About

          I’m not entirely sure when my obsession with Scotland began. I think it all started with my -now ex-boyfriend, who was (or is, assuming he’s still alive) of Scottish descent. Of course, that’s hardly unique -half the Western world can probably claim the same- but at the time, I thought it was reason enough for us to visit Scotland together. After that, we were planning to visit Türkiye, my country of origin.

          We had a great time in Scotland, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were just rushing through and merely consuming the country. One thing I knew for sure: I had to go back. And so I did. Many times. 

          The friend, bless his heart, was (or is; sorry mate) the quintessential Australian: mountain biking and climbing, diving, surfing, you name it, he’d done it.

          I, on the other hand, was a city girl. To me, the Great Outdoors meant a stroll in the park of one of the most crowded cities in one of the most densely populated countries in the world, which also happens to be pancake flat, The Netherlands, my home.

          The only kind of road-tripping I’d ever done was our family trips to Türkiye, crammed into a car packed with gifts, tea, wooden tulips, cheese, with curtains my mom had sewn for the windows because we’d sleep in the car as well as there wasn’t much lodging.

          We’d drive from the Netherlands all the way to Türkiye, and I loved it. The rest stops, the shifting landscapes, from the flatlands of the Netherlands through Germany, the mountains of Austria, then Yugoslavia, where things took on a more worn down, communist-era feel, and finally Bulgaria, a country that didn’t exactly have warm ties with Türkiye back then. And while sharing the backseat with my younger siblings had its challenges, I absolutely adored the changing landscape and the feeling of freedom of those journeys. 

          Now, there’s something you should know about Turkish people and the Great Outdoors: we don’t show our appreciation for nature by hiking or camping and look at it in awe in quiet contemplation. Instead, we haul food as if preparing for the apocalypse, spread out our picnic blankets, bring pots, pans, and, of course, tea. We sit in nature, we climb the trees, make rope swings, pick from it, write poems and songs about a long lost love and if we feel really euphoric we sing, dance and play ball games while the sun goes down. If a place becomes popular, we build a road, an ice cream stand and a döner shop right in the middle of it. That’s usually the sign it’s time to find somewhere else if you’re looking for a peaceful retreat.

          I was born in Ankara, Türkiye and my grandparents took care of me till the age of five while my parents lived in The Netherlands. I absolutely adore both my grandparents but I believe I took more after my grandfather, or Dede, as we call grandfathers in Turkish. 

          My Dede loved to bike, kayak, tai-chi, judo, yoga and…mountains. Whenever he would feel down he’d say “I wish I could go to the mountains”. He absolutely loved the fact I could bike and swim so well and urged me to practice some kind of martial arts. 

         Long before I could even speak a word, my Dede saw the things that would put a spark in my heart and brain. It’s my wonderfully weird Dede who made me realise I love Scotland so much by motivating me to be free and somewhat wild. The seed which was already in me was recognised by my Dede and nurtured by Scotland, if I may be a bit lyrical. I feel like my truest self in Scotland, wet, cold and exhausted at times but never miserable. 

          I still believe that my Dede is the person who knew me the best and mirrored my best and genuine parts to me as well. So it is to him and his memory that I dedicate this website to. Slàinte Dede!