I’m from the Czech Republic, from a little town near the mountains. My hometown has only about three thousand people — most of us know each other, we walk everywhere, and the landscape is full of green.
Izmir, on the other hand, is a huge coastal city with millions of inhabitants, ferries and metro lines, and desert landscapes not too far away. It’s an entirely different world. I love stargazing, but here the mix of sea moisture and light pollution makes the night sky almost invisible. Even if an asteroid fell, you probably wouldn’t notice it.
Q: Are you a student here? No, not here — and not even back home at the moment. Officially, I came to Izmir as an ESC volunteer, teaching English. The general level of English in Türkiye is said to be quite low, and the NGO I worked with wanted to help change that.
But my personal reason was slightly different: I wanted to isolate myself in a new, controllable environment where my mind wouldn’t stagnate, and where I could focus on my own projects in my free time. I didn’t care much about where exactly I went — I simply wanted to experience Türkiye, and when the opportunity appeared, I said yes. While many of my fellow volunteers spent their free hours traveling and hanging out, I was more focused on building and creating.
Q: What is your name? My legal name is Matěj Michael Roš… but forget it — just call me Mateo. : )
Every time I introduced myself, I saw faces relax in relief, and then I asked: “And you?” That’s when I heard some of the most interesting sounds of my life. Turkish and Czech come from completely different language families, with zero overlap, so every name felt new and unique. I don’t speak Turkish, but I still managed to get by — and names always fascinated me. I kept asking people about the meaning and history behind theirs. Türkiye is a treasure chest of names, stories, and roots.
Q: What do you think about Türkiye? To be honest, it feels aggressive compared to Central Europe. Not the people — but the atmosphere. Izmir is loud: you hear the call to prayer five times a day, traffic never stops, people are awake late into the night, and mornings start slow.
The climate itself is a challenge for someone from a cooler, greener country. And Turks, in general, strike me as faster and less calm in their approach to daily life and social contact. Izmir often seemed like pure chaos. But it was a chaos I chose — out of interest and curiosity.
And within that chaos, I discovered beauty, wonder, and energy I’ll never forget.
