Preferring Turkey’s adrenaline to Europe’s monotony

We have become addicted to adrenaline. Europe can’t satisfy our appetite for adrenaline.

Still, I decided to go for a short trip to Europe to eat some croissants and walk on the streets.

Yet the conversations in the streets were not colorful at all. 

“What did you do?”

“I went to pay the tax on my car.” “What will you do in the afternoon?” “Maybe I’ll grab some beer.” 

Yet just as I was leaving the airport, I sensed that I would miss the conversations. 

I put down all kinds of documents in front of the passport control police, including the document proving that I worked for daily Hürriyet. Then we had this dialogue:

“What are you giving me these for?”

“Why aren’t you taking them, isn’t it obligatory?”

“Why, are you a dangerous person?”

“What do you mean, don’t you recognize me?”

Just as we were exchanging nasty looks in a few seconds we started to hug each other and take pictures together.

This type of emotional change within 40 seconds can only take place in movies.

My dear “sister worried about the future.” Suppose you moved to Europe, won’t you miss that conversation?

The cities in Europe are small Mediterranean towns next to our cities. In the negative sense of the word. Everything is slow, monotonous. People think they will live until eternity.

Yet we know the truth, you can die any moment. There could be a coup at any moment. Everyone might have some secret identities. There could be some plots against the country. Yet those who used to dislike each other until yesterday can end up holding hands. Our philosophy as a nation that has seen practically almost everything is more practical.

Hope for the best, stand ready for the worst.

Think of a country where, in the course of one week, there is not one single breaking news story. They are still talking about the Nice attack. For us the attack at Atatürk Airport is already history, as if it happened 20 years ago.

We need to look at it from the good side. Stress and tension keeps one alive, young and dynamic.

Journalists in Europe are not earning their salaries. No bombs are exploding. There is no threat to their lives.

A bear that escaped from a zoo was found in a summerhouse. That’s what you hear on the news over and over.

Compared to Turkish journalists’ performance, that of the Europeans is like a part-time job.

Every Turk is born a soldier. Now we have to say “every Turk is born a soldier and becomes an expert of military strategy.” Can an ordinary European citizen know where the military bases are located in the city? Can they know how long it takes for an F16 pilot’s training? They are all ignorant, those Europeans!

And then there is also the saying “strong as a Turk.” We thought that was about physical strength. Apparently that meant psychological endurance. The cliché “what does not kill you makes you stronger” is true. Look at Turks, rallies, beach parties, promenades. 

At any rate if you think of moving to Europe after not being able to bear the tension of these last few weeks, don’t worry about a residence or work permit or finding a house, you can handle them all. But you will cut yourself in two weeks’ time out of boredom.