“The extra extra big roads” is what I called the highway back then. Going through the city felt normal, seeing big buildings on the highway. The roads sounded like white noise, calming and natural. Though after a while of fidgeting and fighting with my brother, I looked outside through the foggy window down to the unusual muddy ground. I got confused, I got up on my knees to see better. We were on a narrow non-road-looking road. The edge of the road dropped to a rocky cliff, I heard clacking and clunks as the wheels were shaking from the rocks. The cliff overlooked tiny houses in green mountains from afar. My mom was smiling. 

 8 year old me was having the confusion of her life. I distinctly remember this was the first time I'd changed to an environment like that. From being born in a city and only knowing what highways and skyscrapers were, I was all of a sudden driving up a mountain in the south of Turkey on a road that looked like they were meant for tractors and farmers, I didn't like change back then. 

We went in spirals jumping up and down from the rocky, unfinished, potholed road. As we went further and further rocking side to side, we started to drive past houses. Hand-made houses made of stone, some older and possibly smaller than I've ever seen before. Not old like vintage but old like broken and crumbling.

They looked like they carry a million stories, experiences, and memories that were different than my own. While being from their but having a barrier that keeps me from understanding its depth. 

 

“Mom this place looks so weird”. I was clearly disturbed because I could've quite easily assumed this village to be of the living dead. This came from the feeling of disturbance and discomfort with the appearance, there was no character and no life in the broken and draining-looking houses without doors or locks. Tiny windows and bathrooms and, in many cases even the kitchens, were outside, I thought the house wasn't done being built. Seeing families cook outside and eat outside altogether. “Why were we going to a place that's not finished building?” another thought I had. 

The next minute, full-on farms! “Are these people living on the farm with animals?” I thought. I saw women and men walking down these non-road roads, with handfuls of cattle full of milk. Over their heads or in their arms, on their way home having a chat and giggling with other neighbors. 

While a thousand questions were through my mind, I didn't feel the car moving, stuck staring and watching the same people for a while. I looked over the front of the car, my eyes widened out of fear and worry. Sheep and goats, danger and chaos surrounding our car. My uncles and mom were laughing with the people on the street while I was finding possible ways to escape. The blasting noise of the bell calling the animals to the side, the cars honking to say hi to each other, smiling and waving. “Why did you bring us to a farm,” I asked. I was bothered, my eyebrows scrunched up with my nose, crumpling up my face to show my mom i was annoyed. "Why would we come here for vacation".

I remember she didn't even bother responding, she was happy talking with the people outside the car, everyone they knew, they grew up there with.

While waiting for the goats and sheep, I saw boys my brother's age, covered in dirt and sweat dripping down their faces, breathing heavily at 40 degrees Celsius. Dragging on their backs a huge white plastic bag full of plastics and cardboard. They gave a smile and a wave to my uncles "salam alaikum" as they responded with "alaikum salam". Another laughing chat began. At this point I was done with this place, my little childish tantrum burst into tears and whines. "How could people live here? Why would people live here?"

Then, these were rhetorical questions that I never wanted to know the answer to. Now after years I realize that this district has villages that are really poor and face a lot of issues. This was my first trip to a village and I had never imagined it would turn out to be this memorable. It makes me think now, 9 years later, how even though there were many real and unnerving issues being faced by the people that I witnessed, their manner of dealing with them was something all of us should learn. It never felt like they were facing any issues. They were content with the little they had. Nothing could match the smiles and excitement of the children when they ran along the car side playing football on the streets. That is when I realized that a trip to a village, especially a place where my roots are from, is more fulfilling than any fancy or luxurious trip I could go on in the world. Allowing cultural and social awareness and acceptance while experiencing a culture completely different from what you're used to.