We had found a lovely place on the compound in Zeytinala, a village near Izmir. Life there offered a special combination of calm and a small community. Everything was new and different. One thing stood out immediately: the traffic.
Turkish traffic: a culture shock
Compared with the Netherlands, traffic in Turkey felt like complete chaos. Where we were used to orderly roads and clear rules, there seemed to be far more freedom on the road.
Mopeds travelled on motorways, pick-up trucks carried people in the back and horse-drawn carts were sometimes piled high with cardboard and paper. There were also vehicles you would be unlikely to see on Dutch roads. Every trip outside the compound felt like a small adventure.
Should we buy a car?
Having our own car seemed useful, but we hesitated. We waited for about two months. This was not only because of the unfamiliar traffic, but also because of my own situation.
My leg was still thirty per cent paralysed. I did not know whether I had enough confidence to drive in this environment. After two months, we took the leap. There it was: a beautiful white Suzuki Vitara.
My new companion
It took some getting used to, but I soon felt comfortable behind the wheel. The Vitara was wonderful to drive. Our faithful dog Duizel loved it too. He had his own place in the boot and joined me on many journeys.
Eventually I drove many kilometres, discovered new places and came to know a different side of Turkey.
Rediscovering freedom and confidence
Finding my way through Turkish traffic was an adventure. The Suzuki became more than a car. It symbolised our adaptation to a new life and the confidence I rediscovered in my ability to drive.
With Duizel in the back and the Turkish landscape ahead, I felt increasingly at home. Every kilometre brought a sense of freedom and connection with our surroundings.