33 months

When writing an email home a bit ago, I realized that I've been here for 33 months - and I have 3 months to go. That ratio amazes me. On one hand, I feel like I've been here for a lot longer than 33 months. I feel like I've lived here for a lifetime in some regards - like kindergarten through my 26th birthday condensed in 3 years. Each "season" of living here has been uniquely different from the one before - language season, cultural hangout season, work at the Center season, English and youth season, etc. - and therefore I feel like a lot more time has lapsed than in actuality. On the other hand, sheesh, I feel like I'm just now at the beginning stages of "getting it" (not that I know what "it" is yet - so I guess I'm still far away). And now, for many good reasons, it's approaching time to say goodbyes.

I remember thinking some of these thoughts when the one-year point hit - if this is how it feels after one year (regarding understanding), what must it feel like after 3...5...10...30? It really makes me value longevity - and makes me want to be committed to building trust, learning language and culture, and staying through good, bad, and ugly. (sidenote: ...not that years always equal effectiveness - as several "educational exposures" to various organizations' priorities have proven...).

On a different note, I just got back from a visit to a friend/teacher. I biked out to her place for the umpteenth time - past the row of 15 coffee bars, the row of 10 teensy travel agencies, the row of milk, potato, and cheesy socks sidewalk sellers...past the 2 mosques, the bazaar, the bunches of taxis, the war monument, the town swimming pool, the oodles of new houses spring up like wildflowers. When I arrived, she wasn't home yet, so I small-talked with her 2 sons comfortably for 40 minutes.

When she arrived with her husband, she hugged me and held my hands for several minutes. She started making me a Turkish coffee, and like so many times before, I finished getting our coffees together with little glasses of bubbly water as she changed into comfy clothes in the other room. After we drank our coffee, we sat on the floor and peeled and sliced potatoes for the 5 of us. I set the table and got some other stuff ready as she baked the taters in the basement - then we ate together. We sat and talked and later drank tea for a few more hours.

...how many times has this scene (or similar scene) played out before? I feel like I'm a daughter/friend to this lovely lady. I feel like she's an aunt/friend/teacher figure to me...and I am so grateful for her friendship and kindness over the last 33 months.