Returning Home, Forgetting the Past

I am a Turkish migrant who lives in Germany over 10 years already. Time is flying. i came to Germany when i was 24 years old. Most of my 20s was here.

It is hard to consider for me where is home because I am far from my past, not so strongly connected. The reason I came here was the that i feel better here, I knew it I would feel better. Work ethics, mobility, some european values were more closer to me than my default settings.

Every time I visit home in Turkey, it feels as though my past gets erased. It’s like my memories fade. The things I’ve lived through belong to some ancient story, distant and unreachable.

I used to think this feeling came from needing time to read just to where I was. I felt it when I left my hometown at 18 to study in Istanbul, and again during each visit home. I felt it more strongly when I left Turkey entirely at 24. But recently, I’ve come to realize that the real reason is something else: a loss of physical memory.

Because in other places I’ve lived for example Poland, I don’t feel this way at all. On the contrary, every corner is packed with memories. I walk the streets and the past rises to meet me.

But Turkey changes. The cities, the streets, the neighborhoods, the shops, the people. Sometimes familiar faces seem to be living entirely different lives. Other times, the faces themselves have changed beyond recognition. In short, everything I once used as a reference—everything that anchored my memories—is disappearing, one piece at a time.

Maybe it’s intentional. Maybe it’s the result of policy, planning, or a desire to erase and rebuild. Or perhaps it stems from a cultural misunderstanding of modernization—mistaking disconnection from the past as progress. Maybe it’s simply the ancient Anatolian habit of destroying and rebuilding over and over again. I don’t know…

The places I played as a child are not the same. The school I went to has changed. The spots I hung out with friends have also changed. Even the familiar stores on the street are different. And we don’t even need to go back 20 or 25 years. Even compared to just a decade ago, everything feels different now.

Strangely enough, the places I’ve lived abroad haven’t changed nearly as much. The streets, the buildings, the general atmosphere stay mostly the same. I can close my eyes and still find my way around.

This isn’t just about personal nostalgia. When I think about our shared culture and history, I see the same pattern. People’s habits are changing, their attitudes toward one another, their perspectives on history, their lifestyles. I believe all of this is connected. We lose the traces of the past. We cling to what’s left. Everything else quietly becomes part of a new narrative. We adapt quickly, accept the change, and let go of the past too easily.