Life as a Series of Acclimations

I grew up in Northern Michigan and had an amazing childhood there. I went barefoot for the majority of my summers. I built forts, climbed trees, floated down the Pigeon River. In the winter I tobogganed, cross-country skied, fed chickadees from my hand, and had snowball fights. I went to public school, took dance and piano classes, and kissed my first boy in that state.

Then I went on to high school in Pennsylvania. Winters still had snow, summers were still hot and sticky. I graduated high school and started my university journey there.

Time marched on and I moved west to Idaho, and later on to Colorado, in my early adulthood and life was forever changed.

In Colorado, where I lived for the longest amount of time–16 consecutive years–I learned what it means to be graced with 300+ days of sunshine each and every calendar year. 

Nowadays if you google “sunniest states” Colorado doesn’t come up at the top. And there is even discrepancy about IF the 300+ days a year is truth or myth. But I can tell you that I became a lover of the sun and a blue sky life while I lived in Colorado. The number of overcast or dreary days were few and far between. This, and the fact that Colorado is a dry/arid climate is probably what helped make my adaptation to living in Mongolia not as difficult as it would have been for some.

Mongolia is arid and is known for its “eternal blue sky” and bright sunshiny days. Even in the deep of winter when it isn’t getting above 0 degrees (Fahrenheit) for days and days, there was sunshine and blue skies. 

Nearly half of my life has been lived in sunny places. For that reason I could never return to Michigan to live an everyday life. The overcast days would depress me. I need sunshine in my days. A day or two of cloudy skies is OK, but then I need the sun. It affects both my mood and my health. Well, those are connected, you know? 🙂

That is the first major acclimation of my life’s trajectory. Now I am encountering a second one: I have become a seaside person. Izmir is on the Aegean Sea. One can’t walk to the beach directly, but I can be seaside in less than 10 minutes, and it’s something I do many evenings a week. I continue to be amazed by how the water is a direct reflection of my internal mood. If I am at peace, the water is still and smooth. If I feel a bit out of sorts or conflicted about something, then there may be rolling waves or even a slight choppiness to the water. And when I feel cagey and restless or agitated by indecision, then I find the sea splashing itself up and over the seaside esplanade’s wall. No matter which way the water moves, or doesn’t, there is the smell of salt water to offer its comfort and familiarity. 

I find myself growing into a strange paradox. While I am traveling the world and seeing diverse places and ways of life, I also realize what I do and don’t want. I am expanding my knowledge and experiences of the world while simultaneously narrowing the list of potential places that I would be willing to call home.

Now hold on, I am NOT considering moving on from Turkey. I am happy here! I love Izmir and am happy to call it home now, and for as long as it feels the way it does now. But I also know how life can throw each of us curveballs. I have learned that “never” is a dangerous word to proclaim (Yes, I know I’ve said it in regard to one aspect of my life. That’s a particular exception). As for the here and now, I have no interest in looking for another place to live. Turkey, and Izmir specifically, quickly and completely became home to me.  

Another aspect I love about life here is the availability and ease of public transportation. Before I left Colorado in the summer of 2015 I predicted that I would miss the freedom that having one’s own car provided. I thought I’d miss driving. In Mongolia I used public buses, taxis, and my own two feet. Strangely it was my first experience to ride a public bus! I’d always lived in smallish cities in the U.S. and had my own car, and therefore had no use for public transport. In UB, I used the buses often. They were overcrowded and often dirty, but convenient and cheap. Izmir is three times the size of UB and has a plethora of public transport. I ride ferries, trams, trains, buses, and use taxis. They are regular, convenient, clean, and affordable. I LOVE it! I can get around to anywhere I need AND not have to be stressed or worry about the driving. It’s a certain kind of freedom and bliss. 

Hypothetically speaking, if I were to move on, I would need the place to have sunshine and a significant water feature. I need sun to brighten my health and mood. I need moving water to reflect and mirror my emotions and thoughts back to me. I am not a practitioner of meditation (Yes, I have tried here and there); however, I think I get similar results when walking or sitting seaside and watching the water, the sun, and the clouds. There is a beautiful dance that occurs between them. It calms the beast inside when she needs calming, and it stirs up the lethargic or apathetic fog whenever he comes to visit. Yes, my wise Turkish friends have expressed it well when they’ve said, if you are raised away from the sea, you can live most anywhere, but if you have lived seaside, it will be very difficult to leave it. I think it must be true….says this convert to seaside life. 

What are acclimations you have made? Where and when? Was it by choice and chance, or imposition?