(These words will take a while to come but I thought that I should post something to let people know I was back)

It was a very different feeling when I landed this time in Tel Aviv. I experienced separate waves of emotions, rolling smoothly and crashing around me from the airport back to the familiar halls of the Ibdaa cultural center. At the center of these emotions are two very undeniable feelings, the crushing dread and fear of going back into this uncertain world that overwhelms my soul along with the relief and joy that settled around my heart of coming home to the family here at Ibdaa.

My week in Turkey was a dichotomy of conflicting words; both wonderful and confusing, a time of just letting my mind go and thought provoking at the same time. Leaving the Tel Aviv airport was no picnic. After several rounds of questioning that primarily focused on what I had been doing for 3 months in Israel and why I had so little luggage I finally made it through to the gate only to find out that my flight was delayed over 4 hours. When I landed in Istanbul a sigh of relief washed over my entire body, at first I didn't realize what it was. But then it dawned on me, here I would go through no demoralizing checkpoints, here I was free to move...

Over the course of the next 8 days we took in the beautiful sights of as much of Turkey as we possibly could. Not just the sights though, I noticed that my other senses were heightened as well, that this freedom extended to everything. The sounds were the most amazing. We happened upon a Turkish youth protest of the war in Iraq on the first afternoon and listened to 150 voices proudly sing the Turkish national anthem in a square of Istanbul. I listened from our balcony at the Hotel Fetah in Patara down on the Mediterranean coast as the wind brushed through the palm leaves of the tree right outside our window, a gentle vibrating rush in the peaceful silence of the sleepy town. But the sound that I will remember most is that of the water washing over the rocks on the beach in Olympos. Sitting on the tiny rock overlook formed by the moving waves, under a coastline that included the rocky ruins of a ancient castle and staring down as the water continually moved up the beach, her massive grasp lapping out over the rocks and then fading back again, time after time, rubbing her fingers through the cracks between the slippery stones and causing a calm smooth rippling tinkle sound that lasted for a few seconds in the ears but stayed in my mind for the whole trip.

We flew into the port town of Antalya on the Mediterranean Sea and spent a few days there in the quiet Old City of Kaleci. Navigated the hective modern city with over 600,000 people to the bus stop on the edge of town and found our way to the much more rustic bungalow's in Olympos. From our lodging in Olympos we could walk to the beach through the ruins that give the town its name, thousands of years old and cradled away mostly in the jungle. It's like entering a different time and age to walk in their midst. We rented a car and found out that American complaints about gas prices are really unsubstantiated since I believe we paid about $10 for a gallon. Well worth it though as we felt a huge sense of freedom to be able to determine our own schedule and fly down the coast, bending with each curve of the road. We drank fresh squeezed orange juice in a tiny restaurant on the side of the road in Finike, we explored the breathtaking ruins of Myra cut into the side of a mountain and epitomized by the huge theatre, we found a road out onto a peninsula from the city of Kas, we ate lunch in the touristy town of Kekova just out of site of the sunken city, we walked on the white beach in Patara where sea turtles nest and just out of site of another set of ancient ruins, we just let the road take us and soaked in the beauty of the coast.

Turkey is expensive, I didn't expect that. I thought a lot more about privilege on the trip. I had to make the trip to try and renew my tourist visa so the expenses were partially necessary. But again, I have this privilege to travel and, even though I rely heavily on student loans and a few credit cards to fund my life right now since I have chosen to volunteer my time in Palestine, I still can move much more freely than my friends here. But the real thought that came up about privilege revolved around its use. While we may have the privilege, its how we choose to invoke it and when we choose to not invoke it that really determines its place in our lives. But again, some people have the privilege of making that choice. Simply, "Just because we have the privilege to do something doesn't mean we have to use it." While its hard and sometimes a little mentally taxing to always have the financial burdens of my chosen lifestyle and profession (which does not pay very well,) this "vacation" was necessary to get a little perspective.

No matter how free I felt on the roads, in the water, everywhere in Turkey I couldn't escape the occupation fully. I felt hesitant to record anything more than what we did each day in my journal. My fear that any words I put on paper might be read while passing through security on my way back to Palestine and cause problems. Then as I sat in a little rooftop terrace café for breakfast on my last day and planned out the lies I would tell going through security in Israel so they would let me back in the country, I came up with my own version of the question "Why?" which I wrote about from a Palestinian youths perspective in my earlier blog. Why do I have to lie, why do I have to tell security I will not visit the West Bank, why is the easiest answer to the question of what I am coming to Israel for that I am a Christian on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, why is it so wrong to tell them that I am coming to visit my friends, to work in a refugee camp...Why? I hate having to lie but if I don't, they may deport me, they may not let me back in, they might tear apart my life and find out every little thing about me, they might ban me from ever returning.

And so, when I finally landed in Tel Aviv after one interrogation in Turkey before even checking in for my flight and after two interrogations in Tel Aviv then a long traffic delayed journey back to Dheisheh I can honestly say my heart leapt a beat and a tear came to my eye as I walked in the door at Ibdaa. It's all still so hard to explain.

This is just the beginning of my words, thoughts and reflections from Turkey.