One school of psychosocial theory claims that people have one of three primary orientations; people, places or things/ideas. Mine is place. My personal space must be ordered, comfortable and clean or I can't function properly. Sometimes the need to maintain my space becomes an obsession, overtaking the primary goal of providing comfort and becoming a goal in and of itself. And so I find it curious that once I am in motion and on the road the obsession shifts from that of needing to order space to the sheer pleasure of exploring space. And what a relief that is! No fussing over pillows that are not angled properly in sofa corners, or spoons misaligned in the drawer. No need to shuffle through closets making sure that clothes are hung in batches organized by sleeve length and color scheme. Traveling releases me from this self-created prison and opens me up to the thrill of discovering place as created and designed by my global brethren. Coming round a corner and seeing purple Bougainville draped over the terrace of a white washed villa balcony is pure pleasure, and also frees me from the need to trim any spent blossoms. Travel is a voyeuristic hobby, peeking into the lives of people who are at once the same and different, and exploring how place has influenced every aspect of their lives. It opens you up to new color schemes, inspired building shapes and new patterns. There is the thrill of discovering new and often better ways of organizing and enjoying your daily life. But my penchant for neatness runs deep. And despite the beauty of Turkey and the thrill of daily discoveries, I am beginning to feel compelled to straighten her pillows. Modern Turkey is infected by rampant consumerism. Malls draw huge crowds day and night and through the week. The aisles of village bizarres are packed with throngs of impatient bargain hunters clawing through piles of discounted merchandise. Vacation villas and high rise apartment buildings in various stages of construction litter the landscape. The new aesthetic is modern and very much in line with western design...but somehow, in most instances, everything looks unfinished. It is an aesthetic that fails to accommodate for landscaped yards and where roadsides edges fall off into rivulets of eroded soil and spent grass. Homes and buildings are poised awkwardly on a hillside as if someone scattered seeds and waited to see where they might sprout. This ragtag assembly of beautiful spaces and places lacks crispness. There are no boundaries, other than the hard edges of rocks and concrete buildings. It as if no one learned to color in the lines; which would be fine if the edges blurred into a Monet like landscape, where curves and colors and natural shapes led one from one space to the next. But green space is also at a premium here. Manicured yards, edges curbside grass plots, buildings laid out in well designed grids, where doorways and garage entrances are on a plumb line...these are the missing ingredients in the Turkish scenery. I am not sure whether I am more bothered by an aesthetic that falls short of my standard or by my own need to judge it