Month: January 2023

5 weeks, one beach part 2/4: Goodbye drone, goodbye deluge, and will I ever see Artha again? (December 2022)

When I first arrived at the magnificent beach on the Marmaris peninsula, surrounded by nature, I immediately knew it would be my home for a long time. Usually, when I fall in love with a place like this, I stay for one or two weeks, but at this beach, I ended up staying for five weeks. And during the last two weeks, as sometimes happens in life, everything came together and I had a lot to let go of.

After I left Bulgaria, Artha and I remained in close contact. This was different from being together in the same place, but I was fine with it. Even though our connection had changed, I still loved her in many profound ways. I thought about her, us, the time we had spent together, and how we had been together. Part of me craved the continuation of our romantic love, the feeling of being whole again, the deep love, warmth, and connection in all its glory. Another part of me tried to downplay the importance of this “glory of romantic love”. Over the weeks after I had left Bulgaria, I realized how much my romantic ego had influenced me when Artha and I were together in the same place. It felt like I had used her for my own happiness. I didn’t feel regret or guilt, but from a distance, I could see it clearly. And I felt that I wanted to maintain this level of awareness about that.

When Artha and I had seen each other for the last time in Bulgaria, we both had felt and said that we would love to see each other again after her training. But even though I still believe we had meant it at that time, I had the feeling that although we loved each other, we might not meet after her training. Shortly after I arrived at the nice beach in Turkey, Artha finished her yoga teacher training. She told me that she would be going to an ashram in Germany for an undefined period of time as soon as possible. She would stay for a month, or maybe longer than three months. Part of me felt like it had always known that we wouldn’t see each other after her training. I guessed this was a self-protection mechanism, something like keeping expectations low to avoid disappointment if they weren’t met. I would have loved to see and feel her again, but I didn’t feel angry, mad, or sad. I felt okay with how it was. Like back in Varna, I deeply felt what motivated her to go to the ashram, with all my heart and love. I felt reminded of myself when I had left Germany despite the deep love and connection to Cori. And I felt like something was pulling me to stay on the journey I was on and the life I was living. I did not know if I would have returned to Bulgaria if Artha had said she wanted to stay there. A part of me thought about what the next change in the romantic relationship between Artha and I would be, but for the moment, I managed to let go of meeting Artha soon.

Shortly after I arrived at that beautiful beach, my perspective on making music changed. Until a few months ago, I only sporadically produced songs that I would enjoy listening to after some time had passed since their creation. But that changed, and I increasingly loved a lot of the music I made, regardless of how much time had passed since I created it. It felt like I had found the kind of music I wanted to make. And making that music felt mostly easy and smooth. A couple of weeks ago, I had started delving deep into music production courses. I had learned a lot from free YouTube videos and articles before, but now I was working through long courses for hours a day. Furthermore, I thought it would be helpful to become clear about what my music was. I defined my main genre, style and characteristics. In short, the feeling that I had found the type of music I wanted to make, let me feel confident and good about having a structured approach to my music making. I wanted to try making it competitive and thought that this would maybe allow me to earn money from it at some point. But one day right after I finished a song that I felt was my favorite of all time, my whole perspective on making music switched. I felt like now that I had done this song, that I loved so much, I would not be able to make another song that I would love as much as this song. And at the same time, I felt like my creative freedom was gone. Like I was trapped in a cage. I no longer enjoyed making music, and when I tried, I felt that there was nothing inside me that could possibly become music, and it felt impossible to get really into it. It was no longer fun for me. I felt like I couldn’t let go of my anxiety about failing and not living up to my own expectations for my next song. This realization led me to quickly decide to take a break from making music until I could regain a positive and enjoyable feeling about it.

When I had been in Istanbul I had decided to sell my FPV drone. I had stopped using it for months and no longer felt connected to it. Neither the flying, capturing, nor the editing appealed to me anymore. I knew I wouldn’t get a good deal for it, but I didn’t want to carry around something I wasn’t using. All the stuff that I was not using added up to something that felt heavy. While I was at the beach, a nice guy contacted me about buying my drone. We had a nice conversation via text messages and I had a good feeling about the deal. Since he lived far away from my home beach, I proposed that he would pay half the money in advance and the other half after the drone would have arrived. Two Turkish guys I talked to about the deal thought I couldn’t do it that way and said I shouldn’t trust Turkish guys when it comes to money because they would always take advantage if they could. I understood what they were saying but it still felt unfair to me. They didn’t even have a single contact with the buyer. I still had a good feeling about him and even though we had difficulties with transferring the money, he paid everything as we had agreed. So, I let go of my drone.

At the same time, I was also selling my Deluge (a hardware groovebox, sequencer, and synthesizer) that I had once loved to use. However, at some point back in Bulgaria, I had noticed that I had stopped using it. Like with the drone, it didn’t feel good to keep the Deluge when I wasn’t using it anymore. Back in Bulgaria, I had given it to my friend Michele who took it with him to Germany. A nice guy bought it online and picked it up from Michele’s place. And with that, I let go of my Deluge.

To be continued…

5 weeks, one beach part 1/4: I’d like to be a tea monk, brothers, Babas and two guns

The places I had found on the Marmaris peninsula were great, but the next beach I found was truly incredible. After reaching the end of the peninsula, I drove east and checked out several places along the way. I passed through mountains, down into coves, up mountains again, down to the next cove, and along the coastline, but none of these places felt like my new home. After a couple of hours of driving, I grew tired. I headed to the next potential home spot, and the path led me through a forest on a slightly off-road forest road. Only a few kilometers away from my destination, I had no internet connection, which was a concern because at that point I desperately wanted to continue my music production courses and stay in touch with friends. But as soon as I reached the beach, I knew immediately that this would be my home for a long time. It was amazing! Located deep in nature at the other end of the forest, without any signs of human development, and the internet connection was perfect.

I thoroughly enjoyed my time at this beach and spent it doing many things I enjoyed: making music, playing the cajon, bo staff training, hiking, writing, reading, meditating, yoga, communicating with friends online, and having tea and nuts with the people who occasionally visited this magnificent beach.

Making tea and sharing nuts, thoughts, and stories was one of my favorite things to do. During my time at that beach, I was reading the books “A Psalm For The Wild-Built” and “A Prayer For The Crown-Shy” by Becky Chambers. I loved these books (like maybe all of her books). These books feature a monk who travels around in a tea wagon. In every settlement the monk encounters, he builds a tea place and people come to have tea that he mixes individually for them based on their emotional state. If they like, they may tell him about their lives and the things that are bothering them. The monk would listen to them wholeheartedly and be there for them, but he wouldn’t give much advice. I felt like that was exactly what I would like to do. Later that day, when I came back to the beach from a hike, I heard loud emotional Turkish music. There was a Turkish guy drinking beer and listening to that music. I waved and smiled, he waved me over, gave me a beer, and told me for hours about the trouble he had with his family. All via Google Translate. Although it was beer instead of tea, for that time, I felt like a tea monk, and it felt good.

One day, I hiked along the beautiful single trail that led in both directions along the coast. After an hour, I reached the next big cove. In that one, there were two small buildings and I was curious if anyone lived there. Down at the beach, I met Masoud and we had a great connection from the start. He had come from Iran, was traveling and hiking, and had attended the Rainbow gathering, an event I had also considered attending, but I had been in Bulgaria at the time of the gathering. Now he was living with a friend in a minimalistic hut of a Turkish guy at that beach and was enjoying life. In the hut, there was a poster of Don Quixote and his horse, Rosinate, which I found to be quite funny. We had a great time talking about everything, eating, and making music. He had been playing the setar since he was a little boy, and his playing was beautiful. I recorded some of it. Maybe I can put the recordings into an organic house song at some point. We also talked about how we could stay longer in Turkey than the 90 days we were allowed to. I had researched and had found that for a longer stay, one would need a Turkish address.

On another day, I met his friend Ali and we connected instantly as well. Every week, I would get new supplies from Datca, the next town, and sometimes I brought some things for my Iranian brothers as well. We had a lot of fun, deep conversations and one time when the Turkish owner of the hut was around, we helped collect olives. I love my Iranian brothers, and I hope to meet them again somewhere in the future. Perhaps in Iran at some point.

On another day, a group of about twenty hikers arrived at my home beach. I was relaxing and reading on the beach when one of them approached me and Rosinante. It turned out that he was German and Turkish and had recently moved to Datca, the nearest town to the beach. We talked about the beauty of Turkey and the beach where we were. I told him that I really enjoyed Turkey and would love to stay longer than the ninety days that I am allowed to. Without hesitation, he offered that I might use his address for my temporary residency (aka Ikamet) application. We went to his hiking group and talked to some other guys who were experienced with the process of obtaining a temporary residency in Turkey. They gave us a contact to another woman who was helping foreigners with the process of applying for an Ikamet. With the guys from the hiking group, we had a beautiful conversation about traveling, life, reality, Zen, yoga, and love.

When I went to Datca to get some supplies, I met with Vedat and the super friendly and helpful woman who was helping people to get an Ikamet. More on that topic in another post.

Vedat and I met every week in Datca and had a wonderful time together. We talked about everything, relaxed, had walks around Datca, and always had lunch at Baba Restaurant (find Baba Lokantası on Google Maps). I loved Baba! The food there was so authentic and delicious. Although I very rarely eat meat, I had Köfte! And the prices were incredibly cheap. For a big lunch for two people including deserts and unlimited bread and water we paid about six Euros. And visiting Baba reminded me of my favorite lunch restaurant back in Hamburg: Kardelen (find it on Google Maps)! I really enjoyed the time with Vedat, and after a few weeks, it felt a bit like home to come to Datca. When walking around in Datca, I also met other people that I had gotten to know on my home beach, and that made me feel connected to this place as well.

One evening, after sunset, I saw two dark objects swimming in the ocean, and after some time, the objects made it to the beach. They were two divers who had been hunting for fish. While having some tea and nuts together, we suddenly noticed a swordfish swimming not far away from the beach in the strong light of the moon. It was a magical sight, like a creature from a fairy tale. Although the divers had been in the water for already five hours, they headed back again for some night hunting.

On several occasions, I was visited by the forest department and military police. It was an interesting experience. I had a conversation with the forest department about the beach and the plans that some investors had for it. They wanted to build a hotel complex on it. The guys from the forest department were not happy about that and were trying to prevent these plans from happening.

The military police were searching for illegal immigrants that might have come via the surrounding Greek islands to Turkey. They always asked me if I had seen anyone. I had not, but I was thinking about what I would tell them if I had. When I told the captain of the police about the investor’s plans for the beach, he seemed not to be amused: he drew his gun, pointed at the ocean, and pretended to shoot. 

To be continued…