It didn’t make sense. I turned to Kate, our group leader, with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. 

“What’s going on?” 

I don’t know why I thought she would have the answers, when the pilots couldn’t even give us a concrete answer. But I was nineteen and she had been the person I had become closest to in my nine months on planes, trains and automobiles. She was my honorary big sister and if she didn’t have the answers, I could officially panic.

“I’m not sure.” She said turning to Dima, who was equally confused. 

There were six of us on this outreach mission. Three of us American, one Hungarian, and two Ukrainians. We had spent a few months in Ukraine, a month or so in Serbia and had ended our mission work in Albania. Needless to say, we were completely exhausted and very excited to be back in Ukraine (my final stepping stone before crossing the pond to home again).

However, it seemed as though a few more leaps and jumps where in order before I could actually go home. 

As I pressed my head against the cold plane window, I took one last look at the screen overhead. The screen that showed the plane’s path from Istanbul to Kharkiv looked like a two-year-olds doodles. A somewhat crooked path there and five minutes before the plane was to land, a large yellow bend confirmed that we were in fact, heading back to Turkey. (Turkey had been the connecting flight from Albania to Ukraine).

The employees at the Turkish airport explained that the plane had not been able to land because of the immense amount of fog. However, there was also a lot of unrest happening in Ukraine. In short, Russia decided that they would like a territory called Crimea back. Between that and the Ukrainian people fighting about whether or not they should be part of the E.U., things had gotten worse in the few months we had been in Serbia and Albania. So although a lot of fog seems like a good reason not to land a plane. We had a feeling that might not have been the only reason we were now stranded in Istanbul. 

Instead of keeping us at the airport until we could find another flight out, we were shuttled, with the rest of the passengers on our flight, to a hotel somewhere in Turkey. Now, I don’t sleep well on planes, and I had been up for well past 24 hours straight at this point, so I don’t quite remember what time it was or even much of the journey to the hotel. What I do remember is waking up to find a stretch of dusty land dotted with what I can only assume were factories. I had expected to wake up to a thriving city and the sea of Marmara. I understand now that the city is about an hour away from the airport and taking a bunch of random passengers into the city is highly unlikely. But I didn’t know very much about Turkey, or its culture or its geography. (I honestly still don’t). All I know is waking up surrounded by dust and factories in a country where you don’t speak the language, surrounded by people you don’t really know is a great way to get taken. Someone call Liam Nissen! 

So, as we ate breakfast, someone from the hotel comes into the dinning room and explains that they and the airport are working as hard as they can to find us a plane out. And then he leaves. That was it. No more information no extra details. Just six of us stuck in Turkey. For the next 24 hours we took our time talking about our recent experiences in Serbia and Albania, and just began detoxing from one culture and preparing to enter another. I want to stop here for a minute to mention how important it is to detox after spending time in one culture and entering another. Even if you are just going back home, talking to people you were with about what to expect, what you remember and what things are going to be hard for you upon re-entering another culture. Because it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but believe me, culture shock (even re-entering your own) can be scary and cause the worst anxiety. 

For us, we were given an extra day to talk to each other and go over our journals and really feel ready to re-enter Ukrainian culture. It also gave us time to talk about the unrest happening in Ukraine and how we should approach that should we come into contact with any Russians. (They weren’t so keen on Americans). It was nice to have a day…or two…or three to go over things. 

At the end of the second day, we may have started to panic a bit. At this point I was only contacting my parents and family at home every week or so. So I didn’t think it important to worry them about the fact that we were stuck in Turkey. In hindsight, maybe I should have. It’s always good to let someone know where you are…just in case. 

The morning of the third day, we were having lunch of lentil soup, which I figured out that I absolutely love, when the hotel manager came in and finally gave us the good news. Were were scheduled for a flight out that evening so we’d better go make sure all of our things were ready to go!

Overwhelmed with excitement, we bolted upstairs, took showers, folded clothes, zipped our luggage and were ready to go when the van arrived. 

This time, we made it to Ukraine, thank goodness, but when we got off the plane and headed to the train station (for the last leg of our journey from Kharkiv to Kiev), we entered a very different world from the one we had left, and no amount of detoxing could prepare me for what I saw. Men with guns, in masks walking around streets blocked with sandbags and tires. This was definitely not the Ukraine I left.