Two Countries, One Summer, Too Much Luggage

After seven weeks of not exercising at all,  I am trying to get back into the rhythm of things. I call this picture The Routines I Missed and the Dirt on the Mirror.

Yesterday (08/21/26), we held our annual all-day department meeting, a tradition that takes place each year before classes begin. We gathered around 8:30 a.m. and were welcomed with a light breakfast provided by our generous department. Throughout the morning, our department head briefed us on updates, plans, and ongoing matters within the department. At lunchtime, we enjoyed a wonderful meal thoughtfully organized by our amazing Deborah. In the afternoon, we came back together to collaborate on upcoming initiatives related to UTC’s 2025–2030 Strategic Plan.

That means summer 2026 has officially come to an end, and I should probably write about it now—before the semester starts and I vanish once again into the familiar black hole of academic chaos.

This was my second summer since I started working at UTC, and unlike my first one, my summer break began a little later. In May, I attended a summer school on inverse problems in Ypsilanti, Michigan, followed by a workshop in New Orleans in mid-June for my CURM minigrant.

My beautiful CURM cohort—the people with whom I spent three amazing, unforgettable days in New Orleans.

On June 19, I began my journey to Mersin with a four-leg itinerary: New Orleans to New York, New York to Amsterdam, Amsterdam to Istanbul, and finally Istanbul to Mersin. This particular form of travel torture was necessary for my wallet. Turkish Airlines has been getting increasingly creative with both ticket prices and shrinking baggage allowances. Soon enough, I fully expect that international passengers will be asked for more and more money while being allowed to bring only one personal item, so the airline can keep finding ways to fund the remarkably generous fees and honoraria paid to its corporate directors and executives. (Sorry—my Turkish political commentary seems to have slipped into the luggage allowance.)

I set a timer—because after that many airports, flights, layovers, and moments of questioning my life choices, I needed evidence.

The next ten days were spent making the rounds of my annual doctor appointments: first, my dermatologist—priority number one—followed by my endocrinologist whom I see each year to monitor my thyroid levels (because my mother has thyroid disease.) Then an immunologist for an antibody titer test, one of the necessary steps in preparing for the medical examination required for my green card application. Finally, an ophthalmologist, who had the honor of informing me that I now need reading glasses (farsighted now, with a +1.25 prescription); otherwise, the words on the page dissolve into a charmingly abstract blur.

To preserve whatever beauty my genes have graciously provided, I entrust myself to the care of my beautiful Turkish dermatologist and her equally beautiful staff—as the photo clearly proves.

After that, my parents and I went to our summer house in Anamur.

One of my favorite driving routes: 214 kilometers (~132 miles) along the Mediterranean, where the mountains meet the sea in ways that make the long drive feel entirely worth it.

This time I stayed only fifteen days in Anamur, partly because my third-floor room seemed physically incapable of cooling down—even with the air conditioner working overtime. I was also beginning to tire of the repetitive summer routine: wake up, swim, eat extensively, sleep, repeat. And, of course, I wanted to spend time with my friends in the city center. So I did not stay for too long this year, but I recorded a video to remember what my day-to-day life at our summer house looked like.

https://youtube.com/shorts/YGD0sf3tCgE?si=ie06rvZUEW_d15mT

A simple trip to the beach comes with its own little nature documentary. cats and roosters along the road, olive trees, the Mediterranean and its seagulls, and finally oranges picked straight from the tree.

When I returned to the city center, I still had about twenty days before my flight back to Atlanta. I spent almost every day catching up with a different friend; on the rare days I was not out with someone, I stayed home under the blessed cool air of an air conditioner in every room, worked on research papers and grant proposals, read books—my favorite was Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan—and watched Six Feet Under on HBO Max.

People who make every return home and every visit feel as though no time has passed at all.

Before starting the journey back to the United States, I had to make sure everything fit into my suitcase—or, more accurately, that more than everything fit into it. It ended up weighing 32 kilograms (70 pounds). 

My packing strategy included socks tucked into coffee mugs to save space, along with the New Year’s decorations my mom had bought for my Chattanooga apartment last winter. Nothing says “efficient international packing” quite like using a coffee mug as a sock container while somehow still transporting holiday décor in the middle of summer.

On the way back, I flew with Lufthansa—again, not Turkish Airlines—from Mersin to Istanbul, Istanbul to Frankfurt, and Frankfurt to Atlanta. I loved the experience enough that Lufthansa may have permanently earned my loyalty. After all those flights, I was finally back home, a place I had missed more than I expected. Up until this trip from Turkey back to the United States, I often felt as though I had one foot in two different doorways but belonged fully in neither room. Lately, though, I think I have come to like this dual life between the two. I love both countries in different ways, and I know that having two places in the world that feel like home is a privilege. I feel genuinely fortunate to have built a life that allows me to pursue it.

https://youtube.com/shorts/acpnpqQ1d48?si=jcHeocMWdbXDDFKC

A few small moments from my time in Mersin: good food, long conversations, and plenty of laughter.

Stay tuned and to be continued.

August 2026, Chattanooga.