing instead. The docent paused for a second, shrugged, and said, “Eh… same thing.”
The opportunity to explore history in such a hands-on, personal way was something none of us will forget. It was a perfect reminder that some of the best travel experiences are the ones you never planned.
Once we arrived in Antalya, we started settling into a new routine. Since school is still in session back home, mornings begin with breakfast and schoolwork before heading to the beach or pool. In the afternoons, I shift into East Coast work hours and answer emails and take calls from a shady table by the pool while Kayra swims nearby.
For Kurban Bayram, we spent a day at the family village house in the mountains. The weather was cooler than the coast, the fruit trees were loaded, and every roadside stand seemed to be selling fresh berries and apricots.
Kayra immediately disappeared.
One of my favorite things about Türkiye is how naturally children are welcomed into community life. The neighbors spotted him over the fence, waved him over, and before long he had vanished into their garden. A while later he returned carrying a plate piled with sun-warmed berries and apricots.
Not long after that, I looked over and found him sitting at their table. They were feeding him dinner and chatting away while he happily joined in. He stayed for over an hour before wandering back with more fruit to share with us.
I barely saw him all day.
The whole scene felt very familiar. Turkish hospitality can be remarkable, and children seem to belong to everyone. A neighbor’s child quickly becomes everyone’s child.
So that’s week one: a quick stop in Dublin, a Bayram visit to the mountains, lots of family time, a little work, a little school, and the beginning of what I hope will be a meaningful summer for all of us.
