Once upon some time ago I moved my suitcase and my life to Istanbul. I went there for work (fashion modeling) and to be honest, I wasn't excited about it. After a recent not-so-brilliant work trip to another city in crisis I was actually very hesitant and tired of what might be classified as the more unknown fashion cities. Yet I went, it was just three weeks anyway. 

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The first thing I get to do upon arrival is going to the apartment where I'll be staying for the upcoming weeks. A rather big place with two big bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room and a kitchen. With ten beds, one toilet consisting of a hole in the ground (yes, literally), one non-working shower, and the whole place is disgustingly dirty. With the residue of smoke hanging in the air since the majority of my new roommates seems to be smokers doing their chemical coal glow business inside in the kitchen. There's WiFi but it only works for a maximum of two users online at once. 

Our apartment is only a couple of hundred meters from a gym. My agency got a deal with them so we're allowed to go for free. They have all the gym equipment I need, and a swimming pool, and a sauna. I spend a lot of my spare time here and don't ever even need the broken shower in the apartment. As close from the apartment is a life-saving Starbucks which is the only coffee place here with soy milk for daily cappuccinos, and WiFi that works good enough for a social media update with the world outside my Istanbul bubble. 

The first week I'm working almost every day, shooting for magazines with high-end names such as Harpers bazaar, ELLE, L'Officiell and the like. My first day I spend shooting an editorial and they can't decide about my hair, so they style it and change it and change it again. From Afro curly to Hollywood locks to dead straight to a ponytail. I’m sure my hair is very thankful for the treatment and we don't start shooting until eight o'clock in the evening. 

My roommates tell me stories about how scary our booker at the agency is, scolding a girl to tears because she asked how much she would be paid for a job. I brace myself and decide that maybe this is why I'm here; I have to learn to deal with shit like that and stand up for myself. I'm working to make a living and it's not more than fair to know my salary. So the next time I talk to my booker I ask about my earnings so far. There's no problem whatsoever and she doesn't yell at me for asking. So maybe that isn’t why I’m here. 

After a week I kick out the smokers from the kitchen, banishing them to the living room window. I get them all to agree on cleaning up any mess and dirty dishes after themselves. It doesn't last long before some of my newly bought food is finished without me ever touching it, and when I ask no one is guilty, everyone is all of a sudden innocent and nice. I've had enough and think that maybe this is why I'm here; I have to learn to deal with shit like this and roommates not respecting each other. For once, I tell them off until one girl is almost in tears. 

When not working the days are spent with castings. Istanbul is a huge city. The language is different and the public transportation complicated, so we have a driver who takes us to all our castings together. It makes it easier, even if getting lost is a good way of getting to know new places. The big car has no seatbelts in the back, the traffic is insane. I make up a half sort of lie and tell the others I don't like going by car so I get to sit in the front (the truth would be I don't like to go by car in crazy traffic that seems to be in no order, and to not have a seatbelt on). The others are smoking in the car, the driver smokes some strong smelling shit that makes me feel nauseous. There's a white box in the car, and every ten to fifteen minutes it automatically sprays a small shower of perfume over us. 

I have no control over my own time. If I only have one casting, I still have to come with to the other models' castings too. I lose count how many times I have to sit in the smoke-perfume-smelling car back and forth to the airport to leave or pick up models arriving and leaving. 

The second week I get sick, really sick. I sleep 18 hours a day for five days. The thought of food makes my stomach turn, my head hurts and my body is varying between feeling cold as ice and hot as fire. It feels as if I have to run to the toilet all the time, if I'm lucky the proper one isn't occupied so I have to use the hole in the ground. I diagnose myself with Google and some help over a crackly Skype with my mum. At least it only seems to be Shigella and not Salmonella, I've probably had some bad chicken (nowadays I'm vegetarian). On the bright side I get to skip my castings and the smelly car. One day by the end of the week I have a full day shooting an editorial with 39C fever. At least I don't feel like there's too much of a risk for my (lack of) lunch coming back up all over the clothes anymore. For ages after this episode of my life I can't seem to eat anything but grapefruit and yoghurt according to the will of my brain. 

I do get out for some should-do-sightseeing with two of my roommates. After all, I'm in Istanbul and I can't see myself coming back. We see some places, buildings, walk around, and enjoy the freedom in the sun. We pass by the big famous bazaar and all the men yell after us; calling out very flattering things like "hey Shakira/Jennifer Lopez/Spice girls!" mixed up with other nice compliments that I'm sure are common to call out after strangers just because they happen to be girls. 

I count down the days until I leave. By the end of my three week stay I can't wait to get the hell out of here. The agency say something about "next time" and I smile and nod while thinking "yeah right… not a chance". In my hurry to get out of the city I forget the few clothes I unpacked. To this day I still miss my best casting dress. 

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So what about Istanbul then? Truth be told, Istanbul is a different city with no other place to compare in the world. There's a clash of different cultures, a mix of people, history and places to discover and experience. One city spread out over two continents, several worlds packed into one. Istanbul has every opportunity to be a cool and vibrant city - and it probably is. Did I see that? No. I saw all the things being broken and not working, the smokers inside with nowhere for the non-smokers to escape even if we wanted, the insane traffic, the claustrophobic car, the lack of freedom. I saw the lack of organization and indecisiveness at work making us work way too many hours, for which I was being paid less than similar work in other places of the world. I felt the feeling of being stuck in a dirty city filled with smog and cracked house facades and men yelling inappropriate things after me. The gym and Starbucks were my saviors, together with some Shigella bacteria that made it possible to sleep through several days. 

Is that Istanbul? It was for me. But the thing is, it could have been so different. Wherever you are - in life, in the world - is affected by your own mindset. A negative mindset will affect your experience. It will make you see the negativity around you, attract the negative to your focus and highlight that. It will affect what you do or don't do, your surroundings, and your own energy to get out and experience, discover and live. Your mindset will affect how you react to situations, possibilities and happenings around you. Unexpected happenings crashing into your life when least expected, such as a snowstorm or a volcano eruption; a change of events causing a delayed or cancelled flight, disrupting your travel plans and schedule. Happenings that can make you angry and upset - but will that reaction change the situation? Instead, accept the situation and make the best of it, do what you can and remind yourself that it might be tough but worth it. You can learn and grow. In the end these are experiences that can become memories and your best stories. 

And work wise? Well Istanbul might not have been a career break, sure, but I might have to confess that I did get some good work material out of it (including the 39C feverish ones). And some food for thought about my own travel attitude. I think maybe that is why I was here. You can be your own best or worst traveling companion. It's your choice.