So it’s been over a week since I returned to the UK and slowly I’m trying to adjust to the differences of my English life.
It feels almost dream-like that I once woke up every morning to the wonders of Marmaris and all it had to offer. The Bullring is a strong contrast to the Grand Bazaar; I’m sleeping with a heavy duvet instead of a thin bed sheet and the grey pavements are a dull sight compared to the sunny marina.
For all those people who have been travelling or lived abroad for a period of time I’m sure you can sympathise with me.
I miss it.
I even crave pasta after swearing to myself that I’d never eat it again after living on it every night for two months straight.
People speak my language. How strange is that? I no longer have to act out what I’m…
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