First snowy day and a tribute to dad

We finally have our first snow falling in Istanbul today. Snow still brings that childlike excitement bubbling up in me, as I'm sure most people who grew up in SoCal can relate to. I stick my tongue out to catch some flakes and wish for those rare snow days in my childhood, when we were all released from school to frolic in the white stuff.

Today is the 19th anniversary of my father's death. It seems so strange to think that I've lived more years without him than with him. While he was living, my father was my family ally. We understood each other and had the unvoiced labels of strong and silent. Though he died when I was only 11, he still had a major imprint on who I am today.

When I was in my late teens, my mom found a travel journal of his and gave it to me. In reading through it, I discovered how much my father had loved traveling when he was younger and that we had taken road trips to many of the same places. It was surreal to read of his lightheadedness in the high elevations of Utah mountains in the exact area where I had spent my last summer working for the forest service and exploring the wilderness. Much of his earlier life was a mystery to me. He had had another wife before my mom who died of cancer when she was young. This must have been devastating for him, but that kind of thing hadn't crossed my mind when I was younger and there are so many questions I wish I had asked.

Thanks dad for teaching me to be strong, to stand up for myself and my rights, to not complain about the small things that don't really matter, to be decisive, to take the initiative while everyone else is standing around, to not worry so much about what others' think about me, to save money for a rainy day (which came in especially handy in '07), to find my own beliefs, to travel, live free and love deeply.

Missing someone you've lost, especially a parent, never ends. On special days, you can't help but wish that your loved one could be there with you. I wonder if my dad would've gotten up and danced at my Turkish wedding as he wasn't much of a dancer, if he would've like Evren, if he would be unhappy with our decision to live in Turkey. . .

Are you a snow eater too?

Last winter on Mt. Uludağ, Bursa

The yellow leaves on the tree outside look as if they're shivering in the Istanbul breeze. It's pretty chilly out today and some are saying that we might receive our first snow this week. I hope so, because while I'm not the biggest fan of winter, I do like snow. It seems to renew everything; the whole city looks like a different place under a blanket of white -- a cleaner, fresher place.

I suppose my fascination with snow began as a child in Southern California. Because we had snow so rarely, it became a truly momentous event when it fell. We would be released from school even if we got just a few inches. Snowmen, snow forts, snow wars -- we couldn't get enough. If we were lucky my parents or a friend's would pack us all into the car and drive us up into the San Jacinto or San Bernardino mountains so we could go careening down the slopes on large plastic discs or any other object we could find that could send us hurtling down them.

I also have a rather bizarre affinity for eating snow, which also started in childhood. My parents would usually let me indulge myself back then, only warning me to look for the cleanest patches. They probably thought I would grow out of it, but no, still enjoy it till this day. Last time I was out hiking in the Sierra Nevada, I grabbed chunks of the fluffy whiteness and downed them with great glee (taking care to avoid the notorious brain freeze). You can be sure I'll be doing the same on the slopes of Uludağ this winter.