There is of course a lot to say and tell about how a Romanian and a Turk came to meet and like each other in Germany, a country far from home for both of them, regarding the fact that we didn’t even live in the same city. And because the story is painfully long and full of details, we will keep it very short in here, we will stick to the gist, and we promise to all of you, who have the interest and the time to listen, to tell the whole saga of our coming together another time, in private.
It happened to be February, 2008, Rosenmontag or Carnival Monday, as some of you know, big deal event for this in the West situated, deeply Catholic region of Germany. And because it involves getting costumed and dressed up in funny clothes and gathering lots of candy, which are thrown down upon the crowd from the wagons in the Rosenmontag-parade, I happened to be there myself, in Aachen. And in the evening after the whole crowd clears the streets, like everybody else here, Murat and I, were each enjoying the evening in the bosom of our own circle friends in a local café-house. It happened to be the same café place. And as the story goes, one friendly look and one piece of cherry-cream-cake (which was meant to be shared by five other people) that is all it took. And it was enough to get our hearts hooked up or to put it in a nutshell: love at first sight. That was easy, you might say now, things were not as simple as you assume though.
It took a fairly long time, more or less 4.5 months, and lots of trips in between (to Frankfurt, to Aachen, me going to Romania, Murat to Turkey, and back of course, etc.) until we talked openly about the matters of the heart, confessing to each other our feelings, until we gave in and agreed that, although we know each other so little and we communicate in English, a language which is not native language to either of us, we are fit for each other. One thing you must know though, it was a very romantic, puzzling, mindboggling, beautiful time, a time which passed with the speed of light, straining us both with a lot of heavy heartbeats, butterflies in our stomachs, sleepless nights and all those kitschy “I’m-feeling-freshly-in-love”-feelings, which make people who are not in love but who observe freshly in love couples, utter something like: “Yew, they make me wanna puke”.
I will divulge now one of the highlights of our “meeting-period”, a first sign you might say that Murat and I are meant to be together. On my birthday in May he gave me a bindal (in free translation: a thousand branches). This is a traditional Turkish dress for brides to be, the bride wears it traditionally the night before the wedding, on her bachelorette’s/henna night. It is an exquisite gold-yarn embroidered dress of red and white organza, and it suited me perfectly, it was as if someone had tailored it just for me, for my size – the noticeable fact is that Murat simply guessed my size, when purchasing it, he neither knew my exact weight, nor my exact height, he just chose it and knew, that it will fit me. And it did!
July 2008 we moved in together, suddenly, unexpectedly, concerns and doubts put aside, against all prejudices and all bad odds, which might had have come, simply in love with one another, with no other expectations than the one of being together and sharing a little bit more time together - it turned out to be the best choice possible that we made until then.
And now to all of you who experience something alike, we can only say: go with it, you will find out in the end, whether it’s meant to be or not, anyways.
