One of the gladdest moments of human life, methinks, is the departure upon a distant journey into unknown lands. Shaking off with one mighty effort the fetters of habit, the leaden weight of routine, the cloak of many cares and the slavery of home, man feels once more happy.
It is tradition among Bursa trainees to list the best and the worst upon leaving. I will do the same in concluding this blog:
To begin with, the worst comes in three. First, the worst of the worst was not having a job. I felt confused and disappointed after being lied to and deceived for the sake of advancing an organization and personal interests within this organization. I could not have anticipated meeting students my age who, impervious to disgrace, acted selfishly and egocentrically. I painfully learned to be more selective in trusting others and I am proud of myself for sticking it out. Second, issues with health: my hair falling out, gaining weight (the evil twin), and falling down the stairs. Lastly, being kidnapped by a dolmus driver.. blond hair and blue eyes are rare in Bursa and it was always a struggle for me, I had to get used to constant staring and occasionally found myself in humorous situations, like the time I was driven up the side of a mountain against my will. I say humorous because Bursa is the safest city I have ever lived in.
Now for the best. The truth is, the proper adjectives do not exist to adequately describe the sensation of exploration, though Sir Richard Francis Burton can help me out here. Traveling is, simply put, a myriad of leaving parts of us behind while redefining the 18 inches which separate the heart and the mind. It makes me happy. However, more important than any city or country is the people which define that place. The best is the people who made me smile, made me laugh, made me cry; the people who made me sad to have left but happy and fortunate to have met; the people I will never forget.
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