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It's odd to think that I've only been back from Turkey for just over two weeks. I jumped back into my old routine and now my mind has completely shifted from deciphering Turkish pronunciations to the conversion rate trends and PHP errors that plague my career. I thought it'd take me longer to get back into the swing, but I was back in my routine 9 hours after the wheels touched down in KC.

I loved Turkey, and everyone is already sick of hearing about it. I'm enjoying learning more about the country through readings and trying to talk my friends and family into making trips (at least 2 people have been convinced!). But one thing I realized on my trip that really surprised me was how much I loved the life I've created for myself in KC. I try to picture myself living and working in Istanbul, and I can't do it. Don't get me wrong - if the opportunity presented itself, I'd jump at it. But one thing that seemed clear to me from our time with our Turkish friends is the idea of helping and protecting your own, and my people are here.

Baris and his friends would always tell us how terrible Turkish men were, despite the fact that they were actively disproving that through their constant helpfulness. I think what they really meant is that we couldn't expect the same level of kindness from just anyone on the street. Not that other men were 'bad', but that they were treating us as they would close friends or family because they were asked to by someone they cared about and we were cool enough for it not be a chore. We couldn't (and shouldn't) expect that same treatment from strangers.

At 19, I gave myself the goal to live and work abroad by 25. At 25, I extended that to 30, but now at 27, I question if packing my life up and moving it abroad would be counterproductive to what I say I want out of life. Stepping into a culture with so many layers of history and meaning in every interaction without a cultural interpreter would be overwhelming, but could be overcome in time.

One thing that my time in Turkey underscored was that life isn't about what food you eat or which cafe you have it in, but who you share it with. To leave behind my huge family, wonderful friends and even terrific coworkers in order to start over in an amazing country without them would replace my personal history with a simplified understanding of how other people live. It's wonderful and a bit scary to realize that where you are is exactly where you should be.

But that doesn't mean I'm not already saving for Machu Picchu 2013...