It seems that I am an expat caught between my two loves, Sydney and Mersin. I have always felt distinctly at home in Mersin but returning to Sydney, my homeland, has brought back dwindling thoughts, self doubt and mixed feelings.
I definitely loved my time in Sydney and Daughter and I hit the ground running. We found ourselves with a frantic social life during our visit and it became increasingly difficult to fit in all my friends when I had to share my precious, precious time with Daughter and all of her social activities. I swear since stepping off the plane her damn mobile did not stopped beeping, buzzing or ringing with her friends constantly arranging visits, movies, lunches, sleepovers and any other activity that you can think of. The squeals and “Oh. My. God’s” that I have had to endure has been soul numbing. I guess I don’t really notice the squeals and “Oh. My. God’s” when they are in Turkish.
Fitting everything in required precision timing. Morning, lunch and evening slots were allocated. Daughter likened this “holiday” to a business trip with us running from one meeting to another. I have missed out on catching up with a few friends that I really wanted to see and I quickly realised that 3 weeks in Sydney is just is not enough time. Friends that live on the other side of Sydney or friends that live just up the coast missed out and I feel incredibly sad. I am thinking of two of my friends in particular right now but honestly we just ran out of time. Plus I got sick. I am still sick. Damn flu. Damn sickness. Damn it!
Have I had my bacon? Yep. Practically every day. I think I have put on 4 kilos. It feels like 8 kilos. We did have a bacon situation that practically caused an international incident at a restaurant in The Rocks that caused Daughter to update her Facebook status thusly:
We have also done a few touristy things which is nice. It reminds me just how wonderful Sydney is. It reminds me just how much I miss this beautiful city.
It has been a frantic few weeks. It has been a wonderful few weeks. Early breakfasts, brunches and lunches, dinners and sleepovers. I could go on. It has been impossibly fun. I need to go home to Mersin for a holiday from our holiday.
Now our time in Sydney has just about come to an end. I am becoming increasingly forlorn and not just because I cannot fit everything into our suitcases. I just want one more lunch, one more drink, one more chorus. I am an expat torn between two loves.
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